#and the sentimental shit seemed so cheesy

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

[earthstellar]

Earth Music on the Lost Light: Human Music That Cybertronians Like

we know for a fact that the Lost Light has access to human media, primarily movies, TV shows, and music-- and we know they generally seem to fucking love most of it, or at least find it interesting

but what would everyone's tastes be, in regards to Earth music?

time to talk about music for a long time!!! strap in, enjoy some tunes

we already know Cyclonus has impeccable taste and enjoys some of the best jams the 80s had to offer.

I can't help but imagine Rodimus being given a media archive of Earth tunes to approve for the Earth Dance would only result in chaos

(it's not like he would say no to anything, he absolutely blanket signed it all, it's just an obligatory thing-- or Ultra Magnus tells him it is, solely to keep him away from Important Captain Things that he would rather handle himself or hand off to Megatron, lmao. the shit that really needs to get done)

and this is how Rodimus discovers the somewhat questionable yet amazing genre of "mid-90s underground techno rave mix tapes"

(somewhat related, I still think Testarossa might as well be Rodimus' theme song, although it's not a 90s track and has more of an 80s synth vibe)

Rodimus would love that "computers are the future, fuck yeah let's make Digital Cool Future Music" mid-90s shit, there is no way he would not. it has the exact energy level that appeals to him and is also cheesy and weird and chaotic. and has like 500 different sub-genres, so his selection is endless, lmao.

he would probably find it cute that this is what humans imagined to be the peak of "digital sound" at the time. like lmao this was the best humans could do when asked to create music that sounds like it was made by robots or other mechanical space future cyber lifeforms--high concept!!! he would probably find it interesting and endearing. this is what organics think non-organic music is like!!

anyone acting as DJ at Swerve's on any given night would be so, so mad that Rodimus keeps requesting shit like "DJ MASSIMO ITALO DISCO BEST RAVE TUNES LIVE FROM LONDON 1995" or "DJ ARMPIT SLUDGE FEST HOUSE-RAVE-DRUMS N BASS SET 1996" for them to play, lmao

not individual tracks. the whole album. entire mix tapes of random, somewhat questionable mid-90s techno house rave bullshit.

that having been said, that good ass early 90s trance techno might send him into a spiral depending on his mood at the time, lmao (it's been known to happen)

but at the same time I can imagine him sharing tracks like Solar Quest - Space Pirates with Drift and they'd both just sit there and jam out, but quietly, thinking about shit while sitting in a port window next to each other (this was peak sleepover party techno, Back in My Day-- many deep conversations were had while listening to stuff like this, lol)

Drift would probably find some of Rodmus' recommended stuff to be pretty good for meditation-- although once he finds out about the human drug culture involved and certain concepts of experimental consciousness etc. that surrounded techno/rave and other related genres, it might cause him to pull back a little bit

(until he finds out about kandi culture, in which case, Drift would love the idea of hand-made unique bracelets and sentimental trinkets being made and exchanged at warehouse shows purely out of Good Vibes and Love for Fellow Beings and it turns out actually he fucking loves this shit, a chill vibes based "expand your mind" kind of music subculture appeals to his Spectralist sensibilities and he likes sharing tunes with Rodimus in return)

Drift picking tracks on his own would likely lead him down more of a classic rock road, but more of the chill side of things, more of the folksy type of classic rock -- I can see Drift really enjoying Spirit in the Sky - Norman Greenbaum or California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas. or like, Incense and Peppermints - Strawberry Alarm Clock.

I mean, Drift might even go Full Earth Hippie and end up liking Green Tambourine - Lemon Pipers, lmao. in fact I am fairly certain of this.

I can see Drift loving Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension. the whole vibe would probably appeal to him.

he'd quite possibly also like I Need a Dollar - Aloe Blacc, but it hits him in a place that still hurts to think about. so it's in rare rotation.

meanwhile Ratchet would probably be fine with classic rock too, like the good Dad Rock shit, just a lot of tracks from the 70s/80s -- a couple tracks he and Drift could probably agree on would likely lean more into the experimental/psychedelic rock side of things, like White Room - Cream or something like Wheel in the Sky - Journey

Rodimus tries to troll Ratchet by recommending Old Time Rock n Roll - Bob Seger, but joke's on him because it turns out Ratchet loves it, lmao

Swerve would go all out on classic bar jams for the evening playlist. Chill, good shit like Do It Again - Steely Dan.

Megatron would love Sinnerman - Nina Simone; He'd send it to Drift in a command crew level secured data packet, and they would both feel the hell out of this song. They don't need to talk about why. They never mention it to each other.

Megs would also probably love These Old Bones by Dolly Parton (mostly due to the lyrics, rather than the upbeat tune, but he would find it relatively relaxing), as well as 9 to 5 (of course), and similar music. Country from back in the day when country music was more about the struggle of poverty and the working life of rural people. Country music from back when songs told all the untold stories. He can respect that.

He'd listen to You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive by Patty Loveless and it would get him right in the fucking spark. Megatron is the Cybertronian equivalent of an Appalachian miner, god dammit. He understands.

Megatron would also like Johnny Cash; He would overthink Ghost Riders in the Sky and it would depress him, partly because it reminds him of Seekers... sigh.

I think he'd also like Cold War - Janelle Monae. He'd be way into good lyrics; What's being said in a song matters most to him. "This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for..." Indeed.

anyway I like thinking about what jams Cybertronians might like from their available selection of Earth tunes

[kittyhuii]

╰┈➤ too obvious

pairings: idol!mingyu x gn!reader genre: fluff word count: 0.6k words

"Oh shit we got some company-" Mingyu whispered, soon after, he grabs your hands as he swiftly goes through a secluded alleyway to hide from his fans. Thank whomever you can because your daily exercises have finally paid off, if it weren't for that, you wouldn't even be able to catch up. After a few more steps, you and Mingyu both stop to catch your breath. "I told you...that this was a bad idea" you said out of breath.

Yes, it was indeed a bad idea to have a date with you at such a popular café, especially if the only disguise he was wearing was a cap. "That damn cap did not help" you said annoyingly, due to the fact that your boyfriend was such a stubborn person, like a puppy who got out of its leash during a walk outside. Still, that's what you loved about him, he would always do anything he could just so he could spend time with you, especially since their group is such a hot shot in the industry.

Mingyu looked around the surroundings, only to find a signage of what seems like a bakery, a sketchy looking one which did not have much people inside. But what choice did you two have? Looking back at you, he looked you into your eyes trying to find an answer, you nod in response, holding out your hand which he intertwines with his as you both enter the bakery.

A door chime welcoming the two of you, as you enter the bakery. Upon hearing the mellow sounds of the door chime, a man jolts out from under the counter, looking at you both, wide-eyed. "Customers!" he shouted, "c-customers, we got customers shua!" again he shouted, calling for a man named shua. A door behind the counter opens, revealing a quite good-looking man with an apron wrapped around his lean body. "Dokyeom-ah..." the man says, as he frantically rushes to him to envelope him in a tight hug, soon they start jumping around together, like children who've won the jackpot in an arcade game.

"mmgmh.." Mingyu cleared his throat, which makes the two men in front of the both of you pull away from each other. "Ahh..sorry, what can I get for the both of you?" 'shua' asked. "Which one do you want sweetie?" Mingyu asked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. Looking around the huge variety of pastries in front of you, being the pastry-enthusiast you were, it wasn't quite easy to pick just one, so you just stuck to your favorite. "Strawberry cheesecake please!" , "just an iced americano is enough for me" Mingyu added. The two men nodded and Dokyeom led you two to a table.

You both sat down as you notice a pout on Mingyu's face, "what is it?" you asked as you held his hand across the table, only for him to pull it right back and cross his arms. "I saw the way you were looking at that guy" he scoffed as he turned to look away, clearly sulking now. "aigoo-ya, you know I only have eyes for you right?" again, you try to reach for his hand, it was your turn to use the puppy eyes on him, and of course he caves in, forgetting everything else as he returns to you a soft gaze that speaks a thousand words.

Your comfortable silence was interrupted with a bell dinging across the room, "one strawberry cheesecake and an iced americano!" the man with a tooth-aching smile shouted. Mingyu stood up to get both of your orders, happily skipping his way to the counter, making you giggle in the process. "One slice of strawberry cheesecake for m'lady" he said in an attempt of a fancy accent. "Why thank you good sire!" you play along as you both giggle over your cheesy antics like two teenagers.

Being the sentimental person you are, you hurriedly look for your phone in your purse to capture this moment. A cap that does no good in concealing who he was, a cap that does no good in concealing his love for you.

Gallery: 304/305

a/n: kittyhui here! Just want to thank all of you for your support in my previous works, i really didn't expect any from it, thank you!

p.s. i really did not know what drink mingyu was having in his latest ig post.

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of Not-So-Secret Secret Admirer!!! Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Eddie doesn’t know what to get Steve next. Well, he knows what he wants to give Steve, but he’s pretty sure a mixtape would be a dead giveaway. But it’s four days after the second gift, and he needs one for tomorrow. 

He groans and flops down on his bed. What’s vague enough that doesn’t scream Eddie Munson is your fake secret admirer? He could get cupcakes or something, but that’s kind of dumb and not personal enough. Plus, he wants to see Steve get flustered again. It feels nice to know that he can do that to Steve Harrington. 

Because it’s Steve, and he doesn’t seem easily wooed, as he’s always the one doing the wooing. Eddie is glad to be giving Steve a break for once because he’s a great friend. A great friend who happens to get butterflies when he sees his other friend get giddy from his anonymous gifts. 

Eddie flails his arm out to grab his pillow and scream into it – instead, he hits his bedside table and hears a large clattering noise. The universe is against him tonight. 

Eddie groans and rolls to the side of his mattress to check if anything important fell besides his deodorant. He sees a few abandoned hair ties and an empty soda can but nothing of value. Until he’s slightly blinded by a gleam of silver. 

He reaches out and grabs the small object, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. It’s the ring he keeps on his nightstand, far too large for any of his fingers but also with a simple design carved into the metal that is almost too pretty for Eddie to be putting it on a chain to wear around his neck. 

It’s not anything too sentimental besides the fact that Eddie has had it for years now after spotting it at some yard sale and immediately swiping it – blame his father for teaching him that trick. He stares at it for the first time in a long time fully taking it in. He has the absurd thought that it would look pretty on Steve. 

It would look pretty on Steve. He’s scared he’d hate it and wear it only when Eddie is around to see it. But if it’s from his secret admirer, Eddie doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s politeness. He laughs and clutches the ring to his chest thinking of a cheesy note to write Steve as he drifts off. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

He parks in the parking lot, ring in a small cardboard box with a horribly wrapped bow on top trapping a note underneath it. Every five days is a nice schedule, but maybe he should add some variation in it. But there’s no way that Steve is going to guess today is the day after only two gifts. 

At least, that’s what he thinks until Eddie sets the box on the top of Steve’s tire and hears someone yell, “Eddie! You’re Steve’s secret admirer?!” Dustin of all people pops out from behind the corner of the store. 

“Dustin... this isn’t what you think...” 

Dustin runs up to him and grabs him by the arm. “I’ve been waiting out here for days for some girl, and it’s just been you! Are you kidding me?” Eddie finds that Dustin is a lot stronger than he thinks as he drags him inside the store and yells, “Steve! I found your secret admirer!” 

Steve and Robin whip their heads around. Robin’s eyes go wide, and Steve’s eyebrows pinch together. “Well, where is she?” Steve questions.  

“Nu uh uh. Where is he?” Dustin corrects him excitedly pointing to Eddie. 

Steve takes a moment to process it, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not his secret admirer! I’m just... the messenger! Okay? I caught them the first time, and I promised to deliver the rest so they wouldn’t get caught.” He holds his hands up, pretty proud of his ability to make shit up on the spot. But he’s also dug himself into a way deeper hole. 

He glances towards Steve, trying his best not to look guilty or suspicious. Oddly enough, Steve seems a bit... disappointed by the news. Probably just because he was excited to solve the mystery of E.R. and no other reason. “So, you know them?” Steve questions. 

“Better than you think,” Eddie says, and tries not to cringe as Robin signals at him to cut it out. 

“Sworn to secrecy?” 

“The secretest,” Eddie replies lamely but Steve doesn’t laugh for once, just smiles tightly. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dustin says again. “You’re our friend first! Whoever this is can forget about whatever promise you made.” 

“Why don’t we talk about this outside while grabbing Steve’s gift?” Eddie says already grabbing Dustin’s shoulder and pulling him out the door. 

“Who is it? Who could possibly be so important that they-”  

The door closes behind them, and Eddie finally starts talking, “It’s me, okay? But not like me.” Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face. 

“You have like two seconds to explain to me before I tell Steve,” Dustin says, full attitude in his tone. 

“Steve couldn’t stop saying he was hopeless, so I came up with a plan to give him hope.” 

Dustin narrows his eyes at him. “So, you made Steve an imaginary admirer to stop his whining.” Eddie cringes at that description, but... it’s true. “That’s perfect!” 

Eddie shoots the kid a look. “It is?” 

“Well, we don’t have to worry about a random person trying to butt into the group, and now we’re sure that Steve will be occupied until someone else comes along.” 

Someone else. Yeah, that’s a good plan. All part of the plan. Speaking of that... Eddie grabs the small box off the top of Steve’s wheel and walks back into Family Video to find Steve staring at him. “What was that all about?” 

“Had to convince Henderson that the admirer was worthy enough for his second favorite babysitter.” 

“The first being?” 

“Me of course. Right Dustin?” Eddie asks ruffling his hair. 

Steve points at the kid. “Don’t answer that.” 

Dustin holds his hands up and changes the subject, “I’m just here to see what’s in the box.” 

With that, Eddie tosses it to Steve who catches it easily. He smiles down at the gift. “I don’t want to undo the bow it’s so cute.” 

Robin gives him a look filled with confused disgust. “Just open the box.” 

Steve reluctantly unties the bow and stares at the note. Dustin and Robin scoot closer to him and read along. Eddie joins them. You and me... that has a nice ring to it. Robin groans and Dustin laughs. 

Okay, maybe it doesn’t make total sense, but it’s the best Eddie could come up with. It has the effect Eddie wanted – Steve's cheeks flush a wonderful shade of pink. He opens up the box on the counter and removes the ring carefully. He slowly spins it around to look at every detail. 

Robin and Dustin look over at Eddie with wide eyes. “Looks like your secret admirer is proposing,” Robin breathes out. 

“No I-” Eddie trails off as Steve looks up at him. “I... don’t think that was their intention. Besides, I doubt it fits his ring finger.” 

Steve slides the ring over his ring finger. It fits perfectly. Steve smiles. 

“Okay, I think it’s a little too soon for a marriage proposal,” Eddie says, sweating at the image of Steve wearing his ring for some reason. 

“Not if he’s known the person for a long time,” Dustin supplies unhelpfully. Telling him was a bad idea. 

Luckily, Steve seems too distracted by his gift to really process what the kid has said. Eddie takes the moment to shoot Dustin a warning look. He decides it’s better to take him out of the situation entirely. “So, Dustin, your duty is done, so let me give you a ride home.” 

“To the arcade,” Dustin corrects. 

“Fine, the arcade. Let's go,” Eddie says as he starts heading out the door. 

“Wait!” Steve says, finally breaking out of his thoughts. Eddie turns around. “Just... give me a minute,” Steve says and runs to the break room. 

Robin rushes forward. “You told Dustin?” 

“Big mistake, I know.” 

“Hey! I’m great at keeping secrets.” Robin and Eddie give him a blank stare. Dustin sighs, “Fine, I’ll just wait in the car.” Eddie watches as Dustin mutters something under his breath as he walks out the door. 

“You’re really getting into this whole gift thing, aren’t you?” Robin teases him with a knowing smile. What she knows, Eddie doesn’t want to think about. 

“Just helping a friend out.” 

“A friend,” Robin says sarcastically. 

The break room door opens before Eddie can defend himself. Steve rushes over to Eddie with a folded-up piece of paper.  “Can you give this to them? And just... promise not to read it.” 

“Of course,” Eddie lies, stomach churning unpleasantly. “What do you think of the ring?” he asks nervously, changing the subject. 

Steve looks down at it and smiles. “I love it.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a big grin. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies with a soft look. Eddie tries not to trick himself into think that Steve would respond the same way if Eddie had given it to him without the false pretense of the secret admirer. 

“I’m glad.” Eddie’s eyes flicker to Robin who is staring at him while making a gagging gesture. 

A car horn saves him from any cruder gestures she could make. “Looks like it’s time for me to go and deliver a boy and a letter. Farewell!” Eddie says dramatically, waving at the pair. 

He tries not to think of why the image of Steve waving with the ring glistening on his finger stays stuck in his head. 

After Eddie drops Dustin off, he immediately unfolds the note from Steve.   

Dear E.R.,  

Thank you for the kind gifts. Would be so kind as to tell me something about yourself? Something that makes you smile the way you’ve made me smile.  

I can’t wait to hear from you, 

Steve 

It’s cheesy and romantic, and Eddie’s unable to convince himself that he doesn’t wish the note was truly for him. This was not part of the plan. 

Part Four

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[eternal-armin]

SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

this is the first time i'm going to do a multi-part fic that goes beyond like 2 or 3 parts (rip to the chandelier fic.) bear with me ;;;; but i'm obsessed with everything everywhere and i wanted to do something with the abilities evelyn and joy specifically have. and, of course, the angst that can come from it. looked over this as much as i could but im exhausted so my apologies for any errors ;;;

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

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where : five is instantly intrigued by the eighth sparrow, a kid just like himself, which makes him try to seek him out specifically; nothing better than a second opinion about time from another person who knew its intricacies, right? well, he... may have gotten more than he bargained for.

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warnings : future mentions of trauma, fighting and injury (specific mentions of choking), existentialism, reader is just exhausted of life and shit in general, future cheesiness and such because i said so, depression, a whole lot of 'if i can bend reality to my will then how much does it really matter' kind of questioning (later on for the most part.)

the disheartening sight of seven other people—ahem, sorry, and one very confusing cube—was made endlessly puzzling by the appearance of a kid behind them. someone who looked five's age. physically, anyway. they both seemed equally entranced by the other; the kid's eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, as if seeing someone he had been missing for decades. he furrowed his brow a bit, cocking his head, and klaus found himself peering where five glared.

"well, would you look at that? they've got a little brother, too!"

"zip it, klaus," he hissed, though with a certain degree of gentleness in his voice, even excluding the volume he had to use. looking back at the balcony, he was wearing more casual clothes with a sort of... varsity jacket of the sparrow academy's traditional colors and emblems. he was a sparrow, meaning he was born in 1989, meaning he was around thirty years old. so why did he look thirteen? it clicked then, suddenly; his power could have something to do with time. five felt instantly that he needed to speak with him. and if it needed to be done by force, then...

hands crossed neatly over his lap, barely restraining that very obvious agitation, ben chimed in with, "dad, who the hell are these assholes?"

a chorus of "shit" rang out amongst the umbrellas. five stared at him with the same amount of emotion as usual, mostly overrun by confusion, however his sentimentalities ended there. that balcony, barely a few yards from where five stood, held something—someone, rather—that could be an answer to his predicament. or at least help figure out if he could retire or not. if this world was safe enough to stay in. there was a whole host of colorful characters. if he was the sparrows' number eight, what exactly inspired reginald to adopt him as well? or was it just sort of a convenience thing?

luther stepped forward along with klaus. "is that really you?"

no amusement struck ben. if anything, he somehow managed to look more annoyed.

"and who are the weirdos on the balcony!"

"they are the sparrows. my children." reginald's controlled, vaguely irritated voice was such a contrast to diego's harsh tone.

much to five's chagrin this moment was a bit more important than staring at a boy. he turned on his heel, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "i'm sorry, what do you mean your children? that's not possible, old man."

"of course it is! i think i'd know, wouldn't i?"

well. something was very wrong, wasn't it?

the sound of footsteps and shuffling caught his attention and yet again he looked back forward; all of the sparrows once situated haphazardly on the balcony now stood across the tile threshold. the kid was shorter than he expected, in all honesty, and he seemed to be the least serious out of all his siblings—not to say that he looked like he was having fun or that he was laughing, but that he didn't want to fight. he looked like he would avoid it at every cost.

"everyone else can see ben, right?"

"cute hat, sundance."

"they call themselves the umbrella academy," reginald interrupted, "a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents who accosted me in the fall of '63 when i was away on business in dallas. be warned—they claim to be my spawn." all throughout reginald's little schpiel, five and the other kid maintained eye contact, five puzzled at his existence and him puzzled by five's puzzlement. he seemed to find it weird but, oddly enough, he didn't seem weirded out specifically. occasionally five would glance about the rest of the sparrows, gauge them if he could, and when that happened he would sometimes catch the barest glimpse of the kid looking at two of his sisters with confusion.

should i be worried? he was probably thinking to himself.

with five on his opposition? absolutely.

"claim? look, five, what the hell is going on?" allison sounded like she was moments away from boiling over.

"not sure yet, but it's concerning."

"is he telling the truth?" seeming to sense the steadily-rising tensions, the kid started, very slowly, to back away, retreating to the furthest reaches of the carpet before the battle had even begun.

"not the part about us being perfidious." vanya seemed to kind of placate that cowardice in him. maybe he even smiled at vanya.

"no! no, we're amateur-fidious, at best!"

"but we are his children, this is our house."

"yeah, we grew up here."

"yeah, yeah, we grew up here," alphonso mocked, getting a snicker from jayme, however the kid just shot them both a slightly judgmental look.

"i kind of think we would've noticed you," sloane said, to which luther stated his name and offered out his hand. sloane did not accept, really she didn't do a thing, and some whispers broke out amongst her and her little brother, whispers that five couldn't make out.

"okay. none of you belong here."

"oh! well, then. i guess we'll just pack our bags and move out."

christopher babbled and chittered, milking chuckles from his brothers and sisters. five had to say he looked way better smiling than frowning, though he figured it would probably be the same for anyone.

grace came in to the living room, heels click-click-clicking, holding a plate of cookies in her hand and apologizing that she couldn't do better. five couldn't catch the precise details. it was just kind of nice to see her again, even if she was certainly in need of a... few repairs.

"mom." diego's sentimental mumble caught some of the sparrows off-guard. the kid included.

"she's a robot, you perv."

"it's not a robot."

"don't call him that!"

"or what?" ben challenged.

"come closer and find out." bickering broke out between the two families, vanya and marcus actively trying to keep everyone's heads on straight, and five may have lost track of the conversation. until ben threw the first punch, anyway. he ducked back, watching as luther next was flung like a ragdoll across the room, landing on and breaking the poor couch. he saw the boy duck out and wanted to chase but first kept his loyalties, attacking ben and getting lost in a flurry of sharp punches and occasionally-failed dodges.

"you're alive. that's—great, or possibly horrible, i haven't decided yet."

"is that some weird kind of smack talk?"

"it's more of an existential problem, really, ben."

"awesome. well, here's your next problem." with his arms extending back and torso leaning forward, a grimy tentacle quickly burst from his chest, though not fast enough to stop five before he blinked away and onto the balcony.

"y'know, even though you're a total asshat now," five began, rudely cut off by another attack which he yet again evaded with ease. it was easier to land a punch and he watched as ben crashed into the ground. "it's nice to see you again. really." after seeing a particularly disturbing scene between diego and the cube, he stepped in to save allison from a few of the other sparrows, yet again finding himself on the second-floor balcony.

"thanks," allison managed through uneven breaths.

"no problem." both standing up, both dusting themselves off, they saw someone rounding the corner. it was him. still, that look of passive pacifism remained, now somewhat stoic in nature; he didn't want to fight, but he may need to. he was resigning himself to that fact and five could see it in his setting expression. and most importantly, there was also endless loyalty. oh, well.

five furrowed his brow, readjusting his jacket. "go help the others. i'll handle this one."

his new opponent almost seemed to space out, eyes narrowing just a bit as if being flooded by tons of new information. with grace and precision, and certainly speed, he set into a defensive stance. five blinked behind him to try for an attack and it was blocked. he continued to block, evade, block, evade, as fast as five tried to attack. the only sounds he made for a while were little grunts.

every failed punch and every successful block was adding to five's aggravation and his exasperation.

"y'know, five," he said, and hearing him speak for the first time startled five terribly, "delores wouldn't like you fighting like this! i'm not doing anything to you!" that shocked him so bad he misfired a punch but it landed for the first time because of how he went to dodge. he was weaker than five first surmised, falling onto the ground, and five continued to strike him back down until he was pinned and unable to move. he looked enraged, face twisted, eyes wide, teeth bared and gritted, glaring daggers at the kid, who looked to be in quite a bit of pain.

"how do you know my name?!" he barked. "how do you know her name?!" five got no answer and that was endlessly more irritating. the kid slammed his hand onto the ground and grabbed the first thing he could, a small piece of rubble, but five watched as, in those few fractions of seconds, that small piece of debris turned into a metal candlestick.

a metal candlestick.

the moment five saw that, he teleported, reappearing just a few feet away. he pushed off his total confusion; no time. the kid kept the candlestick in his hand when he fumbled to stand, not getting even a moment before five tackled him into a headlock. he didn't think twice about the look of pain on the kid's face because that wasn't exactly imperative and he didn't hesitate at the sounds he made.

the kid raised the candlestick again and five watched in subtle horror as it flitted between many different forms, each punctuated by a small sound and a bit of light. he only recognized a few of those hundred forms before he saw it land, like a wheel of fortune, on a knife and he plunged it down. five jerked out of the way of the blade. even though he had once been so hesitant to fight, so afraid of hurting other people, he seemed finally able to push that away and actually defend himself. he may not have been particularly strong, but he was swift and flexible while wrenching himself out of five's grip and adept at landing hits that would still make five flinch and pause. the kid blocked a punch and the moment that they came in contact with each other, the world around them... changed.

from the slightly destroyed upper floor of the academy house, it became an office building, papers flying about while people panicked about the violent fight between the aisles of cubicles. in that moment of confusion, he landed a hit on five, right in the gut. after a pained second, eyes squeezed tight, he grit his teeth and kept fighting.

the office building had become a high-rise skyscraper that they were fighting on the edge of.

another punch and they were on the deck of a cruise ship.

another block and they were in a spanning parking garage. the kid advanced and forced five to back up, closer to the edge of the space, and certainly to a painful fall. he continued to evade every attempted hit, no matter how five had calculated them, before pouncing on him and shoving him right out of the concrete monolith, plummeting down toward the ground along with him.

"how the hell are you doing this?!" five shouted, voice swallowed up by the shouting winds. he grabbed his shirt, bunching up his collar tight enough to cut off his breathing. the panic in his eyes welled up very quick.

and then they were back. instead of hitting the hard pavement ground, five lost all the air in his lungs when he thudded onto the carpeted academy floor, gasping for a second as the kid scrambled away from him, coughing and wheezing.

five hadn't even strangled him for that long, what the hell?

five forced himself to sit, to stand, shooting the glare to end all glares at the boy across from him—however he didn't attack yet. after all the disorientation he felt from those few... transitions, he wanted to keel over and vomit. he was in no condition to fight. luckily, however, neither was his opponent.

killing the kid would not get five his answers, no matter how badly he wanted to do it.

the kid was on the ground, propping himself up on one of his hands, his entire body seeming wracked by pained, nauseated tremors. he looked to be heaving, expression conflicted, exhausted beyond exhausted. he held his head the way one would when suffering from a bad headache.

his question went unanswered, which just served to annoy five further. "are you a time traveler or something? no. a multiversal traveler? do you work with the commission? that's the only possibility i can think of." knowing about delores, knowing about his name, certainly knowing his past, instantly transporting both of them to different places, it could all connect to multiversal travel.

but that spacing out part, before he could dodge like some highly trained professional, and that debris-to-candlestick-to-knife part? those still kind of puzzled him.

the kid wrinkled his nose. "that's the only possibility? you've got a narrow range." for someone who sounded so pained and exhausted, he could manage some mouthiness. somehow he sounded more genuine than sarcastic, though. strange. what about him wasn't?

five's eye twitched and his lips pressed hard into a scowl. "a narrow range? a narrow range? my 'range' isn't narrow! i've seen so many possibilities unfold! do you even know what i had to do to get here?" his words hissed with pure venom. that didn't faze his opponent, even whilst he jabbed an accusatory finger at him, as though somehow this was his fault.

"i do, actually," he managed, although still short of breath. "you got trapped in the apocalypse for a few decades, offered a deal from the commission, broke your contract with them and became a fugitive, got back to your family, and have been trying to evade apocalypses ever since. third time's the charm, right, five?" he recounted it all with the cadence and sensitivity of a history teacher summarizing an important, yet complicated, period of time.

"how could you possibly know—stop calling me that! how are you able to do any of this!"

"i'm not gonna stop calling you by your name." he laughed through his words. he laughed.

"is my exasperation funny to you?"

"i-i mean, kinda! do you know how many ways i've seen this conversation going?" five stilled like a statue. "this was the most common outcome. well, uhm, aside from you just killing me. it's just a little funny how you always react the same way." he shrugged a bit, as though this was simply some high school gossip, and not (one of) the most puzzling thing that five had ever been exposed to.

"look," five began, trying to steady himself. "if you don't tell me how you know about me—how you know about delores—this will become a timeline where i kill you. okay? capiche?"

he raised his hands in surrender. they shook. "capiche, five."

"stop. calling me that."

"to even the playing field, i'm [y/n]. there." he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, checking his hands. yet again he seemed to space out, just for a moment this time, before going through a grounding technique. he looked determined now, not as tired as before, though it did remain rather clearly in his eyes. [y/n] was just a kid again. he looked like a pathetic, sick kitten. "it's my power. i was born like this. you travel through space and time, i travel through reality. all of reality. alternate universes, as you know them. close by, far away, ones almost exactly the same and some with very distinctive evolutionary branches. the further away the world, the... stranger they get. i can see literally any possibility. so i—i fucking know you, five. i know you. i know your brothers and your sister and your in-laws and your niece and every other niece or nephew you could've had. there are so, so many worlds where i was an umbrella, or your friend, or stuck with you in the apocalypse, or... something like that. that's how i know you, and know delores. i was there."

sister, singular?

fuck, why was that his first take-away?

five narrowed his eyes slightly. "you can see every alternate universe," he said, slowly, as if clarifying something to [y/n] when he really needed the clarification for himself.

he nodded. "use them, too."

"use...?"

[y/n] broke into a little smile. his answer remained unknown because their restrained conversation was interrupted by one of [y/n]'s sisters. just one glance and his smile disappeared, staring at five with now-widened eyes, mouthing something along the lines of 'get the fuck out.'

five didn't need to be told twice. a flit of light and he had disappeared to who-the-hell-knows-where.

"who the hell was that creep," jayme mumbled, watching as [y/n] stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. she grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket out of instinct to make sure he didn't fall over.

"uh... someone pretty interesting," [y/n] said, staring at where he'd once been, the flash of bright light still burned into his eyes. he wanted to find him. maybe needed to find him. probably because something in the world was very wrong, even if no other timeline had figured it out yet.

if any of the umbrellas knew where to hide out, it would probably be klaus, right? simple solution. kind of. as long as he could sneak out undetected by his siblings.

a good bit of time had passed when you finally had the chance to scope out the hotel obsidian. you had changed into something more casual and lowkey, sunglasses now balanced atop your nose and a nice light scarf about your neck. music played over your headphones and you wandered inside of the place, stricken with the sight of heavy art deco. it was rather nice, actually, when you took the time to appreciate it. then again, your mind was rather preoccupied with what was probably a very big deal. on the other side of the lobby, in the little bar and lounge area, you could spot a few of the hargreeves siblings. most notably five, now wearing a white bathrobe. soon his eyes glanced to you and you could feel his gaze sharpen. he looked back at his brothers and excused himself, stepping off the stool and teleporting to you before his feet hit the ground.

"what are you doing here," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"i mean, our conversation got cut off earlier. seemed right to continue it, y'know?"

five looked back at his brothers and then at you once more. klaus was staring after him but you didn't know if he recognized you; luther and diego were still totally enraptured in their chinese food.

the look on five's face told you a whole lot; it was critical to him to talk with you, figure things out, because he guessed—and guessed right—that you weren't just here to politely finish a conversation. something weird was going on, whether he wanted to know or not. "alright. okay. fine. just," he grasped your shoulder after a second and then you were both gone, reappearing instantaneously in a room you assumed to be five's. small cot in the corner, bunk bed opposite, and a couch.

god, you wanted to throw up. you clutched your stomach, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute.

he crossed his arms and looked at you. "so where exactly did we leave off?"

you paused to scrub your mind, trying to recall. a few blinks broke the few seconds of spacing out. usually you weren't this forgetful, but, uh, today was an interesting one. "i said i can use those universes and that confused you. and then jayme came around and i told you to leave."

"right," five muttered. "what exactly did you mean by that?"

"well, obviously i can use them for information." your voice was somewhat soft, actually, which was mighty strange to him.

"hmph. how could i forget." five's flat voice was thick with sarcasm.

you managed a smile. "but i can also use them for skills and stuff. the dodging, earlier; i can't really do that here. there's a world where i star in fighting movies and stuff, where i'm good at dodging and i'm fast and flexible, and i can... link my mind, i guess, and use those skills. and the... the candlestick. knife. thing. i can change things to whatever another me is holding. i can change my clothes. i can change reality."

"so, in essence, your mind is able to find every other instance of you across time and space and access them? and... communicate with them, i suppose, in some way or another."

you shrugged a bit. "about explains it. but the—... can i ask you something?" you suddenly sounded sheepish, hesitant, like you were constantly rethinking what you were about to say. five furrowed his brow, a little surprised to see that look on your face, and he really didn't like it.

"depends on what that something is," he responded, speaking cautiously.

you found yourself spacing out again, but this time not to access some alternate plane of existence. every other universe had its own noise, and every other universe was persistently audible; that loud buzz was starting to give you yet another headache. it was probably possible to overdose on tylenol, right? suddenly that constant look of exhaustion on your face was even more obvious to five. for a moment, he seemed almost sympathetic to that. he could certainly understand it, at the very least. "you've got about twenty-eight years of experience on me," you began, forcing your voice to be steady. "do you have any clue how to deal with the, uhm, existential part of it all?" lightheartedness seemed to be a skill of yours. five could respect it.

you doubted, sincerely doubted, that there could be anything in the world to help you from the persistent noise. or from the pain and exhaustion of swatting from world to world to world in the span of thirty seconds during a fight. it was a wonder you were still walking.

"why should i help you with that, exactly? your family tried to kill mine."

"i didn't try to kill anyone. i hid upstairs the entire time. well, uh, almost the entire time. i can be an ally to you guys. i'd... prefer to be allied with you guys." if anyone else in the world knew about the ins and outs of the umbrella academy, five had no doubt in his mind that it would be you and your presumably-torturous ability. it would probably be a smart idea on their side as well, to ally with you.

"before i agree to help you at all, how can i be sure your family isn't using you as some sort of... puppet? some sort of inside man?"

you shrugged a bit after a second. "i wouldn't be a very good choice."

"seriously? do you think i'm stupid or something?"

you crossed your arms, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "no. i know you aren't stupid. and i'm pretty sure that your first choice wouldn't be a 'weak thirteen-year-old kid with a power that cripples him with headaches and exhaustion whenever he uses it,' either. not to mention that said kid can't hear what's going on sometimes because of literally every other sound in the expansive multiverse." the words were sarcastic but the tone was very genuine, almost excruciatingly so.

"i have... so many more questions now."

you shrugged a bit. "i can answer some of them, i guess." considering that you knew almost all the ins and outs of his life, it seemed only fair to share some of yours. you were too tired to steer the conversation back to why you had came. perhaps you'd already forgotten it.

"why exactly are you thirteen? you were born in 1989, you had to be."

"... i chose to stay this age."

"how can you just choose to stay that age?" exasperation met with confusion in a very strange voice of five's. even after all he'd gone through and learned, you were just springing question marks all over the place. god damnit.

"i can manipulate almost every aspect of reality, five," you said, softly, in response. "it's not out of the realm of possibility to stay thirteen. not for me."

five nodded slightly after a second. that nod steadily turned into a shake of his head. "jesus—i should've grabbed some coffee." he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "just give me a second."

"oh. uh, no need." glancing about the room, there was a small corner table, atop it an ice bucket and some plastic cups for water. he watched, for some reason a bit puzzled, as you placed your hands on it. spaced out. and it flitted to a fresh coffee pot and a mug. they seemed like something from a diner.

well, that would make sense, wouldn't it?

you poured him a cup and handed it, still steaming, over to him.

five scowled a bit, staring down at the filled mug, before his sharp gaze landed on you again.

"it's just coffee, five. it's not poisoned or anything. here." you plucked it back out of his grasp and took a sip, waited a few seconds, and handed it back. "see? you're fine."

after a second, he nodded. "right." he didn't find himself bothered by drinking from the same mug you had. he'd done a lot worse things, hadn't he?

"so... what were those other questions?"

after taking a few healthy swigs, he cleared his throat. "your ability—it really taxes you? even after all these years?" five would never admit it, but the coffee was pretty goddamn good. whatever diner your alternate-self worked in was worth a visit, if it existed in this world. "is that why you were shaking and panting so much earlier?"

you felt a bit embarrassed. "yeah," you mumbled. "i trained with it a lot, but, i wasn't very strong to begin with." you sat down carefully on the sofa, pulling a bottle of painkillers from your coat pocket.

"when's the last time you had a dose?" five asked, mug to his lips, shooting you a side-eye.

"... maybe three hours ago. why?"

he clicked his tongue and shook his head, plucking the bottle out of your hands. "not now, then."

"dude! what the hell! i-i need those!"

"well, i can't keep asking questions to someone sick from taking too much tylenol. and you can wait three hours."

you groaned but didn't complain, just settling back against the comfortable cushions. "fine. i'll wait." and you mumbled 'you're just like sloane' under your breath.

"good," he mumbled, sitting down beside you after tossing the pills onto his bed. "you said you could hear every sound in the multiverse. something tells me that isn't a hyperbole."

you nodded a bit and slouched down, trying to figure out a decent analogy. "when you remove a door from its threshold, you can always hear what's on the other side, unless you actively tune it out. just, for me, there were never doors. it was always like this. every single feasible universe is out there, fighting for my attention, almost every waking moment." you recounted with a deep sort of mourning. five couldn't blame you, he supposed. you had been robbed of silence, of pure solitude, of privacy. his heart almost ached for you.

had you been born with the doors off their frames? he wanted to ask, he really wanted to ask, but it was probably going to be way too... private of a thing. personal. from what he could tell.

"and i thought wrangling that crowd of toddlers was bad. i can't imagine hearing everything they do, everywhere, constantly," he mused.

you cracked a smile. it had been a while since you were able to joke around with someone, even if that someone had interrogated you like a police investigator. "oh, it's the worst," you giggled, and he laughed along. "i mean, it's bad enough knowing what your brothers do into their socks, it's even worse to walk in on them over, like, over two thousand times."

"i've known you for a very short period of time, but something tells me that's the worst thing you've ever said."

for someone in a very persistent and terrible bout of pain, your laugh, and your smile, were incredibly bright. five couldn't really say that he was expecting this when first appearing in the umbre—ahem. in the sparrow academy building, but he wasn't exactly complaining. this could be nice. he really hoped it would be, anyway.

silence fell on you two for a while. the overbearing static was starting to edge back in now that you had nothing more to say. the pain was ebbing.

"... something's wrong." you sounded deadly serious, it was horrifying.

"s—sorry?" five felt like he had whiplash after such an extreme diversion from the topic.

you seemed to be fighting that urge to space out a whole lot more. this was important, you needed to stay on track, and yet your stress was doing exactly the opposite of tunnel vision. shit.

five noticed; and he kind of needed you to talk, as fast as possible, so reached out and pinched your neck, successfully getting you to tense and wake up, in some sense of the words. offense was replaced with gratitude in your eyes. "i don't know exactly what. no other universe has figured it out. but you aren't supposed to be here, this isn't your timeline, that's—a very big problem. it could potentially 'rip a hole in space and time.'" five muttered along with you, cussing and hanging his head.

"why didn't you say this first?" he hissed.

"i'm sorry!" you sounded very genuine and he felt rather bad. "i-i—the interrogation and then the pain and then the... getting along with you, i forgot." it was another world, some utterance of 'not normal yet' that brought the thought back to you.

your voice was cracking. you felt far worse than five could ever make you feel.

"... it's fine. it's fine."

"it very much isn't. you know that."

five knew it all too well. he groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and downed the rest of his coffee. "fantastic."

"i mean, it may be a problem we can solve." you shot him a smile, a tired and weak little thing, but it did comfort him a bit.

"the universe will really mind if seven dumbasses stick around?" his humor had soured, but it was still there. you felt very guilty, unable to look him in his eyes, shoulders slouched as if defeated in some great thing.

"she's a stickler for rules."

"hmph." he scowled a full-face scowl. "no retirement yet, i guess."

out of all the things you could ever have seen, heard, felt, and known, one thing seemed... important. emotionally, anyway. "if it's, uhm, any consolation... retirement did look good on you, by the way."

he couldn't help but smile a bit. somewhere out there was a world where you and five were friends well into his retirement, be that at his confusing age or his chronological age from 1989, where he was happily retired with no time-threatening anomalous issues to draw him out. even if he was bound to die in this timeline, there was some comfort in knowing many other timelines saw him content. "i'll take your word for it."

[skipppppy]

Anyway I’m bored and Carmen Sandiego renaissance is on the brain. What are these characters like when they aren’t focused on the main plot?? Non VILE/ACME/Caper related dialogue seems so few and far between.. I wish we got to see their lives outside work. So I made some headcanons abt it

CARMEN

Player was her first exposure to the outside world so she probably holds a lot of his nerdy interests close to her heart. She’s not the best at video games but plays them regardless. She especially enjoys sci-fi horror movies from the 80s that go big on practical effects

Finding random trivia about different countries is genuinely one of her favourite hobbies. The little info segments she does are not part of the edutainment show. She is genuinely just like that. This woman is a trove of fun facts please let her unleash them upon you

In the same vein she LOVES quizzes. After missions she will drag Team Red to any bar doing a trivia night in her vicinity and will wipe the floor with everyone there. Fear her

Enjoys people watching. It’s why she’s so good at charming strangers despite her socially stunted upbringing. She’ll sit alone in a busy train station for hours and watch everyone pass her by

PLAYER

Look. We know this kid is a nerd. It’s canon. But which niche of nerdiness does he fall into exactly?

Despite being an avid gamer he isn’t very competitive about it. He prefers single player rpgs, especially ones with active modding scenes. He doesn’t even know what vanilla Skyrim looks like he probably wasn’t even born yet when it released

He will, however, duo queue with Carmen on unranked Overwatch. They are both terrible at it and think it’s the funniest shit

Enjoys sitting back and watching a good speedrun. Will have a video of someone doing a stupid BOTW challenge in the background while he hacks security cameras and such

Runs a DnD campaign for Team Red which they’re all crazy invested in. Shadowsan is the only one who doesn’t care for it but he keeps rolling nat 20’s on the dumbest shit and derailing the campaign and he finds everyone’s reactions too entertaining to stop. They have a rivalry only a DM and a stupidly lucky rogue could have

ZACK

We already know he’s kind of a meathead that enjoys sports and cars and cheesy action movies but I also think he has a lot of softer hobbies that he keeps to himself bc he knows they won’t take him seriously

He’s a secret crocheter. He’ll mend the team’s clothes when they rip but that’s the extent of their knowledge. He’ll sit for hours by himself and knit while listening to music. Sometimes Shadowsan will find a new pair of socks in his bag. When Carmen got sick once she woke up with a handmade blanket draped over her. Ivy has her suspicions but doesn’t wanna intrude

He loves animals. He never really brings it up because no one ever asks. He always checks out local zoos and aquariums if he has the chance. Grew up watching Steve Irwin-esque nature shows and still does to this day

His love of eating is less out of greed and more his own form of cultural appreciation. Idk what happened to his and Ivy’s parents but for reasons he can’t explain their cooking is one of the few things he hasn’t forgotten, so he has a lot of sentimental food-based memories. And experiencing other countries cuisine connects him with that

IVY

PERIOD DRAMAS. They don’t have to be good they just have to be steamy. She enjoys the hot women in pretty dresses. She and Carmen watch Bridgerton together and laugh about how historically inaccurate it is

She LOVES renfaires and similar high fantasy roleplaying communities. Someone please buy this woman a suit of armour

As an engineering prodigy AND fantasy buff she has a massive interest in Blacksmithing and Swords. That’s her designated lesbian hobby. She’s been trying to politely worm her way into a conversation with Shadowsan about the blade he returned to his brother for months now but isn’t sure if it’s too personal of a topic for him so she’s nervous

Her sweet tooth encompasses more than just chocolate. She’s secretly grateful to Zack since he takes most of the flack for being a glutton. She makes note of any bakeries they pass by on capers so she can come back later in secret and go ham on the pastries

SHADOWSAN

I think his interest in Samurai history starts and ends with his love for Hideo. He’ll happily discuss it and he’s studied it passionately, but out of a sense of respect and duty to do right by the brother he betrayed

He will NEVER, EVER admit it to anyone but he genuinely misses the adrenaline rush from committing petty crimes. He was a criminal for over 20 years. Lifestyles are hard to shake and change isn’t linear. He’d never succumb to impulse but he’s just kinda bored

He microdoses on the urge by pranking people. Everyone always blames Zack so he never gets caught. He also enjoys sneaking up on people and making them jump. He’ll always insist it’s unintentional. It isn’t

He’ll read and meditate and train to keep himself centred but he’s still a rowdy young punk at heart. Team Red is the first taste of freedom he’s had after a lifetime of VILE faculty monitoring him. The first thing he bought for himself after settling in at the San Diego HQ was a motorbike. The second was a new tattoo. The third was a potentially lethal amount of whiskey that he drank in one sitting

JULIA

We know she has a passion for history outside her work in Law Enforcement so she definitely goes to all kinds of museums in her free time. She’s the kind of person who enjoys learning just for the sake of learning (she and Carmen have that in common)

Outside of that she’s surprisingly good at karaoke? She gets stage fright but really likes singing and will go all out if you hype her up. Her taste in music is the exact opposite of her appearance and personality. Lots and lots of death metal

An aficionado for different types of tea. She keeps like 10 flavours in her house at all times. She especially likes floral ones that taste light and sweet. She hates iced tea with a passion though

Goes to botanical gardens whenever the weather is warm and the season is right. She likes the history of the old manor houses but she also loves admiring the landscaping and the blooming flowers. She could sit on a bench surrounded by local flora and fauna for hours

DEVINEAUX

Chase is an entirely different person when he’s off the clock. The unhinged high-energy maniac who froths at the mouth about La Femme Rouge goes dormant once he gets home. Especially after he got stranded on VILE island. That really gave him some introspection about work/life balance

The biggest, softest, sappiest hopeless romantic you will ever meet in your life. Passion is just part of his nature and he gets his heart broken A LOT. It’s why he throws himself into his work

He’s a really good chef. Like REALLY good. Before he was a cop he did a few summers as a line cook in his teen years and he retained most of the knowledge. His pantry is STACKED and he tries out recipes he picked up from his ACME travels in his free time. He’s a tad snobby about it because he’s French but you will not complain about the stuff he feeds you

Old movie enjoyer. His favourites are film noirs, cheesy romances, creepy eastern european animation and german expressionism. He has a fervent hatred of Marvel

Also one of those insane people who get up at 5am to do cardio. One morning before a mission he met Agent Zari with barely a glisten of sweat on his forehead and sadly informed her that he only got to run 15k and he wished he had time to do more. That was the first time she ever knew fear

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 5 - Kute

prev - chapter 1

God, what the fuck did he drink last night. Hosah's head throbbed as he strained open his eyes. Laying there for a second, hand covering his face to block the light coming in from the un-closed curtains, the still very much tiny man recalled having the ridiculous dream last night. I mean, why would he ever ask Teddy to stay the night, that was so unbelievably unlike him, he didn't think his brain could even make that sort of shit up. Turning to his side, Hosah rubbed his eyes open completely in preparation for the day.

Definitely not a dream.

The shifter had to hold down a scream when his assistant had rolled to his side, the two now facing eachother. Both of them were still fully dressed, shoes and all. Embarrassingly, the only thing on Hosah's mind was what did they do last night.

"Good morning. I was wondering when you'd wake up." Teddy sat up, leant looming over the tiny form sprawled out on the bed.

Hosah could barely gather his words; "I- We, what happened last night?" the surprise left him out of breath.

The giant looked confused for a second before turning to laughter, "Oh, god, nothing. You fell straight asleep right after asking me to stay."

Eugh. Embarrassing. So embarrassing in fact, he'd almost forgotten entirely about the previous day.

"God, we've got fifteen dead bodies to chase up. I swear these serial killers are doing it on purpose just to make my life miserable." the tiny man took a break to rub the sleep from his drowsy doe eyes, "I mean, fifteen is way too much. It's not classy, it's overkill.. Literally." Hosah wasn't so used to talking right after waking up it seemed, as his usually internal stream of thoughts came pouring out of his mouth at an uncontrollable pace.

"Mm. Are you.. Okay, by the way?" Ah, how sweet, Teddy remembered his little accidental breakdown.

"Oh, god yeah. No, I'm okay. It's just, I don't know. You wouldn't get it, but shifters, we stick together, you know? That's like seeing my brothers and sisters dead in front of me. Those are my brothers and sisters." Hosah's eyes drifted off onto his feet, which were still in his boots, "If we don't look out for each other, who will?"

His assistant layed back down beside him, face in his folded arms at eye level with the shrunken man, he had that same, stupid soft expression he always pulled whenever Hosah said anything particularly nice. "That's- Ah, that's very beautiful. I didn't realise you were so sentimental."

The detective had never really thought of himself in such a way. "Psh, tell me about it, you know what Jeanne said to me yesterday? I've got a little body and a big bleeding heart. Come on. That's cheesy. That's gross. I don't wanna think about that, I don't wanna imagine that visual." He fell back, now facing the ceiling, which was so unimaginably far away when he was like this.

"Aw, no that's cute. I hadn't seen that side of you before. Big feelings, little guy." Teddy instantly regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

"Stop. I'll throw up, seriously." neither of the two wanted to push the statement further. Besides, it was time to think about heading into the office. "What time is it?"

Hosah's room was unimaginably bare, a futon on the floor, a window with curtains, and a pair of bedside tables. This wasn't including his dresser of shrunken clothes or the clutter of painting materials that sat in the corner, but that was the gist of it. He'd been meaning to do some furniture shopping for what, five years now?

As there was no clock to turn to, Teddy leant over to check his phone.

"Seven thirty, just about." That was a relief. At least now, he'd be able to get his morning bath, he was sure he reeked of dead body after yesterday.

The tiny detective stood to his full height, barely able to keep balance on the spongy mattress, "You can use the shower if you want. I'm gonna take a bath."

The visual Teddy pictured in his head made his face subconsciously curl up into a smile. It seemed that their life really had turned into the tropes you'd find in your average, cheesy romance drama. At least with a little help, running the bath would be a much easier process.

Over the years of independence, Hosah had thought a lot about assisted living. Moving into one of those residential houses where he could be looked after, it seemed like the dream end goal for any shifter with no prospects of falling in-love. He'd decided to put the idea on the back-burner until he was in his mid thirties, he had all the time in the world to get around and find someone to love and look after him.

As he sat in the wooden bowl, half his body submerged under water, Hosah continued to ponder about his life thus far- although it was awkward to ignore the fact his assistant was sitting on the closed toilet seat to the back on him. It were times like these, when he'd seen lives be cut so short, that he thought a lot about his parents. When they were his age, Hosah was already five years old, and his brother would've been seven. He lowered himself deeper into the bath, wondering what exactly he'd achieved in the five years spent out all on his own in the big city.

Sometimes, Hosah thought it was too late for him. He'd spent so much of his twenties either hunched over a desk or barely tall enough to get around his apartment. Years of looking over missing person after missing person's cases made him wish it to have been him instead. These people had goals, prospects, promising futures, they were going to ivy league schools, they had babies on the way, they had an important job to fulfil, all things Hosah thought to be worth living for. It wasn't right to think in such a way, especially when it was down to him to bring these people justice, but it was getting increasingly hard not to with age.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if getting worked up over this- or the fact Teddy stayed the night upon his own request, was really all that worth it. There were bigger things to be worrying about, like, maybe the literal serial killer his team had stumbled upon.

"You're gonna prune up if you stay in there any longer, you know." The voice scared the shit out of him, but it was just Teddy, sitting with his feet up on the seat, patterned socks on display.

He was right, Hosah had been sitting and soaking for a while by now. Waiting until his assistant had turned to face the wall, the shifter quickly stumbled out and covered himself up. He'd embarrassed himself enough by now, flashing Teddy would be the final straw.

When the giant turned back around, the shift in his expression said all it needed to. That stupid tilt of his eyebrows, the way that everyone seemed to look at Hosah when they'd see just how terrible his condition had gotten.

"I know it's a Tuesday and all," Teddy's eyes adverted towards the ground, "But, we should hang out tonight. Get dinner or something. Do you like the movies? 'd only have to pay for one ticket."

Eh. Whatever. It wasn't like Hosah had anything productive to do once he got home. "Uh, sure, yeah sounds good. Just take whatever you need from my wallet before we leave." although it was nice to get a break from paying for his food the last week, Hosah had begun to feel increasingly bad about not paying his way. Hosah had actually been feeling bad about most things lately.

"No- no need, we share anyway, and it's not like, a fifty fifty split," Teddy's pitiful laugh as he said it was all that needed to be heard. The shifter knew he'd get nowhere by trying to argue.

Hosah was aware of how difficult it was to dance around the topic of his shifting, especially when he was, well, shifted, but it was still a bummer to hear the stark differences between him and Teddy be so loudly pointed out, even when not being addressed directly. Whenever something even slightly in reference to himself and his obvious lack of height came up, a feeling similar to that of being pelted with rocks came over him. Any sort of pleasant mood would be instantly squashed under the landslide of self awareness.

He wouldn't really peg himself as all that insecure of a person, but it were times like these when Hosah wished to have not been born this way. He wanted to argue about who payed the bill, and have it be a fair argument at that. The saying about not being able to 'have your cake and eat it too' always flew over his head when he was younger, but Hosah seemed to be applying it to his own life more than he'd like to admit.

Returning to the bedroom, draped in a towel that extended from his shoulders all the way down to his feet, the tiny detective now had the responsibility of getting ready to leave for work once more. The daily grind had gotten extremely, painfully repetitive by now, after five years of constantly being at it, rarely ever even getting weekends off, even the thought of having to wake up, get ready, take the tube, walk to the office, et cetera, had begun to wear Hosah down. He felt like a balding tire, one harsh turn away from skidding, crashing, and bursting into flames.

It barely took him half a second to decide what to wear. Despite being freshly cleaned, Hosah still looked pretty emaciated. If he could go back ten years, but remain in his current physical condition, they'd call him 'heroin chic'. The shifter laughed to himself at that thought, buttoning up the same old plain shirt he'd had for years by now. To be honest, his look would be totally in fashion if 'Victorian era chimney sweep' was a current trend. Hosah's Mom always told him that laughing at, seemingly, nothing was a sign of insanity, but he found his own thoughts too amusing to keep a straight face.

Using the little mirror in the jewellery box, the doll-sized man made an attempt to fix his hair and got a good look at his face. Seems he slept better than he thought, as his eye-bags were uncharacteristically small and light, although the prominent fat under his eye gave the illusion of having them either way. This was actually a feature Hosah had always liked about himself, mainly because he was told by the Korean side of his family about how it was a desired trait back home, if you could call a place you'd never even been home.

Looking at himself in the mirror, the shifter's thoughts lingered on Teddy once again. He thought about earlier in the morning, seeing his face so up close, the assistant's cheek pressed against the mattress, able to feel his breath brush over himself, feel his voice send vibrations to his core. Before he'd realised it, Hosah's face was flushing red again, just as it was when he first realised he wasn't alone in his room. His hand brushed over the surface of his own face, imagining what it'd be like to have Teddy's moles, or his straight nose, or his shaped jaw, or even his singular crooked fang that stuck out as he smiled.

Maybe Teddy wasn't the weird one of the two after-all, as the realisation of what exactly the shrunken blond was thinking about hit him like a ton of bricks. He needed to stop, he was being weird, what if Teddy was actually just like Edward from Twilight as he'd initially suspected and was reading his mind right now. All of these aspects forced his brain to quiet down for at least a second, giving him the time to take in his surroundings, and take them in he did.

The taller of the two could not startle Hosah this time around with his spontaneous appearance, as the shifter turned on his heels to face the approaching giant before he'd even got the chance to make himself known by his own hand.

Hosah craned his neck up, staring into the incomprehensible abyss that was six foot above him. Teddy had to be at least 6'3, probably an inch or two more if he was being honest. The shifter barely just reached ankle height, leaving way for the perfect opportunity to pull the good old 'tug on trouser leg and demand to be lifted up' trick. Just being reminded of such an action gave Hosah a blast of nostalgia, as he recalled doing the same thing to his Dad when he was a kid.

Without Teddy having realised he'd been noticed, the detective took half a dozen quick leaps forward before grabbing onto the fabric and pulling with all the upper body strength he had, "Come on, let's go,"

-~-

Having a new person around the office seemed to be doing some good for Hosah. Being assisted without feeling as though he should just find a way to do said things himself was refreshing, but old habits were hard to break, as he still found himself making attempts at tasks that, for him, would be extremely difficult to pull off, but for Teddy, would take barely the movement of his non-dominant hand. In some ways, it pissed Hosah off, making him wonder if the rookie had any cocky thoughts as he helped with ease, but it also proved to be extremely useful in speeding up just about everything he had to get done at the same time.

Maybe constantly isolating himself and refusing any aid was actually bad for his mental and physical health after all.

Ehhh, probably not.

The two actually made quite the good team, as in just two hours, they'd managed to get a missing person's family out to the office, back where all the evidence was being held. Now all that had to be done was to wait and see if they could confirm or deny the identity of body number seven.

Neither Hosah or Teddy were all that involved in these kinds of processes, honestly, their jobs were quite minor in the bulk of it all. Look for patterns in the cases, things that could link back to anything recent, or even anything that had occurred years ago, just dwindle down the possibilities of a culprit into a manageable size, that was just about it. At least, that was it on big cases such as this one. Usually, Hosah's job would be to go out to a much less severe and complex scene, usually a domestic case that had ended in a dangerous situation, and act as a mediator sort of figure, one that would provide a sense of security and trust, one that would be able to get a straight story out of someone, especially another shifter.

Being a shifter did actually have quite a few perks in those regards. A lot of people find the tiny folk to be very cute and endearing, the amount of late night talk hosts that would hang around on a random celebrity's shoulder for an interview was incomprehensible. You might think 2% of the population was an extremely small number of individuals, but it also meant there were just about 136,000,000 shifters currently living globally in the year 2009, which seemed like a lot more when put in that way.

There was just something so undeniably sweet about a person no taller than about four or five inches that the non-shifter population seemed to love, which made Hosah's job undeniably more painful that it had to be. He never minded speaking to other shifters, in fact, he'd much preferred his title of victim advocate over looking at pictures of dead bodies, it was just the giants that gave him a sickly feeling in his stomach.

More specifically, the giants on the police force. Cross communication wasn't typically the role Hosah would have to take, but on the rare occasion it was, he'd leave the station with a large chunk of his will to live having being chipped off over the course of the entire process. He felt as though he had to prove himself every time he spoke to a different officer, the shifter didn't understand what gave them the right to think so highly of themselves when they weren't even doing the hard work. Hosah felt the way they looked at him, especially in his shrunken state, like he was nothing but an object kept around to be a piece of entertainment. Psh. Whatever.

The small, disheveled man pulled at his hair to snap out of his thoughts, feeling his body get progressively more tense the more he remembered things that had pissed him off in the past.

An opening and closing of the door grabbed Hosah's attention. It was Teddy, except he had a particularly sad look on his face, one the detective had never seen before.

"Yeah, you can go ahead and put the missing persons report in number seven's file. That's him." Teddy didn't even look at the shrunken figure on his desk, he just took a seat on his chair and slumped down a little, causing it to spin to the left, facing away from the table entirely.

It took a few moments of sorrowful sighs before the assistant noticed Hosah's increasing struggles to do as he'd asked, letting out a quiet 'Right, sorry' as Teddy rushed to take over from the activity.

This field of work sucked. No matter how depressed, pessimistic or nihilistic it made him, Hosah still felt some kind of obligation to stay. Whether that be his underlying messiah complex, or the weight of his and Jules' shared history, it kept him at this desk, looking over files, and overall becoming the worst version of himself he could possibly be.

He'd never actually seen Teddy look so sad, which made sense, they'd only been working together for the past week, but it was still concerning either way. Hosah had just assumed his assistant was much better than him at the 'keep work and feelings separate' thing, but clearly they had another thing in common.

Augh. The silence was killing him. Trying not to raise any suspicions about the fact that, despite acting like he didn’t, Hosah was fond of his assistant, the tiny detective shifted his position until he sat, kneeled next to Teddy’s resting knuckles against the desk.

“So.. You okay?” Ehhh, that’ll do. Hosah had never been all that good with using words and addressing feelings.

The unsuspected close contact surprised his assistant a little as his chair wheeled back toward the table, “Me? Yeah, of course, yeah. Do I not seem okay?”

“..No, not really. You look sad.”

Teddy laughed, his eyebrows still tilted down, “Ahh, well,” he paused for a moment, taking a breath in and twirling his hands by his face, as if that meant anything, “This stuff just happens. I thought I’d be more thick skinned by now.”

Hosah knew all too well about this subject. “Ugh, tell me about it.” the tiny man shifted his position, his side leant against the giant, resting fist.

“I definitely thought, after the lesson my grandparents taught me about becoming too emotionally involved in work, I wouldn’t end up like this,” Even though he was smiling, it was obvious that Teddy wasn’t all that happy talking about it.

Hosah’s curiosity got the best of him, inquiring further with a little ‘Mm?’.

“Well, it’s a funny story actually,” From the way Teddy had mentioned it previously, the shifter could tell it was not in fact going to be a funny story. “I was like, maybe eleven, spending the summer at my grandparent’s farm, and it was really boring down there. Once I’d finished my work for the day, there was nothing to do except read or wander around, even the closest village was like, a three mile bike ride away.”

Teddy paused to run a hand through his hair, spinning on his chair so that him and the shifter weren’t face to face. “Anyway, I ended up spending a lot of time just hanging out with the animals, and this one hen was super attached to me, followed me around where she could, sat on my lap, like a real pet, you know? Well, since she was a hen and all, I didn’t think there’d be any consequence to it, I mean, we needed the eggs right? But my grandma was really annoyed, she took me out back to the shed where.. You know. I- You can probably guess what happened , after..”

“Oh, oh shit. What? That’s horrible. What the fuck.” Hosah could barely get his words out. Damn, and he thought he had some pretty brutal childhood stories.

His assistant had that same bittersweet look on his face. “After that, I thought I was hard as nails, but I guess not so much. Ah, c’est la vie, right?”

“Hmm, I guess,” what a nonchalant take. As he watched Teddy swivel back around on his seat to face him again, the shrunken detective decided not to question him further on the story. “You never told me what happened, with the family of that missing person. That’s body seven?” Hosah could infer exactly what happened, but decided to change the subject anyway.

“Right, yeah. That’s him. I don’t know. Having seen the body itself, I thought I’d take it all a lot better but.. Speaking to his parents, watching them learn their kid is really seriously dead. It just breaks my heart, you know? If I was in their position, I don’t know if I’d ever recover.”

If he could’ve, the tiny man sat beside Teddy’s hand would’ve held it in his own. “Mm. That’s how I feel towards just about every case I’ve ever worked on. Hah, we’re really not tough enough for this job, huh?”

And tough enough they weren’t. It felt as though the two detectives left on the office floor had just encountered some supernatural activity, as Hosah swore he felt the temperature drop by a few degrees in a split second. It was Jules, the head of the entire agency. The shifter didn’t know whether to give her the cold shoulder, or to thank her, regarding the situation she’d put both him and Teddy in not so long ago.

God, she may be terrifying, but she’s drop dead gorgeous. He’d always thought Jules had the looks, the height, and the body to go into runway modelling, but it seemed she preferred to surround herself with death’s imminent presence, and a few guys she can psychologically torture. It always perplexed the shifter, how someone so evil could look so angelic.

“What are you two still doing here? You could’ve gone home an hour ago, you know that right? Is he forcing you to stay back late with him, Edward?” Jules took a seat on the desk at which the two detectives sat both at and on.

No matter how much she pissed him off, Hosah always fell back on the ‘but she’s so beautiful though’ excuse. Despite the fact her jaw and cheekbones were as sharp as ever, her features were all still so soft, as her eyelashes and eyebrows were the same almost white blonde colour as her long, slicked back hair. He had no idea how anyone could make a pencil skirt and ill-fitting blouse look so high fashion, but Jules just had that kind of look to her.

“No, no, just got busy with chasing up missing persons reports. We got one, number seven isss..” Teddy’s hands were shaking a little as he grabbed the file from Hosah’s side, where the giant’s hand once rested. “Here, Charlie Laurent. Reported three months ago today.”

Her hand wrapped around the rookie’s wrist as she tilted the file toward herself, “Hmm, oh, right. Alice told me he’s guessing the bodies were ordered in a particular way, by when they’d been killed, based on decomposition stages. Still waiting on all the autopsies to get back to us to confirm that theory though.”

Alice was Jeanne’s last name, honestly, most people around the agency referred to him as such, sometimes Hosah felt like the only person who actually knew his first name.

Just as quickly as she came, the slender woman hopped up off the desk, giving Teddy a ruffle of the hair on her way out. How she could do that in heels, no one knew.

Once the coast was clear, the assistant leant in, “God, I’m shaking.” Teddy whispered as if he didn’t want her to hear him, despite the fact she had long left the room. She always did this kind of thing, start a conversation, then leave whenever she got sick of talking. There was really no rhyme or reason to her behaviour, that’s just the type of person she was. The type of person that made no sense at all, which is what made her so enticing and so scary at the same time. Unpredictable, that’s what she was.

“She’s not really all that scary. Then again, I’ve known her for like, ten years by now.” The tiny man shrugged, standing up preparing to leave himself. “Anyway. That doesn’t matter. What’s on at the theatres tonight?”

[bababaka]

I didn't know (I was always at your mercy) - Cade x reader

A/n -> This fic was requested by @darthrue17. Hope you like it!

Here is his request.

Warnings: Some foul language bc Jade, threats and lil bit of violence bc Jade. And... Pining :)

Summary: Somehow, you and Jade are ensnared by little Cat. And somehow, you do nothing about it. That is, until, she is asked to a date by someone who was not you. Or your girlfriend.

You and Jade had history. You had known each other for years, and had been dating for years as well. You were happy. Jade's brash, intimidating and rude manner in public fell apart when it was just the two of you in her room. In your own world.

You understood each other and that understanding, companionship, was something you wouldn't trade for anything.

You and Cat also had history.

Cat, unlike you and, especially Jade, was extremely kind and innocent. And somehow, somewhere along the way, you and Jade became the little redhead's guardians.

Was there someone bothering Cat? Jade subtly stood behind the little girl. Quickly, everyone ran in the opposite direction.

Had some idiot broken the redhead's heart? You made yourself available, hugging her and whispering comforts in her ear.

"It' his lost. You are amazing. Everyone would be lucky to have you."

"It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

“He's an idiot. You deserve better.”

And, on one of those occasions, you simply hugged the little redhead, and welcomed her, again, comforting her.

"He doesn't deserve your tears."

"It's gonna be okay. I'm here."

“He's an idiot. You deserve better.”

And as you embrace her, scurying your fingers through her hair, brushing away her tears. You look at her. Eyes and nose red, messy hair, lips puckered. You feel the grasp of tiny hands around your heart, squeezing it.

A thought comes to you, unbidden, free, genuine.

I can be better.

This strucks you like a lightning. You didn't expect, it seemed like something that came from a hidden place, though, it didn't feel new. You felt like it was a sentiment that was there, all the time, just waiting to resurface and make itself seen, known, felt.

And this old, new feeling became present.

All. Of. The. Time.

You could only think about Cat, and how you would love to take her on dates, do cheesy and romantic things that she would certainly love and squeal adorably.

That's to say, you were acting strangely. And Jade obviously noticed.

Cat just left Jade's car and entered her house. And as soon as the red head is out of sight, Jade turns to the passenger seat in which you were seated in. She has scowl in her face.

Shit.

"Okay. Spit it out. What's wrong with you?"

You stammer and try to back up, but your girlfriend was having none of it.

Eventually, you just give up.

Nervous, biting your lip, you tell her.

"I might have a little crush on Cat."

"What?"

Jade's face darkens and something dangerous burns in her eyes.

"Uh, what about we have this conversation somewh-"

"We're having this fucking conversation now!"

And she crosses her arms, and you prepare yourself for what is coming.

"What the fuck do you mean you have a crush on Cat? Do you not love me anymore? Do you want to break up with me? Did you cheat on me? Is that fucking it??"

You try to talk but Jade was in a roll, so you just let her tire herself out.

"You trading me for Cat? Is that it? You were just trying to find an excuse to finish things and that's the best you came up with? I can't fucking believe you! How dare you? What? Is it because she is prettier than me? Sweeter- Fucking say something!"

You hold you hands up, and make your voice as non-threatening and soft as you can manage.

"I am not cheating on you neither trading you for Cat or some other girl. I could never. I love you, Jade, and that will never change. You are amazing, darling. And I am so lucky you are my girlfriend." Jade tries to talk back, but you continue. She had her turn, it was yours now. "I… like Cat. Yes. But that doesn't diminish the love I have for you. I doubt anything could."

Her offensive posture deflates then.

"So you won't break up with me?"

You smile softly, take her hand and kiss it.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a long time, if you'll have me."

She melts into you and quietly says:

"Good." she kisses you.

After, as she drives you home, and says goodbye. She all but whispers.

"I guess Cat is cute."

"Hey, Jade! Look! My new unicorn!"

"Another one?"

"Yeah! This one is called Mr. Pointy. Say hi to him."

"…Hi, Mr. Pointy…"

Cat giggles.

"He likes you. He said you are really pretty."

Jade feels her chest squeezing.

Fuck.

A week later, Jades opens your bedroom door abruptly and simply spews out the words “I’m in love with Cat.”

You look up from your homework, and burst into laughter.

Jade pouts and you try to stop yourself from laughing and apologize to your girlfriend. And fails.

After a while, you manage to say something, between chuckles.

"I'm sorry. It was so sudden I couldn't help myself."

She averts her eyes and crosses her arms, you hear a little huff.

After a few moments of silence, you stop laughing while Jade is irritated, turning her face away from you (it's cute. And it quickly reminded you of Cat. Maybe you have a type).

When she realizes you (mostly) get back to normal, she turns to you.

"So, what do we do now?"

You shake off the last remnants of your laughter and frown, confused.

"What do you mean, 'what do we do now'?"

"About Cat and... Our infatuation for her.

"...We do nothing really. What can we do?"

"But-"

You walk over to Jade, grabbing her hands and intertwining them with yours.

"Jade, we don't even know how she would react to this, to our feelings for her. Much less if she would agree to a relationship with the two of us..."

You see Jade's expression conforming. And sighs, sadly.

"Sorry. Let's just wait, okay? And we'll see what we do later."

Jade just nods and softly says "ok."

You pull her into your embrace and kiss her.

"I love you." you murmur against her lips.

"I love you too."

Saying and doing are different things, though. And you and Jade notice that in the following weeks. Doing nothing was harder than it seemed.

At every moment, every little thing, every detail and word that came out of Cat's mouth, every movement, every dance and spin, only made you two love her more.

You guys probably looked like idiots interacting with Cat. Completely smitten with the tiny girl. Jade, however, could maintain a posture, you not so much.

You were at lunch, with your group of friends, when Cat interrups the conversation.

"I want bibbles."

The entire table turns to her.

"Cat, you know you can't eat that."  Jade says.

Cat pouts and puts her hands together.

"But it'll be just a tiny itty bitty bibble. Please?"

And, where lesser beings would cave, Jade stood her ground.

"No."

And that was the end of it. You hear Cat murmuring "damn it".

Later, at night, with a tiny bag full of bibbles, you find Cat.

"Look, i won't tell if you don't"

She smiles happily, hugs you, almost hanging from your neck and takes the bag in your hands.

And as you turn to leave her to savour her treat, she calls your name. 

"Eat it with me?"

You weren't really a fan bibbles, but damn it all, Cat just has those eyes, and little smile and her voice. She has you wrapped around her little finger.

You sit besides her, faking shock, and putting a hand to your chest.

"Wow. Sharing with me? You truly are a changed woman."

She shrugged as she took a bite of the bibble in her hand.

"You took care of me when things were bad." she looks up at you. "So i guess you deserve my bibbles."

You smothered a chuckle.

"Thanks, Cat."

The downsides of doing nothing, though, are that someone can just hop in and do something. 

And you just had you to blame really.

You were with Jade and Cat, in the hallways, chatting away about some horror movie, when a boy you never cared to learn the name walks in your direction, no, Cat's direction, and asks to pull her aside to "talk". 

You're not dumb, and neither is Jade. You knew the boy was into your little redhead. He was slightly familiar. And as you locked eyes with Jade, you were sure he was going to ask her out. 

Sometimes, you wish you weren't right. 

As Cat comes back to you and Jade, she tells you what happened. 

"Brian" that's his name. You were sure you'd forget soon. "Asked me on a date this saturday. Should I accept?" 

You furrow your brows, and look at where Cat was before, and sure enough there was Breno, tapping his feet, biting his lips, looking over to them, waiting for an answer.

Why was she asking you and Jade?

She cares about your opinion, you'd knew that. And you sense the power flowing through you. You had a chance to ruin Bernado's plans, make her refuse him and keep Cat all to you and Jade.  

That is not fair though. Because she wasn't yours, was she? You had no right to manipulate her into saying no.

You sigh.

And as you are opening your mouth to say something, your beautiful, impatient, a little violent, cranky girlfriend was faster than you to respond. 

Her green eyes flew to Barb, appraising him and shooting him a disdainful look. 

"He looks dumb, i should drop my hot coffee on him and scisso-

You cough loudly, and talk over Jade.

"If you want to, you should go. Right, Jade?" 

She glares at you, and you glare right back. Until she gives in.

"Yeah. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want." 

The redhead seems uncomfortable, brows furrowed, looking at you two. But at the end, she goes back to Bernardo, and by the big, stupid smile on the boy's face, you understand what she did.

Cat agreed to go out with him.

You hear the coffee cup being crushed and thrown in the trash by Jade, who storms out.

You remain. And you feel your heart crack slightly.

It's gonna be okay.

On the the damn day of the date, you and Jade are at home, watching sad movies and commiserating over the fact that Cat was in someone else's arms and not yours.

Later, you hear your phone ring, it was Cat, crying. Instantly you jump to your feet and become alert, ready to run out to Cat and kill someone.

She says little, just asking if you were with Jade, and then asking the two to pick her up.

She was at Noobu's.

You and Jade immediately go to meet her. Jade, after you told her what happened, had her muscles tense, ready for action, to kill the kid who hurt the tiny girl.

Your redhead.

And as much as you wanted to, you couldn't say you were different. But, you tried to calm down, purely for Cat's benefit, you knew that the redhead didn't like violence, the pure, hot, visceral anger that flowed through your veins.

When you get at the restaurant, you see her on the sidewalk, sitting, wearing a pink and fluffy dress, her head lowered, but her eyes, you notice when you get closer, are swollen.

When she sees you, she all but leaps at you. and she starts crying profusely.

She tries to say something, but everything becomes gibberish and you don't understand anything.

Deciding it would be best to take her to Jade's house, you go to the car, and accompany Cat in the backseat, murmuring words of comfort, while Jade drove, stealing a few glances in the rearview mirror.

"It's gonna be okay. We are here."

When you get home, you go out to the kitchen and get a glass of water and return to the living room, the scene you come across is one that you would love to see more often, in different circumstances.

Cat was on Jade's lap, her red head buried in her neck, and her arms wrapped around your girlfriend, who was holding the tiny girl tightly in a protective, possessive way.

You sit on the couch, and docilely offer the water to Cat. She slowly unwraps herself from Jade, but remains on her lap, with Jade's arms around her.

She drinks the water quickly. She seemed calmer now. No more crying, just traces of tears in her cheeks.

You place an arm around her leg for comfort, more for you than for the redhead.

"Do you want to take a shower?" you ask in a low tone.

Cat sniffs, and nods.

"Yeah." her voice cracks.

You and Jade get up, to get everything ready for Cat.

And as she gets in the bathroom, you and Jade sit on her bed. Both of you silent.

Just trying to get your mind right and processing what happened.

"We shouldn't have let her go on this stupid date. You shouldn't have stopped me."

You sigh.

"She has to decide for herself."

"She got hurt, she was crying the whole fucking drive!"

You shush Jade.

"I know. I was there. Let's hear what happened first, we decide later what we do."

At this Jade gets quiet, then murmurs.

"I'm gonna kill that fucking idiot Monday."

"I'll help you bury the body."

Jade gives you a tiny smile and looks at you.

"Good."

It doesn't take much longer after this for Cat to be done and step into the room.

And when she comes back, you feel your heart expand. She looked so cute in Jade's clothes, a style completely opposite to hers and much larger to her small frame.

You get out of your head as she sits on the bed, in the middle of you. Silent.

Jade can't stand it and asks what Bruno did in a nervous and angry voice, but it wasn't directed at Cat. It never was.

Cat, contrary to what you think, doesn't withdraw, just smiles slightly and shakes her head.

"So what was it?" you ask in a softer voice.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she stutters a few times until she breathes and then speaks.

"The date was great, he's cute, affectionate, funny, but something was missing. A-and when he tried to kiss me, I couldn't, I couldn't. I just ran. I can't do this anymore. I can't try to give my heart away when it already belongs to you two."

Your eyes widen. You freeze. Your heart stops for a moment to begin try beating it's way out of chest.

What the fuck?

Jade is the one who recovers faster.

"What?"

Cat sniffles, and straightens up, head lifting and eyes sharp, serious, but still sweet. Everything about Cat was sweet.

"I like you guys. I don't want to ruin your relationship, or our friendship, but I can't deny it anymore, I have to say. I… I love you two. You always look out for me, and you make a point of making me comfortable, you make me laugh. And I feel this strange and pleasant way around you that I can't, won't feel with anyone else."

Seconds of silence pass, until Jade surprisingly - maybe not - kisses Cat and whispers:

"I've been waiting to do this."

Coming out of you frozen state, you touch Cat's chin and gently turn her face towards you, slowly, giving the redhead space and time to deny it. But no, she lets herself be guided and kissed. Brief. Just a move of lips.

So, you let her go, smile, and say.

"We've always been here for you."

Jade adds.

"And we always will be."

"Oh so you're saying you were waiting for us to make a move?" Jade turns to you, with the smuggest face you've ever seen. "So we shouldn't have done nothing? Uh."

You groan.

"I was wrong, okay? I'm sorry."

"There is nothing sweeter than being right."

"Not even Cat?"

You both turn to the red head, Whose's ducking her head.

"Okay. You're right. She's sweeter."

And as Cat blushes, Jade smiles and pulls her in for a kiss.

And, right after, you pull Cat for a kiss and murmur against her lips.

"Definitely sweet."

[saintlevrant]

I would like more thoughts on merman Lev, Like how do we meet him and how does he realize 'Oh shit. I'm in love"?

ANON!!! ANON! I KNOW THIS IS LATE, BUT...

€ I have one main scenario where a merman!Lev sighting would take place; however, I am not a romantic person, so bear with me.

Now, this is probably where you take a walk along the beach, and- oh my! What is that odd figure laid up on the sand like it's sunbathing? Can't be a human cause the way it's squirming around is NOT very bipedal-esque. As you get closer, you realize it's a merperson. You approach the being, and this is where it begins. Cue the... whatever this is!

£ By heaving him back into the ocean, you help him out of the beached merman situation, and of course, he's very grateful.

£ Well, he shows how grateful he is cause bro only makes aquatic whooping and chittering sounds.

£ From then on, you go to the beach just to see how he's doing, yk, yapping it up and checking on his health and stuff. And that develops into a friendship!

£ Little by little, you guys start exchanging trinkets; for example, you'd bring land shit, like apples and flower crowns, and he'd bring you valuable items from the sea, such as pearls and handmade necklace.

£ There’s a lil unspoken competition between you two, trying to present the better object to the other with each round of gift-giving; but you never seem to be able to outdo each other.

£ And giving you valuable deep sea knickknacks is one of the only ways that Lev communicates with you, besides the occasional, broken mimicry of your words and the playful splashes he gives you with his tail.

£ He's never gotten upset with you. Maybe he feels a little irritated when you give him a gift just as beautiful as the one he gives you, but never truly upset.

£ That changes after he sees you walk along the beach with a human man. Knowing that you're not alone, the merman can't approach you, so he stays away from the shore, only peeking out from the sea surface.

£ Although he's far away, he can tell that you're smiling and laughing along with that man, and it makes an unpleasant bubble up within him. Who the hell does that bastard think he is walking with you? Haiba Lev's human?

£ You should be talking to him right now, not wasting your angelic laughter on whatever cheesy thing that man just said to you.

£ This is the moment where it hits him; you may mean more to him than a precious friend. Yes, it takes seeing you with someone else to make him realize.

£ Cliche. I know, but what else do you expect from me?

£ Lev doesn't come to the surface for days after that, even when he knows you're sitting at the edge of the water waiting for him, even though he wants to give you a token of his love.

£ He wants to. He really does, but he's scared. What if you don't understand his sentiments? What if he can't convey his feelings properly? What if that guy got to you first? What if you reject him?

£ Days pass with these thoughts clouding his mind, and the only thing that pulls him out of his head is the sound of you humming next to the water.

£ Mindlessly–like a man falling under the spell of a siren–he follows your tune. His head pokes from the surface of the water, surprising you; you didn't expect him to show up today, but you're happy he did.

£ Lev's emerald eyes watch your surprise melt into a warm smile as you beckon him closer. His heart beats faster at the welcoming sight, swimming closer to you until he reaches where the water meets the sand.

£ You talk to him as you normally would, speaking excitedly and rambling about what's happened in your life.

£ He doesn't understand half of what you're saying, but his finned ears twitch when you mention bringing a family member to walk on the beach with you.

£ Family? His gills flare as he roughly garbles the word back to you. After you explain that family means "same blood" and related, he clicks happily and disappears beneath the surface of the water.

£ He comes back after a few minutes, chirring with a hesitant rhythm.

£ Obviously, you don't understand what he's trying to tell you, but from the flush of color on his cheeks and the stiffness of his shoulders, you can see that he's nervous.

£ Mid-trill, the merman extends a webbed hand to offer you a stunning necklace decorated with pearls, delicate seashells, and coral.

£ Just by looking at it, you can tell that the necklace is of much higher quality than any of the other items he's gifted you; then, you piece it together.

£ He's confessing to you.

© xenclev 2024. ♡ thank you for the ask!

[cyber-corp]

Suburban music videos: What's the deal?

Some of you may know that a couple of days ago I started a playlist of music videos from the 1990s and 2000s which all seem to be featured in or prominently feature American suburban areas. I forget what the actual post was that pointed this out, but I think I kind of had that idea before I saw it.

One of the first music videos I thought of was 'Rockin' the Suburbs' by Ben Folds from 2001, because not only does it explicitly mention a suburb, but the video is done in such a way that I think it was meant to poke fun at the angry white boy music that plagued the late 90's (Limp Bizkit, Korn, etc).

The other video I thought of was 'Pretty Fly (for a White Guy)' by the Offspring from 1998. Like RTS, it's meant to poke fun at middle-class white dudes who think they're hot shit because they listen to rap, when in reality they come off as cheesy wannabes. So it would make sense for the MV to have that setting.

The main trope these MVs have in common is that they both have the "haha 90s ironic edge" on them. Like it's very obvious that the songs are about how tough some dudes think they are, when really they live in a relatively safe and secure area. "Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden did something similar in 1994, but I think that it has a completely different vibe to the others. More surrealism, less irony.

But I think the true golden era of the "suburban neighbourhood music video" was during the early to mid-2000's. With a rise in pop-punk and emo, comes a rise in angsty teens going "blehh!!! screw this place!!!! screw the establishment!!!!!! its not a phase mom!!!!!!", which then resulted in music videos featuring an environment they were probably most familiar with (and probably stuck in).

Here's '1985' by Bowling for Soup, released in 2004. The colour palette for this video is a lot more muted, which is (I find) a common link between most MVs in the 00's. Which gives a more "this is the way things actually are" vibe, compared to the much brighter palettes of the 90s.

'The Anthem' by Good Charlotte (2003) is quite possibly the most early-00's MV ever, and I consider it to be the definitive suburban neighbourhood music video. The song is about "not living the way you're meant to live" according to Joel Madden, and the video reflects that sentiment! Just a bunch of punk and emo kids going out and causing a ruckus, having a gay ol' time.

It also has this weird blue/greenish filter on it, which is very indicative of its period. That's a whole other story.

The suburban neighbourhood continued to thrive in music videos throughout the 00's, mainly in pop-punk and emo. I believe this was an attempt to target its demographic; adolescents aged 14-19 who had yet to find their place in the world. Some notable MVs include 'You're Going Down' by Sick Puppies (2009), 'Only One' by Yellowcard (2003), and 'Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground' by the White Stripes (2002).

(side-note: michel gondry, director of the white stripes vid, never misses when it comes to his music videos. this is one of my favourite music videos ever, but it definitely isn't one of my favourite suburban music videos ever.)

SNMVs began to go out of style around the early 2010s, presumably along with pop punk and emo. The closest to it would be 'I Sold My Bed, But Not My Stereo' by Capital Cities, which came out in 2014. It's very much of a more nostalgic style compared to the others, but it's most likely one of the last of the SNMVs.

So: Does this specific sub-genre of MV mean anything?

I think individually the videos definitely represent and reflect certain zeitgeists of their eras, but the SNMV is very much rooted in adolescent angst. That feeling that while you are living comfortably, there's definitely something more. Boredom is present in every teenager, and these videos are like a fantasy for them: getting to live out your days without responsibility with your friends, but are suppressed of having any fun because of the 'system' at large.

"Let me tell y'all what it's like

Being male, middle class and white"

(also i think all star is partially responsible for the rise of interest because of course it is. it's all star by smash mouth. mentioning its very existence feels redundant.)

[aerodaltonimperial]

Hook trying to find the perfect Valentine's gift.

(Okay I think soft girl time is over after this LMAO don't choke on how sugary it is)

He is not good at this. He just isn't built for it; it doesn't come naturally, nor easily, and thinking too hard about it manages to summon an embarrassment that heats the sides of his neck. And he would absolutely have fled already if Anthony hadn't been his ride, if there were any other options besides waiting awkwardly in the aisle overfull with pink and red, with hearts and streamers, with balloons and bears with inane sentiments stamped across them.

Wow, he is really, really not good at this.

"Yo," Dante says, holding up a card that looks just like a hundred others, the same nauseating color of magenta. "Heartfelt or funny?"

"Heartfelt," Anthony says. "Always go for the heart."

Dante looks at Hook next, and oh, he expects an answer. Shit. He wants an answer?

"Uh," Hook tries, tongue fumbling behind his teeth. "Same?"

"Okay," Dante says, and nods, like he's satisfied. "Maybe like a poem or something."

Hook cannot think of anything less romantic than a greeting card poem typed up on a piece of cardstock marked 300% higher than it should be, but Anthony makes a noise of affirmation. "Always a good move."

Is it? Is this something people really do? Like, not to laugh at, but legitimately because they think it's nice? Or, worse, that it's expected?

Shit. Shit, is this expected?

His palms are getting sweaty the longer he stands in the aisle that's exploded in glitter and manifestations of what people think love is, a representation that Hook has never understood. He can't find words on a good day; how is he supposed to be able to find the right ones on a card while under pressure? Nothing is ever going to actually hit close enough to mean anything: thanks for putting up with me even though I don't ever say the things you probably deserve to hear?

Shit. He's starting to panic. Anthony and Dante are both pulling cards out and reading them, putting them back and reaching for more, and Hook eyes the door longingly. He can't do this. He really, really can't do this.

Anthony seems to finally notice his discomfort. "Yo. Hook. Y'okay?"

Hook nods once, and hopes it's convincing. The two figure out what they want to buy and start towards the registers, and the further they get away from the ticking Valentine's time bomb, the better. Hook's nausea doesn't dissipate until after they've paid and are heading back to the rental car.

He slides into the back without fuss, mostly just so he can tug his phone free and open up the message thread. He shakes a little as he writes, do I need to give you something for Valentine's Day?

It takes a minute for the response to come through: It is a very strange holiday, isn't it? No real connection to anything. Humans are fond of spending money on each other.

but do I need to? Hook replies. I don't know how to do this.

No, Danhausen doesn't think so, Hook’s phone displays, and Hook exhales so quickly it burns his throat. Danhausen does not need cards with silly things written on them.

okay, Hook types. And then adds, I would rather just spend time with you.

Really? comes the follow-up. That's fortunate, because all Danhausen wants is to see Hook, too.

Hook grins, biting down on his lower lip. He's glad he doesn't need to worry himself sick over finding a card that somehow manages to be sentimental without cheesy, meaningful without specific.

He might not have very many words, and most of them might get stuck before he can force them out, but he knows the ones that really matter. When he finally sees Danhausen a few hours later, backstage, he grabs his wrist and tugs him into one of the dark hallways before throwing his arms around Danhausen’s shoulders.

"Hey," he whispers, tangling his fingers in the back of Danhausen’s hair.

"Hey," Danhausen responds, with a low note of surprise. He sounds pleased.

Hook sucks in a deep breath. "I love you, you know?"

"Ah," Danhausen says, and laughs. His arms, a mirror of Hook’s own, tighten. "This is about your question from earlier."

"No, this is about you," Hook tells him.

"Well, in that case, Danhausen loves Hook, too. But Hook already knew that."

Hook did, but there's something about hearing it that helps the concept settle down into his bones, becoming part of him. And maybe that's the whole point of the smarmy cards and overpriced bouquets, at the heart of things.

Still. He'd rather just be like this, wrapped around each other for long enough that the endorphins are triggered in his brain, flooding his limbs with warmth.

"Mm," Danhausen says. His palm flattens against the nape of Hook’s neck. "Hook is Danhausen’s favorite person."

"Ditto," Hook says, and laughs when Danhausen pinches his skin.

[seas-storyarchive]

Maman's Birthday - What if

[[MORE]]

It had been a rough few months after the extermination. The hotel had to be repaired, wounds being stitched. And it seemed everyone was slowly getting into brighter spirits.

And the one who seemed to make the biggest stride, shockingly enough was Alastor. Until.. well..

The hotel residents woke up to amazing smells coming from the kitchen, making everyone lumber down to see what it was. On the large dining table, was a wide variety of intersting foods. It all smelled and looked super good.

"Hey, who made dis spread?" Angel asked, drooling slightly.

"Bonjour, chums!"

The joyous sound of Alastor's voice broke everyone's attention from the table, in fear.

The man was wearing his usual ensemble, save for his suit jacket but in it's place was a red vest covered with a.. was that a pink apron?? On his face was a smile, although not the usual malicious one. In his hands was a baking tray of homemade biscuits.

"Hi Alastor!" Charlie greeted, equally as enthused as him. "What's all of this stuff?" She gestured to the table. "It smells amazing."

"Merci, Charlotte." Alastor smiled to her, before moving past her to put the biscuits into a basket that was lined with a bread towel. "Oh, just a special occasion." He said, straightening his posture with the pan now empty that he moved from the table.

"What's the occasion, stretch?" Lucifer asked, sitting down and grabbing one of the biscuits as well as a butter knife and the accompanying butter dish, before opening it and spreading butter onto it.

"If you must knew, monsieur." Alastor's eye twitched. "It is my dear Mother's birthday. And I was hoping to share a favorite past time of mine for this day, making dear mother's favorite foods- a full three square meals for the day made with Mother's favorite foods- from her own recipes, through me, right to all of you."

"Oh Alastor! That's so beautiful!" Charlie wiped a tear from her eye. "If you need any help celebrating, just let us know."

"Oh, non non, Charlotte." Alastor tapped her nose with his pointer finger. "Just let me man the kitchens today, with my assistants being my trusty radio, Mother's recipe book and picture of her, as well as memories." He said, sounding sentimental.

"Unholy shit, Smiles!" Angel's voice made them look to the man - he had a plate of casserole, and was lowering his fork to the plate. "I don't know what the fuck dis is, but I am hard now! It was instant!"

Alastor, ignoring the more.. explicit part, decided to educate everyone as they all sat down to partake. "That, Angel and other chums, is cheesy grits casserole with smoked sausage. Mother's most requested dish for her birthday."

His eyes gained a mischievous glint to them. "Oh, and the butter that you slathered on your biscuit, monsieur," he put the attention on Lucifer, "was freshly churned by yours truley this morning."

"No fuckin' way!" Angel retorted, another bit of grits in his mouth - he reached for the dish and biscuits. "Gimmie dat shit!"

Alastor, now helping Niffty onto her seat, laughed quietly. "Just let me know if it needs to be replenished, I have another batch." A timer went off, making the man's ears turn towards the kitchen. "Oh, bonté! The sweet potato biscuits!" He looked quickly from the door to Niffty and Charlie.

"I'll help her out, Al." Charlie said, smiling as she poured some orange juice for Niffty.

"Merci, Charlotte cher." The man rushed off to the kitchen- everyone catching sight of a red deer tail, the tip being black and it was wagging (in enrichment) just below the knot in the apron.

Angel spat biscuit crumbs onto his plate in laughter. "Oh my goodness! What da fuck!"

Vaggie, picking at her food, looked at Charlie. "Are you sure we can trust this stuff?"

Charlie kept her smile as she looked at Vaggie, "I know how you feel, but if his mother brings him happiness and this is how he expresses it, this might be the key to his redemption."

"Maybe.." Vaggie said, pulling the muffin to her lips and taking a bite. She wouldn't admit it, but that was one good muffin.

"I ain't too sure about this either, Vaggie." Husk said, also picking at his food. "But I ain't gonna talk to boss about this."

"Pfft. What's the big deal?" Lucifer now had the floor, eating another biscuit, it was covered in some gravy looking stuff now. "Let the busboy be a busboy, it suits him." He muttered something about lowerclass sinners between bites.

"Dad!" Charlie was shocked on Alastor's behalf. "Imagine if I wanted to celebrate6yt you or mom like this, and you weren't here, and someone said that about me! What would you say? How would you think I would feel?"

Lucifer didn't say anything after that, but he didn't look guilty either

Alastor came back in with a tray of sweet potato biscuits. "Now, don't worry if there is any left over. As Mother always said, a meal worth having once, is worth having twice." He noticed the tension in the room, his ears flicking. He dumped the biscuits into another basket. "Did I, miss anything?"

"No." Came the shared response of Charlie and Lucifer - Charlie was annoyed and her dad was quiet.

Alastor nodded to them. "D'accord.. let me know if you all need anything else as I'll be cleaning up, because there is more than enough to go about right now. I have some that I put to the side and plan to take to Rosie, lass always loved mother's grits and sausage casserole." He chuckled. "Don't worry about stacking the dishes, I'll tend to them when I return, should be around lunch. I can't wait to prepare lunch."

As Alastor washed the dishes he used for the breakfast buffet he prepared, they heard jazz among the running water. Both were fault, but the humming was even fainter. Okay..

"Should we be worried?" Vaggie asked, not having touched anything apart from the muffin despite it all smelling amazing and her being hungry.

"No, I ain't toots." Angel said, going for some more food.

"Aint you gotta watch your figure?" Cherri asked, speaking up as she had been enjoying some cheesy egg & andouille sausage sliders.

"Pfft. I got the day off, so I don't fuckin' care." Angel retorted, piling on the sliders that Cherri had.

"Today could be worse." Husk said, eating a muffin.

After the dishes were washed, everyone ate their fill, and the food was put away, Alastor was on his was out.

"I promise I'll be back chums!" He said to them. "Oh! And please, leave my assistants at their place on the counter. Very vital to my process today!"

Charlie, assuming process meant progress, nodded with a smile. "Sure thing Al! Have fun."

"One last thing," Alastor said, before turning his head 180 degrees to look at everyone with radio dials and a wide smile, "if anyone touches the cake on the counter that is cooling, I will make you into dinner's main course and force everyone else to eat you." He said, his teeth flashing as he spoke. "And I hope you paid attention, Angel, monsieur charlatan." His head turned a bit more that 180 to look at Angel and Lucifer.

"Smiles, I'm too stuffed to move right now. I ain't doin' shit." Angel waved him off using one of his arms.

Lucifer, who was carving ducks gave no indication he heard it either way.

"You have me word, Al. Nothing will happen." Charlie said to him.

"Wonderful! See you all around lunch time!" He waved them goodbye as he left.

Not even two hours later, Vaggie growled in annoyance. That fucking radio was left on! Everyone else seemed to ignore it, too focused on other things, but Vaggie couldn't take it.

She sighed, deciding to just go turn it off. Nothing else would be touched. So, when Vaggie walked in to the kitchen, she saw it was spotless. Save for Alastor's little collection on the corner of the counter and the cake. Fucking idiot.

Vaggie walked to the radio and tried to turn the dial to turn it off - nope. Still playing the same thing. Not even static. She should unplug it - it wasn't even plugged it. By the cloud above, it was driving her nuts.

"Shut up!" Vaggie shouted to the radio, fiddling with the dial.

"What's going on in here?" It was Charlie. "Vaggie, I don't think we should mess with Alastor's stuff-"

"Charlie, I don't fucking care if he's the reincarnation of Jesus Christ reborn as a sinner!" Vaggie had had it with Alastor not being knocked from his high horse, getting whatever he wanted, and Charlie excusing it. "This thing needs to shut up!" She had summoned her spear and stabbed it into the radio.

Oh, it stopped making noise - only to short circuit and then explode. Shards getting everywhere: in the cake, all over Vaggie's wings that she used to cover herself and Charlie, shredding the cookbook and photo. But that wasn't the end of it, nope. The shards were on fire. As was the cookbook, and the photo - the glass on the front was broken and the frame was on fire.

"Vaggie!" Charlie looked from her girlfriends wings, in sympathy. "You didn't have to - No! Put the fire out!" Charlie went to try and put it out, unintentionally making it worse before successfully putting it out.

"What all da racket abou- unholy hell!" Angel was shocked, seeing a disaster of broken radio bits on fire, a ruined cake, and the only two actually in the room were Charlie and Vaggie.

"Oh no! Mr. Alastor's radio! His book!" Niffty looked from the remains of the book and half burned book. "Where's the photo of- oh, no no! He's gonna be so upset!" Niffty saw just a pile of broken glass and small bits of metal.

"We gotta fix this." Husk was actually worried now.

"Fix what, chums?" It was Alastor, who sounded suspicious. And then, he actually surveyed the room - and there was silence.

"I.. Alastor.." Charlie stepped forwards. "I know this looks bad, but we can clean this all up, you can bring down another radio and picture if you want-"

"I.." Alastor said nothing. The last things he had of his mother.. gone. On the day to celebrate his mother.

"Those were all I had left.." his small voice, barely heard, as he stared at the spot where he left those things.

"Then why the fuck were they left there?!" Vaggie didn't get it. Why the fuck was he shocked that those items were destroyed? He left them out.

Alastor didn't answer. He just dropped into his shadow and left.

Everyone looked at Vaggie.

"What?!" Vaggie asked as she picked up her weapon.

"Why da fuck did you do dat!?" Angel spoke up, being one of the last people anyone expected to stand up for Alastor.

"The fucking radio was annoying." Vaggie said.

"You could have done something else!" Niffty said, glaring up at Vaggie. "Anything else, but you broke Mr. Alastor's heart! On one of the only happy days he has left!"

"Why the fuck would I care! I'm not like any of you! I didn't have parents! Just the other angels and fucking Adam!" Vaggie snapped. "I was created as is, so why is that a problem? This is fucking Alastor we're talking about! The fucking Radio Demon! A fucking overlord! Why are we even fucking helping him?"

As this argument was going on, Alastor was laying on his bed, his room locked and dark.

He was weakly humming a lullaby from his childhood, only stopping to whisper to the darkness, "happy birthday, Maman.. I'm so sorry.."

[portokali]

spotify numberrrress!!

6 19 29 39 43 44

6 is Queen of Kings by Alessandra. That song is/was incredibly addictive and i listened to it extremely on repeat ever since discovering it. i feel the message lyrics-wise is pretty cheesy and basic feminism 101 buuut it's super fun and dynamic! can't resist :D

19: townie - mitski. on sunny days i go out walking / i end up on a tree lined street / i look up at the gaps of sunlight / i miss you more than anything. this is simply one of my favorite songs in the world! i think about it every time i look up at the trees. i love trees and look at them a lot, so this happens often. i also am a strong supporter of the sentiment that you always take the people you love on a walk with you, even when you walk alone. i'm always missing someone, so whenever i go for a walk, in my head, i'm walking with the people i love and miss, thinking how i would show them around my city and my neighborhood and my park. so you understand, of course, why this song and i are one.

francis forever, that was my answer for francis forever. im so dumb and confused and confuse sounds and words with the same picture in front of them all the time :) it makes living my life very hard.

anyway i love townie also for its energy and rage and grief - to me it's a song about growing up, being a teenager about to leave home. i love it's resolution (i'm not gonna be who my daddy wants me to be / i'm gonna be who my body wants me to be) i love love love the line and i want a love that falls as fast as the body from the balcony, and i want a kiss like my heart is kissing the ground hello! insanity! is it dying is it falling in love is it growing up..

but i digress. the reason i listened to it so much is bc of this fancam by comradekatara. thee azula/zuko (but mostly azula) thesis of all time and a personal cutural reset to ME!

29. old friend - mitski. another banger by mitski! love the nostalgia and what-ifness of this song. to me, this song is a sister song to two slow dancers; missing someone you went to school with, but now you're older, some shit has happened between y'all that makes it hard to keep in touch, but through the pain and bitterness there's love and a constant aching (in my head, this song is during the time where the two ex-classmates are still youngish, like say 20s or 30s, wanting to reach out but the old wounds still burn so they don't. then in two slow dancers they reunite at a school gathering years later, when they're in their 60s and think about how they'd do things different if they had the chance). anyway this song makes me want to bite the γυψοσανίδες.

39. mama - mcr. what can i say abt this song! an absolute banger and a classic!

43. savage good boy - japanese breakfast. yessss that's one of my favorite songs! love by someone destructive singing about how they love only one person, would drown and burn the world but for one person... apparently it's the sopranos fanfiction which is the main reason why i wanna watch the sopranos. but even without that knowledge, the sentiment still gets across!

44. the only heartbreaker - mitski. this song resonates bc it reminds me of the dynamic in my past relationship. but storytelling wise, i like how it seems like the narrator of this song is resigned to their fate of being the only heartbreaker, even after becoming somewhat aware of the unequal dynamic. that's delicious to me!

[edsmcnson]

who: eddie & @courtroomphilosopher​​

what: is it the 80s again?

where: the hideaway (where else tbh)

if being back in hawkins had taught eddie one thing, it was that almost dying in a supernatural dimension was apparently not something one could just work through in therapy. even over the course of twenty fucking years. not that eddie had kept up with his sessions much these last months. scratch that, these last years, too busy with being miserable living his dream life. it had also taught him that this town still blew.

and that he needed to get out of there, stat. he’d initially driven to the hideout, that piece of junk corroded coffin had played in a couple times in their prime, but had quickly come to find it boarded up, an eviction notice taped to the door with police crime scene tape. not that it surprised him much, it had been pretty crappy, even in the golden age of seedy crappy bars. 

so where was there left to get a drink but the hideaway? the only place to get something to drink, really, if you didn’t want to sit on the hood of your car with a six pack of beer like some freshly graduated jock loser. yes, he was thinking of tommy hagan specifically, but that was another thing. eddie needed to be among people, people that weren’t his suffocatingly loving almost-step-aunt and uncle. people that were just as much of a mess as he was. what better place than the only bar left in hawkins. nobody respectable would choose to have their shameful drink there, much less on a week night.

three senses hit him first when he walks through the door. one - smell, obviously, always smell at the hideaway, that one hasn’t changed since the first time he flashed his fake i.d. to the bartender. the second - sight , as his eyes zero in on an unfamiliar face sitting on a bar stool in the corner. his eyes travel down the stranger’s form and unavoidably eddie’s gaze stops on the piece of fabric dangling from the other guy’s back pocket. no fucking way. it ties into sense three, which, well, it’s more of a ... a sentiment his body expresses suddenly, with an urgency that nearly overwhelms him. telling him that holy hell, eddie needs to get laid. like, yesterday.

no wonder he’s been so tense since arriving in hawkins, there’s been no shenanigans to ease up the tension from all the crazy happening around him. mostly due to a lack of options. and here was his golden ticket to salvation. ugh, too cheesy. anyway. 

eddie truly felt like the hottest piece of action in the joint, as if there was a fan pointed on him and everything was happening in slow motion as he casually got himself a drink and made his way across the bar, ignoring everyone around him but him.

he knew it was stupid to even ask - but ... well, he was also in indiana. in the middle of nowhere, indiana, to be exact, and everything around him seemed to be stuck in the 80s. so it was worth a shot. eddie cleared his throat, flashed the other a grin when he got his attention. “uh... so, you can, like, totally tell me to get lost if not but ... shit i’m - i’m just gonna ask, are you flagging? by any chance?”

[vaguelyprophetic]

Why would they change it 😭😭 I feel like phone lockscreens can say so much about a person and Romans S3 was seems just very Romany. Also, completely agree with Stewy having a familial pic!! For stewyroman even if circumstances did allow it, I don’t think they’d be the type to have some cheesy photo as their phone savers BUT I do wonder if they have those subtle things that remind them of the other? Like a stolen ring or bracelet that the other always wears. And no one actually knows but them. I think they’d have a very quiet love in that sense

idk dude it made me so sad like bring back the stupid shiv pic!!!! we deserve it!!!!

stewy and roman would be the guys to make each other's contact pics something ridiculous and a little bit embarrassing. like roman's picture in stewy's phone is a picture of roman passed out on the couch wrapped in a blanket, and stewy's picture in roman's phone is him mid-brushing his teeth with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and toothpaste in his beard.

and YES to the stolen rings or bracelets. it's a damn shame that roman doesn't wear as many bracelets in canon as kieran does irl, but there are still a FEW scenes where he is wearing bracelets, and I can absolutely see stewy snagging one of those and wearing it on a daily basis because he's a sentimental little shit and he likes being reminded of roman. and roman steals stewy's clothes. he ends up with a small collection of harvard t-shirts because they're so old and worn out that they're some of the softest things that stewy owns, and roman loves sleeping in them <3

[hyunnie]

man the svt movie was fun and all but like...it was such an obvious cash grab like there really was no point in making this