#anyway I can’t remember my point but like oh yeah sometimes you love people from afar and they’re special to you and like THAT’s OKAY

[itspileofgoodthings]

I don’t know what a parasocial relationship is and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.

[gojoest]

sometimes on sundays you like to go to that coffee shop.

the one where satoru for the first time dramatically got down on one knee, proposing to you. but not really asking for your hand in marriage — you were already married.

he wanted ovations, he wanted people to clap, and he wanted a free dessert.

it’s not like he can’t afford a sweet treat, in fact he can afford all the sweet treats in the world, but that’s just how the guy you married is. he’s constantly putting you through tricky, impromptu situations, as if to test you on purpose.

anyway, it worked — it had to, because you must have fast and at least somewhat adequate reactions when you decide to marry a man like him.

people clapped, he got the cake — he ate the cake. the owner of the coffee shop proclaimed that very table you occupied yours — it was the very first proposal in the history of the cafe, a special occasion that needed to be celebrated and remembered. so the owner said, “this table will always be reserved for you on sundays” (it was a sunday that day)

so, every now and then you like to go there. it was a cozy spot, besides all the staff knew you already. they knew your orders by heart, too.

but today there’s a new guy working on the counter, taking orders. a newbie that’s clueless. so clueless, in fact, that he has the audacity to stare at you while you’re sitting on the table, waiting for your husband to bring your drinks.

satoru turns around and looks over his shoulder — to follow the direction of the newbie’s gaze, to double check if he’s indeed really staring at you.

what a mishap — he indeed is.

“pretty, huh?”, satoru casually asks the guy.

“yeah”, the newbie’s face gets visibly hot, the blush stretches from his cheeks straight to his ears. “really pretty. maybe i’ll slide her a tissue when she comes over, with my number written on it — i’ve seen it in the movies”, he chimes, excited and visibly very smitten.

satoru laughs. “good luck with that”

the boy on the counter thanks, he thinks those are words of encouragement, but in reality those words were a dare thrown at him — he was just too painfully naive and clueless yet to understand.

“oh— do you want me to write your names on the cups?”, the boy points at the beverages in front of him.

“yea, sure— that’d be mr. gojo and mrs. gojo”

satoru takes the cups and slowly makes his way to the table.

in an obnoxiously loud voice he speaks, “here, my love — this one’s for you. careful not to burn your tongue, sweetness”, all while, of course, heavily stressing on the terms of endearment — to make a statement, in case the names on the cups and his actions weren’t clear enough to get the point across — and continuously starting at the guy on the counter with brick-red bloodlust.

yeah? i dare you. i fucking dare you.

[crybabycinna]

That Night (smut)

(Sugar mama Lin Beifong x sugar baby reader)

Minors go tf away!

Warnings: men being weird, fingering, drinking, degrading, fucking in a closet, fighting, lots of hickeys

Remember that party Asami invited you and Lin to? Yeah it’s party time!

I had a glass of champagne in my hand while I watched people dance around at Asami’s party. The more I drink my champagne the more I realize I should have just gotten a shot. I’m not the biggest champagne person but I try so hard to be it’s stupid. I got this itching feeling that someone was looking at me but before I could look around Mako came up to me. “Hey.” Mako said. “Hey.” I said back and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Have you seen Bolin?” Mako asked. “No I have not.” I said. “Damn, well you wanna take a shot with me?” He offered me a shot glass. “I’d love to.” I said as I took it.

We clinked glasses then tossed our shots back. The liquid burned for a second then the feeling subsided. “I gotta go find Bolin to make sure he’s not doing anything stupid. I’ll come back to check on you in a bit.” Mako said. “You don’t have to check up on me, I'm a big girl.” I told him. “Tell that to chief.” Mako said as he walked away. I shook my head. When I go out by myself Lin sometimes has Mako follow me around which he rather do then paperwork anyways but it’s not like I can’t take care of myself. I started getting that feeling again of someone watching me and it’s bugging me.

I need another shot. I walked off to the mini bar and ordered a shot of cactus juice and then after I took it I said fuck it and ordered another one. Before I could leave the bar some guy blocked my way. “Excuse me.” I said as I tried to get past him. “Why don’t you come dance with me?” The average height man asked. “Actually she’s my dance partner.” Asami said as she grabbed my hand and dragged me away towards the dance floor. “Thank you.” I said. “No problem now, dance with me.” Asami said. I laughed as she held my hand as we danced around each other and on each other.

“I’m surprised you can dance in this dress.” Asami said to me as I danced on her. “What do you mean?” I asked as I moved my hips. “The slits of your dress goes all the way up your thighs at any minute we could have a flash moment.” Asami teased. “Oh shut up I used the tape you invented to make sure this dress don’t move like that.” I laughed. “I’m glad it’s really working, I’m truly a genius.” Asami said. “Indeed you are.” I said. Once the song was over Asami went to go find Korra. I ran into Mako again. “Still no Bolin?” I asked. “He’s in the pool.” Mako told me.

“Oh also you are doing a shitty job at protecting me.” I teased him. “What happened? Are you ok?” Mako asked frantically and started looking over my body for bruises or scratches. I mean he might find a bruise or two because Lin likes to mark me up. “Did someone do this to you?” Mako asked as he poked at my shoulder blade. “That’s a hickey.” I told him. “Oh.” Mako said as he turned me around to face him. “Yeah me and your mom get frisky.” I said. “I don’t need to know about what you and the chief do.” Mako said and shivered in disgust.

I laughed. “Anyways what happened?” Mako asked. “Some dude blocked me from leaving the bar then Asami came to save me.” I said. “I saw you two on the dance floor, you don’t think chief will get mad?” Mako asked. “Why would she?” I asked. “Since she likes to leave marks on you like that and has me follow you around she seems a little possessive don’t you think?” Mako asked. “I suppose so, yes but I don’t think she’ll get upset over me dancing with Asami.” I said. “Anyways stay with me so you don’t get bothered.” Mako said.

Hmmm how about no. “Mako, look , there's a tall buff smart pretty girl over there.” I said and pointed in the opposite direction. “Where?” Mako asked and I took off. I went back to the dance floor. I’m not afraid to dance alone. Is it more fun to have someone to dance with yes but oh well I have to dance alone. As I was dancing I felt someone grab my waist and I wasn’t alarmed at first my brain thought it was Asami or Lin. “Where’s your dance partner?” The male voice asked. Oh hell no! I quickly moved away and turned around.

“Dude what the fuck?” I asked. “Just dance with me.” He said. “No.” I said and tried to walk away from him but he grabbed my wrist. “Hey! Get off.” I snapped and turned back to face him. “It’s just one dance.” He snapped back. Before I could raise my other hand to punch him I was pulled away and then the guy was put on the ground. “You ok?” Mako asked. “Yeah I’m fine.” I told Mako. “You sure?” Lin asked me. “I’m fine baby.” I said. “I’ll get him out of here.” Mako said and dragged him away. “Come with me.” Lin said and we walked off the dance floor. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Since people wanna dance with my girl I’ll just have to remind them you belong to me.” Lin said. Oh no. Lin dragged me into a closet. She pushed me against the wall and started a passionate make out. Her coming to save me made me horny but now her shoving me into the closet has me even more excited. Anyone could come in and see us but I don’t care. I want them to know, I want them to see, I need them to know I’m her’s. I pulled away. “You gonna keep making out with me or are you gonna remind everyone who I belong to?” I asked. Lin immediately attacked my neck.

I leaned my head back so she could have more access to my neck. “Lin please more.” I begged her. “Don’t be an impatient brat.” Lin growled. “Please.” I begged. Lin turned me around and lifted up my dress. I wasn’t wearing any shorts, it was just a dark red thong with a heart chain under my long dress. Lin smacked my ass and I let out a moan. “Lin.” I whined. She nibbled on my ear and smacked my ass over and over. God this feels so good. Lin pulled down my panties and started to circle my clit. “You’re wet just from me spanking you?” Lin asked.

“Yes, I love when you spank me.” I whined. Lin turned me to face her and pulled down my dress to pull out my breast. She nipped my left nipple and I gasped. She was gonna leave marks all over my tits. “Lin please more.” I begged. Lin slipped two fingers inside of me stretching me out and my back arched. “Yes, more baby more.” I whined. She curled her fingers and did a come here motion. “Fuck keep doing that.” I moan out. “You’re all mine aren’t you?” Lin whispered in my ear. “Yes I’m all yours!” I cried out. Her fingers feel so good inside of me. “You’re sure?” Lin asked.

“Yes baby I’m yours.” I moaned. “I thought you’d be Asami’s the way you were dancing on her.” Lin growled and rubbed my clit with her other hand. “No Lin. I’m yours all fucking yours! I belong to you!” I cried out. I guess Mako was right. “That’s right you belong to me.” Lin said. My legs were shaking and ready to give out. “Oh god please chief I’m close.” I whined as I felt a familiar tightness building in my belly. “When you cum you better scream my name.” Lin commanded. I nodded my head and the closer I got to tipping over the edge I kept saying her name over and over again.

“Do you think you can take another finger?” Lin asked. My eyes widened. “I c-can try.” I said unsurely. “Good girl.” Lin said and I felt her add a third finger. I gripped Lin’s shoulders. “Fuck chief!” I cried out. “Your tight pussy is swallowing my fingers up so well baby girl.” Lin cooed. We’ve never done this before but it feels so fucking good and I can feel my juices leaking down my thighs. “I’m so close.” I told her. “Cum for me baby you can do it.” Lin said, pumping her fingers faster. “I’m all yours Lin, I belong to you, I’m yours. I don’t want anyone but you,” I grabbed Lin’s face so she could look at me as I declared her ownership over me.

I could tell her eyes were full of lust but there’s something else there but I had no time to decipher what it was because Lin smashed her lips against mine. Lin plunged her tongue in my mouth and I didn’t even put up a fight. I let her do whatever she wanted to me. As Lin slowly pulled away I felt light headed. “You’re right you’re mine, you belong to me, there will be no one that touches you the way I do.” Lin groaned. Her words pushed me over the edge. “Lin!” I cried out as I orgasmed.

Lin fingered me through as my whole body shook. “Fuck Beifong.” I sighed out. “You ok?” Lin asked. I nodded my head. “You sure?” Lin asked. “Yes baby I’m fine.” I said. “Good.” Lin said as she pulled out her fingers and I put them in my mouth. I sucked them clean for her. “Let’s get out of here.” Lin said. “No, I wanna keep dancing.” I whined. “One more dance then we go.” Lin said as she helped me put on my panties. “You fucked up the tape.” I sighed. “What do you mean?” Lin asked. “There was tape that I put on the strings of my panties to help keep my dress from moving all over the place.” I told her.

“You’ll be fine.” Lin said. I nodded and we exited the closet together. Before we made it all the way back to the party Lin stopped me. “What’s wrong?” I asked and turned to look at her. Lin opened her mouth but then stopped. “Where the hell have you two been? Are you ok?” Kya asked coming up to us. “I was a little shaken up about what happened earlier.” I said. “Aww Linny, look at you taking care of your girlfriend. How romantic.” Kya teased. “Kya don’t you have single woman to mingle with?” Lin asked. “No need to be hostile Linny, but are you really ok?” Kya asked me.

“Yes I’m fine.” I said. “Oh and by the way Mako got into a fight with that guy.” Kya said. “Is Mako ok?” I asked. “Of course he’s ok.” Lin said. “Lin knows her precious son can handle himself but yes he’s ok.” Kya said. Lin rolled her eyes. Kya’s eyes widened. “What?” I asked. “Y’all are nasty! All those hickeys.” Kya gasped. “Oh hush Kya.” Lin said. Kya and I laughed. I was happy that the hickeys were seen. This is what we wanted. We walked back to the party and I got to dance with Lin for a little bit. Lin ran her hands over my body as we danced.

[vinelark]

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

[athena-writes-i-guess]

what abt a oneshot where reader is in public and calls eddie (they’re dating) and asks him to pretend to be her bf cause she completely forgot they were actly dating cause the relationship was new and she was drunk and he’s like girl what? i am ur bf!!

A/N: Hello friend! Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took a little bit! Work has been actually insane for the last few weeks. I really had fun writing this little thing, I really hope you like it!!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader

~~

“So, do you want to maybe go get food with me sometime?” You were asked as the boy, who’s name you couldn’t remember, leaned on the counter in front of you.

You were at a party, roped into going by your friend Robin. She practically begged you to go so she wouldn’t be alone when Steve got busy, and you had nothing to do that night anyways so you decided to go. You had been drinking, probably a little too much at this point, and you were already a little wobbly and confused when you started this conversation. Hell, you didn’t even know what had been said that led to this question.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t.” You slurred out, taking another sip of the mystery drink Steve had made you.

“Awe, really? We’ve been having such a nice time talking.” He asked, shooting you a friendly smile.

Shit. You hated confrontation so much. And letting people down always made you uncomfortable. You usually made your best friend, Eddie, do it for you. Too bad he wasn’t here right now to help.

Then you had a thought, something Eddie had told you to say if you were uncomfortable with a guy hitting on you, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend. Think he’d be pretty mad if I went out with another guy.” You lied, adding a small chuckle for effect.

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that, I haven’t seen you with anyone. Who’s the lucky guy if I can ask? See who I lost to.” He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink as he looked around, seemingly to look for your supposed boyfriend.

“Oh -uh- he’s not here yet. Had something to do before the party.” You said quickly, taking another sip as you avoided his eyes.

“Well, introduce me later. It’d be cool to meet him.” He said with a nod, “I’m gonna go get another drink! See you later!”

Shit. You hadn’t thought he’d actually ask to meet your boyfriend. What to do now? Who could you even ask to pretend?

You looked around the kitchen that you were standing in at the teens around you, trying to see a friendly face, when suddenly it hit you.

Eddie.

You could ask Eddie! He wouldn’t mind pretending to be your boyfriend. He had always told you that he could if you needed. You had always felt a little awkward about asking him, since you had been basically in love with him since you met. But now you need him.

You decided to look for a phone upstairs where it was a little quieter, passing by tipsy teens as you made your way through the house. You nudged passed couples chatting and making out as you walked up the stairs until you finally found an empty room. You quickly locked the door behind you and rushed over to the phone, dialing the number you had memorized from daily use.

It rang and rang and you were worried that he wasn’t home. You knew he had band practice today. You almost gave up when you finally heard a hurried, “Hello?”

“Eds! Thank god you’re home!” You said, slightly relieved.

“Hey sweetheart! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later. Is everything okay?” He asked, concern laced through his words.

“Yeah, everything is fine. It’s just- do you remember how you said that I should tell creeps that I have a boyfriend if they ask me out?” You questioned.

“Yeah?” Eddie responded, slightly confused.

“Well this guy- I don’t even know his name- asked me out and I said I have a boyfriend and now he wants to meet him and I don’t have anyone! Can you please come and pretend to be my boyfriend?” You pleaded, twirling the phone cord around your finger anxiously.

“Sweetheart-” He started, now Eddie really was confused.

“Please Eddie? Pretty please?” You interrupted.

You heard Eddie laugh and you felt the frown pull at your lips, now he was going to tease you about this.

“Sweetheart, I can’t pretend to be your boyfriend.” He said, you could hear the smile through the phone.

“Okay, sorry Eddie.” You couldn’t stop from pouting.

“Wait, babe, it’s because I’m already your boyfriend.” He laughed. “I can’t pretend to be something I already am.”

You felt your eyes go wide and your mouth dropped open in surprise. How could you forget? How could you forget that the guy that you had loved for years had asked you to be his girlfriend just last week?

Alcohol. That’s how.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” He chuckled.

“Oh.” Is all you could say.

“How much have you been drinking, sweet thing?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know, Steve’s been giving me these drinks and I don’t know what’s in them.” You chuckled, smiling even more at the little “Great” he let out at that. “I’m sorry Eds. I can’t believe I forgot! I think that means I should cut myself off, only water now.”

“It’s alright baby. How about I come over, walk around with you for a bit and get you a little sober- make sure that creep stays away from my girl- and then I’ll take you home for the night. Then tomorrow, for our date, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to forget that I’m your boyfriend, hmm?” He teased lightly, you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“That sounds good babe.” You smiled, “Thank you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither, sweet thing. Be there soon pretty girl!”

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @cityofidek @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie @becca-alexa @catacina (couldnt tag earlier so sorry)

[wooahaes]

a surprise to soothe anxieties

pairing: non-idol!i.n x fem!reader, ft coworkers!3racha... and also seungcheol from accounting in a throwaway line

genre: established relationship au. kinda fluffy? kinda comfort-y.

warnings: reader is written to have anxiety in some form. 3racha being readers friends to the point of 'yeah we'll throw hands for u.' food mentions. reader worries jeongin forgot her bday. also a lil hint that reader's past relationships have been kinda shit. candles(/flame) mentioned but they're battery-operated/fake.

word count: ~1.5k

daisy's notes: know tht i loved writing chris + binnie + jisung popping in for a moment.

Jeongin had kissed you that morning before you left for work. “Good morning,” he said, casual as could be. “Have a good day at work, okay?”

Which… If you were honest, wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear first thing on your birthday. 

You’d never been someone who was so attached to having your birthday recognized to an absurd degree. Sure, you liked to do little things to celebrate—but unless a person was close to you, you were pretty indifferent to whether people recognized your birthday. Of course, for the people closest to you, the sting from them forgetting was pretty inevitable no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. For Jeongin… You tried to talk yourself out of overthinking it. Most likely, he hadn’t put any thoughts into it yet—it was early, and he had mentioned he had plans for today. Jeongin would likely call you at lunch (or just text if he was busy) when he remembered. Was it too clingy to wonder? You weren’t sure, but most of your day at work had been spent overthinking everything.

“You’re pacing,” Chris didn’t look up from his computer screen for a moment. “What did you two argue over?”

Of course Chris would guess that. While you and Jeongin didn’t fight often (you bickered most often over the silliest things, yes, but fights? The two of you were good at stepping back, calming down, and talking things out), Chris knew how you were when things were a little rough. You paced too much, you couldn’t focus for too long, and you apparently were prone to sighing sometimes (although that one was something Changbin noticed and pointed out to you). 

“Nothing!” You paused. “But…” With a sigh, you leaned against the copier. “It’s my birthday and Jeongin didn’t say anything.” 

Chris looked up. “Hold on. It’s your birthday? And you didn’t tell any of us?” 

You just crossed your arms, shrugging. “It’s not a huge deal—”

“Seungcheol in accounting pouts when you don’t wish him a happy birthday,” Chris pointed his pen at you. “That’s why Jeonghan sent out that email once. I would have bought you something if I knew—”

“It’s fine, Chris,” you waved him off. “I’m fine.”

He nodded after a moment. “Fine… But if you want me to buy lunch one day, just say the word.” Then he turned, watching you closer. “I don’t think Jeongin forgot, by the way.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I know, but…”

“Can’t help wondering?” 

Changbin looked up from his seat. “Wondering what?”

“Her boyfriend didn’t wish her happy birthday,” Chris turned back to him. “You know Jeongin, right?”

Changbin looked at you. “Do I need to fight him? I work out. I could do it.” 

Despite how buff Changbin was, you didn’t think he had it in him to hurt another person—regardless of the way he was joking now. You shook your head anyway. “I’m not hurt by it—”

“You should be,” Jisung leaned back in his chair, butting his way into the conversation oh-so-casually. “I would be. He’s your boyfriend. He should do better.” 

You turned, poking Jisung’s forehead. “Jeongin is nowhere near the worst guy I’ve dated. Forgetting to say ‘happy birthday’ this morning is nothing.” 

Even still, the thought never fully left your head. Although you noticed the way Jisung quietly set a snack on your desk at one point, giving you a shy smile before heading back to his own desk—and the casual way Changbin offered to refill your water bottle for you at one point, just to be nice—it hadn’t exactly lightened your mood any. Hell, you ended up taking Chris up on the offer to buy you lunch, just to get out of the office for a little bit. All throughout work, your mind kept going back to Jeongin. Seungmin had texted you a little ‘happy birthday! you’re getting old :)’ at one point. How did Jeongin’s best friend remember and he didn’t…?

By the time you were off work, Chris had convinced you to let him drive you home. It was your birthday, the least he could do is spare you another trip through public transportation. Not that it was hard to convince you—you’d denied it maybe twice, just because it was out of the way, but asking if you wanted to put up with the journey home was all you needed to agree. He’d walked you into the lobby of your building, giving you a warm hug.

Before he left, he held you by the upper arms for a moment. “If Jeongin did forget… Just let us know. We’ll rough him up for you,” he chuckled, just trying to get a smile out of you.

It did work, to be fair. You just rolled your eyes. “Uh-huh. Drive home safe, Chris.”

You stepped into the elevator, already feeling how jittery you’d become. If Jeongin didn’t say anything… How were you supposed to gently correct him? It felt weird to do. You hugged yourself, letting out a slow sigh. People were busy. People sometimes forgot things. Forgetting one birthday wouldn’t be too bad, especially if he was sorry for it later. The elevator slowed to a stop, and you stepped out to head to your apartment. You slowly punched in the code to your apartment door, took a moment to compose yourself, and then stepped inside.

Immediately, you were greeted to the sight of dimmed lights with little battery-operated candles lighting the way to the dinner table. You stopped where you stood, just staring at the sight that greeted you for a moment before slowly stepping in. Stepping out of your work shoes, you set them aside before blindly groping for where you’d left your house slippers when leaving that morning. But you could hear Jeongin moving about the apartment slowly.

“Happy birthday to you…”

His voice carried through the apartment, pretty as ever as he continued to sing the song. Even though you hated when people sang it to you, you always made an exception for Jeongin because of the way he’d sing it to you. His voice was always kept soft rather than the loud half-yelling half-singing people would do—which felt like a competition for attention. Slowly, he came into view, carrying a little cake with candles lit on top of it. He stopped, smiling at you as he finished the song.

“Happy birthday—”

All at once, your emotions overwhelmed you and tears were running down your cheeks. When did he set all of this up? How did he get everything without you realizing…? You could smell your favorite dinner from where you stood, and everything seemed to hit you threefold. Jeongin’s eyes widened as he quickly moved to set the cake down and then come to you. 

“Are you okay?” He giggled. “Angel? Sunshine?” He paused, only deciding to tease you a little further with a playful, “My love—”

You just wrapped your arms around him, sniffling. “I thought you forgot.”

“Ah… So it’s my fault you’re crying,” he didn’t seem bothered by it—almost as if he was teasing himself for the act. He squeezed you closer to him. “I wanted to surprise you. I should have texted you like I was going to, but…” 

You just squeezed him tighter, too relieved because your favorite person hadn’t forgotten you like your anxiety had tried to tell you. You knew it was silly, but still… It was hard to not worry when those thoughts had haunted you all day. He swayed with you for a moment, giggling softly as he pressed soft kisses against the side of your head.

“I made your favorite,” he said. “I had to watch a video to make sure I was doing it right, but it tastes good!” He craned his neck and rested his head atop yours, taking full advantage of the fact you were a step lower than him right now. A moment later, he drew away, looking you in the eyes. “Did I really upset you that much…?”

You shook your head, wiping at your eyes. “No, just…” With a deep breath, you composed yourself before facing him fully. “I guess I got carried away with my thoughts.” 

“I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead. “I’ll say something next time and then surprise you with things.” His hands ran down your arms until he was holding your hands in his own, taking a step back. “Why don’t we eat instead? I don’t want it to get cold.”

You let him guide you away easily enough. “Okay,” you said. “Jeongin?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you,” you said, soft and shyer than before. “Thank you for the surprise. It’s sweet.”

“So you like it?” His eyes lit up a little, and he was smiling at you again. “I’ll outdo it next year.” 

And maybe he would. But you’d be looking forward to it regardless, happy to be loved by him.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

[scenetocause]

can i ask about grid boy oscar please?

ofc. grid boy oscar my beloved.

basically: the fia brings gridpeople back as a concept but they're there all season and it's an excuse to put oscar in a skimpy leotard, as well as various situations like having to participate in an FIA litterpicking initiative and endorse synthetic fuel as part of the "grid for good". all of this happens in front of a particularly half-drowned cat lando who's desperately lonely and kind of falling apart. also logan is lando's teammate (bc if no oscar he would have won f3, etc) and they are quite fun to write together.

lando basically falls in love with his hot, slightly awkward grid boy and keeps giving oscar his coat or hoodie and things when he's cold or his umbrella when it's hot and oscar's a bit bemused about it but not arguing because he only took this job to try and make contacts with teams about an engineering internship. except there's this cute, weird driver who keeps asking him to hang out and keep him company at dinner and falling asleep while oscar's sitting on his bed and lando sometimes looks so pathetically needy. oscar has no idea what he could do to help him out but he wants to.

so lando sort of staggers through the season, with oscar as more and more of a support and they're both a little bit lost but helping each other enough and then perhaps they have a lovely little snog when they realise they're going to be separated and oh, maybe they won't be, then.

snippet under the cut

“What do you think about the grid girls - well, grid people?” Lando is not expecting Ted Kravitz to ambush him, Notebook mic in hand, while he was trying to re-do his shoelace under the only bit of rain cover near McLaren’s hospitality in Suzuka.

“Uh.” He blinks, water dripping in front of his eyes. “They’re uh, they’re very nice?”

Ted gives him a look like that’s not the right answer and Lando’s mouth panics before his brain has time to catch up. 

“Nice people, you know. They clearly have lots of passion for Formula 1 and they-” there’s rain running into his mouth, off his hood. Has to pause to swallow and shake his head like a dog. “They’re here, you know, because of that.”

“Oh, right.” Ted nods. “Yes, it’s good for them, isn’t it?”

There’s a note of concern in his voice that says he’s not totally sure what they just had was a coherent conversation but it’s the Notebook so. Whatever. Lando shakes himself again, water spraying, as Ted burbles away from him and he finally gets the sopping wet lace on his team trainers into something approaching a knot that might hold to the car park, at least.

Logan catches up to him with a papaya umbrella halfway there. “Dude. You’re soaked.”

Ok, yeah, Lando probably should have thought about an umbrella himself. He’s a bit out of sorts, lately - Jon used to handle all that sort of thing for him and he’s actually fine coping on his own and it’s ok for Jon to be home for a few races and Lando’s an adult, yeah? He’s leading the team, Logan doing well enough but the points gap between them clear, Lando getting asked about executive-level decisions in the group like he’s one of the real grown ups, lately. 

So he’s doing fine, alright? Just, like, a bit wet. On this particular occasion. Sometimes he’s also thirsty and can’t find his water bottle or hungry and hasn’t remembered there’s a wrap ready in the fridge but he’s basically alright. His back hurts more but he’s fine, it’s only a few races. He can do this.

“Where’s the - team car or whatever, anyway?” Now he’s under the umbrella it’s obvious quite how bad it was, water sluicing off the spokes like it’s out of a tap. 

“I dunno.” Logan sighs, heavily. “I just figured Zak’d probably have another reason to fire me if I let you drown.”

[thatgirlonstage]

On the last post also. I have given up not being annoying about reminding people of my food restrictions. Because I swear EVERY time I have not bothered to mention it. You will never fucking guess what happened. So now any time someone invites me to have food I’m just like. “Sure I would love to please remember I can’t eat mushrooms” without prompting. Or at restaurants, with the exception of if it’s a) a place I’ve been to before and had that exact dish before or b) VERY clearly spells out every ingredient of a dish (and honestly sometimes even then), I just always always say I have an allergy now bc man those buggers will pop up in places you wouldn’t believe. I have to hammer it into people’s heads too bc people will respond with “oh yeah I don’t like mushrooms either” and I’m like no. You are not listening. This is not a matter of preference this is a matter of protecting myself from becoming violently ill, so no I cannot just pick them off the pizza, I am not eating anything that has been cooked with them. This is rambly sorry but the point is friends with food restrictions please learn to be annoying about them. The people who aren’t assholes will be happy to be able to better accomodate you and the people who ARE assholes need to be reminded of it repeatedly anyway.

[em-mermaid]

my heart is wherever you are

Ren’s hand is warm between his own.

“You’re here.” Ren whispers, as they meet each other’s gaze. His eyes seem to search, drinking in Martyn’s face with a look that feels like he’s afraid he will disappear. “How?”

or: Ren finally gives up his role as king.

(also on AO3)

——————

Martyn is falling.

Falling.

Down. Always down.

A never ending plummet, tumbling towards an unknown destination. Sometimes, he wonders how he knows he’s moving downwards instead of any other direction through this liminal space, through this in between. He supposes he has to trust his gut on that one. No other choice really.

So he falls, ever downwards through the endless stream. A sort of stasis.

Usually, it ends with a phone call. Sometimes it’s Scott calling to say hello or one of the Noxcrew pulling him into another MCC. Other times it’s Grian on the other end, extending an offer to join yet another one of his experimental servers. An offer to join a game that he would accept without an ounce of hesitation, but boy is he getting tired.

Well, maybe tired is the wrong word.

He still enjoys them quite a lot. It’s a chance to see some old friends and make some new ones. A chance to strategize and have fun. But maybe, he thinks, after this last game the taste of victory didn’t sit on his tongue in quite the way he wanted it to.

And there are always the whispers. The taunts and bloodlust that he can’t quite shake. The voices calling for a rematch, for a victory, for a reunion with a king that is no longer his. A king he failed.

A king he lost.

A king he loves.

And still, he falls.

The shrill sound of his communicator startles him from the monotony of air rushing past his ears. He looks down at his watch to see… Cleo? Why is Cleo calling? Cleo never calls.

“Hello?” he answers, feeling a tug from his sternum. Well, that’s definitely her on the other end.

“Oh Martyn, hi!” Their voice crackles through the speakers. “I wasn’t sure this would work, I’m glad you answered. Do you have a minute?”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he replies. “Although, would you say this is out of the world? How would you classify the datastream?”

He hears her chuckle through the line. “I dunno Martyn, you’re the one who spends all their time there.

“You make a good point.”

“Yeah I do. Anyway, I have, well, a bit of a large request.”

Martyn hums inquisitively, unsure. What would Cleo need from him of all people?

“I know this is a touchy subject for you, but it’s important, alright? I was giving Ren a tour of–”

He cuts them off, talking over them, words tumbling from his mouth before he can think twice. “Whoa whoa whoa wait what? This is about Ren?”

Cleo scoffs. “Yes Martyn, it is. If you could give me just a minute to explain before interrupting that would be grand.” And oh, of course the sharp sting of her words is something reliable in every life.

He rubs a hand down his face with a groan. It’s not worth the argument now. He knows she would just hang up and leave him wondering, and he is far too curious to risk that at the moment. “Right, right okay. What’s this about Ren, then?”

“So, I was giving Ren a tour of my museum earlier and— you remember that he became king of the server for a while, yeah?”

Martyn makes a noise of acknowledgement. He remembers overhearing something about it in passing but never had the chance to ask about it.

“Well,” Cleo continues. “My museum has a lot of artifacts from then and he sorta had a bit of a breakdown after seeing them? And now he’s asking for you.”

“He–” Martyn hesitates. Surely that’s not true. It’s been so long since he’s heard from Ren. Why was he only reaching out now? Why through Cleo? After they had been allies at the end of last life, Ren had seemed distant. There was the sting of double life, where BigB had taken his place at Ren’s side, followed by Ren’s complete absence in limited life. Martyn had finally been starting to accept that maybe Ren was avoiding him, that maybe he had pushed Ren too far, gotten too close.

When Martyn finally speaks his voice is softer, with a quiver he didn’t intend to let through. “He wants to see me?”

She lets out a soft sigh, a noise far more genuine than he’s heard in a while. “Yes, Martyn, he does.”

“Oh.”

“X has already agreed, you’re whitelisted if you want to join us. Quite honestly, I think Ren would really appreciate seeing your face right now.”

This is his chance. Ren wants to talk. To see him. It’s almost bittersweet, but also too good to be true. After all this time. After all these months, nearly years of waiting for him. All those unanswered calls and messages and finally the chance at some answers.

“Yeah,” he says, and it feels like the right decision. “Yeah, I’ll join.”

“Perfect. Give me a minute to message X and I will see you soon.”

“Aye aye captain, see ya.”

And, with that, the phone call ends as quick as it started, leaving him in stunned silence. He’s going to see Ren. He’s going to see Ren today. It’s finally time to be reunited with his love. With his King.

His phone beeps.

[Join Hermitcraft Season 9?]

He clicks.

——————

The world spins when his feet touch down, the air squeezing on his chest as he struggles to adapt to the new environment. He can feel the busyness, how the air seems to almost vibrate with life. Redstone lag pulses from somewhere to his left and a drowned gurgles from below the soft waves to his right.

He feels a hand come to rest his shoulder, holding him steady as he finds his balance and blinks in the bright sunlight.

“Ah, are you quite alright, my friend?” A voice asks, and he finally regains his senses enough to see a helmeted face in front of him.

“Peachy,” he manages as Cleo touches down on the ground nearby. She stumbles slightly with the speed of the landing, but before he can say anything to her, she tosses him an elytra. It nearly knocks the breath from his lungs as he scrambles to catch the wings.

“What, not even a hug?”

“Not if you ask like that!” She quips back. Despite the sharp words, she squeezes his arm in greeting.

“Thanks X, I got him from here.”

“No worries. Let me know if you need anything else. And keep me updated on Ren, yeah?”

“Will do.”

Xisuma flies away, leaving the two of them alone at spawn. It’s quiet for a moment while Cleo watches Martyn put on the elytra. He takes a breath and Cleo fishes out some rockets, passing a handful to him. He feels unsteady, uncertain. Now that he’s here, he begins to wonder what he’s gotten himself into.

“It’s nice to see you,” Cleo says and they give him a small smile. It doesn’t fully reach their eyes.

“Right back at you. Are you alright?”

Her eyebrows pinch together and he sees a flash of pursed lips before she’s leaning in and wrapping him in a hug. It’s nice, he thinks as he returns the gesture. Her hair tickles his nose, but her arms are warm where they rest around his shoulders.

She steps back after a moment. “Ren’s at my base. We should really go.”

“Yeah ok,” he nods, holding out his rockets. “I’m ready.”

They take off together, the twin bursts of rockets leaving behind a trail of dust as they lift up into the air and steady out over the landscape. Buildings pass below, connected by paved roads and dark oak forests. He sees a few distant people walking below and some even flying around.

Cleo veers right, passing a towering bone hand and two large buildings before the ocean and a floating island comes into view.

It truly is a stunning base.

The dark towers and prismarine roofs are bold and powerful, but the whole area is softened by lush gardens and crawling vines. Sculptures of various people appear in windows and through doorways and hint at the life and love hiding just inside.

Cleo leads them inside, through a grand throne room and past a room of cards. When they reach a secluded door, she finally pauses.

“You can leave your elytra in here if you want,” she offers, opening a nearby barrel and placing her own inside.

He fumbles with his for a moment before placing it on top of hers. She nods and closes the barrel softly, turning towards the door.

“He’s in here.” She pushes open the door and gestures for him to go in first.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, but when they do, they are drawn to the man on the bed. He’s curled in on himself, tucked under a red cloak. His eyes are distant, unseeing, and even in the half light Martyn can see tears gleaming behind them, threatening to spill over.

“Ren?” he whispers, voice cracking over the word as he reaches out his hand, unsure.

Ren blinks, eyes struggling to focus towards the voice and a silence stretches over them. It’s suffocating and threatens to take over his already tight chest. For a long moment, the only thing he hears is the soft wheezing breath of Cleo in the doorway and the distant waves against the island below. And Ren just blinks. Blinks into the darkness. Blinks as a single tear trails down his cheek.

Martyn hesitates in the silence, looking on as Ren gathers his senses. It stretches long enough that he begins to believe that Ren hadn’t heard him. He wouldn’t ignore a direct call of his name, right? Martyn withdraws his hand, moving to tap his fingers on his thigh, anxious, unsure. Surely Ren just didn’t hear. Maybe he should ask again? He takes a breath in the stillness, opening his mouth, ready to speak again when a soft, broken voice burrows its way through the silence.

“Me Hand?”

At that, Martyn rushes forward, all hesitations thrown to the side as he falls to his knees by the bed, taking Ren’s hand in his own. “I’m here, My Liege.”

This close, he can see the tear tracks along Ren’s face, the way his laugh lines look so jarring against the furrow of his brow. His eyes are red, but not in the way they had been during The Games. Now, instead of irises shining with an unnatural color, they are a gray-blue surrounded with a redness only found in a man who is holding back far too many tears.

Ren’s hand is warm between his own.

“You’re here.” Ren whispers, as they meet each other’s gaze. His eyes seem to search, drinking in Martyn’s face with a look that feels like he’s afraid he will disappear. “How?”

There is a quiet chuckle from behind him and Cleo’s voice melds into their shared bubble of silence and not silence. “I might have called in a favor from Xisuma after you asked for him back at the museum.”

Ren gives them a shaky smile, something much closer to a grimace than Martyn prefers to see on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that my dudes.”

“It’s fine, Ren.” Cleo says, moving into his periphery to sit on the edge of the bed. She places a hand on Ren’s knee comfortingly. “Although, you did kinda space out there for a while after the tour. You kept asking for your Hand and I thought you meant Bdubs at first, but–”

Martyn whips his head around to look at her, a sudden fury rushing through him. “Bdubs?” he exclaims, something far louder than anything else being said. Cleo only rolls their eyes at him.

“Yes, Martyn. Bdubs. I thought I told you about Ren being king of Hermitcraft.” The words aren’t exactly unkind, but he can feel his hackles rise at the thought, the implication that anyone except himself could ever be Ren’s Hand.

And sure, she had mentioned to him that Bdubs had given him the crown and played that role, but that didn’t mean Bdubs could just take that from him during some silly copycat event. Martyn is Ren’s Hand. Ren is his King.

He feels a gentle squeeze of his hand, drawing his attention back to Ren. His King, who is now smiling so softly up at him, despite the tears still lingering just behind his eyes. “I missed you, Me Hand. But surely you must know that Bdubs could never replace you.”

How, Martyn wonders, is Ren able to make him crumble at just a small handful of words? To take such an outburst of emotions and cradle them so gently when he is so clearly fighting an emotional outburst of his own. Had it really been long enough for him to forget how Ren cares so deeply for those around him? How he dismisses fears of his own when someone else needs guidance?

Or, a voice in the back of his head whispers, is it that he had thought Ren had moved on? It has been so long since they last spoke, last touched hands, and even when they did it had been fleeting. Watcher assigned soulmates tugging them away from the possibility of rekindling what they once had.

But the hand in his own is warm and real and he’s certain Ren can see the war in his eyes as much as he can see one reflected back from his King’s.

“Do you really mean that?” Martyn asks, his voice now barely audible in the quiet room.

“Of course I do,” Ren whispers back, lifting their hands to press a soft kiss onto Martyn’s knuckles.

The surprised noise Martyn lets out lands somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he falls forward to tuck his head into Ren’s neck. “I missed you so much, my Liege.”

For a moment they sit in the quiet, breathing in each other’s presence. It’s nice, relieving, like releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He already feels lighter, more at home than he’s felt in years. Ren is here. Ren is safe. Ren missed him too.

Martyn starts to become aware of an ache in his knees where they are pressed against the hardwood floors. He shifts minutely and leans up to press more weight onto his arms.

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve been on my knees for you, my Liege. These joints aren’t as young as they used to be.”

Cleo snorts while Ren, his lovely Ren, lets out the loudest laugh. It’s still tinted with tears, but it’s real and genuine and it’s music to his ears.

“Get up here, you old man,” Cleo says fondly, nudging Ren’s legs out of the way so she can slide across the bed. Ren shifts with her, sitting up to make space for him.

I’m younger than you!” Martyn deflects as he pulls himself up off the ground and onto the bed, earning himself a threatening glare and a pillow to the face. “Alright, ok, I earned that one.”

He delights in the way Cleo’s eyebrows scrunch together in a scowl and how Ren tilts his head back as he continues to laugh at their antics.

“Ok Ren,” Cleo prompts once the laughter dies down. Her words are direct, yet laced with concern. “What happened back there?”

And Martyn sees the way Ren hunches as he pulls the red robe tighter around his shoulders, how his eyebrows pull together and a frown takes over his features. There’s a hesitancy in his actions, like he is holding back. Making himself smaller despite the joy he usually finds in being at the center of a conversation.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, and Martyn’s not sure he’s ever heard him that subdued.

Cleo reaches out to place a hand on his knee. Something about the touch seems to relax him slightly. “Then what can we do to help?

Martyn, for all his love of words and jumping into action, sits in stunned silence watching the pair. Sure, he had seen Ren in the quiet, tense moments between battles, seen the way he would analyze their previous moves and strategy before marching on to the next task. He had seen the way he sometimes doubted if he was making the right choices, but still managed to talk through a solution.

And even in the calmer moments, curled up together to ward off the chill and loneliness of the night, never had he seen Ren unsure of his actions to this degree. Unsure enough to fold in on himself and hide away like he would be shamed for even admitting to his thoughts or actions.

For a moment the three of them just sit, waiting for Ren to collect his thoughts, watching how his face twitches with hints of fleeting expressions as he works out what to say next. He opens and closes his mouth a handful of times before settling on a statement that feels like a punch to the gut.

“I was never worthy of the crown.”

“What?” Martyn can’t help but exclaim, the words finally spilling from him without thought to the delicacy of the situation. “Of course you are! I mean just look at all you’ve done. I’ve never met anyone else who cares about his friends and subjects as much as you. You put so much time and attention into every detail, every plan, just to make sure no one is excluded or left behind. And you give so much of your time and resources and energy to everyone regardless of their rank. It’s so obvious to anyone that sees you, that you are a natural leader and anyone would be lucky to have you as their king!”

Martyn sees how Ren’s eyes widen at the outburst, how tears gather in the corners as he stares back.

“But, me Hand, you weren’t here when the shopping district fell to ruin. They hunted me down, I was slain in mine own labyrinth.” His hands rest in his lap, fingers fidgeting with the diamonds in his cloak. “I let them down. They needed a king who could improve the server and all I did was make it worse.”

“Ren, Martyn’s right.” Cleo says, lightly squeezing his knee.

“Of course I am!” Martyn interjects

“He’s right sometimes,” she jabs lightly before continuing. “You were an amazing king. Yeah you made mistakes, but who doesn’t, y’know? No one is holding that against you.”

“But the people grew tired of me. They hate these robes and everything I did.” His voice wilts. “I see the looks they give me. I barely see anyone in the shopping district anymore. It’s like they are avoiding me.” He takes a shaky breath. “I never wanted them to hate me.”

“Oh, is that what this is all about?” Cleo asks softly, leaning over to cup his face with her palm and guiding him to meet her eyes. “Listen to me, Ren. No one hates you. Not for what you did as king and not for any other reason.”

A tear finally breaks free and rolls down Ren’s face. His voice cracks when he speaks. “Thank you, Lady Cleo.”

She smiles fondly at him, soft in a way that Martyn has never seen. “Anything for you, Ren.”

They sit for a moment, quiet and still, before Ren takes a steadying breath, squares his shoulders and slides off the bed.

“Me Hand,” he announces, with a dramatic twirl to face them. The pose he strikes is tall, powerful, and authoritative, despite the tear tracks on his face and Martyn finds himself moving closer on the edge bed, sitting on his knees before him. “I think it is time for me to pass on my crown to the next in line.”

“What? Really?” Martyn exclaims, and Ren nods slowly at his incredulous question. Ren lifts an eyebrow at him and it’s then Martyn realizes what is happening.

Ren is offering them both closure. He is, in his own way, reaching out for this one final scene, one final moment, for them to truly be a King and his Hand. They’ve both been hurting, longing for a past that will never return. For a reign that was far too short and ended far too bloody. He’s offering this chance to wrap up this chapter of their lives by passing on the title, passing on the crown. To finally move on, to have this moment together.

An unguided Hand, now guided to freedom.

Martyn takes a breath, bowing his head in respect and allowing himself to slip back into his role as Ren’s Hand. “Who will it be, my Liege?”

And his King flashes him the brightest smile. “Why, it is Lady Cleo, of course!”

“Cleo?”

Cleo huffs, but joins the pair at the edge of the bed, her thigh brushing against Martyn’s own. With a small smirk, she joins their scene. “It would be an honor to wear the tiniest of crowns.”

“Then shall we starteth the ceremony?”

“Yes, my Liege.” Martyn agrees with a bow of his head.

His King stands tall and begins his speech to a crowd of two. “Hello, citizens of Hermitcraft! We have gathered today on this most glorious of occasions–”

Martyn snorts. “You make it sound like someone is getting married.”

“Hush,” Cleo retorts, elbowing his side. “I wanna hear where this is going.”

Ren, for his part, only gives them a small smile before continuing. “We are here today, because I have decided to step down as King of the Server. I know this might be a shock for some of you, but please hear me out, friends, and know that this is not a choice I make lightly.”

“As some of you must know by now, my popularity as King is dwindling. I’ve heard the rumblings of rebellion, I know the people want me gone. I know you are unhappy with the economy, with my Royal Emeralds. With me.”

It’s at this point, another tear pools out and makes its way down his King’s cheek. “This is why I have decided to pass on my crown.” His voice warbles. “Lady Cleo, would you please stand.”

“Yes, my King,” she says. They step into his space, brushing the stray tears from his face. When she whispers near his ear, it is almost too quiet for Martyn to hear, even in the otherwise silent room. “I’m proud of you.”

After moving to face him, she nods her head. She looks good there, next to Ren. She stands tall, red hair curling around her shoulders and her majestic blue dress already looks like it is worthy of royalty.

“Now presenting, Lady Cleo of Atlantis!” He speaks towards Cleo, towards the otherwise empty room. “As most of you already know, Lady Cleo is one of the knights of the square table and one of my most trusted advisors. She has put up with much of mine shenanigans. She is always around to tell me when I am being ridiculous, even if I choose not to heed her advice. They are smart and logical, and I know in my heart that the kingdom will be well taken care of in their hands!”

Cleo smiles. “Aw thank you, Ren.”

“Me Hand,” Ren addresses him, voice quieting. “It is time.”

Martyn stands, a tight feeling in his chest making itself known as he does. “Of course, my Liege.”

Ren takes his hands and pulls him close. His eyes are somber, yet determined. “Thank you, for all you have done for me. Your support, loyalty, and kindness have not gone unnoticed. Even in our years apart, I have wished only the best for you. But now, it is time for our reign to come to an end.” He lets out a shaky breath.

“Martyn,” says the voice of his King, of his love, his Ren, who presses their foreheads together as he speaks Martyn’s name for the first time in far too long. “Would you please do me the honor of crowning the new king?”

Martyn breathes in. The smell of Ren’s shampoo surrounds him and he remembers all the nights spent in the snow fort, all the days spent crafting and trading and planning. The way Ren would brush kisses across his forehead in passing or jump into his arms in excitement. And now he breathes out into the dimly lit room, on a server that is not their own, in a castle that isn’t theirs. But still, in front of him is the same set of bright blue eyes. “As you wish, my love.”

Ren kneels.

And Martyn knows it is a final bow.

This is his last moment as King. Martyn’s final moment as his Hand. All they have done is through, and it’s time.

Martyn brushes Ren’s hair from his face, tucking a strand behind his ear. “It has been an honor serving you, my Lord.”

“And I you.” Ren whispers.

The crown is small, but Martyn holds it between his fingers with overwhelming care. The jewels shimmer in the soft light of the room. It’s different from the original crown of iron Ren had designed in secret back in their other world. Back when resources and tools were limited. That one had been rough, uneven, with dents along the edges and a single rare diamond held firmly in place. This new one is smooth, golden, and the numerous jewels around it display the wealth and prosperity of his kingdom. Oh how far he has come.

Martyn lifts the crown, and with it, the burden of being King. The weight of countless difficult decisions. The need for perfection and protection and poise.

The crown feels heavier than it has any right to be and yet there is a lightness in the air.

Cleo smiles when he turns to her. Her hand finds its way to rest comfortingly in Ren’s hair.

He places the crown on her head. Her red curls wrap around it like snakes who have just found their new treasure. It looks stunning, like it was made to fit her.

“Now introducing, King Cleo of Hermitcraft. Long live the king.”

Martyn joins Ren, kneeling before their new King and sighs, taking Ren’s hand in his own.

It’s over.

A new chapter has begun.

Cleo is the one who finally breaks their shared silence, extending her hands to help them up. “Oh come here, you two. You’re being far too serious for such a joyous day.”

Ren grunts as he stands. “You’re one to talk, King Cleo. How do you think the dead king feels?”

“I think being dead is a wonderful thing and I’m glad you’re giving it a go!”

Ren laughs. It’s light and magical and so very him. “Ah, I should have realized you had nefarious undead intentions!”

Cleo takes Ren’s jaw in her hands and guides him closer. Martyn watches as he turns to putty under her gaze. “If I had truly nefarious intentions, you would have known a long time ago.”

Ren licks his lips, glancing down at Cleo’s, which are now just a breath away from his own. “But, you are known to play the long game.”

“Hmm, I suppose I am. Time will tell then, won’t it?”

He hums an acknowledgment before she pulls him the final stretch, kissing him firmly.

The kiss is fairly short, but undoubtedly full of love. Martyn can’t help but watch, taking in the way Ren leans into her, his hands wrapping around her waist as her’s continue to cradle his jaw.

It’s nice, he thinks as they part, to be privileged enough to be privy to this moment of softness from Cleo. To see that Ren has been treated well in his time between the Games. It soothes a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t realized was there.

“I love you,” Ren says to her, voice gentle.

They stroke a thumb along his cheek. “Love you too. You did good today.” She glances over at Martyn. “You both did.”

He startles slightly at the genuine tone of the compliment. It’s few and far between when he is on the receiving end of their kind words. Not unlikely, but still, he wasn’t expecting to be included in their little moment.

Despite this, the words settle themselves across his shoulders like a warm blanket, and he can feel a light blush begin to color his cheeks. “Aw, thanks Cleo.”

She reaches out, offering Martyn a hand and a smile, guiding him into their space.

How very fitting it is.

A Hand and his Kings. Guided by them, towards them, to them. Pulled into their gravity, always finding his way into their orbit.

But maybe, just maybe, they were always meant to collide.

So when he falls into their space, Cleo’s hand is warm where it squeezes his own.

And Ren’s lips taste like coming home.

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor Pt 7

Part 7

{Previous Part}

[Archive of Our Own Link]

Oh, yeah. I’m here to apologize for my drunken behavior last night.

Finally, you remembered why you had come to Toji’s house. You had forgotten amidst the never-ending back and forth between you two. 

Feeling a little more focused, you sit up straighter as Toji stomps down the stairs. 

“Better,” he asks, gesturing to the shirt he now wears. Though better than being shirtless, the black shirt clings to every muscle in his chest and stomach. He slumps back into his chair beside you. 

“Yeah,” you squeak out. 

“So what important adult things do you want to discuss,” he crosses his arms across his broad chest. 

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night,” you reply, tiredly. Your eyes focus on your hands in your lap. Once again you feel embarrassed.

“Oh?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, so. Sorry. I usually don’t drink. Actually, I never drink,” you confess.

“So what made you drink so much last night.”

You shrug. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Like?” 

“I don’t know. Long hours of work. Still trying to settle in and then after you said those..things.” Shit! You didn’t want to bring that up. Not yet anyway. You hadn’t planned on how to tackle it. 

“What things,” he leans his forearms on the table. You dare to meet his eyes, scared of seeing a smug look. Instead, his eyes have softened. The teasing, cocky attitude is gone. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head and push back from the table.  “Just— sorry about last night”

You turn to leave, suddenly exhausted and embarrassed by confessing so easily to a stranger. You feel Toji grab your hand and tug you back. 

“Hey,” he says soothingly. “Talk to me.”

Until this moment you haven’t realized how alone you have felt since moving in. How sometimes you cried yourself to sleep because of it. You busied yourself with work and hobbies, but at the end of the day, you felt utterly alone. In your grief and your love life. 

Tears threaten to fall but you whip them away quickly. “My grandmother was my last living relative. My parents are dead and I have no siblings. She was it.”

“I know,” he answers, softly.

“How? How do you know? And don't give me that ‘it's not my place to tell you’ shit like there’s some big secret I don’t know about.” the words tumble out faster than you can register what you're saying. 

Toji reclines in his seat, staring up at the ceiling with a huff. 

“Why was Megumi ‘hiding’ there while you were gone?” you continue. “And how did you know she called me—”. 

Again, tears choke you from repeating those words. You can’t bring yourself to speak them without falling apart at this point. 

“Il mio Angellino” Toji finishes for you. He tilts his head back to look at you. You nod and look to the floor, still afraid to vocalize an answer. 

“She told me of course. You,” he drawls, standing up and closing the gap between your bodies, “were the most important thing on this planet to her. She wanted nothing but to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you ask weakly, craning your neck to look up at him. Toji squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s having an internal struggle. As if he’s conflicted about whether to tell you what you're so desperate to know or not. Boldly, you squeeze his strong forearm and softly beg once more. “Please”

“I promise, you will get the answers you want. But—” he sighs, “I can’t. Not right now anyway. And yes, Megumi was—hiding, in a sense, at her house while I was at work because I trusted her to keep him safe”

“And what exactly is your ‘work’” You narrow your eyes at him. “You kill people or something?”

“I can’t…discuss that.”

Your anger threatens to erupt. Why is he making this so fucking difficult? He’s acting as though there’s some huge conspiracy going on. And what did you, or Megumi for that matter, need protection from? Or was it a person or people? A group? You spin on your heel to leave. For real this time. Tears burn and blur your vision, making you fumble with the doorknob. After a few attempts you finally sprint out the door.

As you're distracted with wiping the tears on your sleeve, you’re suddenly stopped in your tracks by something—someone to be exact. You stumble back.

A tall man stands before you holding a briefcase and wearing a well-tailored black suit. He slides his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down with eyes that strike fear into you. He slides them back over his eyes.  “Are you ok, dear?” he asks in a crisp accent. 

Too overwhelmed by everything, you quickly rush past. Not daring to speak or look back, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Once safely inside your house and locking the door, you peek through your window, watching the man enter Toji’s house. 

A/N short one today, next chapter will be in from toji's POV

[gumnut-logic]

“I can’t believe he did that!”

John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.

“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.

“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”

“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.

“What?!”

John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.

“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”

John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”

“My fans? What fans?”

That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”

“What?!”

John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”

But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”

“But it is so stupid!”

“Why?”

“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.

“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”

“He could have just told me.”

Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”

Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.

His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”

“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”

Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”

John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”

Alan stared at him.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.

It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.

Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.

At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.

Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.

As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”

“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.

“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”

“Grandma is upset.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”

“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”

“It isn’t fair to Alan.”

“He’s got us.”

“We’re not his parents.”

“May as well be.”

“Virgil.”

“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.

Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.

It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.

His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.

What?

“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.

His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”

“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”

Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.

“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.

Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.

“But Santa...?”

Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”

“Virgil.”

“Scott, he’s old enough.”

Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”

“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?

“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.

“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”

Alan stared him. “What?”

“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”

“What?”

“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”

Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”

“A fairytale.”

“Scott.”

“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”

“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”

“You lied to me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”

“Why?”

Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”

“Why?”

Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”

Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.

Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.

The hugs hadn’t hurt either.

Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.

That his mother and father had missed.

He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.

Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.

-o-o-o-

Alan continued to stare at John.

“Do you have a problem with being loved?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”

“You are still a kid.”

“No, I’m not!”

John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”

“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”

John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”

Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”

-o-o-o-

In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.

Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.

He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.

The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.

There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.

The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.

“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?

She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.

“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”

She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.

“Is it because of Daddy?”

And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.

Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.

He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.

“It is what Dad would do.”

“You are not Dad.”

“Somebody has to be.”

“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”

“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”

Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.

Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”

“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”

“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”

“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”

“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.

Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.

“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.

“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.

“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.

Unfortunately he was part of the problem.

He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”

Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”

To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.

When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.

“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”

His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.

The arguments stopped.

Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.

Life went on as best it could.

But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.

After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.

He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...

“What was Mom like?”

John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”

“You know, things.”

“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”

“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.

Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.

But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.

John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.

“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.

His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.

It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.

“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.

Scott thrived under his father’s regime.

Virgil did not.

And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”

“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.

“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”

“Wow. Scott did that?”

John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”

“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”

“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Except maybe a little less saliva?”

“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.

“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”

A snort. “Yeah, we do.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.

Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.

The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.

Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.

A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.

“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Aunt Val.”

“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”

The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”

And their world dissolved there and then.

Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.

The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.

The not knowing.

The terror.

Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.

Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.

John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.

Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.

Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.

Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.

The hope that followed.

That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.

Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.

Life slowly came back.

It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.

He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.

Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.

Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.

Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.

Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.

Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”

“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’

“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.

“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”

“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.

His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.

A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.

They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.

“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.

“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”

“No, but should be there for him.”

As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.

It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.

His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”

Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.

-o-o-o-

“So what happens when we find Dad?”

John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”

“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”

Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”

“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”

John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”

“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.

The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.

John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.

“I wonder what he looks like.”

John closed his eyes.

“Johnny? You okay?”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”

A frown. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”

The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”

“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”

John stared.

His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”

And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.

John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.

But the numbers ignored him.

Dad.

Scott.

Virgil.

If they found their father, things were going to change.

John frowned and rubbed his face.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[kanmom51]

JK ain’t gay expose

*Disclaimer:  If you don’t have a sense of humour don’t bother reading this post.

Part 2 of part 3 of our JK ain’t gay expose.

In which we’ll disclose super secret transcripts of secret recordings that don’t exist that have come our way from our super secret agent who’s true identity we canine (typo intended) divulge at this point in time (wham BAM thank you mam).  

Just a random pic.  Nothing to do with our secret agent.  Not at all.  Ignore it. 

IGNORE IT.

The recordings were made sometime before JM’s birthday, early October 2022, exact date unknown to us, as we are still experiencing difficulties with our translator from and to doggie (god, get your minds out of the gutter - doggie language not style).

These recordings we don’t have, god, they are damning.

A conversation that never ever happened between our manliest macho macho man JK and his buddy and protector of his secret relationship with his long term girlfriend, now turned fiancé and mother of his future child (you know - the one from the restaurant).

This transcript which is not at all a figment of my imagination (or is it?) will finally prove to what lengths these two would go to hide JK’s gf from us, their most trustworthy fandom, those who love them oh so much, those who know them the most in the world, those who listen to what they say.  My god, the violation of our trust in them.

I tell you, after reading this transcript I AM SHOOK.

Here we go people, get ready to have your minds blown:

JK:  Jyaman, my man, how did your recording go today?

JM:  Yeah, not too bad.  Been working round the clock.  

JK:   So, dude, you know I don’t do small talk, I’ll get right to it.  I need a HUGE favour from you Jyaman, my Jyaman, my mate, my everything, but you know, ew, not EVERYTHING.

JM:  What is it Jungkookie?  What do you need me to do?  You know I’ll always be there for you.  You are my everything too, well not EVERYTHING, you know not EVERYTHING, although you do remember that time with the purple ribbon...ahm, yeah...

JK: (Throat clearing) Things with yyyy are getting serious, but you already know that, right?  You literally helped me choose the engagement ring together, dah.  Anyways, ma man, things are getting tricky for me.  Too many people are saying you and I are not a thing anymore.  

You know, our fanservice thing we used to do to protect Tae and my loving relationship.  

Wait, no, I’m getting muddled up, I’ve been reading too much TKK content.  Man, those fanfics are something else.  Actually, you don’t even need to go to the fanfics, read the posts they are a whole fanfic of their own. Got me believing them too, shit.  

JM:  My macho macho man JK, well, not MINE per say, but someone’s...

I digress...how could you even JK?  We were doing it to protect our girlfriends, man.  Maybe you should take a break from SM, eh?   

JK:  Bro, good idea.  I think I need to delete my whole IG account.  Wait, I’ve already done that.  

JM:  Babe, oops, I mean manly man JK, don’t worry about it.  What was it you wanted from me?

JK:  I’m planning a trip to Jeju and going to propose to yyyy.  But you know how we don’t have any kind of privacy now days.  I’m worried we’ll be seen and everyone will find out we’re together.  

You know the lengths we went to with the hickey, right?  We can’t let this fall apart now!!!

JM: Look man, I helped you with the hickey, just like you helped me during RB.  God forbid someone would have seen that lipstick mark on my ear.  That was such a good catch dude.  I have to thank you again for sucking it off my ear.  Phew.  

JK: So, my close but not too close friend, I need your help once again.  A pre-emptive strike this time, if you wish.

JM:  Whatever you need you sexy but clearly heterosexual man of all men...(gulp clearly heard).

JK:  So, I was thinking... your birthday is coming up followed by our Busan concert. And I want to get the tongues wagging again, about us, you know, like maybe we’re doing IT?  

Better they think I’m queer than in a relationship with a woman, right?

JM:  Yeah, for sure.  

JK:  Three steps to my plan:  I’m going to post for your birthday this year.  Yeah.  And I’m going to make it all sexy and stuff, get them all riled up, the fans, you know, but it’s for you...

JM:  A-ha, ok.  So step one thirst trap.  Got it.  Yeah, that’s ok, xxxx won’t mind, she’s already used to it...

JK: Great.  We’re so lucky we have such understanding girlfriends.  Although yyyy did tell me she once sent and ask to Reddit about us.  Seems she was a little unsure about what was going on between us.  Lol, as if... (clearing throat again).

JM:  A-ha.  Yes yes.  Right.

JK:  Next step will be in the live after the concert.  I’ll make a comment about a fan asking me to marry them, and you’ll act all jealous and stuff.  

JM:  Yeah, whatever.  Probably won’t take much acting on my part, wait what? Did I say that out loud?

JK: Ahm...yeah?

...and maybe something else, I haven’t decided yet, I’ll surprise you during the live, but something to get their tongues wagging about us.  I have to protect my heterosexual relationship you know.  

What would people say if they found out I have a girlfriend.  Better they think we’re a couple, right?

JM:  Oh JK, my most masculine of masculine men that I know and want.

Did I just say that out loud again?  Fuck.  Anyways bro, yeah, no probs. We need to protect you.  Poor Tae.  If only we would have helped him before those photos leaked...  

JK:  Yeah, a couple of selfies with him would have overshadowed those pics in a second.  

Oh the shame he has to live with now.  

People knowing he’s with one of the prettiest gals in our industry.  He’s absolutely devastated by it.  

JM:  Ma man, Ma JK, I gotta go now, but no worries, I’ll ride your plan, and anything else you want me to..(giggling heard)

...your bike...god, get out of that dirty mind of yours.  

Anyways, I guess I’ll see you in Busan, yeah?  As we are now not really on speaking terms anymore and are clearly distant.  

SM says it, so it must be true...

JK:  True that.  

So here’s to not seeing you like ever again, unless we need to work together, ugh.  

Have to listen to our fans, they know best.

JM:  Bye Bammie, guess I won’t be seeing you, like ever again... 

Wait, I’m not seeing you now either, cause fans say I’m never at JK’s, so...is this in my imagination?

Narrator:  probably.  It’s definitely in mine.

And there you have it people.

Cut and dry evidence.

Court is out.

Clearly you now KNOW that JK WAS  on Jeju with yyyy, his gf and by now fiancé (our non existent secret agent has notified us that yyyy, the bitch, accepted, fuck her).

[thatdesklamp]

hey! i’m the anon that once asked you about ur english a level if you even care to remember lmaoo. I JUST SAW THE REBLOGGED POST WHERE ANOTHER READER SAID THEY HATED SATORU FROM IW AND I’M???

obviously everyone’s entitled to their own opinions. i think that’s the point of reading anything tbh, form your own opinions and decide whether you like something/someone or not, bUT I LITERALLY CANNOT HELP BUT DISAGREE SO STRONGLY 😭 i’ve literally never felt this strongly about a person’s opinion on a fictional character let alone how the fictional character was written in a FANFIC 😀

and obviously, no hate to them or whatever. as i said, their opinion is theirs, i just randomly felt the need to tell you mine (ik you never asked, i’m bored and my student finance situation is pissing me off so here i am lol). i think the reason why i feel so offended (jokingly haha) about any hate towards satoru in ur fic is bcz you’ve written him identical to how satoru in the actual anime/manga is, so i felt like it was a well aimed punch to canon!satoru and as his certified wife, i can’t stand by and watch this happen 😟

he makes dumb decisions sometimes but i think that has a lot to do with the fact that hebi is quite literally his oldest friend and allowing whatever feelings he has to get in the way of that (without knowing whether she likes him or not from his pov) is risky in terms of their friendship and where that’ll take them. like in the chapter where they had their first kiss, ofc, we as readers know why she backed off and what she meant by how she couldn’t “do this anymore” (or something along those lines), but he was never aware of her NON-PLATONIC feelings towards him, so i think (i say think bcz i’m the reader and you’re the author so what you say GOES) he was just confused by what she meant.

like if i were to randomly start telling you a story of my life with no context, and you hear me say names of my friends somewhere along that story, but i never TOLD you they were my friends, you’d think “oh who’s that?” until i clarified who they are to me. quite like how he was probably confused when she was explaining how she couldn’t allow herself to indulge in something that she thought wasn’t reciprocated. he had no context and was therefore just… stupid lmao 😭 he was criticising her for leaving even tho she promised to stay bcz he just didn’t understand (not saying it’s hebi’s fault in ANY way, she is MOTHER, i will defend her till the day i die).

yeah i have a lot of other reasons why satoru is not a bad person in ur fic (he’s literally a copy of himself in canon, kudos to ur BRILLIANT writing and characterisation of him) but ik you’re probably bored and i have to go turn the house heating on bcz uk weather is no joke 😀

Hello!!

This is so so funny and lovely to hear—I’ve heard so much variety in opinions on Gojo in my fic, mainly through the comments, and so it’s so lovely when people genuinely take a proper big opinion on either side of the ‘debate’. I fully get why people would be anti-Gojo just because we’re so invested in Hebi’s perspective and when she’s treated poorly/feeling shit, it does reflect poorly on him. I think that’s why I found it fun to write the Satoru-pov oneshots; IW is such a case of ‘unreliable narrator’-ism in a way that’s not always immediately evident, and so taking yourself out of Hebi’s perspective and immersing yourself in someone else’s can really help to get a more well-rounded view of all the characters, I guess.

But yeah, I’m glad you think IW Gojo is similar to canon Gojo! I used to struggle so much with his characterisation with him as a kid, which was I think partly because he was a child and that’s difficult anyway, but also because IW was one of the first things I’d written in… like, actual years, and I wasn’t that good at writing at that point.

I do think a lot of Satoru’s dumb actions come from ignorance, in whatever aspect, and I think it’s up to the reader as to how much they ‘blame’ him for that. Especially in the later chapters: should he have noticed Hebi’s degredation in mental health, and should he have done something about it if he did, even if she had never reached out to him? She did, after all, never actually confide in him about anything troubling her: I made it a point to state it multiple times. That, I guess, is where people’s opinions will inevitably differ, as to assigning both blame and responsibility. The idea will come up a lot next chapter, but—perhaps it’s almost similar to the Geto/Gojo situation. Yes, Gojo noticed a change, and yes, he tried to talk to Geto about it: but did he do enough? Should he have tried harder? Would it have even made a difference? People have different opinions on their split, too, because it’s not so set in stone. I think that’s the main reason people would dislike IW Satoru.

More about ignorance: you’re right, I can’t see him knowing about Hebi’s feelings. Satoru’s so much more of an active character than Hebi, who is intentionally very passive (if only ‘intentionally’ so I can have the slowburn make some degree of sense, lmao, but hey!). If he knew, I’d have to have him confront her about it. Like, I cannot see Gojo *not* pushing for something if he ever thought there was a possibility of her reciprocating. So, in my head, it can be concluded from his lack of action pre-kiss, that he absolutely doesn’t think she likes him back, and he also absolutely doesn’t want to fuck up the friendship. Again: it’s so, so, so important to him. I try to justify it in the oneshots—I know so much of this is #miscommunication, but controversial opinion, miscommunication adds to the drama and is fun under CERTAIN SITUATIONS, it’s not always a bad thing. LOL.

But also low-key I get why people wouldn’t like him. But also I get why people would, and would be more than fucked off with Hebi. And why people would be somewhere in the middle. Idk where I stand, they’re just both my lil pooks, yk. <3

But hell yeah! I love ur Satoru defence squad. And enjoy your heating (😀) and respite from student finance—I wouldn’t wish that process on my worst enemy </3

[bigbillybepper]

Overshare/trauma dump time:

I just remembered a bit of my own personal lore that I forgot for a minute lol.

So back in the day when I had less than trustworthy friends there was an occasion when our antics had me sent to the hospital.

We had gathered round to do some drugs and party and they offered me what they claimed was mdma or something. I can’t remember exactly what, but I really have the feeling that it was just straight up meth or PCP or something. Like, it was not….definitely not how I’ve heard mdma or ecstasy be described.

What happened after I imbibed is a little strange and hard to explain but I’ll try my best.

So a little background. My friend group was exactly as you’d imagine a ragtag group of art kids and weirdos could be. Some of us in college, some dropouts, some not really sure what we were up to. But we were all running around doing irresponsible things.

One ‘friend’ in particular had really wronged me at this point. It was to the extent I wasn’t really sure what I was doing with this group of people any more. Are they my friends? Do I love them or do I hate them ? But I was having a fun time being self destructive so I continued to hang out with them (they weren’t all bad. There’s some folks i even wish I still could talk to)

Long story short (I wrote a lot more and deleted because holy fuck is this a loaded story) I got triggered by something they said about/to me. And looking back on it I think they intentionally said it to make me feel bad or something ? Anyways the drugs multiplied the emotions I was feeling and I fucking f r e a k e d out.

I blacked out at some point after trying to fall on my head hard enough to pass out. I just wanted out dude. I didn’t wanna die necessarily, I just didn’t want to be conscious. That’s all I can really remember as far as my motives. My friends took me to the hospital and at one point in the hospital I fucking panicked because I was morbidly addicted to nicotine at the time. It had been hours and hours since I had any, and I was getting desperate since I sobered up and found myself in a hospital bed not allowed to leave until I was cleared by doctors.

So I told the doctors I need some nicotine in me right fucking now.

And dutifully they came back with a full strength medical grade nicotine patch that they slapped onto my arm and good god.

I’ve been thirsty in my life. I’ve been hungry in my life. But I’ve never felt more relief than when I felt that shit absorbing directly into my skin. I sometimes let myself smoke a little tobacco here and there… but it’s almost like I can never ever fully get back to that sense of relief. That’s such a terrifying part of addiction- having the moment that’s so pinnacle and such a raw feeling of bliss that you will never ever find that same kind of enjoyment from whatever stimuli again.

Oh but yeah I got out of the hospital once I convinced the doctors I was sane and that it was just an itty bitty mishap. I was fine, other than some grand embarrassment and apologies to all involved. Yeah, I apologized to my friends that witnessed it. It was my fault, or I felt so at the time.

This post kind of started as a silly one in my head and then I remembered just how dark this story got. Haha it makes me feel thankful to be alive, because I’m much happier now.

If you read this far thanks for being here with me and also don’t do drugs with shady people!! It’s not worth it.

[linklethehistorian]

salutations mr linkle the hyrule historian tumblr can u direct me 2 the last anon that said ur wrong bc i think they're great n I wanna give them a kiss on the lips!!!! anyway was it not u that said the OFFICIAL!!!!!!! 15 translation was wrong n bad so i dont think the opinions of anyone who considers rimbaud a doormat n wrote the abomination that is cherish are valid

anyway anon if ur reading this ilove u pooks u me n bitch tree anon n bully anon should b poly or smth we'd make beautiful children

Hmmmmmmmmmm, well I don’t remember anybody saying I was wrong, honey. 🤔 Last anon just asked me a question about if I’d ever considered something, and I answered! 😊

Anyway I’d love love love love to help you two hook up bc that’s so sweet and I want to meet your future children so much! 🥺💕💕💕 I could be a part of a real life love story! 🥺💖💖💖💕💕💕💕💕 So cute!!! I don’t think Bully anon or Bitch Tree anon would be into it unfortunately at first, since they send me little hearts and cutesie things these days…. I’m sorry about that. 😔 Oh well! I’m sure when they hear your dedication to reach out to me they’ll still want to give you kissies somehow ‘cause they’re so dedicated to me too, just in a very loving way.

And yee! I did say the ‘official’ translation was bad! Thank you so much for remembering my words and sticking around my blog so long. 🥺💕 Anyway yeah, that unfortunately happens sometimes, and by sometimes, I mean a lot, ‘cause a) there are people out there who unironically think it’s okay to take creative liberties in translating because it’s their right as someone taking the time to do it (can’t be assed rn but if you search around this site enough, you’ll find an entire thread of translators talking about this), b), there are people who write for a lot of series they’re not into and therefore aren’t aware of all the context of previous novels, c) there are people who just slip up and make mistakes! Happens all the time unfortunately and most people don’t understand that if you misunderstand or change one thing it can change everything, and d) people who are tasked with translating 99% of the time never even talk to the people team of people who actually published the original, much less are in contact with the author themself! Mistranslations and drastic creative liberties happen a lot for example in the fandom I came from (The Legend of Zelda), which you can see a bit here! And if you still don’t believe me, you can go ask Dear old Author Neil Gaiman, who has even had some of the characters in his books turned from lovers to sisters and everything, a lot of the time completely without his knowledge until fans point it out to him! If you scroll his blog, I’m sure you’ll find those posts for yourself, assuming he doesn’t see an ask from you on if it happens. ‘Tis a sad thing, but Asagiri-sensei likely doesn’t even know when a mistranslation happens, much less do these people sit down and ask him things directly before doing their thing. He certainly doesn’t have involvement overseeing the process; that’s an unreasonable thing to ask of someone when it involves other languages they may or may not even be fluent in. And all the proof we need that it’s wrong is that the JP novel and the Stage Play (both things that Asagiri was directly, heavily involved in and/or directly penned the words of/material of the script for himself) both contradict it. If you’d like to take on that claim, since you’re implying I’m wrong, have at it! The burden of proof is on you, so, I look forward to seeing you send me the individual JP source lines of the Eng translations you want to take a crack at defending and a long wall of educational text explaining why each part of the English translation got it 1,000% right, directly in my in-box. If not, have a good day ‘cause I’m sorry, but I got limited time and other things to do right now, baby. 💕 I’ll eventually get to it myself some day, but right now I have other articles to finish first, art to make, and a fic to keep posting.

Speaking of which…OMG YOU READ CHERISH? 🥺💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💖💖😊💖💕🥺💕🥺💕💖💕💕🥺💕💖💕💕💕 That’s so sweet OMG OMG OMG! I’m glad you enjoy my beautiful ‘abomination’ enough to read and keep up with it! Don’t worry sweetie, the next chapter is on its way!

See this is why I love love love love love love love my ‘haters’ so fucking much, I adore y’all, I’d kill for y’all, OMG. You give me so much dedication and time, I know how much y’all adore me and I adore you right back! My beloved super fans. 💕💕💕💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺 Every ask I get and vague post I read makes my heart flutter, frfr, I’ve actually got an album I keep of screenshots of y’all’s posts to give me the motivation to keep doing what I do whenever I’m down. 🥺💖💖💕💕 This one goes in the collection for sure ahhhh 💖💖💕💕💕 I’m so important to people OMG IT’S SO CUTE AND SWEET

TAKE CARE OUT THERE ANON! PLS SEND ME MORE MESSAGES I LOVE THEM. I WAIT WITH BATED BREATH 💖💖💕💕💖💕💕💕💖💖

GOOD LUCK ON YOUR DATE!!! PLEASE MAKE BABIES WHO ARE ALSO OBSESSED WITH ME, I CAN’T WAIT 💕💕💕💖💖

[kotos-and-smiles]

Ch.122 Rambling

As I often am, I’ll be referring to tessenpai‘s rough tl which you can find here

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CH.122 OF KOT!

Finally got around to reading the newest chapter of kot last week (brainrot for another thing has been taking over my life) and it’s just so amazing. Had some thoughts I felt like sharing and also remembered some of the Discord discussions about this chapter too. So, some things that stuck out to me: Granny (Shizune) is still so iconic, just being like oh yeah, thought I heard some people making a ruckus, makes sense it’s the Tokise kids, but also those are her grandchildren. Chika just loves being a grandkid and I can’t handle it. Like, he was so damn happy to be called Shizune’s grandkid, and he literally can’t really have that with actual familial relations anymore at this point. Chika deserves every good parent/grandparent figure he can find. Love Satowa joining the hive mind of the Sane, Kota, and Mittsu, though she still probably has a braincell to herself. That moment where Sentarou’s grandma mentions being in the hospital and just how obvious Chika’s reaction is when you know his thoughts just immediately went to his grandpa, it’s just so painful, and Satowa noticing is so significant. 

There are so many instances, especially earlier on in the manga, where we have Chika noticing little emotional reactions from Satowa when something affects her, and so I love seeing that Satowa is also tuned into Chika and notices his reactions too. It’s all coming full circle. And I’m hoping this is also setting up Satowa actually asking Chika about his past. She’s wondered about it before, but a lot of what she knows is from other people, friends who have known Chika for longer, telling her things or things she learned with the whole Uzuki situation. I’d love to see a conversation where Chika opens up to Satowa about it, also because I think it’d be nice if she knew the whole story and for Chika to be able to share that with someone, much as she shared her story with him. It helps to understand one another better, as well as being able to ease the burden of the past a little.

Sentarou’s grandmother almost immediately melting at Chika’s offering to help because she sees the pure intentions despite the bad manners. He’s so eager to do what he can for her, especially once he notices how it might be harder for her to maneuver around a crowd to find a seat. Love that Satowa steps in after he leaves and thanks Sentarou’s grandma for understanding Chika’s feelings. Like, I just so love that, it’s like she’s trying to smooth it over a little and show manners while at the same time genuinely thanking her for not just judging him and actually understanding his feelings. I just, ugh, them. It’s an understanding from Satowa of just how much interactions like this mean to Chika. And Kota looks so serious when he says “true!” to Sane’s statement about how Chika’s such a granny’s/grandpa’s boy.

Tomoe needs to snap the hell out of it, cuz she witnessed Chika being the cutest doing such a pure, innocent thing, helping someone and waving to a young kid as he was doing it, like girl needs to get over it, and I’m excited to see her come around sometime. Just let Chika live and be the sweet grandchild he is in anyway he can be! She seems to be getting it a little, but hasn’t completely broken free of her prejudice. Her memories of seeing Chika interact nicely with people did give me an excuse to look up this moment again though, so that’s nice

Akari deserves all the love and support he’s getting from his friends, both in and outside the club. His friends that came to see him are so sweet! They’re there not knowing anything about koto, having traveled all that way, purely to see their friend play, and that’s so sweet. And love the teamwork of the club and how much they’re supporting each other and especially Akari. Takinami has been such a mood lately, and I love it so much! Like, him trying to buy alcohol a couple chapters ago, and now him overhearing Keishi talking to Akari’s friends and just thinking disdainfully “extroverts” or as is pointed out more accurately “monsters of communication” which I think feels very accurate. Like, I don’t want random people to communicate with me. (Usually well intentioned) monsters indeed.

I love, as always, seeing commentary on the music through Tokise. It still gives little tidbits of the characters while focusing on the music. Even Momoya seemed like he liked the performance so far.

Think it’s cool that Sentarou, even playing alongside 2 17-stringers, has the power and presence to not get drowned out. Like, that was a cool moment. I really don’t want to discuss the last pages. They were simply so painful after such a nice performance and the chapter that got us to care about Akari. This just isn’t fair and my heart aches. Hope for the best resolution next chapter, but it could go either way. He’s a very new player and we’ll have to see if he can recover from this mistake. But just, oof, it hurt to see that. Akari is just so genuine and trying his best, and I hate to see him mess up like this especially when I know he’s gonna feel like he let down his Senpai. It’s just something you never wanna see happen. Especially with his friends watching too. Amazing storytelling though. I’m way more attached to Eidai than I thought I’d be honestly.

So yeah, that’s just a little collection of thoughts that got way longer than I expected.