#anyway requests are still open for this meme it just might take me three months xoxoxo

[mxrisacoulter]

spotify wrapped meme: his dark materials + 13 (requested by @dykejaskiers)

dreamland by glass animals

[babyflossy]

exposed | p.js

pairing: jisung x reader

requested: i’m working on loads of request atm but when i saw this i had to write it straight away lmao

summary: when dispatch reveals your secret realtionship with jisung to the public, the fans aren’t the only ones surprised.

warnings/genre: unedited, kinda just self-indulgent fluff, lots of words, not much happens

word count: 1.7k

a hand on your shoulder breaks you from your slumber, words already being spoken at you. in your sleepy haze, they floated straight through your head, mind still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. as soon as you recognise the voice as your manager’s,  your eyes snap open, meeting equally wide ones over the head of your manager. haemee, your leader, shoots you an apologetic look, something unsettling for so early in the morning.

“what happened?” the words are quiet and tired and your manager sighs in pity, handing over their phone. your eyes squint in response to the brightness, stomach dropping when your eyes finally focus on the news article.

BREAKING; DISPATCH REVEALS UQS’ Y/N AND NCT’S JISUNG ARE DATING.

the title is accompanied by three photos; one of you at a fansign, smiling at a fan, one of jisung waving at a camera in the airport, and then a blurring photo of two figures walking hand in hand through a park at night. the park you and jisung had visited two weeks ago. 

“there’s a meeting at the company. can you get ready quickly, please?” despite the ‘scandal’ and the stress your manager was most likely under, she shoots you a comforting smile and ruffles your hair before leaving, phone already ringing. 

as soon as you and haemee are left alone you reach for your phone, feeling the bed dip as she sits beside you. she rests a hand on your shoulder, rubbing her fingers down your back soothingly. your lockscreen in full of text messages. you thumb through them, seeing many from jisung, along with the other nct members you were close with. you ignored them all, only searching for the ones from your boyfriend.

jisungie <3: have you seen it yet?

jisungie <3: call me when you see this

jisungie <3: are you okay?

jisungie <3: i know you didn’t want ppl to find out like this

jisungie <3: let me know you’re okay plzzz x

“it’s gonna be fine, you know?” haemee’s hands abandon your shoulder and take your phone out of your grasp, tipping your chin so she can look at you. there’s still a smile on her face and you’re reminded of why she’s the group’s leader instead of anyone else; always able to keep things calm. “think about all the other idols that have dated. i bet the fans were expecting this, anyway.”

that was probably correct, you knew. ever since you and jisung had starred on a dancing show in america together, your social medias were full of edits of the two of you, compilations of your interactions from the vlogs you had filmed. as jisung wasn’t fluent in english you had translated for him and done the speaking whenever you ordered food, giving the fans loads of things to include in their edits.

the show had been fun and you had kept in close contact with jisung after it ended, eventually deciding to start dating after months of pining over each other. since then, only haemee, taeyong and the company knew, although you expected chenle knew as well due to the teasing you got whenever you met jisung outside of your training hours. 

when haemee left you to get ready you took your phone back, unlocking it and calling jisung as you flicked through your wardrobe, trying to find your hoodie. the call connected after the first ring, jisung’s voice echoing over the line and into your bedroom.

“are you okay?” although there was high chance you were about to be scolded for days, the worry in jisung made your heart beat just a little faster, a reluctant smile taking over your face. 

“i’m fine. what about you?” spotting the lilac hoodie at the end of your closet, you pulled your sleep shirt, jisung’s shirt, over your head, replacing it with the warm softness of the purple material. you followed it with a pair of jeans, slipping a face mask on after realising there would probably be reporters outside the SM building already.

“yeah, i’m fine now. i freaked out at first, though,” he chuckled, shouts coming through from his end. “jaemin came in screaming about how he was so betrayed i didn’t tell him, i had no idea what he was talking about.”

“what’d you think is gonna happen?”

there was a pause before he spoke and you had time to grab your bag, throwing in your headphones and a spare mask along with a pair of sunglasses incase. “i’m not sure, taeyong said he’s hopeful, though. so it might not be that bad. it’s not like the company’s finding out about it, though, so it might just be press and stuff.”

“yeah, i hope so. i’ll see you in fifteen minutes i guess,” before you left the safety of your bedroom, you reached for the bucket hat hanging from the corner of your chair, pulling it over your face to hide your eyes. you looked ridiculous, like you were planning to rob a bank, but you guessed it was better than the alternative; hundreds of photos released of your sleep-deprived, drooping eyes.

no one else in the dorm is awake and you’re able to slip out the front door before haemee catched you again, taking a deep breath before heading outside to the car waiting. as it’s just you and your manager, you’re able to sit in the front seat, something you would normally be ecstatic about but due to circumstance it feels lonely and cold. not a word is spoken until the car reaches the entrance to the SM building, throngs of people with cameras waiting outside the front door.

“we’ll go in the back entrance.” you manager says with a frown, eyeing the reporters with concern. “god, it’s impossible to get any privacy nowadays.”

after security escorts you through the back door, pushing reporters out the way when they got too close, you can finally breath properly. for the most part you ignored their questions, signing the first song that comes to mind in your head to distract yourself. ironically, it’s chewing gum, and you realise with resentment it’s going to be stuck in your head throughout the meeting.

upstairs, taeyong and jisung sit on the opposite side of a glass table, two seats left open for you and your manager. their manager stands and motions for him and your manager to talk privately outside, leaving you with the two boys. you take off your hat as you sit down, pulling you mask down so you can talk properly. jisung’s tired eyes crinkle with a smile when you do, a smile you return eagerly.

for a moment you see taeyong think over what to say in his head, trying to find the right words for the situation. eventually, he settles on what your own leader had already told you. “i’m sure this will be fine,” and as if he realises how cliche his words are, he adds “in the end.”

“in the end? what’s that supposed to mean?” jisung tears his eyes away from you to look at the older boy.

“well, i mean, it’s gonna be a big deal at the start,” he states matter of factly, eyes switching between the two of you. the voice he uses is just as level and calm as the one haemee uses whenever she’s trying to sort something out, it must be a universal thing. “the press and the fans will go crazy for a bit, let alone everyone you didn’t tell.”

the reminder makes you dread going back home, knowing the rest of your members will blow this way out of proportion. you were the youngest, and they always managed to be overdramatic whenever it came to you ‘growing up’ as they had put it so many times. none of them knew you were dating jisung, and you could already picture the gloomy pouts you would get for the next few weeks.

after your managers returned, a few more staff entered, filling the last few seats and closing the door, successfully locking you in. they talked for what felt like hours, only occasionally asking you or jisung a question. they decided the easiest thing would be to just come out and admit it, allowing you and jisung a moment to disagree. you locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation between yourselves. you raised you eyebrows in question, taking the minuscule nod he sent your way to be the go-ahead.

“i don’t see why not,” you answered for the both of you, smiling at your manager who nodded in agreement back at you.

you don’t get a chance to say goodbye to jisung properly before you leave the building, the staff ushering you in opposite directions to get your schedules for the day started. in the car on the way back to the dorms you send him a text promising to facetime when you both have time, mentally preparing yourself for the confrontation from your members.

“you’re dating jisung?” is the first thing you hear when the front door opens, closely followed by “why didn’t you tell us?” which is swiftly followed by “i can’t believe you’re the first one to date anyone, it’s not fair.”

“that’s mean.” you smile back at the oldest, laughing at the disbelieving smiles covering their faces. “why are you guys so surprised? you didn’t think i could do it?”

“whatever, but, why didn’t you tell us?”

“in my defense, the company told us not to tell anyone.”

for the next few days, your group’s twitter was hectic. you trended on twitter for nearly a solid day, photos and edits and memes of you and jisung together filling your timeline. there were the negative comments, obviously, from jealous fans of both fandoms, some even claiming you should both be removed from your respective groups. they were easy to ignore when the positive comments and the text messages from your boyfriend outweighed them astronomically.

jisungie <3: as much as i hate to say it.. taeyong was right x

a/n: if you got this far im acc proud of you lmao i rlly dont like this but it's been a kinda mentally exhausting day for me so im gonna post anyway and edit tomorrow x

[mooncustafer]

Recover, Regroup, Roadtrip

Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in March 1989. The case is still open. Agent Dale Cooper disappeared in October 2016. The case is still open.

for @laughingpinecone  /

/ @countdowntotwinpeaks​‘ WONDERFULXSTRANGE 2021

“Diane, I am uncertain of the date and time, or indeed if such concepts have any meaning in this place. Nor do I have my recorder, but I find verbalizing my thoughts helps me to resist the confusion and lethargy. As for addressing my words to you, even though you’ll never hear them— well, old habits die hard.”

It pleased Wally Brando on a profound level to discover that a few pay-phones remained in Philadelphia, that reaching out was not yet the prerogative only of those who could afford a landline or a mobile. He could also have checked his email on a terminal at one of the city’s Public Libraries, and indeed, made a note to do so within the day so that he might catch up on the news of parents and former school friends. The pay phone was also blessed with both the yellow and the white pages, and the number he sought appeared under “F.” Getting transferred to Dr. Albert Rosenfield was a more complex quest, but he was persistent as well as polite, and after a few minutes he was able to speak to Dr. Rosenfield’s voice mail, if not the man himself.

He introduced himself with salutations, and was about the explain the nature of his request when a beep signalled that the allotted time had run out.

“To listen to your message, press one. To re-record your message, press two,” said the voice of the machine.

Silently cursing his volubility, Wally pressed two. This time he simplified the introduction, and asked if Dr. Rosenfield would be good enough to meet him that evening at the Morimoto Japanese restaurant not far from the FBI offices, to discuss a matter of deep concern connected, he believed, with the little town of Twin Peaks. When the beep came this time, he listened to his message and then, satisfied, hung up. The restaurant he’d named was slightly above his means, but he was meeting a friend of his godfather, and wanted to do justice to the occasion, even if the reason for it was one of peculiar anxiety to himself.

“Diane, I have tried so many times to escape— on the last attempt I really did get out into the world, but my plans, I fear, had dire repercussions for you, and to no end— my course still led me back to the Black Lodge. Some flaw in my own nature keeps trapping me in this loop; perhaps it’s what they sometimes call Saṃsāra.”

It was Agent Tammy Preston’s custom, when scraping the internet for information relevant to one or more recent cases, to check her email inbox every seven minutes— to do so every five minutes would disrupt the flow of her work, but ten-minute gaps might let something important go unanswered for too long. Just now the inbox was due another glance, and switching tabs she saw that two minutes earlier Director Bryson had replied to Tammy’s email of that morning with an invitation to come by her desk at her earliest possible convenience.

Tammy locked her screen, paused ‘Soft Fuzzy Man’ on her playlist and removed her headphones. Picking up the folder marked Missing Persons, 1989– Palmer, she slipped back into her pumps and made for Bryson’s office. The door was open but Tammy stopped at the threshold and rapped on the wall.

“Come in,” said Director Bryson, looking up from a folder. Bossa nova music played softly in the background as Tammy entered and pulled up a chair. It sometimes puzzled Tammy that apart from herself and Director Gordon Cole, no one in this particular division of the FBI seemed to have any interest in music recorded after 1979. (The first few times she’d heard ‘Du Hast’ pounding through the walls of Cole’s office, she’d wondered if this taste for metal was the result, or perhaps the cause, of his hearing loss; but after he’d joked to an unamused Agent Rosenfield about how these were difficult times and difficult times called for Dave Brubeck, she’d looked up the reference in case it was a coded message, and then the next day had overheard Gordon whistling ‘Mister Sandman,’ a song she knew primarily from an internet meme, at which point she concluded that the ear wants what it wants, regardless of demographic.)

“You told me you’d found some serious inconsistencies in the records surrounding Twin Peaks and the Palmer case?”

Tammy nodded, hesitated:

“I believe there may be inconsistencies as well in my own perceptions of the case.”

“Well now, that I find a little harder to believe.” Bryson smiled, but then her voice grew serious: “I’ve looked over the notes you made, and it confirms my own doubts about events.”

“Worse yet— the fact that I truly left the Lodge and then returned to it, will enable the beings that inhabit this place to take another twenty-five year turn in my likeness, unleashing even more evil on the world. The only thing stalling them is the doppelgänger I had MIKE make for the Jones family, but I don’t know if he’s still under the White Lodge’s protection.”

After all these months it still surprised Harry Truman there was so little physical pain, and so much boredom, to dying. Oh there’d been pain at the beginning, when he’d started treatment and had had to stop drinking; the memory of detoxing still made him shudder. But now he only felt a tiredness too huge for sleep to make any dent in it; and since he couldn’t sleep all the time, there were a great many hours during which all he could do was lie in the hospice bed or sit in one of the hospice chairs, and think.

At this point dying didn’t even sound so bad— it wasn’t like the past three decades had been all that great. He imagined going to sleep, just filling up a big bowl of silence and darkness and sinking into it, and then he felt bad for thinking that because Frank had already lost enough people without Harry lighting out too. Anyways, with the things he’d seen over the years he’d be a damn fool to think there was anything peaceful about death and whatever came after. So he’d lie awake trying to find some other topic to ponder, and that’s generally when the boredom set in.

Right now, courtesy of the nap he’d had in the afternoon after today’s treatment had left him especially exhausted, he was lying awake in the wee small hours. 3:52 am, said the clock on his bedside table beside the stack of paperbacks Frank had brought him on his visits— Harry wasn’t afraid of e-readers the way Lucy was of cellular phones, but he found the smell of paper comforting. It reminded him of the Bookhouse. The hospice tended to smell of disinfectants and sweat and soup. The food actually wasn’t as bad as the food at the hospital in Twin Peaks used to be, not that any food could be as bad as the hospital food in Twin Peaks used to be, but it made no difference to Harry, whose appetite had been gone for months. Frank always brought a slice of Norma’s pie too, carefully sealed in an old cookie tin to keep it fresh, but Harry could never manage more than a couple of bites, and they didn’t always stay down.

Being awake in the middle of the night in a hospice wasn’t as bad as being awake in the middle of the night when you were alone at home— the occasional voices or footsteps from the corridors beyond were reminders that whatever might be happening to Harry, life went on for the staff; and the lights from the city outside showed that life went on for others outside the hospice walls. When he’d first arrived, those city lights had made it hard to sleep, but now they substituted for the starry sky above Twin Peaks. There were fewer birds to watch in the city, though sparrows, pigeons or a starling sometimes lit on the ledge outside his window and peered in at him, or maybe at their own reflections. The frequent rain pattering against the glass— well, that sounded the same here as it did in a cabin.

Frank had called to tell him about Margaret Lanterman. Harry sometimes wondered if he should have stayed in Twin Peaks and died in his own home like her, instead of lingering in this hospice like the doomed heroine of some nineteenth-century novel. Or like Annie Blackburn. Or Audrey Horne.

The rain was spattering now against Harry’s window, bending the light from the Japanese stone lantern in the pocket-sized garden below. Harry couldn’t remember what the hospice building looked like from the outside, but he guessed it was similar in style to the mid-century one next door where the day-patients came for their treatments. A flash silhouetted the roofline; five seconds later came the thunder-crack. Harry settled back and closed his eyes.

Sleep pulled him into dreams of an espresso machine, like the one in the coffee place down in the lobby next to the gift shop for visitors. This machine filled a whole room, metal pipes feeding back on themselves like some kind of espressouroboros, neither steam nor coffee escaping from the grotesque contraption. Agent Cooper stood wearily before it with two empty coffee-cups. Harry was just wondering who the second cup was for, when Coop looked up and met his eyes:

“What year is this?!”

Harry sat up in bed, listened intently for two full minutes, but he didn’t hear Coop’s voice again. He sighed. Sometimes the mind pulls imaginary sounds out of the background noise. False pattern recognition or something— Coop would have known a word for it. Harry had little hope left they’d ever find Cooper, or if they did, that he’d still be the man he’d known. Yet he’d carried on, more (he told himself) out of habit than any real hope. He’d kept in touch with Agent Rosenfield, even when it meant letting him know about the cancer— not that Albert would blab the secret to anyone in Twin Peaks.

“Hello?”

“Good, you’re still alive.” Albert’s personality hadn’t mellowed with the years, exactly, but familiarity had worn the edges off his jibes.

“Shut up, Albert. So what have you found?” Albert’s calls generally came every three months, but never at nine in the morning, and he’d last spoken to Harry only two weeks back. Something important must have happened.

“Actually, Sheriff Truman, I’m the one coming to you for information.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, it’s not easy to do investigations from a hospital bed. What can I tell you that you can’t get from other sources?”

“I need you to summarize the Laura Palmer case back in 1989, and the actions of Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks at that time.”

“Albert, is this one of your damn cognitive tests? You already know—”

“We’re both too tired to argue, just humor me.”

“How detailed do you want?”

“An outline will suffice.”

Harry took a deep breath and briefly listed the finding of Laura’s body, and the living but dazed and injured Ronnette, and the arrival of Agent Dale Cooper to lead the investigation. He skimmed over the crimes of Jacques Reneault and some of the other peripheral drama that had occurred in the town around that time, noted that Leland Palmer had murdered his own daughter, albeit while not fully himself, and was beginning to recount Cooper’s temporary suspension and Windom Earle’s campaign of terror, when Albert interrupted:

“You’ve still got the unofficial version, then.”

“Unofficial?”

“According to FBI records and your colleagues at the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Office, Laura Palmer is an unsolved missing-person case.”

Harry began to feel sick.

“Goddammit, Albert, you did the autopsy. I punched you and you fell across her body. You found a broken poker chip in her stomach—” Albert broke in:

“I hadn’t disclosed that detail to anybody I’ve questioned about this.” His voice was a little shaky. “Listen, Harry,” he continued. “Last Friday I was contacted by a young man wearing motorcycle leathers and talking like Jack Kerouac on quaaludes.”

“Wally.”

“Naturally I supposed him to be from your iodine-deficient neck of the woods even before he introduced himself as your godson and the offspring of those lieutenants of yours. He told me he’d come because he wasn’t sure where else to turn. Apparently he keeps in touch with his parents as he rides across the continent, but in their most recent conversation he’d noticed their memories of certain events had become confused. I was about to tell him I wasn’t the least bit surprised, when he added that he’d checked with other townsfolk, including your brother, and they all seemed to have had the same— how’d he put it? ‘The walls of their memory painted over like a childhood bedroom converted to a study.’”

”That sounds like Wally, all right.”

”Eventually he got round to explaining why he’d come to me. The message that had prompted him to call home was from Lucy; she said she’d shot a suspect who was attacking your brother Frank. She’d also mentioned some FBI agents arriving a few minutes later.”

Harry swallowed. He tried to imagine Lucy shooting anyone:

“Frank never said anything about this.”

“And when Wally called home, Andy and Lucy not only denied it had happened, they had no idea what he was talking about, not that I’d guess that to be an unusual state of affairs. Anyway, after I sent your godson away, I began to have contradictory memories myself of what Cooper had told me about the case. I remembered the poker chip after waking in the middle of the night from the worst dreams I’d had since medical school. I’ve been telling myself it was a false memory, maybe a composite of all the young female murder victims I’ve had to examine in my career, but I told myself I’d make one more phone call, just to check. And now you confirm it. Also, in my recall you knocked me across Leo Johnson’s body. Thanks for the correction. Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, glad he was already sitting on his bed.

“Now that that’s established,” said Albert’s voice on the other end of the phone: “here’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: when do you remember Agent Cooper disappearing?”

“March 1989.” Harry tried to keep his voice steady, as though he was giving evidence in court. He briefly explained about the Black Lodge and Coop’s reappearance and unsettling behaviour and how he’d checked himself out of the hospital and was never heard from again. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you still there, Albert?”

“According to FBI records and, up until two days ago, my own memories: Coop disappeared this past October while driving to Odessa, Texas for a case. The last record of him was a credit-card charge at a motel just outside the city.”

“What was he investigating in Odessa?”

“Missing person. I’ve tried looking into that case, but it seems to be a dead end, especially since Coop never seems to have arrived at the diner where the man he was looking for had allegedly been running drugs.”

“Sounds like the kind of establishment where nobody’d admit anything. Maybe Coop did get to the diner.”

“Gee, you’ve cracked it Sheriff, we would never have thought of that. The diner was old-school, but not so old-school they didn’t have a security camera trained on the front counter. We went over three days worth of footage. I admit we can’t be sure he didn’t slip in through the back for some reason; but you knew Coop— can you honestly picture him entering a diner and not ordering a coffee?”

“Not the Coop I knew, but— I already told you he was acting pretty erratically just before he took off.”

Harry heard Albert sigh.

“I’ve been checking with a few of my colleagues who were involved in the original Palmer investigation. I think Gordon knows something, but being Gordon he’s saying nothing, and as loudly as possible. Denise— Director Bryson, now— remembers the unofficial version, and according to her so does Agent Preston— oh right, you never met Agent Tammy Preston, the poker-faced glamazon computer hacker— I’m not sure she was even born yet in 1989, but she was on a case in Twin Peaks in October 2016, and during the course of the subsequent paperwork, she started noticing a lot of records and statements didn’t match up, and then she realized her own memories didn’t match up. Which brings up another problem with trying to reason this out by conventional methods: something in that Salem’s Pacific-Northwest Lot of yours is rewriting memories, documents, maybe the facts themselves. But so far it’s predominantly affected the people who were on the spot this past October.” Albert’s voice rasped a little from the long phone call, and he paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, that also means the people most likely to remember the original version of events are people who weren’t in the Sheriff’s Office during the incident that seems to have triggered the change. At the risk of sounding like one of those bullshit shows on the History Channel, we may never know exactly what happened that night.”

“Wait, what even was the case that brought you all back in 2016?”

“That’s the problem— I’m one of the people who was there, and I only have vague and disconnected memories of a British man with a gardening glove, the chorus of Guys and Dolls, Agent Cooper leaving the room with Diane, his secretary who quit the FBI decades ago, and Gordon, and only Gordon coming back.” Albert paused again. “It goes against my personal feelings and medical opinions, but would you be willing to let me visit you in person? I’ve some vacation time and enough frequent-flyer miles that the trip will probably cost less than the long-distance charges if we continue this conversation.”

Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the key to Coop’s old hotel room:

“Yeah, come by.”

“Diane, I am currently alone. I realize that statement implies that I’m not always alone here, and indeed I sometimes have a companion, who I still think of as Laura Palmer, though I don’t know if that’s her identity anymore; I’d hoped, after my last attempt, that Laura would no longer be in this place at all. She comes and goes, or perhaps we both come and go and our orbits occasionally intersect. I’ve tried to find some pattern to it, but with no reliable way to measure time, I’ve had little success.

The last time we met she told me about a room she hadn’t seen before, all white walls, in which a dark-haired woman was contemplating a mirror with a puzzled look. I can’t help but feel this parallels my own situation.”

“Frank sent me this last month. But when I thanked him the next time he called, he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.” Albert hesitated before taking the room key:

“Great Northern Hotel,” he read, turning it over. “Twin Peaks. Isn’t the front desk going to want this back?”

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s from 1989 when Coop was staying there.”

Albert’s ears stuck out more noticeably, or perhaps it was his face that was thinner. He’d spent the first part of his visit scrutinizing Harry and questioning him about his case and what the doctors were doing for it, until Harry told him to quit it or he’d run out of time to discuss Coop’s disappearance before visiting hours ended, and anyway weren’t Albert’s patients usually dead to begin with?

The trouble with the subsequent discussion was that it went in a circle— the people who’d been present for the 2016 Unknown Event had uncertain memories of what had actually happened; and the people who clearly recalled the 1989 Palmer case as a murder hadn’t been present for the Unknown Event. The one thing that seemed likely was that there was some connection between the 1989 case and the 2016 case, particularly since both had been followed by the unsolved disappearance of one Agent Dale Cooper.

“I hate to say it, Albert, but I’ve given up hope on ever finding Coop.”

“What’s hope got to do with it?” Albert asked. His tone was not sarcastic.

“Diane, I’ve decided that, if only to keep my mind occupied, I will go looking for the white room and the woman with the mirror. I’d feel happier if I had a ball of twine or some breadcrumbs to leave as a trail back to the waiting room, but I’m coming to terms with the idea that’s there’s no advantage to remaining or returning here— it’s not as if I need food or drink in this place, and I cannot be any more lost than I already am.

So far, I believe I’ve walked down five identical red-curtained hallways, and turned left five times. It therefore seems likely that I’m following a counterclockwise, roughly spiral path, although I’m uncertain if I’m proceeding inwards or outwards.”

“If this search is going to require juggling two sets of memories, then I’d better come along so you don’t get brainwashed again.”

“Sheriff Truman, if you haven’t noticed by now, you’re in a cancer hospice.”

“I just finished a round of treatments, I’ve got a couple of weeks free.” Albert snorted and Harry added: “You can monitor my health while we’re on the road.”

“I’m already thinking of your health. You’re immunocompromised, travel is too risky.”

“We’re crossing a few state lines, not going to the other side of the world.”

Albert pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. I’m driving. Which also means I get to choose the music.”

In fact, they went most of the way by plane, after Albert weighed the odds and decided five hours in a tube of recycled air would still be easier on Harry than a two-day road trip. Some of the passengers threw suspicious looks at Harry’s N95 mask, but they’d cleared it in advance with the airline, and Harry had briefly removed it when he went through TSA, and Albert was prepared to flash his FBI badge, but the flight crew were understanding.

They picked up a car at Midland International. Someone, presumably an employee of the car-rental company, had left a bundle of tourist-attraction pamphlets on the front passenger seat.

“According to these, Odessa has replicas of the Globe Theatre and Stonehenge,” Harry observed once he’d got himself settled.

“Why?” Albert asked.

“Got me there. The pamphlets don’t explain the motivation.”

Albert reached up and pulled down the car’s sunshade on Harry’s side, though the Sheriff insisted his cowboy hat was protection enough for his pale scalp:

“We’re not in the northwest where it rains every fifteen minutes,” he muttered, “and I’ve been looking up the side effects of your meds— you sunburn easily now.” Albert’s driving skirted the city, and they did not pass the Globe or Stonehenge.

The Pearblossom Motel, last recorded location of Agent Cooper, proved to be closed down. They’d noticed the papered-over windows as they pulled up, the sign unlit, not even to say NO VACANCY, but Albert got out to knock anyway. Harry watched him from the car; eventually he clambered out and slowly walked over to join him.

Albert was peering through a spot where the paper had torn away behind the window-glass. He stepped aside for Harry, and the sheriff took a look into the motel’s dim interior. He saw an ordinary, rather old-fashioned registration office, wood-grain panelling on the walls along with a few faded posters for local attractions. Rows of keys still hung on a board behind the desk, and a daily calendar read October 15, presumably the date the motel had closed, or the approximate date— Harry could imagine a concierge might not bother to keep tearing off the pages if they knew it was their last week on the job.

“I now realize that despite everything, I’ve still been harbouring hopes of finding my way back to the waiting room, hence my continual choosing of left-hand turns, as if attempting to mathematically navigate a maze. I must make a true leap of faith if intuition is to guide me, so I’ve closed my eyes and spun around several times in this corridor, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.

Now that I no longer can tell which direction I’ve come from… Diane, can you hear that? Of course you can’t, I don’t really have my tape recorder. I’m going to fall silent and listen for a bit.”

There seemed little else of interest at the motel (Harry, feeling a bit silly, had even tried the Great Northern’s room key on all the doors), so they turned back towards Odessa to look for the diner Cooper had been investigating. The motel was only a mile behind when they saw, ahead of them, a tall woman walking along the highway, her fire-engine-red hair, black t-shirt and pencil skirt out of place in a locale that was rural to the point of emptiness. Albert swore under his breath.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” he told Harry. “Roll down your window, I’m pulling over.” But the woman only threw a glance at the car as it slowed, flipped them the bird, and kept walking, though she stepped gingerly and Harry noticed she was barefoot on the asphalt. Albert leant across him and stuck his head out the window:

“Diane!”

“Fuck off, guys. I’m not Diane, and whoever she is I bet she’d tell you the same.” Harry gently pushed Albert back and leant out the window himself:

“Sorry, ma’am, mistaken identity. Are you all right though? I see you’ve mislaid your shoes.”

“Looks like somebody ran off with them,” the woman answered, her tone mocking despite the tired set of her shoulders. “I haven’t been up to anything illegal, officer. Just a bit of fooling around.”

“We can give you a ride into town,” Harry offered. “If it helps, you’ll be alone in the back seat— means you can get the drop on us if you start to feel nervous.”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the offer, then abruptly barked out a laugh and opened the back door of the car, took a seat and folded her long legs in after her. “Only because I need a lift,” she insisted, rubbing her bare feet. “I knew office romances were a bad idea, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. Nothing to do now but go home and drown my sorrows in Hallowe’en candy.”

“You’ve still got candy left over from Hallowe’en?” In the mirror above the dashboard, Harry saw Albert raise an eyebrow and the woman in the back seat frowned, insulted:

“No! I may not have a maternal bone in my body, but I’m not going to give the trick-or-treaters candy that’s a year old.”

“Ma’am,” Harry asked, thinking about the calendar back in the Pearblossom Motel office, “what date d’you think it is?”

“Mid-October,” she began. Harry saw her reach into her purse with her black-and-white nails and pull out a mobile phone. Her eyes widened at the date: “No, it’s March. The fuck?—” She ran a hand through her scarlet hair. Harry wondered if it was dyed or a wig. Perhaps she was bald too. “Must be losing it. I was so sure it was October. And it’s not like I’ve could’ve been wandering around this desert for five months.” She tapped her phone screen. “5,230 messages?!” She looked frightened now, raising her head to meet their gaze in the mirror. “Where the hell have I been? And you guys— you’re feds, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry began.

“I am,” said Albert. “He’s not.”

“Well, can you tell me what’s going on? Or is it classified? God, it’s not aliens, is it? I always assumed alien conspiracies were bullshit to cover up real conspiracies.”

“It’s probably not aliens,” Harry answered, unable to keep doubt from his voice as he remembered Major Briggs, “but I afraid it’s not going to sound any less weird.”

“To start with, we’re in the area investigating a colleague who disappeared in October,” began Albert, “and then you turn up, apparently amnesiac since that date.”

“And with my messages unchecked since then.”

“Yes, but there’s another detail— you look exactly like a former colleague of mine who was close to our missing man. That’s why I called you Diane when I slowed down.”

“I need a smoke.”

“No.”

“Albert,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve already got cancer, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Do you want me to answer that in detail?”

“No I don’t.” Harry turned to look over his shoulder at the woman in the back: “Just roll down your window first.”

“We’ll pull over and she can step away from the car,” said Albert.

He stopped on a shoulder, and their passenger got out and lit a cigarette. Examining the packet, she called to them:

“Three left. That’s fewer than I remember having on me in October, but not by much.” Albert, meanwhile, had pulled a shopping bag from the back seat:

“You should eat something,” he said to Harry, producing a sealed cup of applesauce and a box of plastic spoons. Between rounds of treatment, Harry’s nausea receded, but his appetite was still pretty weak. “There’s saltine crackers, too.” Harry chuckled in spite of himself as he tore the foil off the applesauce:

“This all makes me feel like I’m home from school with the ‘flu.”

“You’ll have to watch Roadrunner cartoons on your own phone, I’m not paying for the data,” Albert snapped.

“I’m surprised we even get reception out here.” The red-haired woman had strolled back to the car with her cigarette, though she took care to stay downwind from Harry’s rolled-down window. “Guys, is it just me or is this highway really deserted— like, Rod-Serling-voiceover deserted?”

“We were just thinking Roadrunner cartoons.”

“Can’t be, there’s no weird rocks.” She flicked ash onto the pavement, “Though it does feel like if someone painted a tunnel entrance on a wall around here, you might be able to drive into it. If you weren’t a coyote.” She took another drag and glanced at the power lines humming above their heads. “Maybe it’s the hum from those wires that’s giving us brain cancer— oh sorry, dude.” She broke off and looked at Harry in apology.

“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said when he’d finished swallowing his mouthful of applesauce. “I’ve got leukaemia, not brain cancer. And the sound from those lines is unpleasant. Like the whine of mosquitoes in the woods.” As he spoke the hum intensified, becoming a loud crackle. Albert glanced up as a shadow fell over the three travellers and their car.

In the sky a dark, nebulous shape twisted, circled, formed a comma or an apostrophe, and dove towards them.

The first few grackles, out of thousands, came down on the roof and hood of the car. Harry could see one pecking at the windscreen and glaring at him with hard yellow eyes. He suddenly remembered Coop had been afraid of birds; until now, he’d never been able to imagine why. He turned and pushed open the back door as the woman dove inside the vehicle. Around them, the flock blotted out the landscape.

“Hope they don’t scratch up the finish,” Albert shouted over the sound of wing-beats, “or I’m not getting my deposit back.”

“Is this nesting season? I mean, are the grackles round here normally this—”

“Oh fuck, one got in!�� came a yell from the back seat. Eardrums ringing, Harry turned to see a small black shape ricocheting around the car’s interior as the woman flailed her long, bare arms. The grackle made for the gap between Albert’s seat and headrest.

And got stuck, its beak not quite touching the back of Albert’s neck.

Harry reached for the little feathered body, thinking of how to pin the wings against the bird’s sides to avoid injury to it or the surrounding humans, but the moment his fingers touched it, it crumbled. At the same time the din outside the car ceased.

“That— that’s not natural.” Their passenger was covering her mouth with her hand. Even Albert looked shocked. Harry stared at the palmful of ash that was all that was left of the grackle.

“Let me get a sample bag,” Albert muttered. He pulled out a small clear plastic bag, and held it out while Harry poured the remains in. Then he handed him a packet of wet wipes. “You all right, Diane?” The woman in the back seat did not correct him on the name this time.

“Couple of scratches,” she said, examining her right arm. Albert passed her a mini first-aid kit. Got to give him his dues, he prepares for everything, thought Harry, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Y’know,” he said, “This could be a good sign. In that it’s any kind of sign. There’s nothing worse than working in the dark, waiting for some hint you’re getting warmer or colder— that’s the kind of thing makes you wonder if the thing you’re looking for is even out there at all. But this—”

“Someone tipped their hand, you mean, when they tried throwing a Hitchcock movie in our faces,” Albert cut in. “But what exactly did we do to worry them?” His glance, and Harry’s, moved to the dashboard mirror’s reflection of their passenger.

“You think the birds were after me, or wanted to break up our merry band?” She raised an eyebrow. “Trouble is I know a token effort when I see one.”

“Or a warning.”

“We found the Pearblossom Motel;” Harry thought he saw the woman flinch at the name. “And then left it, to head for Odessa.”

“Are you suggesting we drive around in circles and see if they attack again?” Albert muttered.

“I think that’d be a little unfair to our passenger.” Harry turned to her: “Ma’am, I believe Albert when he says he knows you; but I also believe you when you say you don’t remember him. We can drop you anywhere you like— your call.”

“Give me a few minutes, fellas. Given all the weird shit I’ve just been through, I’ve got to think about whether I’m safer away from you two, or sticking close by. Plus I’ve got messages to check.” She took her phone out again. Without taking his eyes off the road, Albert pulled his own phone from his suit jacket, passing it to Harry:

“You’d better check mine. Maybe Tammy’s got some news—she’s been looking up everyone connected with events in Twin Peaks, but not living in the area. She even emailed some couple in Japan, though I’m still not sure what they’ve got to do with this.”

Harry peered at Albert’s phone screen, occasionally commenting if something looked to be of interest:

“Gordon’s sent a grudging OK, tells you to be careful. Also tells you to look after me. I’d always imagined he’d type in uppercase— didn’t realize it was him at first. Hm. Do you know a coroner?”

“I know lots of coroners, we get together for an annual poker tournament and lucky draw. And when I say draw…”

“Do you know a Dr. Talbot in Buckhorn?” Harry interrupted. “Autopsied a headless body last September that turned out to be Major— wait, he— is this one of those revised timeline things?”

“Not exactly.” Albert brought Harry up to date as best he could on Major Briggs’ disappearance and decades-later reappearance. “I certainly remember meeting Constance,” he added, after a pause, and cleared his throat again. “According to Tammy, I made a favourable impression on her, which is… unusual among my acquaintances, even those who share my profession. So what does she have to say?”

“Something about a wedding ring and Schrödinger’s Cat?” Harry looked at the message again. “She says Tammy spoke to her, and was going to contact you too… a gold ring they found on Briggs… sorry, in Briggs… keeps disappearing from her office’s records and the FBI’s evidence files, then coming back again?”

Albert frowned in thought as he drove: “Does it have anything engraved on it?” Harry tapped a message on the phone screen, CC-ing Constance and Tammy.

Outside the car, suburbs, or at least car dealerships and big-box stores, were beginning to sprout up along the highway.

Albert’s phone pinged and Harry read the message from Constance:

“Yes, scribbled it down last time I could find the record. This ring any (wedding) bells? TO DOUGIE, WITH LOVE, JANEY-E”

“Janey-E,” said Diane from the back seat, and Harry heard her drop her phone. Turning around he saw her wringing her hands, the nails now robin’s-egg blue. “Albert,” she gasped, “Oh, Albert, I was almost lost again.”

“I believe the change in method may have led to a breakthrough: I haven’t found any rooms leading off of the corridor I’m following, but the decor has gradually changed from black-and-white flooring and red curtains, to dark brown linoleum flooring and institutional green walls hung with large relief maps of different parts of the world. The maps appear to have been manufactured some time between 1954 and 1965, as they show North and South Vietnam as separate nations. I’m just passing the continent of Antarctica, now, and… oh. I think there might be…

Diane, I found the white room, and when I call it that, I’m not simply echoing Laura’s name for it. It was like a cross between a sanatorium and a snow cave, if a snow cave had furniture. There was a bed with white blankets and a white metal frame like a hospital bed. Audrey was sitting on one end of it, wrapped in a white bathrobe and looking at a round mirror that stood on a little white table. She turned as I entered, and her face was older, drawn and, for a moment, frightened. Then she looked at me again and relaxed, saying ‘Oh, it’s really you.’ I fear she must have met one of my nastier doppelgängers at some point.”

At Diane’s request, they stopped to eat at a fast-food chain before approaching the diner Coop had been investigating in at least one timeline.

“I’m hungry, but I’d be too nervous to eat at the place where Dale might have… well, if they’re a front for something, then the food’s either spectacular or terrible, and I’m not feeling lucky right now. I want to be someplace as bland and mundane as possible for a while, so I can regroup.”

“Well this place has a twenty-minute limit.” Albert jerked his thumb at the sign.

“That’ll do.” Diane curled up beside Harry in the booth as Albert went up to the counter to place their orders. She still wore her pencil skirt, but on on of their stops she’d purchased tennis shoes and a couple of fresh t-shirts— the one she was wearing at the moment read NOT TODAY in flowery letters. “Now he’s got two of us to worry about,” she said under her breath. Harry decided to reply:

“Someone needs to worry about him.” Diane nodded, and Harry offered his hand: “Sorry, we never did the proper introductions did we? Harry S. Truman.”

“I know.” Her expression relaxed slightly. “I see why he likes you.”

“Not sure Albert likes anybody, exactly—”

“That’s not who I was talking about.”

Albert returned with a eye-searingly-orange plastic tray:

“Mushroom burger, cheeseburger, buttered biscuit for you, Harry, because they can’t just serve toast like a real restaurant and those things they claim are bagels are made out of lies.”

“Don’t worry Albert, I’ll survive a biscuit.” Harry picked up one half of the baked item and took a bite. It wasn’t too bad, actually.

“Diane, the ring that jogged your memory—”

“My half-sister and her husband. Don’t ask me how they’d be mixed up in this though, Janey-E’s aggressively normal.”

“And her husband?”

“Never actually met him. Janey-E and I don’t talk much,” she explained. “But from her comments he’s… passively normal. Works for an insurance company, drinks too much sometimes, the whole man-in-the-gray-flannel-suit thing.”

“I’ve been talking with Audrey, or the version of her that existed in the white room. You’ll notice I use the past tense. Still sitting on the bed, she raised a finger and pointed to the mirror in front of her, saying:

‘The other me— she ran away from home, like she thought Laura had done. I’m amazed she survived her first year in the big city, but look:’

Diane, I saw Audrey searching records online, tailing suspects, testifying in civil and sometimes criminal courts. It’s a life that can make a cynic of the kindest soul, but there are situations the police don’t or can’t investigate, and those were— are, I suppose— Audrey’s bread and butter, in that mirror world. And they seem to pay well enough she can afford to do some pro bono cases.

‘I wish I were out there,’ she said, and the mirror clouded and shifted. She  patted the bedspread, and I sat down beside her. ‘You know how,’ she began, ‘when you’re a kid, and you’re reading your favourite book, and a little after the halfway point, you start to think ‘I’m getting near the end of the book?’ And really, you’re not— there are pages and pages left of scenes and pictures. You’re always surprised just how much more there is. But it’s not enough to shake the feeling it’s putting off the inevitable. Dawdling before bedtime.’ She stood up suddenly, bent and kissed me on the brow. ‘Say hello to the other me, if you ever run into her.’ And then she was gone, Diane. Not in flame or fadeout, just gone.”

I look up, and Laura is beside me.

The diner, when they found it, was not what Harry’d pictured. Instead of a lonely Edward Hopper tableau, or a grimy spoon where toughs whispered to each other along the lunch counter and cast knowing glances in the direction of the men’s room, “Wispy Dreams Cafe” was a blandly cheerful donut shop, the logo rather obviously altered from that of a national chain.

“Looks like they’re under new management.” Diane observed as they got out of the car. “Or else they got tired of paying for the franchise?” The three of them made their way across the parking lot the cafe shared with the landscaping company next door. Inside, the sound of chattering customers and a hum from the coffee machine both soothed and overwhelmed. Harry steadied himself against a gleaming, cream-colored formica counter. The woman on the other side— not a fresh-faced high-school senior or a kindly-faced matron, just a woman with her hair in a ponytail and circles under her eyes, doing her best to smile— threw him a glance and Harry nodded.

“I’m ok. Albert, Diane, what do you two want?”

A couple of minutes later, they sat by the window, feigning interest in their donuts and coffee.

“Well, we’re living the cop cliché,” whispered Albert. “So, what do you think? Soulless suburban hangout, or den of villainy?”

Harry gingerly sipped the brew in his cardboard cup and eyed the other customers. You couldn’t say the place wasn’t busy; the woman at the counter had already served a family of four in the time it had taken Harry, Albert and Diane to seat themselves with their coffees, and another customer had just come in the door.

“That counter’s been installed recently. Deep-fat fryer’s been replaced too.”

“And they don’t know how to use it yet. You could wax skis with these donuts. That’s hardly a crime, though.” Diane looked around at the blue and yellow walls painted with large trompe l’oeil sprinkles. “Doesn’t seem to be anything else funny about the place— I hate to say it but this place might be legit.”

Harry watched the new customer lean in to the counter. Harry couldn’t quite make out what he was saying— presumably the man was placing his order, but it seemed to be taking a while and there was something tense in the woman’s expression. Beside him he heard Diane swear under her breath, and faster than he could turn his head, his peripheral vision took in that she was getting up. She strode towards the counter and Harry had a glimpse of the angry red scratch on her arm as he struggled to his feet.

Diane was leaning on the counter now, trying to insert herself between the customer and the worker.

“What did you just say to her?” she was asking.

“Look, I come in here all the time, we joke around. What makes you think it’s your fucking business?”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Harry loomed up behind the customer— he might have only half his usual strength but he was still a good six inches taller than the other man. Behind him, he guessed, Albert was approaching. Harry knew the agent was unwilling to use physical force and not exactly skilled at defusing situations through diplomacy, so he turned his gaze on the customer with all the quiet confidence he’d used as Sheriff. In his ear Diane hissed:

“It’s nothing to do with the case, this asshole’s just creeping on the staff.” She must’ve locked eyes with the man too, for he was staring at her now, his bland pink features shifting expression from anger to terrified fascination.

Rather an unimpressive face, thought Harry, and then, what’s Diane doing? He turned to look at her sharp, smiling profile, and saw a tear slide from her eye.

“No,” she said loudly and abruptly, and blinked hard. “Do you want us to escort him out?” she asked the woman behind the counter; but the man was already out the door and running for his car.

“Diane,” Harry whispered.

“Diane,” whispered Albert. Diane was passing one hand across her eyes.

“I could have fried him. Just now. Something wanted me to; but I just wanted him to back off.” She beamed at them as Albert held out an arm for her to steady herself. “I think I’m back to normal. Well, normal for me.”

“Are we the only two left here now?”

“I’m not even here anymore.”

“I don’t know how to get back to the waiting room.”

“It doesn’t matter, the coffee’s cold.”

Somehow, the white room has become even more featureless, despite that being both a logical and a grammatical impossibility. Only the bed, the table and Audrey’s mirror remain. A moment in the glass catches my eye, and I look to see— oh Diane, I’m so glad you escaped! I see you travelling with Albert, and… oh, Harry…

…the cafe’s fluorescent lights flickered as the background hum, noticeable since their arrival, now rose to an ear-splitting volume then died away just as suddenly. As the three of them looked on, an old-fashioned hospital bed, its steel frame painted white, materialized between the counter and the booths, replacing two unoccupied tables. At one end of it sat Agent Dale Cooper, fully dressed in his suit and tie, a look on his face of mild surprise that turned to the familiar joy as his gaze met theirs. Coop had grown older like the rest of them, sharper angles in his face, but he looked hale and well, and his eyes did not have the cruel gleam that chilled Harry’s memories of their last meeting.

“Harry,” he said, as though a quarter-century hadn’t passed. In response Harry silently doffed his cowboy hat, revealing his pallor, his naked scalp. Coop’s smiled wavered a little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” he whispered, and rose from the white bed. In the background, the cafe staff and patrons continued to chat and serve and drink and eat coffee and donuts as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on right in front of them. Albert made a hesitant noise in his throat and Coop raised his hand in that just a moment gesture he always used to make, and in that moment Harry knew his friend really was back from wherever he’d been all those years.

“Apologies for being brusque,” Coop said, “but there’s a family in Las Vegas who I’ve reason to believe are in danger right now—”

“Janey-E?” Diane asked.

“Right on the button. For personal reasons which I’ll explain later, I can’t get in touch with them myself. The Mitchell brothers might be able to help, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to recall of our last meeting.”

“Tammy and Constance are already on it.”

“Good,” Coop looked relieved, and Harry stepped forward, shaking a little in spite of himself, and as if the motion had at last given him permission, Coop sailed forward and embraced him— very gently, as if he feared Harry might break. He’s gauging by touch how much weight I’ve lost, thought Harry, but it’s all right. He’d forgotten how warm Coop was. He became aware of Albert and Diane joining in, arms circling his shoulders and Coop’s. If I died right here and now, it’d be all right.

But this embrace was not an epitaph, or an epilogue. Outside, somewhere else in the city, was an imitation of an ancient stone monument; and a copy of an old theatre where real audiences watched real actors. Somewhere the forces that had sent the dark cloud of grackles prepared another attack, and somewhere Tammy Preston was moving to protect Janey-E and Dougie Jones. Elsewhere Audrey Horne walked the mean streets and was not herself mean. This was an interlude, but let them have it for a while.

A couple of patrons turned their heads to smile at the reunion going in their midst.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: It’s Good To Be Home

Pairings/Relationships: Core Four, Dickkory, Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: The Wayne Manor was truly breathtaking. Rachel heard a few stories about the place from Dick and from Donna, she even got to sneak a glance at it through their memories but actually seeing it with her own eyes was a whole different experience.

The car slowed down rounding the fountain and her heartbeat sped up in her chest. They were here.

Hugs | 13. Group hugs, Core Four - for Vanessa N Isaacs

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

The Wayne Manor was truly breathtaking.

Rachel kept staring at it with her nose glued to the windshield of the black SUV that was taking her there. After a twelve-hour flight from Themyscira and landing in New York the Amazons really surprised her saying that they are going to escort her to Gotham and not San Francisco. Since then she was wondering what might be the reason the team relocated there (and she was hoping it was temporary) but she didn't mind as long as she'd be reunited with her family.

Right now though she wasn't thinking about that, because her mind was occupied with this enormous castle-like mansion with giant windows and high towers and open taraces and a fountain in the center of the driveway. Rachel heard a few stories about the place from Dick and from Donna, she even got to sneak a glance at it through their memories but actually seeing it with her own eyes was a whole different experience.

The car slowed down rounding the fountain and Rachel's heartbeat sped up in her chest.

They were here.

And then there was Dick - standing next to Kory with his hands in his pockets and head held high. He looked more nervous than excited and Rachel had to resist the urge to roll her eyes thinking about how frantic and worried he must have been this whole time. But when he noticed her and their eyes met, his face instantly lit up, lips turning up in a brightest smile and Rachel was getting out of the car even before the engine stopped working.

Standing in line in front of the main entrance were Dick, Kory and Gar. She had no idea they'd be notified of her arrival but apparently they knew she was coming and now there's a whole welcoming committee waiting for her. Gar was bouncing on his feet, his excitement threatening to explode like a bomb. Rachel couldn't decide what was brighter - his smile or his green hair.

Kory, gorgeous as always, was standing in the middle with her arms crossed over her chest and lips stretched in a wide happy grin. She was dressed from head to toe in various shades of her beloved purple, from high heel boots and leather pants to the shiny glittery shirt. Her long hair was darker than Rachel remembered but she smiled when she noticed that the iconic thick curls were back.

At first she just stood there, happy to stretch her legs after a long drive and looked at them, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. They didn't move either, as if paralyzed by some invisible force, watching her from a distance.

She's not sure who took the first step.

Maybe it was her, too eager to finally reunite with them after so long. Or maybe it was them, heading towards her together as one because they couldn't stand being apart for even one second longer.

She's not sure who took the first step but Dick got to her first.

All Rachel knew was that she was running and suddenly she found herself engulfed in his strong embrace, the sensation pushing all air out from her lungs. She linked her arms around his neck when he picked her up and started twirling around in circles with her, laughing into her ear. Her feet were dangling in the air and Rachel started giggling and squealing in delight as well, feeling like a little kid. 

"Finally!" he sighed breathlessly when they stopped and he put her back on the ground. "Welcome back, sweetheart."

She stepped away from his hold to look at him but that's when she was captured again in two different sets of arms. She didn't even notice when Gar and Kory threw themselves at her, hugging her as tight as they could.

"It's been way too long." Kory told her, pressing a kiss to her temple. Rachel leaned her head to her and the two of them pressed their cheeks together, smiling.

"Don't leave us like that again!" Gar whined with his head on her other shoulder, squeezing her even tighter. Rachel started giggling again but this time it quickly turned into a choked up sob. She promised herself she wouldn't cry, but she couldn't hold it back now that she was with her family again.

Dick's expression softened, his eyes gazing at her affectionately.

"Oh, honey."

"I've missed you so much, guys." Rachel chuckled through tears, looking each one of them in the eyes. Dick walked up to the group and wrapped his arms around them all, pulling them into a group hug with Rachel in the middle.

"We've missed you, too, Rach." he murmured and kissed the top of her head.

"Mhmm." Kory nodded and cuddled closer.

"Like hell." Gar added and buried his face in her shoulder. 

The three of them held her so tight she was starting to run out of air.

"Guys-" she gasped, trying not to laugh too much. "I can't- breathe-"

Mumbling their apologies they loosened their hold a bit, but none of them were planning on completely letting go of her. They surrounded her, arms still linked together and looking at their smiling faces, Rachel couldn't be happier. It's good to be home, even if it wasn't the Tower. Dick, Kory and Gar were here and her home was with them. 

Dick's face caught her attention, his eyes to be specific and she raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.

"Are you- crying?"

"No!" he said instantly, but wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand.

"He totally is." Gar teased him, joining in on the fun. "He was one giant bubble of emotion since the moment we found out you're coming back."

"That's not true." the older man huffed.

"Oh please, that was nothing!" Kory's laugh rang in the air and Rachel turned to her with sparkling eyes. "You should have seen him in the first few weeks after you left. He was a mess!"

Gar burst out laughing, earning himself a deadly glare from Dick. Rachel couldn't stop grinning like an idiot at this entire exchange.

"Oh, yeah! He took moping around to a whole new level."

"I wasn't moping around."

"Sure, Jan."

Dick froze.

"Oh, God." Kory sighed, turning her eyes at the sky. "Here we go again." Rachel glanced between her and the boys with curiosity.

"Gar, what did I tell you about quoting memes?"

"Oh, c'mon man! It was a perfect opportunity!"

"Anyway!" Kory interrupted them with that I'm-gonna-beat-the-shit-out-of-you-if-you-don't-stop-right-now smile of hers, putting an end to their little bickering, then turned to Rachel and took her hands in hers. "After Dick finally stops denying he's overly emotional-"

"I'm not!"

"-like right now,"

"I'm not." Dick denied stubbornly, then smiled at Rachel. "I'm just happy you're back."

"-maybe you'll get to tell us how was it, hmm?" Kory finished her sentence and suddenly Rachel felt all eyes on her again. Their excitement was all over the place. She chuckled and squeezed the woman's hands back.

"Of course! I have so much to tell you!"

"Then you better start now." Gar pointed a finger at her face before walking up to her and taking her by the elbow to basically drag her in the direction of the house. "I wanna know everything! Especially if you have any new tricks up your sleeve."

Rachel shrugged innocently, but sent him a mischievous grin.

"Maybe one or two."

"Yesss!!! And wait until I'll show you around the house! This place is so dope!"

"Hey, shouldn't I be doing that?" Dick called out to them, picking up Rachel's bag from the ground where she left it.

"Exactly!" She turned to her green-haired friend. "Shouldn't he be doing that?"

"He's not gonna take you to the really cool places."

She raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious. "Such as?"

Gar glanced in both ways as if checking if no one else was listening in on their conversation, then leaned closer to Rachel and whispered. "The Batcave."

This time she couldn't hold it in anymore - she burst out laughing.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

As Gar continued his excited rambling, Rachel looked over her shoulder at the two adults that were left behind. Dick's eyes were on her this whole time, he was smiling fondly and winked at her when their eyes met. Kory stood by his side with her hand resting on his shoulder and was sending her a look that said good luck with him now. Rachel smiled back and rolled her eyes, then followed Gar through the main entrance.

***

Dick watched his kids disappear behind the giant wooden door feeling light for the first time in months. Having Rachel back took a giant weight off his chest and he finally could breathe again. He didn't want to ask about Donna, not yet at least, he knew Rachel is gonna share the news with him sooner or later, no matter if they are good or bad. Right now all that mattered to him was that she was back with them and she was safe. 

"You were crying." Kory pointed out in a teasing tone, smirking at him.

"I wasn't."

"I know what I saw, Grayson."

They stared at each other for a long moment but eventually he gave up. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was starting to get lost in her eyes. Or with her smile that made his heart racing.

"Okay," he sighed. "Maybe a little. I'm just glad she's back with us, you know?"

Kory smiled at him and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"I know, me too. Our girl is finally back home."

[leupagus]

My Stationery Box, or: The Douche Chest, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Being A Terrible Parody Of Myself

So I really love to write letters, and have since i was a kid — when i cleaned out my grandparents’ house I found a few I’d written in grade school, and my parents’ files are chocablock full of the weird collage type things I sent to them in college. 

I’ve also been a huge insufferable fucking snob about stationery since way too young (yes I did have a fountain pen phase, no it did not go well) and have been collecting fancy paper and cute cards and assorted weird writing paraphernalia forever. Up until recently, things were just kind of haphazardly stuffed in various drawers and shelves and I could never actually find any said fancy shit when I wanted it; but a couple of months ago I discovered an adorable little chest of my late mom’s that had previously housed, I think, her knitting and has mostly just been collecting dust since. And voila: The Douche Chest was born:

(Pictured with my elderly laptop and coffee with my coffee warmer, which I STRONGLY ENCOURAGE everyone to buy one day when we’re not under worldwide quarantine, seriously it will change your life.)

Keep Reading for some top tier stationerdery

First off, the stuff that helps me write! I still use my family address book, which was purchased sometime in the early 80s and has the name and address of everyone my parents ever cared enough about to want their name and address, which is actually not that many people. I keep it updated and have added a few people, but mostly rely on my phone’s address book. Mostly I like it because it’s got a lot of my mom’s handwriting.

My planner, which has a whole correspondence section where I keep a record of who I write to regularly, when I write to them, and what kind of stationery they usually get (because there are different types and you don’t want to give a correspondence an inconsistent letter-reading experience! Yes I know, I can’t believe I’m like this either) indicated by the m, s, x, l, b notations. That will be relevant later. Also yes the planner is where I scribble down both story ideas and my gratitude journal. This is what I’m saying in re: yikes.

At my own house, I have a whole huge box of letters I’ve gotten over the years, mostly organized by sender and date. Since I’m at my aunt’s house for quarantine, my correspondence is all being kept in my dad’s old... I dunno what to call it, basically it’s a trapper-keeper type thing that I literally never saw him go to work without. (A running theme of this tour is that a whole lot of this stuff is inherited from/given to me by my parents and grandparents.) Inside is also various labels that have come in handy when addressing packages etc, as well as our local neighborhood directory.

Next up is my pen bag, which is — I mean, it has my pens. I prefer writing with a black .5 tip rollerball type pen, and by “prefer” I mean “I cannot abide writing letters with anything else and will go to Staples and buy a new box rather than use a ballpoint pen except obv not right now, which makes the bag real important for keeping track of all my special pens.” Also pictured: my grandpa’s ancient letter opener that I’m pretty sure he stabbed multiple people with, and my blue Le Pen which I use to annotate my letters when I’m reading them through before sending. I KNOW.

This is my assorted letter-writing stuff storage box (no we’re not even at the cards yet this is TERRIBLE); please note that I sort of jerryrigged this box together myself, which will be another running theme of this tour. Glue, roller whiteout thingies, washi tape (which I don’t really use but people keep sending me?) post-its and my address stamp because no matter what I do, the fuckin’ Audubon Society refuses to send me a single donation request with cute stickers showing my address even though they’ve sent my deceased dad like three THIS YEAR. Anyway. Also please note the incredibly awesome initial stamp thing — I came up with the rough design in college and use it in place of my name a lot, but I went to leoniebunch and they transformed it into this super professional and lovely design that I want to use for the rest of my life. Not pictured: the fucking wax seal I also had made with that design, because yes, I’m like this.

WE’RE STILL NOT DONE WITH THE PARAPHERNALIA: here’s the other misc. stuff that I use on the regular. Cup with sponge because we’re not really licking envelopes these days: tons of weird stickers that I’ve collected, YET MORE PENS, including rainbow ones because one of these days I’m going to write to one of my friends with alternating rainbow colors and they’ll have to murder me. Also pictured: the letter opener which I forgot to put back in the pen bag, as well as my dog’s nail clippers and brush because that’s a handy place to keep them. Also also pictured: my dog, who does not help in any way with letter writing.

OKAY FINALLY ONTO THE STATIONERY, Jesus just writing this all out is making me both proud and ashamed.

I’m sure you noticed in the first pic how everything is meticulously, not to say monomaniacally, labeled. Some stuff might require a little bit of explanation; some stuff is pretty wysiwyg though. For example, BEAR CARDS, which:

(These are sent exclusively to my nephews, who go absolutely apeshit over them every time. Come to think of it, I have a LOT of cards/letter stock/etc that is just for one person or one set of people, which maybe I should talk to my therapist about.)

PUN CARDS are likewise exactly what you think they are; they’re the most recent addition to my hoard, having found them at Powells when I went to Portland in February. They are extremely My Kind Of Thing.

Then you’ve got things like BIRTHDAY CARDS, THANKS, POSTCARDS which like — guess what:

(Please note that of these birthday cards, all but two were actually inherited from my grandmother who passed away in 1986. See if you can guess which two are my purchases.) (Also I’m running out of thank-you cards but to be fair I am rarely grateful so this should last me another few years at least.) (Also shit, I didn’t take a picture of the postcards I don’t think? Whatever, they’re postcards that I’ve either inherited from my parents or collected over the years. There’s also a very odd collection of wolf-themed cards that SOMEONE in my family collected, and that I have been using exclusively for allighater because she’s the only one who could ever appreciate them enough.)

Then there’s the BLANK CARDS and BLANK AND WRITTEN CARDS WITH/WITHOUT ENVELOPES, because sometimes I just need to know what I’m getting into before opening the boxes. I’d say a good 50% of these were inherited from my folks, with the cutsier ones being my own purchases. The cards that these boxes originally contained are looooooooong since used up but they’re nice boxes and that meme about adulthood being an endless debate over whether or not you should keep a box because it’s a really good box is accurate as all hell. 

(There are a lot of cards in here that I bought when I was like, in college — those square ones, for example, were purchased at Faces in Northampton when I was in college and I’m probably never going to actually send them which is kind of ridiculous but see: this entire post.)

And finally, the actual letter-letter stationery! Which I also have an embarrassing amount of! First up is what’s labelled MADOC TREE CARD/LETTER because I honestly had no idea how else to describe it; it was inherited from my grandma who everyone called MaDoc (on account of her being both a ma and a doctor, go figure) and it’s really lovely. I doubt it’s the original intention, but I like to unfold the paper and use both sides of it, because I always have a lot to say. These are used only for family members on MaDoc’s side, and of those, only the ones I really like, which accounts for there still being a lot left.

Then there’s the X-LARGE paper, which isn’t actually that large — it’s just normal computer-sized — but in context is the biggest stuff I’ve got. All of this paper is from my mom, who loved using cute themed paper, and I use this stuff mostly for the friends of hers I keep in touch with (which is actually kind of a lot).

Then there’s the letterhead I use for — okay, so like, we know by now that I’m deeply weird, but this is probably just DEEPLY WEIRD, but whatever, you came this far. So I found a metric shitton of 6 3/4 envelopes in amongst my parents’ office supplies — I have literally zero idea why they had about 5 100-count boxes of these envelopes but I’m one of those people who can never, ever throw shit out, so! I gathered together all the letterhead that they’d also collected over the years from the various universities and hospitals they worked at, cut said letterhead down so that it a) didn’t have University of Tacoma or whatever still on it and b) perfectly fit a 6 3/4 envelope if folded three times. The resulting shape is a little... odd, I’ll admit, but it pleases me greatly and that’s the important thing. In fact this has been my go-to correspondence choice for a couple of months now.

(Also pictured: the cover for this hinky-ass box I made out of a Beekman 1802 box from when we went to their store for their Rose Apothecary popup shop. Zero regrets. Not pictured: the really cute pad of paper I also use for these envelopes that’s a more normal size and shape because where’s the fun in showing you normal stuff?)

And finally, my pride and joy, my Crane Stationery, some of which I have had since I was in high school and my mom bought me a box of it for my birthday (I told you, running theme). It comes in small, medium, and big; yes, I absolutely have rules as to who gets what size of these, too. The medium box kind of fell apart a few years ago so I cobbled a new one together; Crane stationery is notable for not being as exciting as that cover might imply. I’m also kind of pleased that I still have the airmail stationery that I got in college that apparently isn’t sold anymore, which I find baffling because what the fuck is the point of international correspondence if you don’t have to use special stationery? Anyway:

(In re: the lined sheets — I actually have them for every size, because I loathe lined paper but also loathe writing crooked, hence these guides that I put under each sheet as I write. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So that’s the complete guided tour! If you aspire to have a collection as viscerally unnerving as mine, feel free to send any questions my way. You’re welcome/I’m sorry.

[itsmattsunshinehere]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a scenario with matsukawa and a shy reader? They get paired up for a project and matsukawa has never spoken to her bc she’s always quiet but as he gets to know her, he finds out she’s actually really funny bc she sends memes and they eventually fall in love 🤧 abit cliche but I’d love it 👉🏼👈🏼

Of course I can! I love Mattsun, so I’m always happy to write something with my sweet angel :)

I didn’t know how to put memes so there aren’t any BUT actually there are some nerdy jokes (wich I adore), like really really bad jokes. I kinda have the feeling Matsukawa only know these lmao, he’s dumb (BUT WE LOVE HIM). I hope it’s okay for you, please don’t hate me.

Thanks for your request, hope you like it! 😘💘

-L

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A Change of Heart.

Matsukawa Issei x reader

synopsis: Matsukawa has never spoken to you, but something changes after you two being paired together for a school project.

word count: 2.1 K

tags: fluff

~~~

Matsukawa Issei. Of all the possible people, he was the last of your classmates you thought you could be paired with for group project. You don't have any problems with him, you don't find him annoying or anything else, it’s just that sometimes you forget about the presence of some of your classmates, Matsukawa included: you are a shy girl and you almost never talk during lessons; you often get distracted thinking about your own business, it is normal for you to not notice the people you don’t talk to, even more if they tend to be as quite as you.

On his side, even Issei hasn’t noticed you, too busy sleeping a few desks away from you: the night before he went to bed late, staying up until one o'clock only to play computer games with some friends.

Anyway, he's your science project partner and you can't do anything about it, even if you prefer to work alone and organize everything to your liking all by yourself, you'll have to collaborate with him and as you, even the guy agrees that for the sake of your GPA it will be essential to try to get along and cooperate. That's why at the end of the class, before your math teacher arrives, your project partner comes to your desk.

"Good morning Matsukawa-san." You greet him shyly, his height puts you slightly in awe, you’ve never noticed how tall he actually is.

"’Morning Y/N-san, apparently we are project companions." He replies to you yawning a little distracted, without looking too sure on what he’s saying; you get the impression that he would like to have been paired with someone else, probably one of his friends, but you try not to pay too much attention to your thoughts.

"Yes, that's correct." You nod looking at him again with a patient smile on your lips.

"I thought that maybe we could exchange our phone numbers to organize on what to do and when to see each other." The boy still keeps his eyes away from yours not looking at you but rather looking up at two of your classmates who are throwing a ball just a few feet from you. You smile at him once more and take your agenda, ripping off a sheet, and after writing some numbers, you give it to him.

"Here to you, I am almost always free every afternoon after six. How about starting in two days, maybe this Wednesday? Is it okay for you?" you ask him, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, as if he were consulting his own agenda mentally, the boy in front of you nods and after greeting you, he turns back to his desk.

You didn't think there were people quieter than you. Or maybe he thinks you’re boring. But what could you have done to him to make you so annoying? You put aside your bad thoughts and focus on the rest of the lessons, more concerned about your grades than the idea that your partner has of you. Of course, sometimes you tend to have no self-esteem, not trusting you’re decisions, but having never spoken to him, he has no reason to hate you, so you don't worry too much about what he might think of you.

But while you don't care about his thoughts, Issei can't say the same for himself: he's curious about what kind of girl you are, what a hobby you have... Why are you only free after six?? Are you in any club? Would you like to go to college? Are you moving to Tokyo next year as most of your classmates? He'd like to ask you so many questions, you intrigue him in a certain way, and he can't deny that you're a pretty girl. He finds adorable how you carry the pencil on your lips every time you stare at the sky out the window.

The two days pass fast, and from Monday you are almost immediately to Wednesday afternoon in the library, you waiting for him at the table on the corner and he who has to run because, due to Oikawa and his obsession with improving the whole team’s service, he is definitely late. The boy looks out the door of the room and rushes you to a table near the windows, listening to music with headphones in your ears and studying some subject. He joins you, slowing down the pace trying not to make any noise.

"Y/N-san." He calls you whispering, but you don't hear him, which is why he tries to get your attention by touching your arm as he sits by your side and you gasp surprised, causing him to giggle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." You look at the boy with a gentle smile, moving your hand and telling him that he doesn’t have to worry.

“It's nothing, I was doing chemistry homework for tomorrow, but I can't calculate the reaction and find the name of this binary salt.” You say giving up your homework, changing the page of the book and taking the section assigned to you for your work.

"You know chemists are great solving problems? They have all the solutions." Matsukawa replay with a smile, taking your notebook and looking at what you've written.

"I tried telling a chemistry joke once, but I got no reaction." You watch the boy with a grin as Matsukawa lifts his head up surprised, definitely not expecting a joke from you, but you instead look at him laughing at his expression and Matsukawa gives you a sincere smile chuckling.

Time passes quickly as you organize your project and decide what and how to expose it to your classmates. You divide your work and begin your research together, each one giving his own contribution to the other, to try to make it better and giving a sense to what you are doing. When you look at the phone you realize that it is now seven and a half o'clock in the evening and you inform your project partner, who nods and you two begin to pick up your books. Matsukawa is faster than you, so waits for you at the library entrance.

"Y/N-san, I wanted to ask you a question." He tells you while he’s walking by your side, and you can't help but think about how many centimeters there are between you two. You nod kindly with your head.

"How come you never talk? You're funny." He asks you a little hesitantly, and you think for a second about what to answer. You don't know that either, it's not that you don't have any friends, it’s just that you're not the kind of person who starts a conversation. You have no problem talking to others, you just don't like to take the first step.

"Sorry, maybe I was too rude." Matsukawa says softly, worried that he has maybe offended you in some way, but you shake your head with a smile, trying to make him understand that he didn't do anything wrong.

"No don't worry. I can't give you an answer, I think it's just my character. I'm a very shy girl and I tend to stand all by myself, but I've never had a problem talking to people. Once I know someone, I have no problem opening up." you answer him by giving him yet another smile of the day.

Matsukawa looks at you as you walk past him and reach the school gate: part of him that morning had been convinced that he would be bored with you, he felt like you were a serious person, unable to make jokes or something similar. Yet you have happily surprised him, showing a side of your character that you keep secret and that maybe you only show to your closest friends. He feels a bit special.

You reach the gate and you greet him by according to meet at Friday at the same time and so on the following Monday, ending up meeting on those three days every week throughout the entire month, in the library at six in the afternoon.

It has become a habit for you, as well as exchanging messages, during lessons or in your free time. You start spending more and more time together, on lunch breaks you join Matsukawa with his friends in the school canteen, having fun joking with Hanamaki. Matsukawa feels that something has changed. He understands that he has started looking at you differently, seeing you always beautiful and always happy. He understands it from how he has started to notice details on your face; that little mole on your chin, how you tie your hair when you're focused on some math exercise.

A change in his heart.

He starts to think that yours are no longer just moments where you study, but that they are slowly evolving into something more intimate, much more like dating, where you joke and talk about anything. As you tell him how you would like to travel the world, he tells you about the few places he has visited abroad; while you talk to him about the reading club you're a part of, he tells you about his passion for volleyball and his dream of going to the Nationals tournament with his team. You unravel your secrets to each other, without fear, fully trusting each other.

Until one day, when Iwaizumi seeing him smiling atone of your message suggests him something, a particular idea that remains stuck in his head for days.

"You should ask her out." The ace tells him with conviction and the middle blocker looks at him doubtful, not too convinced that you may be interested in dating him.

"Definitely, you can’t take your eyes off her and you're always distracted. Push your pride aside and make the first move before someone takes her away from you." Hanamaki speaks by sitting on the bench next to him and taking a sip from his water bottle. Matsukawa bursts into laughter, though he can't deny that a certain annoying feeling has awakened in him. Maybe jealousy? Impossible, unless...?

The days pass and the date of the presentation of your project approaches, until you arrive at the last Friday before you have to expose your work in front of the whole class, Iwaizumi's words have not yet disappeared from Issei’s mind, as well as those of Hanamaki. What if someone realizes what a beautiful person you are and asks you out? Maybe he should make a move, or maybe they just told him to annoy him... he walks through the corridors until you reach the library that you have been frequented for just over a month. He sees you sitted in your usual place with the usual headphones in your ears and the usual chemistry notebook under your eyes.

He comes near you, moving the chair next to you and sitting to your right and you as always don't even notice him, too caught up in what you're doing. He touches your arm and as always you gasp, quickly turning towards him, while Matsukawa giggles for your reaction. You tongue out and punch him on his shoulder.

"You know you scare my Issei!" you scold him while once again the boy next to you takes your notebook and looks at what's wrong with your equations, remembering when few minutes before you text him that you couldn't do anything.

"Here you go. You miscalculated." Matsukawa answers by giving you back your notebook.

"Forget hydrogen, you're my number one element!" you smile him while he giggles a bit.

"Oh, it's that time of the day where we tell each other stupid chemistry jokes?" he asks you chuckling and you nod happily.

"Well I hope you love science, because tonight we are going to have a chemical reaction." The boy immediately answers you and you can't hold back a laugh, getting the attention of the last remaining students that like you are study and the librarian, who throws you glances from behind her desk. Embarrassed, you apologize and look over Matsukawa, while the boy has a sip of water.

"How about you ask me out first?" you whisper him, blushing instantly, and the boy almost chokes with water and begins coughing, while you try to help him, this time you're the one giggling for the other’s reaction.

Once calmed down, Matsukawa looks up at you, as red as you. Did you really say that? He tries to think of what to answer quickly, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

"There’s a Cafe where they make delicious pancakes." He proposes you embarrassed and you look at him happy, beginning to pick up your books under Matsukawa's eye.

"It’d be amazing." You stand up slowly, sticking your hand out with a smile. Matsukawa copies your movements and gets up taking his backpack. He squeezes your hand with a wink.

“Let’s go.”

[thatvixenchick]

AUgust Day 15 - Role Reversal

Spideypool from Marvel requested by Violet

Wade was astoundingly disappointed that his new spider powers did not include him producing webs from his wrists (or elsewhere). Like, yeah, he knew Spidey made the webslingers, but still! No natural webbing at all, even from the dick! (He checked, just in case, to settle that one meme debate.) What a ripoff.

His super strength was through the roof, however. Considering how fragile spiders typically were, he didn’t quite understand that correlation, but whatever. He could yeet cars now. Cool factor overrides logic, okay? Now if he could only stop sticking to things at inopportune moments, all would be good. Well, that and the enhanced senses. NYC was loud as fuck, though it was less annoying than the boxes, so there was that.

Wade had been a little concerned that Spider-man had inherited the boxes, but it appeared that 4th wall powers had to be honed for a long time before such things started popping up. And hey, maybe Spidey was sane enough to avoid seeing them at all. Wade was honestly jealous of such sanity!

As for Spidey no longer having his own powers, well, Wade didn’t feel bad, really. After all, as previously established, Spidey made his own webslingers. He could make other things, too, like a suit to mimic super strength and sticky powers. If Iron Dick could do it, then so could Spidey! It wouldn’t take long for him to get back to superheroing, so it’d be fine. In the meantime, the enforced break might make him consider retirement. The world was full of heroes, after all. One less wouldn’t hurt anything, no matter how cool Spider-man was.

That didn’t mean Spidey was happy about the loss of his powers, so Wade had to keep two steps ahead. It was easy at first to avoid Spidey, what with Wade having the superjump ability and Spidey having a harder time webslinging for long periods of time. It was inevitable that Wade would be cornered, though. Spidey’s healing factor felt practically nonexistent. Wade couldn’t imagine how normal people managed to heal a scratch in a decent amount of time if Spidey’s healing was considered fast. He was clearly spoiled.

Well, as stated above, Wade was eventually cornered. Caught in a town about an hour away from NYC, in fact. Which was pretty pathetic. He was used to making a run for it, but his body kept demanding things like food, water, shelter, sleep, and pee breaks. It was totally inefficient. And that stupid spidey sense went off near constantly, making it impossible to focus on things.

Thus, Wade was curled up under a tree in a park. It was dark and the nearby streetlamp was dim, but he was found anyways. Not hard considering he couldn’t stop coughing, and his chest rattled with every inhale of breath. His lungs were taking on fluid, which was a total downer.

Spidey gagged when taking off Wade’s mask, but nobody could blame the poor guy. Wade couldn’t heal the open wounds anymore and was well aware of how bad they stank now that they were festering. He tried to bat Spidey’s hands away, but the movement only made him cough harder. Spidey was babbling something, but Wade was too tired to make it out.

He did, however, notice when Spidey took off his mask. “You’re so normal looking,” Wade wheezed, followed by a laugh that turned into hacking. He wasn’t sure what he expected Spidey to look like under the mask, but of all his daydreams, just an average guy had never really occurred to him. An angel, a savior, a model, the picture of masculine perfection? Sure. But not…

Not some guy with average brown hair and normal brown, bloodshot eyes, and short, wet eyelashes, and squishy cheeks covered in tears, and thin lips pulled back in worry. And what was with that expression? Why was Spidey so upset? He was gonna live forever now, capable of being a hero when he wanted or living a normal life with his normal face and a normal family. Nobody would ever be able to kill him, no matter what, and the best person on this planet would remain in existence, giving hope to everyone.

Spider-man deserved immortality, unlike some people Wade could name.

“You should be happy,” Wade tried to say, though he wasn’t sure if he got enough air to manage. He couldn’t really hear much anymore, despite the enhanced senses. “I’m happy.”

Wade didn’t remember much after that, so he must have blacked out. When he woke again later, he could breathe. He wondered if the fluid had been drained to make him comfortable while waiting on the inevitable, but no, he didn’t smell funky anymore. Or at least, he smelled the normal amount of funky. When he held his hand up to his face, he noticed it was glove free and covered in the usual sight. He watched his skin split and heal over the course of about ten seconds.

“Well, fuck,” he muttered. All that hard work gone.

“Why didn’t you come with me to see Dr. Strange when it happened?” a voice whispered.

Wade looked over to see a perfectly normal guy sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair. He had his head in his hands, eyes closed, body curled up. He looked tired, his average brown hair greasy like he’d been living in that chair for too long. It finally occurred to Wade that they were in a hospital room. He could hardly remember the last time he’d been in a medical facility. He frowned at the needles in his arm.

“Wade,” that voice said again, slightly more insistent. “Why?”

Sighing, Wade leaned back into the flat pillow under him and counted the tiles in the ceiling. “Because I hired that mutant to switch our powers in the first place.”

There was a strained silence before Spidey asked, “You’re still obsessing over that fight three months ago, aren’t you?”

Since they both knew the answer was yes, Wade didn’t deign to answer that. Three months ago, Spidey had been bleeding out and crying in Wade’s arms, shaking with fear and admitting that he didn’t wanna die, that he wanted to experience more things, live a life he’d never had a chance to because of being a hero. And there Wade was, asking to die at any available opportunity and failing. It was unfair, but as far as Wade was concerned, there was an easy fix.

Spidey had pulled through, and Wade vowed to make sure Spidey would never have to be afraid like that again.

“I don’t want you to die, either,” Spidey said.

Wade shrugged. “It’d make a lot of people real happy if I did, though, me included. But you? Nobody wants to lose you. Even your villains like you.”

With what was clearly bone weary exhaustion, Spidey stood up and walked over to the bed. His eyes were bruised with lack of sleep, his skin pale, his face drawn. Wade wondered how long it’d been since they’d swapped powers back for Spidey to look so bad already. It was just another reminder that the person under the mask wasn’t perfect, and the slightest bit of stress turned that normal, average face into something sickly.

And for some reason, that caused fear to claw at Wade’s chest. A perfect person, an angelic person, the pinnacle of masculine attractiveness, those people had all the luck in the world, and that luck kept them alive and happy. Spidey clearly didn’t have that luck. Normal, average Spidey could die at any moment.

“Take it back,” Wade said, and his voice sounded strange, thick, like he was crying. “Take my powers back.”

Spidey reached out and placed a warm, calloused palm over Wade’s cheek. That skin on skin contact crackled along Wade’s whole body starting from that contact point. It made this feel too real. It made Spidey feel too breakable. His skin could split at any time, bones could break, and Wade would be covered in Spidey’s blood again as Wade fought all of NYC’s worst villains to get Spidey to safety.

“Take it!” Wade shouted, his voice cracking.

“No,” Spider-man whispered, his thumb gently brushing along Wade’s cheekbone.

Like the unperfect, demonic, hideous man Wade was, he sobbed and shook and allowed himself to be held by the person who could die at any moment, the person he couldn’t protect, the person he couldn’t stand to lose. And when the name “Peter” was whispered into his ear, the world around him fell apart. And when a soft kiss was pressed onto his forehead, Wade knew that he wouldn’t survive losing this average, normal person he clung to.

Even if Peter never allowed Wade to off himself, Peter would one day die, and there’d be no one left to stop Wade. One day, Wade would find someone even half as worthy as living, and he’d find that mutant again, and he’d swap powers once more. One day, Wade would go to the grave with Peter because the lips pressed to his were as final as a death sentence.

Wade didn’t want to live in a world without Spider-man, but he couldn’t live in a world where Peter left the safety of his arms.

[yaygababa]

REQUEST: Can I get a FatGum (Fluff!) x reader? 

Pairing: FatGum x F!reader

A/n! So this was requested by a friend of mine on Discord... I’m like that “Yes honey” meme to my friend’s every will... WAS STILL FUN TO WRITE THOUGH!

Summery: Reader breaks her ankle during a workout, Fatgum takes them to the doctor to find out...

Word count: 3,704

Warnings: Mentions of blood, hospitals, fluff, anorexia and bulimia.

I lifted my leg in the air, piqué twice and dipping my leg down. I bent my body over, slowly coming back up and arabesque. I repeated this action a few times, a small voice in my head telling me it wasn't good enough. I bent over again, coming back up and arabesque. I had been participating all day. A good three hours of nonstop ballet. I was sweating like a pig... What I imagined myself as actually…

I took in a breath, attempting another but this time my ankle slipped and I fell on the ground... Again. I took in sharp, crisp air through my gritted teeth. I moved my leg out from underneath me, looking down at it as I rolled it softly. It was slightly swollen, making my eyes widen and reach down to touch it. The second my finger connected with my ankle, a sting went through my body. I closed my eyes, knowing I’ve been injuring myself all day…

I was just trying to burn as many calories as I could today. I had eaten a hefty amount of junk food, regretting it the moment I finished. I could have sworn I had told myself that I was going to behave and not eat that kinda crap for the next month... But here I was now, working off these stupid ass calories that I ate all by myself. No one was forcing me to do this to myself. No one forced that food into my mouth and down my throat...

I had been caught purging by someone at my work... And over the stupidest of food too! A simple sandwich? Well... Now that I think about it... The calories from the bread... The cheese... Yeah, I understand now.

I could hear the voice in my head screaming at me again. It was a males voice... Something I knew for a fact that I had heard before, though I couldn't put my finger on who it was. I blinked my eyes open, looked down at my ankle as I flipped it over to the other side. The instant I did that, the look of blood seeping out of the pointe shoes. I took in another breath. Rolling my eyes and getting up from the floor.

“A little bit of blood isn't going to make me stop...” I hissed to myself. I didn't sound like myself when I said that. I sounded like a man screaming at his wife, a man demanding so much more of his wife that she knows she can't give. I stumbled to my feet, feeling a shocking pain shoot into my legs and going to my back. I went into first position. I wasn't done with my work out. I had only burned off 600 calories. Now... Someone might think that's a bit much... But that wasn't nearly enough for the amount that I ate.

I held my air in my lungs, puffing up my chest and assemblé once again. I fell to the ground again, this time hearing a loud CRACK! I shot a hand to my mouth, rolling on my back and hovering my wounded foot above the floor. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes, perking up into my vision and blurring my eyes. I blinked the water away, lifting my head to look at my foot that was shaking. I pushed myself onto my bottom, gently taking my calf into my hand and pulling it to my lap.

I tried to touch my ankle, my face scrunching in pain and tears pop up in my eyes again. My hand started shaking, slowly unwrapping my foot and pulling off my shoe. I looked down at it, the toes a dark purple and a trail of red leading all down my ankle. I let out my breath, now defeated and admitting that I probably should have stopped earlier.

Looking around from my sitting spot, I thought about how I was gonna be able to get up... I was gonna have to make it to a wall to help me stand... It's just... Getting to the wall is the problem. Maybe I could just crawl... OR SCOOT! I felt silly just from the thought of it. I could very well just wait for my lover to get home... He was strong enough to pick me, I knew that for sure.

Lifting my torso up, I pushed myself on my hands and knees, doing a quick crawl over to the kitchen. I knew there was a first-aid kit somewhere around here... Ah! I opened the bottom cabinet next to the sink, normally where you would keep pots and pans but we put our dish-soap and cleaner down there. A little bit of an odd place to keep a first-aid kit, I must admit, but I wasn't really worried about it.

I opened the kit, looking around on it for something to help me figure out what to do with this new wound. I knew I had to clean the bleeding parts, but I wasn't sure what to do about the gigantic bruising... Maybe just wrap it up to make sure nothing bothers it? Yeah... Just do that.

I took out the gauze, the alcohol and band-aids. I started with my busted toes, then cleaned them and wrapped them. Then moved to my ankle... Now that I got a better look of it, I probably needed something more than just something to wrap it up with... I could see it pulsing through my skin, making me cringe in disgust... Yeah, how about I just call someone? Oh great... That means I have to get up and get the phone! Well this will be an adventure...

I got back on my hands and knees, crawling to the other side of the kitchen and looking up. I knew the house phone was next to the dishwasher... Hmm... But that's on the back of the counter... Hmm...

Pushing myself up and onto my knees, I reached my torso up and looked over the counter, my chin just barely propping on it as I did so. Humming, I narrowed my eyes at the phone, peeping my glare at it and staring.

“I'll get you my pretty...” I joked, hissing at the phone.

“And your little numbers too...” I mumbled. I pushed myself on my good foot, using my upper body strength mostly as I pulled myself up and onto the counter. I grunted loudly as I pushed myself onto it, flopping my front on the stove then rolling over on my back. I felt like I didn't have any legs in general! If Taishiro seen me like this right now, he'd laugh and laugh... Telling me I should have just stayed put or hell, went out to dinner with him!

Now, one of the only reasons he went out to eat was because I said I wasn't going to make dinner tonight... I would always make a huge feast for the man, him eating the entire thing in less than 30 minutes! He was goofy in that way... And he had the best excuse for eating so much. His quirk was always strange to me, but nothing would change my view on him. He was my lover and nothing was about to change that... But like how the old saying goes... Opposites attract.

Me and him were polar opposites. I myself... As much as I hated to admit it... I had anorexia with bulimic tendencies. But lately? It's been feeling more Mia than Ana... Ah yes, my two voices. Ana was my normal voice in my mind... He took a soft voice. Someone you would think of an English teacher, like he was always helpful, always telling me, “The secret is to just stay empty.” Like I was trying to figure out a game in my mind. He was my sweetspo.

While Mia... He took a darker form than Ana. He had a younger male's voice, always screaming and cussing at me to go exercise and purge. I felt like I was constricted by his words. I could never think straight when he came around. Ana was always there, always listening and telling me I'm alright... While Mia hated me. He told me that I was always wrong, that I deserved to eat and the moment I touch food, he'll scream at me and tell me how stupid, idiotic and worthless for thinking he was telling the truth.

Anyway... Let's get back on track. Me and Taishiro were, of course, polar opposites, but we were closer than close, drawn to each other like someone would think they would be. We were inseparable. But considering our differences... If people knew us as a person, and not just what we show to the world... They might question our sanity... Though the both of us knew better than that. We loved each other, always at each other's sides and never fighting.

Though... I knew I had secrets. I knew I kept certain things away from my lover just to make sure I prevented an argument. I didn't want him to see this side of me... Forcing myself to work out till I bleed, harming myself like this would make him upset. It'd make anyone upset! Hell, it makes me upset. But this is something I've lived with for so long... I'm still not sure how Taishiro hasn't noticed my bad habits... Or has he? Has he been fooling me this whole time, making me believe that he wasn't aware or that he just didn't want to notice? Who the hell knew.

But I did know that I had to keep this ruse going. I didn't want him to know why I felt the need to starve, purge and exercise like a maniac. But then again, I did want him to know. I just wanted him to see every part of me, I didn't want to lie to him. It felt wrong! But then again... It felt so right. These lies, this ruse, this mask I put on day and night... It gets so tiring. I just wish I could scream, scream at myself in the mirror...

Scream, “GET BETTER!”

“GET THE HELP YOU NEED!”

“TELL HIM!”

“YOU DESERVE SO MUCH MORE!”

“HE DESERVES SO MUCH MORE!”

I laughed at myself, swaying my legs over the counter as I blinked over to the phone next to me. I picked it up, holding it in both my hands cautiously as I examined it. I read over the numbers over and over, contemplating on if I really needed to call him. Was it really that serious or was I just overreacting?

I ran my fingers over the numbers again, this time dialing the number to talk to my lover. I put it up to my ear, swallowing once and tapping my finger on my thigh. I heard it ring a couple of times, three or four before the male answered.

“GUMMYBEAR!” The man shouted over the phone, making me giggle and flinch slightly.

“Hello to you too, Taishi.” I chirped back. He was quick to reply.

“I'm right outside the house! Gimme two seconds!” I flicked my eyes over to the front door, it being next to the kitchen and in front of the living room. I heard a few loud footsteps then the door opened. I pulled the phone away from my ear, watching as the tall male came into view. I wiggled my toes and sat the mobile device down, opening my arms and beckoning him to me. He had a whole load of groceries in hand, what I guessed was all of them as he sat them at the front of the kitchen. Coming toward me, he picked me up from my underarms, pulling me to him and into an almost child-like hug. He put one hand on my bottom and the other around my back.

I reached my head up and nuzzled his nose, him doing the same and placing a small kiss on my lips. I got into a fit of giggles, wrapping my hands around his shoulders and closing my eyes as I smiled like an idiot. He chuckled and pulled my body further up his body, holding my bottom with one hand and turning me slightly so he could see what he was doing. I lined my legs with his body, hugging his broad shoulders and resting my chin on his crease of his neck. I rubbed the side of his cheek with my nose the entire time he was doing his thing.

He was currently putting away the groceries... Which was normally odd. Simple chores like that would normally include both of us. Perhaps he saw my bandaged foot and decided to help me out a bit. He opened the fridge and started putting away the cold-goods, an almost rush to his footing as he did so, what I assumed was his idea of the items melting. I looked at all the food he put away... Vegetables... Ice cream... Fruits... Meats... More ice cream... Popsicles... And something that caught my eye. A slim Jim with cheese... Oh, I could feel my mouth water at the sight of it. I reached over, snatching it before he could put the box away. I took out one, looked over at him then took out two.

Undoing the wrapper, I put it on the counter, gave him the meat and bit into the cheese. I shook my fists back and forth, closing my eyes and moaning slightly in delight. People normally didn't like that type of cheese, but it was like heroine to me.

Putting away the now opened box, he sat me down on the counter and looked down at me.

“How'd you manage to do it this time?” He asked, blinking down at my foot. I lifted it, allowing him to take hold of my leg and examine my ankle.

“Ballet.” I simply said. He flicked his eyes up to me, narrowing them slightly.

“Thought I told you to stay away from that!” He looked back down at my wound, seeing it bandaged up like a child had done it.

“How else am I supposed to perform for my die-hard fans?” I put a hand to my heart, adding to the dramatic effect.

“Your die-hard fans being me?” He laughed. I nodded and closed my eyes, relaxing as I put a hand behind me and leaned into it.

“You need to go to the hospital, this isn't something I can treat without proper tools.” He said, making me roll my head back and groan loudly.

“BUT I DON'T WANNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I grunted as loudly as possible. He stuck up a finger, waving it back and forth.

“Should have listened to me then!” He tisked. I groaned again.

“BUT-BUT-BUT!” I shouted, “My die-hard fans...!” I said in a sudden hush, sticking out my bottom lip and giving him puppy-dog eyes.

“Your die-hard fans can wait.” He suddenly swooped my up into his arms, walking with me to the door and out the house. I flopped my head back, putting a hand to my forehead as if faint.

“I'm dead! They're gonna have to amputate it!” I said in the most dramatic voice possible. He raised a brow at me.

“Maybe then you'll stop doing those damn work outs.” He fired back. I shot my eyes open, rushing my head up and glaring daggers at the male.

“You're one to talk!” I joked, poking his stomach and earning a laugh in return, “I'll stop once I perfected it...” I closed my eyes again, shaking my head in a tone that screamed, 'I know best'. We weren't that far from a medical center, but without an appointment I sure we'd be sitting there for a few.

With a few jokes about having me carry him, one or two of how I needed the exercise and a dozen of how we'd be there already if he could just fit into a car... We arrived at the hospital. With me in his arms, he walked us into the waiting room, placing me on a chair closest to the nurses office. He talked to the nurse for a minute, signing the usual stuff and answering the normal questions and BOOM! I had to hurry up and wait for the next half hour.

I leaned over to him in the waiting room... He was taking up a good three seats, towering multiple feet above me as I elbowed him.

“Bet ya' I could race her.” I whispered, hinting to a older woman in a wheelchair. He snickered for a hot minute, trying not to let anyone hear but failing desperately. Then he was the one to elbow me, “Arm wrestle that guy?” He hushed, nudging his head toward a awfully skinny man. I put a hand on my mouth, the both of us cracking up over the stupidest of things. I shushed him once the man we were speaking about looked over at us.

“Mr. Toyomitsu?” A nurse, brown hair and glasses said as she opened the door. She came out with a wheelchair once we waved her down, me getting into it as she took us to the back room. We got in rather quickly... She walked us to the room, telling me to get onto the medical table as she did my vitals. The normal routine... Temp, heart and bp. Blah blah blah.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't get any weird looks or small comments on my weight when I gave it to her. I'd normally get an ear full! You learn something new every day.

I swayed my feet on the end of the table, the small piece of paper under me wasn't helping much when it came to the coldness of the table. I was still in my ballet costume, tights and one shoe missing... My hair was a mess, and what I guessed I smelled like sweat.

“I already know he's gonna say something about my work out, 'BLAH BLAH BLAH DON'T DO THAT BLAH BLAH BLAH'!” I mocked, making Taishiro pat my knee softly.

“It'll be alright.” He soothed, making me take in a breath.

After a good ten minutes of waiting, the doctor came in. He examined me thoroughly, like any doctor should. He checked my throat, my ears and eyes... Then he got to my foot. He cleaned it properly, put gauze on it and prescribed me some pain killers. At the end of the session... He asked to speak to Taishiro alone, which confused me. They went right outside the room, I could hear their muffled voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

The doctor brought my lover back in, his face turned suddenly frowning and worried. I looked up at him and asked what was wrong, but he just shook his head and told me we'll talk later. I felt a shock go through my body at his words... But I couldn't figure out why I felt like this. I felt... Scared? But why?

The nurse helped bring me out the hospital, Taishiro taking over from there. We started to go back to the house, but it seemed off. He wasn't speaking. He wasn't making any funny jokes or commenting about food... I felt even more scared.

We ended up at the house, him sitting me on the couch and walking to the kitchen. I looked over and saw him pour a glass of water. He came back to my side, handing me the cup as I took it and sipped on it.

“Gummy bear...” He started, picking me up and putting me on his side again like always. He walked us to the kitchen, him reaching into the fridge and grabbing a thing of vegetables and meats. He sat me on the counter next to the stove, him starting to make his third dinner.

“So when were you gonna tell me?” He asked calmly, keeping his eyes on the stove. I took another sip of my water, narrowing my eyes and asking him, “About what?”

“This whole...” He looked to me, waving his hands around as if trying to find the right word, “Anorexia, bulimia... Thing...” I felt my heart sink. My skin going pale and warmth draining from my body. I laughed.

“How- heh- How do you know about that?” I asked, my voice shaking and nervous. He raised a brow.

“So it's true.” He more so stated. I felt myself sink more.

“Taishi- I've tried to tell you so many times!” I said, defeated. But he just looked awestruck.

“What and- and- and I didn't listen?” He asked, what I guessed was him blaming himself. I sat my water down and shook my hands.

“Love bug, that's not what I meant!” I tried, “I always thought that it was kinda obvious and that you already knew!”

“It was obvious?” He said, completely taken aback by this.

“Maybe- Maybe it wasn't. But-” I stuck my finger at him, “You know now! So- So- So-” I looked to the ground, trying to find the right wording.

“God dammit- Pick me up.” I demanded, not being able to keep my eyes on his. He looked at me like I just told him I killed his puppy. I flicked my eyes at him, “WELL?” I opened my arms, beckoning him over to me. He rushed to pick me up, holding my bottom and placing a hand on my back. I put my hands on either side of his face, staring into his eyes to keep him focused.

“I have dealt with this for years, love bug. There's nothing you could have done to prevent it. I've had this for more days than I can count. It doesn't mean I don't love you, or see you different because of how I see myself. I could see myself as Cthulhu and you'd still be number one in my eyes. I do this to myself, but that doesn't mean I love you any less.” I rubbed the side of his face, his frown slowly turning into a smile the more I talked.

“Now shut up and give me a kiss.”

[softhaos]

INKIGAYO SANDWICH

pairing – byun baekhyun x reader

genre – fluff, humor, idolverse

description – baekhyun has a crush on you, wants to give you his number and the only discreet way to do it is by slipping it into an inkigayo sandwich. but here’s the thing: you’d rather jump off a cliff instead of eating one of those nasty slices of bread. alternatively, yes i actually wrote a fic based on the meme someone end me

warning – one (1) instance of the word ‘shit’

word count – 2.1k

author’s note – this wasn’t supposed to exist until an anon went ahead and deadass requested this and i can’t believe i invested time in this and i didn’t bother giving a cool title,, anyway i love the boys from yg treasure box and i have a soft spot for mashiho and junkyu so expect a cameo from them here 

The first time it happens, you brush it off.

You don’t know if it’s because YG was probably on drugs upon making his decision or because he rather invests more time and money into his newest boy group (it’s most likely the latter) that your promotion time overlaps with your agency mates’. Then again, the first reason might also be true because a handful of famous artists who already established themselves in the industry are also having a comeback this month. Naturally, there’s no way for the debuting boy group to achieve their first win given the competition.

It really takes a miracle to win against Monsta X, Twice and EXO combined. With those monster groups active at once, you doubt that you’ll get a win this time. Although you are signed under one of the most promising entertainment companies in the country and debuted two years ago, you still have to struggle a little bit more than the rest at YG since you’re a soloist. After all, it’s no secret that soloists generally need longer to build up a consistent fan base.

Right now, everyone’s sitting in the cafeteria at Inkigayo. Most of them, including you, finished performing their stage for this week’s episode and are currently resting. While everyone sits with their respective group members, you sit beside Chungha whom you’ve befriended quite a while ago. It’s nice and comforting talking to her since she relates to your problems as a soloist to every extent.

The two of you are engrossed in a discourse about puppies when someone approaches your table. Mashiho, your labelmate as well as a member of the YG rookie group, smiles unsurely at you. You figure it costs him a lot of nerves to be standing in front of you judging by his red ears. A quick glance to the table where the rest of his members are sitting and indiscreetly following his every step is enough of an indication that he was probably forced into this.

“Uh, you haven’t eaten at all ever since recordings have started, so I thought I should give this to you,” he explains and tries to keep his voice as stable as possible. With that, he places a wrapped sandwich on the table and bows his head a little to show his respect.

“That’s–” your eyes flicker to the food and back to him “– very considerate of you, Mashiho. Thanks a lot.”

Taking this as his cue to leave, Mashiho bows down once more before he shuffles back to his table and earns a reaction from his bandmates.

You carelessly poke the sandwich a few times before you focus back on the conversation with Chungha. “So as I said before…”

Your voice dies down once you notice that she’s raising a brow at you.

“I thought you didn’t like the Inkigayo sandwiches?” she asks after a moment of silence.

“I don’t,” you respond, “but that boy was terrified and I didn’t want to break down the rejection to him.”

“You never talk to him! How should he know that? Plus, he’s your labelmate, so he’s bound to do things like this more often.”

“That's only the case if the main producer gets the idea again of letting two of his artists come back at the same time and release their records within the same week,” you deadpan before you push the sandwich towards her direction. “Here, you look like you could use some food and unlike me, you actually enjoy this monstrosity.”

The second time it happens, you break it down.

You didn’t mean it seriously when you said that YG would do it again, but he really came through with it. Surprisingly, your next comeback is slotted four months after the last one. Unfortunately, so is the rookie group.

You have nothing against the treasure box group, but it’s really frustrating seeing that you’re promoting at the same time again and are competing against big artists, again.

It’s not Monsta X, Twice and EXO this time. However, BTS and Sunmi aren’t easy to beat either. Surprisingly, Chungha is also on Inkigayo as the special MC alongside Byun Baekhyun.

During break time, you’re glued to each other in the cafeteria while your rookie labelmates are chatting enthusiastically with NCT and Baekhyun who decided to join them.

“You know, I heard from a little birdy that someone has a crush on you,” Chungha singsongs as you sip on your water.

“And who might that be?” you play along, fluttering your eyelashes in a playful manner.

“A certain Byun Baekhyun–”

You almost choke on your water.

“I honestly regret telling you who my celebrity crush is,” you mumble in a low tone and take a careful glance at your surroundings. However, nobody seemed to have noticed your sudden outburst.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing!” Chungha retorts.

“Stop teasing me about this!”

“Okay, I admit I like to do that, but this time I’m not. I swear! Look, rumor has it that he’s actually a shy guy when it comes to asking somebody out–”

While Chungha is immersed in explaining herself, Junkyu walks up to you. You’re startled for a second when the rookie idol arrives at your table, but one glance on his hand holding the infamous sandwich is enough for you to tell where this is going.

“Junkyu, as much as I appreciate your thoughtfulness, I’d rather not have a sandwich right now. I don’t, uh, like the taste a lot,” you start before Junkyu gets the chance to say something.

The said boy opens his mouth several times but no sound escapes his lips. In the end, all he says is “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of that. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, he rushes back to his group. Chungha gives you the look that is equivalent to “are you serious?”

You just roll your eyes at her.

The third time it happens... it's a wild ride.

YG or whoever is in charge of scheduling your comebacks finally got a grip on themselves – probably after realizing that the stocks were dropping. For your next comeback, none of your competitors are from your label.

However, YG or whoever is in charge of scheduling your comebacks must love to set your comeback dates while monster groups are releasing their latest title track too. This time, you're running up against EXO. Again.

Oh boy.

Sadly, Chungha is neither promoting at the same time as you nor is she invited as a special MC for Inkigayo, meaning you’re all alone in the cafeteria. Sure, you could sit next to GFriend, but you’ve never really interacted with them before.

Ultimately, you decided to seclude yourself from everyone and sit by yourself. You're so concentrated on your phone that you fail to notice that someone occupies the seat in front of you until they clear their throat. You look up finding no one other than Byun Baekhyun sending you a polite smile.

Your brain stops working. This is a dream – this must be a dream. There's no other logical explanation for this scenario. Maybe you shouldn’t have insisted on sleeping only four hours a day.

However, you know that this is not an image in your brain, not a daydream, but a reality. Baekhyun is seriously sitting in front of you as you feel the heat rush up your cheeks and tint them red. The only somewhat cohesive words you can form are, “Uh, um, hi?”

Amused by your perplexed reaction, Baekhyun chuckles. “Hey,” he finally says and goes straight for the kill, “you look like you need something to eat. I got this for you.”

With that, he slides an Inkigayo sandwich towards you. You scrunch your nose at the sight of the three slices of bread and everything between in the wrapper.

“I mean, I’m flattered, I really am,” you start off slowly as you push the food back towards him, “but I don’t necessarily digest this really well.”

“Honestly, who does? It tastes like shit,” he deadpans and returns the sandwich to you.

“Chungha does,” you respond intuitively and send it back to him, “I don't know if you still remember her but she once had an MC segment with you.”

You may have a teeny tiny crush on him but you definitely haven’t reached the point of infatuation where you’d accept that disastrous food creation from him. For all you know, he might sit in front of you forever, waiting for you to eat that thing.

Baekhyun looks genuinely surprised for a second, but then he musters up an overly tense and exaggerated smile. “Oh well, she’s then the exception. But for real, take this sandwich.”

“I said it once and I’ll say it again; Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want it.” you grit your teeth and return his overly tense smile with one too.

“Just take it!” he hisses.

“You said yourself it tastes like trash, so why should I accept this?”

“Because my number is in it, goddamnit!” he shouts and suddenly a few pairs of eyes are set on you two.

Not many have witnessed your bickering, but the ones that certainly have are Baekhyun’s bandmates who collectively have second-hand embarrassment written on their faces.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

Baekhyun looks at you as if you were a ghost until the realization hits him. “Wait,” he slowly starts, “you really don’t know?”

“What don’t I know?”

His jaw drops and you’re suddenly wondering if you’re really hallucinating. Seeing how clueless you still are, Baekhyun clears his throat and explains in a suddenly much quieter tone, as if the shyness took over him.

As it turns out to be, shyness and embarrassment really took over him judging by the incoherent words and stutters that emerge. “So, uh, the thing with the Inkigayo sandwiches are, uh– you know how nobody likes them?”

“I mean, we’ve already established that with the exception of Chungha, of course.”

“Y-yeah, of course. Of course, we already went through that. I’m a dumbass,” he laughs nervously before he continues. “Anyway, so, the only reason why people only take them is to slip their numbers into them and yeah…”

You put the pieces together and it suddenly dawns on you. 

“Oh.”

“And uh, I may have heard from a little bird that you like me? And uh, I kinda have a crush on you too? I’ve been crushing on you for several months, in fact?”

Not really believing what he just said, your eyes widen at him. But once Baekhyun sees your shocked stare, he desperately tries to take back his statement, “Okay, maybe I went ahead of myself assuming that you have developed a crush on me–”

“Is that why two of my rookie labelmates wanted to give me that sandwich?” you interrupt him, to which he nods subtly.

“Well, you were promoting at the same time and I thought it’d be weird if I suddenly came up to you. We never had any reason to talk to each other anyway. Besides, it’s way more natural if people from the same company do that.”

“And because they’re not active this time, you decided to take things into your own hands?” This is starting to get amusing, you figure. So, you grin at him playfully and silently chuckle at him as he's at the loss of words.

“Almost,” he confesses and rubs the back of his head. “I lost a bet with Sehun. He would’ve delivered this to you if I had won.”

“But you didn’t,” you point out.

“Yeah, I didn’t,” he repeats as if dazed. Judging by how distanced he looks, he’s probably reliving the bet he had going on with Sehun. Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t look too bright and you don’t think it’d be appropriate to pry.

“But hey, I’m glad you came over,” you mumble and hope he didn’t catch your words. However, you’re proven wrong as Baekhyun snaps out of his daydream and stares at you in disbelief.

“Wait, so what Chungha said is actually true? That you’re– you know, on me–?” he asks.

“She what? Wow, so much to her promise of keeping it a secret,” you deadpan and take the mental note to strangle her someday. Then you add, “But yeah, it’s true.”

Baekhyun, still not seeming to understand the situation at hand, looks at you incredulously. As if a tiny flame of hope ignited in his mind, he suggestively shoves the sandwich right back at you with a soft smile planted on his face.

“I take it that you might give me a call?”

“Possibly,” you reply as you peel the wrapper off. For now, you ignore the foul stench of the sandwich as well as the slight blush on your cheeks.

That’s a lie. You’re definitely giving him a call.

[kingyeoms]

dolphin keeper!seokmin

pairing: dolphin keeper!lee seokmin x vet!reader (n) genre: fluff word count: 1,840 a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for forever, i’m sorry it took me so long to finally finish it!! anyways, this was such a cute concept and i’m so glad i was able to write it :’) thank you for the request!! ♡ best read on desktop, use mobile browser if you can’t read under the cut ♡

lee seokmin is the cutest funniest dolphin keeper in the universe

first fell in love with the ocean when his family went on a trip to jeju when he was eight

they were walking around the coast and seok absolutely?? was just mesmerized with the way the waves crashed against the ocean,, the beautiful tones of blue in the waves,, his big eyes peering into the water to look at the little fish swimming around ugh so precious

literally begged his parents to let him take swimming lessons as soon as he got home

and that was the start of a beautiful perfect pair: seokmin and the ocean

at first he wanted to be a marine biologist, but after a seventh grade field trip to the aquarium and seeing one of the scuba divers in the tanks with the fish, he changed his mind -- he wanted to do that!!

luckily one of his friends seungkwan, who was a sloth cuddler at the zoo, mentioned that there was an opening for a dolphin keeper position!

seokmin at the interview: “wanna see my seal impression?”

at first he was a little nervous since he had no experience whatsoever,, accidentally tripped on the fish bucket when first meeting the dolphins

but once he met gyul and podo? literal heart eyes

as soon as he saw them,, immediately wanted to get into the pool and swim with them

“seokmin wait you don’t have proper gear on” “it’s fine!! i’m willing to take the risk!!”

can you imagine him in a blue wetsuit, yellow fishing type overalls with a cute lil dolphin patch in the middle!! i’m sad

turns out, seokmin is really good with dolphins the same way he’s great with people!!

podo is absolutely enthralled with seok.. she thinks he’s soooo handsome!! always squeaks when he comes into the pool~

gyul gets a little jealous,, but he doesn’t mind since seok always sneaks him extra squid snacks

they’re his actual children, literally seokmin walking into the pool room: “where are my babies~~”

does demonstrations for elementary school kids!! he teaches them how to “speak gyul and podo’s language” and also gives a presentation on how to reduce plastic waste

honestly really cute, super endearing seeing seok and a bunch of eight year olds squeaking with the dolphins

has a bunch of drawings of him and the dolphins hung up on his fridge back home,, he always gets them in his work mailbox as thank you notes!!

okay but listen,, as great as he is with children and dolphins alike,, seokmin wasn’t necessarily the.. most careful keeper at the zoo..

to be honest, everyone was a little worried at how clumsy seok was,, but they realized how much the dolphins loved him and so they just kinda deal with it

accidentally slipped and fell into the pool while trying to get one of podo’s toys,,,, it’s fine

you, on the other hand, just recently graduated from vet school, and having interned at the zoo for years now, they offered you a job right away

you watched a ton of animal documentaries growing up!! and honestly, going to the zoo was one of your favorite things to do as a kid,,

so it was no surprise that your dream was to work with animals!! but you’ve always had a soft spot for marine life :(

your first encounter with seokmin was super brief, when you had stopped by the break room to buy some coffee,, he was soaked.. bunches of paper towels in his hands,,

poor kid was trying to dry himself with paper towels and so naturally you just offered some help

seok didn’t even notice you come in!! but when he looked over to see whose voice it was,, perhaps his heart skipped a beat or two,,

“i’m okay, don’t worry! it’s just.. i fell into the pool again and i also forgot to do the laundry so we don’t have any towels..” he rambled, his ears burning a shade of tomato red

“i’m sure we have extra towels at the clinic? and i think the others would like it if there wasn’t a huge puddle of water in the break room,,” you giggled, seok shooting you a confused look

“you work at the clinic?” “yeah, i’m the new vet”

and literally seokmin drops his paper towels and palms his forehead bc,, how tf he gonna look so STUPID in front of the new vet

also since when has the new vet been so cute?

“so,, do you still want a towel?” “please... that’d be nice”

and so that’s how seok ends up in your office for the first time, cracking stingray jokes and drying out his hair while you’re sitting on top of your desk, laughing at the very cute but clumsy dolphin keeper

you don’t really see seokmin all that much for a while, since there was a pretty bad infection going around the seals, you dedicated your time to them

but to be honest seokmin can’t get you out of his head,, he keeps thinking about the cute vet that laughs at his jokes

one day seok asks you to come to the dolphin exhibit because gyul isn’t acting like his normal self and he was absolutely worried,, ran straight to your office

turns out poor baby has indigestion :(

the reason? seok tripped when he was feeding them and the whole bucket of herrings fell straight into the pool

you, jaw dropped to the floor: “are you being serious”

seokmin: “yes listen i’m really sorry okay i tried to stop him from eating all of them but he’s just.. too fast”

you can’t help but laugh at how,, silly seokmin is!! literally the kid has a heart of gold but also legs made out of jello

the two of you are just in the pool, gyul is nuzzling you as you rub his belly,, podo is circling seokmin nervously,, he has to calm her down poor baby girl :(

but you figure out the problem, gyul just has to take some meds and go on a strict diet for the next two weeks!!

you offer to stop by everyday to check up on gyul,, in case seok needs help taking care of him or anything

you may or may not… use this.. as an excuse to see seokmin

gyul starts to grow super fond of you,, squeaking and swimming to the edge of the pool every time you walk into the room!!

but podo doesn’t like you bc she thinks you’re too close to her favorite keeper

even if you give her squid snacks,, she won’t eat them unless seok gives them to her

you’re a little bummed by it, but you know not every animal is going to fall in love with you,, it is a little hard though, especially if you’re the one responsible for their health

two weeks pass and gyul is all better, but podo is still a bit aggressive towards you,,

seokmin’s new mission: getting podo to like you!!

him: “have you thought about dressing as a clown? she’d find it funny”

you: “what”

him: “ok i guess we’ll move onto plan b?”

honestly it’s really cute it’s kind of like he’s trying to convince his little sister that his significant other isn’t a bad person

you and seokmin spend the next couple of days,, coming up with a plan in the break room during lunch

the two of you finding out more about each other along the way, sharing your love for the ocean and marine life!!

seokmin finally gets the courage to ask for your number,, the first text you get from him is a photo of him and gyul in the pool :(

honestly?? you squealed into your pillow that night LMAO

you make it routine to send him cute photos of seals and otters,, he sends you penguin memes probably

your coworkers would start to notice,, teasing you while you’re doing paperwork in your office,, nurses “i see you spending time with that cute dolphin keeper,, when’s the wedding?”

they’d tease you even more once they saw how red your cheeks would get,, because honestly, the more time you spent with seokmin, the more you realized that not only is he handsome, but he has the purest heart in the world

even if he is.. a little clumsy.. and forgetful.. he puts the animals before himself and you love that about him!!

but this was work,, there was no place for any sort of relationship here

seokmin on the other hand?? has three heart emojis next to your name on his phone

absolutely smitten with you,, knew you were the one for him when you first got into the pool, the smile on your face when gyul swam up to you,, he thought you shined brighter than the sun (as cheesy as that sounds it’s true)

he really wanted to take you to his favorite beach,, in jeju,, where he first fell in love with the ocean

but he had to ask you on a date first and honestly,, he wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way

feelings aside, the two of you come to the conclusion that you should try,, spending time with podo by yourselves, without seokmin

so for the next few days,, while seokmin was on his lunch break, you’d hop into the pool and hang out with the dolphins for a little bit!!

gyul was so happy to see you again,, but podo distanced herself a bit from you,, staying in the corner of the pool until seokmin came back

until one day,, gyul was in a different pool for training, and it was just you and podo,,

and you figured,, might as well try one more time,, holding out her favorite squid snack

slowly but surely,, podo came to you, taking the squid snack,, even letting you pat her head!!

you were absolutely over the moon, because after months of hostility,, this was the first time podo had ever let you pet her,,

as soon as seok came back from his break,, you threw your arms around his neck,, telling him that the plan worked!! and even though she wasn’t in love with you yet,, this was a start and progress should be celebrated regardless of how big or small

seok’s face is literally tomato red at this point but thank god you can’t see it,,

“we should celebrate after work then”

and you look at him,, his eyes trying to avoid yours in case you reject him,,, and you do it

you peck him quickly on the cheek,, and you’re just like, “yeah, i think we should”

before he can say anything,, you realize what you did and your face turns into a tomato,, your hands flying up to your lips,, like i can’t believe i just kissed him 

but he grins, taking your hands into his, intertwining his fingers with yours,, pressing his lips against your knuckles

“so it’s a date?”

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 4 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

“And you’re sure Markus will be okay with…y’know, all this? Like it won’t freak him out if I just walk up to him as not you?”

“He is a leader for a reason: he’s reasonable.”

“Mm. Good reason.”

“Just explain it to him from the beginning. Offer to share the day’s memories if that’ll be easier—oh!” Connor shifted in the driver’s seat to fully face his partner and held up a hand. “Not a memory transfer! That’s a different process altogether. That’s what we did to switch. Markus technically is part of the same prototype series as me, so it might prompt for a complete memory transfer—don’t do that one!”

“I got it, Mom: Don’t accidentally kill myself.” Hank shut the door, leaning his forearms on the open window. “As for you, just lay low. You can tell Jeffrey that you’re you if you want, he’s probably heard worse from me before, but maybe don’t let it get out into the whole precinct. Not only would CyberLife get snippy about their secret plans leaking too much, but can you imagine the hell Gavin would raise? Christ.”

Connor paused. “I’m not sure if I can, but I’m sure he would be troublesome.”

Hank laughed. He had heard Connor laugh before, on very rare occasions, but he didn’t think it ever sounded this relaxed and easy. It really gave his rough voice an amicable quality. “Swing back here when you’re done? Or call if it’s more than an hour?”

“Can do, Lieutenant.”

He stepped away from the car as Connor shifted out of park. “Careful with the wheels,” he called before starting down the driveway toward the Manfred house.

In the corner of his vision, the external temperature reading increased to 67.7°F (19.8°C). Focusing on the readout expanded the widget: RH 58.1%, Precip. 12%, Wind 3 mph NW, Sunset 8:52 PM, Moon Phase—

He looked away. It was still there—being a heads-up display and all—but the gesture dismissed the weather. Who could possibly need that much information. No one. It’s been bombarding him from all sides with random facts and figures and updates ever since he woke up like this a couple hours ago (2 hr 32 m 57 s). No wonder Connor was such a know-it-all: his programming forced him to be. Hank slowed his stroll. What was Connor going through right now, free of his encyclopedia of trivia for the first time in his life? Hopefully not lost and unsure and uninformed. God, he hoped not.

He shook his head, quite literally to get his damn android brain to stop calculating the chances that his best friend was having an identity crisis or existential crisis or any number of other crises. Instead he thought about how his shoulders didn’t ache when he did that. His knees didn’t have that familiar creaking he’d grown so accustomed to, either. In fact, besides the pressure on the soles of his feet to keep him grounded and the near-imperceptible brush of fabric and sunlight against his skin, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thinking about his current body only brought up biocomponent specs and functionality reports (100% - Fully functional).

“Fucking-A…,” Hank muttered, noting once again he didn’t sound like himself. Being stuck in an android could be likened to sensory deprivation and informational oversaturation at the same time. If he dwelled on it too long, it’d drive him insane.

Something pinged him as he approached the door, and the door clicked open. “Welcome, RK800.”

Hank stepped into the foyer, marveling at its grandeur. It was a veritable mansion when compared with his single-story shack. It probably was a mansion. He wondered if Sumo would like living here, with the marble and the high ceilings. Maybe in the summer. The stone would keep him nice and cool. Air probably circulated well in here, too. Although the zebra rug didn’t look terribly comfortable

The double doors across from him slid open. Strolling in in an asymmetrical tee and jeans, Markus slipped a paint brush into the pocket of the smock tied at his waist. “Connor!” he called with a grin, wiping off some paint from his hands. “I thought you’d never take up my offer to stop on by!”

Hank returned the grin. He’d have to pass that comment on to Connor. “Hey, Markus.”

The android caught him in a brief hug before stepping back. “So what’s up? Care for a painting lesson?”

“Thanks, but not right now. Just have some…neat info we thought you would enjoy.”

“Oh, really?” He crossed his arms. “‘We’ as in you and the lieutenant? Isn’t sharing DPD intel kind of illegal?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but it’s not DPD.” Hank took a breath (UNNECESSARY; temperature nominal) and rocked on his feet. “We got an email from CyberLife this morning about some quack idea to define sentience. They wanted to see what would happen if they threw souls around, human and android alike.”

Markus scoffed. “Sounds a bit pompous. What makes them think they can even do that?”

Hank cocked his head and held open his arms. “They already have.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight, looking the other over. “Connor…?” he asked slowly.

“Not at the moment. Hank Anderson.”

A half smile completed the look of surprise. “A human in an android body? And Connor is…?”

“Heading to the precinct. They called me in for something and he’s, well, me for the day.”

“Huh. You’re right, this is interesting. Temporary?”

“Yeah—here, Connor suggested I just…show you his memory—our memory—of today.”

“Sure, yeah.” Markus held out his hand. At Hank’s hesitation, he finally let out the chuckle he was holding back. “If you can figure out how to do it, that is?”

“Great, another snarky robot on my hands,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his hand. Markus caught another laugh and shifted his grip to his forearm instead. Their skin shied away from their touch, and the connection pinged his system. [RK200 #684 842 971] connected.

File copy requested: [Visuals; Audio] {-04:00:00.0}:{00:00.0}

Accept             Deny

The notification took up his vision in an instant. It didn’t say anything about a memory transfer like Connor warned, so he figured it would do. Just thinking about accepting the prompt completed the request, and the past four hours from his chassis’ perspective played back at breakneck speed. From Connor petting Sumo and reading a book exactly four hours ago to Hank’s latest quip, it all sped by, too fast to comprehend and yet with every detail intact and evident. He reeled, flinging his arm back.

He blinked rapidly. The only sign of the event was the text (Copy complete) fading from his vision. Markus, on the other hand, dropped his hand to his hip, unfazed. “Mimicking a nexus connection by adjusting and enhancing the brain’s natural electric field to induce a complete data transfer,” he mused. “That is genius! It doesn’t prove anything spiritual, that’ll require much more philosophical debate into the depth and scope of AI, but it certainly doesn’t disprove anything either.”

“How can you understand all that so fast?” Hank asked candidly.

Markus smiled. “Years of practice.” He untied his smock and beckoned him towards the door. “Why don’t we continue this in the den?”

The doors slid open into an absolutely spacious sitting room. As if the zebra pelt on the foyer floor wasn’t excessively extravagant enough, the first thing Hank saw was a giraffe in the corner, probably real, definitely stuffed. (Analysis: TAXIDERMY, est 16yr) He had to stop from rolling his eyes at its ostentatiousness. “Ritzy place ya got here,” he commented, hoping Connor’s voice defaulted to conversationally neutral.

“Yes. Carl doesn’t particularly like it either.” Damn. “However, the media seems to dote on and worry about an elderly millionaire more when they live a modest, humble life than when they look the part.” He gestured to one of the couches in the center of the room. “Please.”

“Y’know, based on news reports and the whole ‘led a revolution’ thing, you’re not exactly what I expected.” The couches were bright cherry red, fitting the theme of the room. He sank into the one closer to the door.

Markus sat across from him, crossing his legs. “Even celebrities need days off,” he pointed out. “I used to be a caretaker. That doesn’t define me anymore, and Carl has a new full-time caretaker anyway, but I still like to come check on him when I can. Get free painting tips while I’m here. But enough about me.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m dying to know what your day’s been like.”

“Playing shrink now? What about, just…general exposition?”

“Anything! This is unprecedented!” His eyes shone. Connor was 100% correct that Markus would be ecstatic. “All of our efforts these past months have been towards helping mankind understand androids as people, and now here you are, literally seeing things from our point of view! Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, as the proverb goes.”

“Okay….” Hank drummed his hands on his legs. His first instinct was to think back through the day, but the thought triggered another rapid memory replay. He stopped it and groaned. “It’s fuckin’ fast,” he said. “There’s a shit ton of information even without the router in my head. With it, it’s like I’m every computer at once.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation of it. Maybe a bit of an overstatement.”

He scoffed. “This android brain has involuntarily subjected me to more math in the last three hours than I have had to do in the last thirty years. Like, I don’t need a speedometer at all times, or news updates from Ghana, or access to all the fuckin’ bad memes of my youth. It’s excessive! Maybe not to you,” he added, holding out a hand, “but you’ve grown up with it…figuratively speaking.”

“That’s true.” Markus propped his chin in his palm. “I guess I’d be able to relate more to Connor’s side. I wonder how he likes being disconnected from the network.”

“Yeah, I wonder, too….” Hank pursed his lips. “The kid seemed really shaken up as soon as the whole ‘identity’ question came into play. Seemed like he’s been thinking about it for a while, so I figured…a break from the norm might do him some good. Hell, if I’m getting so overwhelmed by android stuff, maybe he’s finally got some underwhelming peace and quiet.”

“Perhaps. I can ask him later, though; you’re here right now. How about…colors? Does the world look any different? Any sharper, mayhap?”

“Bud, this place would look like a Crayola box to anyone.” Hank took a moment to look around, ignoring the scrolling list of crayon names in his periphery. Sure, it was bright and sharp, but he was fifty-three. If he stole literally anyone’s glasses, it’d improve his vision. “Yeah, I guess it’s all in shiny 4K. Look, Markus, I’m not really a conversationalist; words never were my strong point, so I’m not sure how well I can convey this, ah…ongoing out-of-body experience.”

Markus held up his hands in surrender. “Perfectly alright, Lieutenant. With only a few hours of android life, there’s no sense sitting around talking for all of it. Why not look to some action instead?”

“Action? What’s that mean?”

He stood up with a smile. “Have you ever seen The Matrix, Mr. Anderson?”

“Snuck into a theater to see it opening week.” He pushed himself up in suit. His balance had to correct itself when he was on his feet earlier than expected, being lighter, stronger, and without a whisper of joint pain. “And yes, my friends called me that for months after. Why?”

“Well, we could always spar with some newfound kung fu, but painting has always been more my style.”

“What the fuck are you—” He stopped, remembering the scene he was referencing. His computer brain also conveniently played it back for him, too. Thanks, CyberLife. “I can just download painting? Like that?” He snapped.

“The technical skills, yes; the creativity and style, though, you’d still have to practice yourself.” He picked up his smock and held it out. “How about that lesson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. He had never pictured himself as a painter. Or an artist of any kind. Or an android. He shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. You’re on, Picasso.”

[next >]

[kokotaro]

Romantic headcanons for Shinsou, Midoriya, Aizawa, Hizashi and Toshinori with shy and quiet but kind and patient s/o please?

sure thing! sorry it’s so late, school really kept me so busy this entire time ): enjoy

Shinsou:

> To be perfectly honest, the poor boy would be worried and perhaps even scared to be romantic or intimate with another person. He’s always had everyone make the assumption he would turn into a villain sooner or later, and so, it became natural for him to isolate himself from others. 

> If and when he does happen to be in a relationship he would be a very distant person (even more so than usual, unfortunately) due to him wanting to protect his partner from others and, moreover, himself. He wouldn’t want to accidentally use his quirk on them. It has happened before and he would never forgive himself it were to happen with the person he cares about the most. 

> Eventually his walls are broken down after a long heart to heart talk with his significant other and he does his best to make up for lost time and affection he could have had with them. 

> This guy is gentle and the definition of uwu not even gonna lie here. He’d prefer giving and receiving affection in private because he believes that it is more intimate, in a sense. Being able to sit with his partner, holding them close and resting against them while interlocking their fingers.

> Sweet nothings whispered into each others ears which eventually turn into old meme and vine quotes, mostly “That’s free real estate.” because they’re both dorks that can never resist. 

> PDA would be casual hand holding and sweet pecks! There would be dates to simple places like cafes, bookstores, aquariums, NAPS, movies, and simple nights in where they just hang out together. Shinsou finds big extravagant things/places to be overstimulating so he’d prefer to have comfy cozy dates where he can just relax with the person he loves.

Midoriya: 

> A relationship would be… the last thing on Midoriya’s mind truth be told because he wants to focus more on becoming a hero, studies, training, and being the best successor for All Might he can be! But eventually he would be more open to his feelings and romance with someone once he has a more relaxed routine.

> The same nervousness would never leave him though and he would struggle to not only come to terms with his own feelings for someone, but finding a way to tell them as well. He would take weeks to figure out the perfect way to tell them how he feels. 

> Once he does find a way, he gets the whole class in on it; he has each student hands the person a small gift (cute notes, candies, handmade things, etc.) before leading up to Midoriya who gives them a flower and Officially asked them out on a date. They have been inseparable ever since.

> He does trust them enough to let them know about One For All, All Might, and being his successor and even his hardships from when he was once quirkless. They comfort him throughout the conversation and it’s actually how they had their first kiss as a couple as well.

> Midoriya would be even more sunshine-y if that’s even possible! He would gain so much happiness just from seeing his significant other and he’d remind them everyday how much how happy is, or how much he’s glad to be with them, or a simple “I like you” as if he hadn’t already confessed. He’d prefer going out as often as possible than staying in but if he’s tired, he’d enjoy a good movie marathon with a ton of junk food.

Aizawa:

> Much like Shinsou, Aizawa wouldn’t necessarily be one for huge amounts of affection but, he differs with his feelings. The man would be quite blunt with the person who came to be the object of his affection and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell them how he felt. Well.. maybe a little. 

> He wouldn’t ask them out on a date right off the bat, just get the feelings and confession out of the way first and kind of keep to himself afterwards. It would be rather hard to notice but he is definitely going to be flustered and he’d keep making small mistakes for the rest of the day.

> They have to confront him about going on a date and actually being together because he just can’t bring himself to do it. After he said how he felt, he just walked off without another word and honestly felt bad for leaving them hanging like he did. However, he did agree to go on a date. Or two, three, he didn’t care if they went on them for the rest of their lives. All he wants to do with his time is be with them. 

> At first it was hard to schedule a good time to go on any of their dates and most were held late at night or even early in the mornings just so they wouldn’t be around people. Even if Aizawa is an underground hero, he still has his crazy fans which only attracts more people in the end. That, and villains he wanted to avoid. 

> They soon fall into a routine and become comfortable with it, finding ways to meet up at unreasonable hours that they make do with and simply enjoying time together. At some point in the relationship he discovers matching/couples outfits and immediately suggest they do it together and somehow finds matching sleeping bags that they frequently take naps in together (those are his favorite days and he makes it known often). 

Hizashi:

> Hizashi would need someone to match his high and upbeat energy! Of course, that’s just a preference. If he were to be with someone with a more calm and laid back attitude opposite to his then he wouldn’t necessarily mind. As they say, opposites attract! But, personally, he likes someone who can match his energy and give him a ‘Hey!’ back.

> When time allows it he loves to make and mix his own music as a DJ. He tends to surprise people at clubs or parties if he isn’t busy teaching or doing hero work, which would of course count as a date for him and his partner. Although, if they didn’t comfortable with the scene then he would find something else for them to do. 

> He goes to a local radio station often to help choose a rockin playlist for the night and he’ll frequently dedicate songs to his special someone by sneakily slipping in the more romantic songs. He’ll tell them beforehand to be listening to the station for a surprise (and suggests the music to them anyway).

> After a long day he loves to be able to come home and just drape himself over them in a long hug. He’d be the type of person to rest his head on their chest to hear the steady rhythm of their heartbeat, especially after a rough day and he finds it quite soothing. 

> Hizashi’s favorite thing to do with his partner is share their music tastes with one another to broaden their horizons a bit. He asks to do it just about weekly and always loves the new music that comes from it! And, if requested, he’ll scream out some of the lyrics or even a dumb meme just to make his s/o laugh because they’re happiness is his.

Toshinori:

> Like Hizashi, and Aizawa, Toshinori wouldn’t have much of a focus on relationships or romance/intimacy in general due to his preoccupations. Being the number one hero wasn’t as easy as everyone made it seem no matter how much praised is received. But, he made do for quite some time. After a lot of thinking and life advice from other teachers he decided to get around to dating.

> At first he was set up on a bunch of blind dates by Midnight before meeting a certain person that caught his interest. Interestingly enough, they were already friends with her and thought why not go on a blind date (much like his own thought process). 

> He asks if they can see each other more, which they happily agree to but for weeks and sometimes even months at a time it takes all the planning they can get to just have a single day together. The times they shared became increasingly pleasant and he found himself to be much more happy with a partner at his side, someone who can help him relieve his stress and worries from work while still being himself 100% at the same time.

> Since Toshi isn’t necessarily the best with his words nor expressing his feelings, he buys his significant other small gifts he knows they’d like as much as he can. They range from small best friend necklaces, to a framed picture of them, to little succulents he finds cute and reminds him of them. And every time they buy him a gift in return he’s surprised, and delighted.

> After being together for some time he slowly begins to be more careful and takes less time to work as a hero, knowing and finally respecting his time limit. There are times where he still pushes himself but he’s always happy to have someone that can pick him back up on his feet. 

(sorry if it’s not the best! i haven’t done somethin like this in a while and i’m a lil burnt out… i did the best i could and i’m sorry if i didn’t really address the ask properly ;;

[larriefails]

First off, I’m not a rad nor a larrie, I’m a louie who hates both. I was just commenting on that because I’ve been in the fandom since 2013 and the de facto leader comment not only came from the boys but also during a billboard interview. In the billboard interview, they highlighted how Louis was the one taking the business calls and talking to their team about certain things. Also it’s not completely impossible to believe that once the 1d train ran out the big producers/names didn’t care to +

Work with him, because he was no “harry styles” liam is the same he even said that Simon didn’t want him on his label as a solo artist despite him having a great rapport with him. But there were other times louis’ business contacts were brought to light such as when he went to the Brits in 2016 and a reporter commented on how he was constantly on his feet to greet big name record executives and businessmen. He has the connects in the business that’s all I was trying to state.

Look, 99% of the time when I reply to an anon “you sound like a conspiracy theorist” it’s not because I think they believe in Larrie or because they’re rads, it’s because they fucking reason like conspiracy theorists

And your reasoning here is just… conspiracy theory mess. I don’t care which parts of it you believe or not, I don’t care what your personal feelings on these specific sets of conspiracy theories are. It doesn’t matter, the point is that you’re reasoning like a conspiracy theorist

I was gonna put this in a separate post, but I think it fits here very well (I might still make a separate post about it who knows)

A few days ago, I saw this video on twitter of a woman talking about her own death like it was nothing in a very matter of factly way, wearing a wig and using a very funny tone. Someone in the replies linked to her IG page so I went to look at it, and when I saw comments telling her “thank you for accepting my follow request” I realized she was usually on private and I’d just been very lucky to find her profile to be open, so I followed her just in case with the intention of watching her funny videos later

Since she was a new follow she continuously appeared on my recent IG feed and I soon realized how relevant what she was saying was to my interests

This is the woman

One day she posted this, and my alarms went off

Let me clarify that I don’t care if she’s a professor or a therapist or not, I followed her because I thought she was funny and that she’d go on private soon, this was all a complete surprise to me. The DM rang close to home to me, seeing as I’ve read Larries for a while now, it was all too familiar, her reply was too

Then she posted this

Once again, I said it before and you can read it here X it doesn’t matter if she’s a professor or not, if their suspicions are real or not, if she’s lying or not, because going through UCLA’s professor roll call is a step too far, and confronting her about it, even more so. And the way she presents it.. she’s right. She just linked the website, she never claimed to work there. If you go to her page, she’s very careful with the information she provides, so the people that want to prove she’s lying have very limited resources. They go with the preconception that she’s lying so they try to find ways to prove their preconception

You have the preconception that Louis was the de facto leader of 1D, so you’re working your way backwards to prove it. You’re looking at bits and pieces of interviews that will prove your theory right, but that’s just not what reality is

“The de facto leader comment not only came from the boys” .. no it didn’t, though? They didn’t say this. Do you know where the “the boys say Louis is the leader” comments come from? Stuff like this

Context for that interview? The Hot Desk, August 2011 X

One Direction had exactly ZERO songs out, this interview was recorded before they even released WMYB. All 5 of them had written on 3 songs of their first album that would come out in November. Savan Kotecha was still running the show. Louis was still 19 and he hadn’t been in show business for a year. How much of a leader that conducted business meetings do you think he was? I’m not gonna watch the entire interview to see the context, but this is not Zayn saying Louis was the de facto leader, this is Zayn kidding

What to even say about this, which is from the video diaries in X Factor?

Or this?

What? No, no they’re not, like, they’re just not, they’re standing in a circle and looking forward

This is just ridiculous

Does the person that created this gif set not realize that this is the performance where Louis doesn’t sing at all? It’s Torn at judges’ houses. It’s infamous for the fact that only Liam Harry and Zayn sang. This is all for dramatic effect because X Factor was a reality show

Louis liking motivation chants means he’s the leader? That he goes to business meetings? I’m so confused

That’s not because “he’s the leader” that’s because he’s the class clown

If accepting an award means he’s the leader then I guess this meme fits 1D very well

They all accepted awards, Christ

Anyway….

And that’s an entire gif set that was solely engineered to show that Louis was the leader and that “the boys said so”…. but they actually didn’t? The only two times it comes up they answer jokingly and it’s before Louis could do anything remotely leader like. But that gif set is so popular, created by a Larrie but that spilled out to the general fandom enough that I saw it on my dash reblogged by non CT blogs X

And it created this notion among some people, especially those who have Louis as their fave, that the other members of 1D had in fact said that Louis was the de facto leader, when they didn’t. It’s conspiracy talk, scouring through hundreds of MILLIONS of milliseconds of footage to pick 9 of them and put them in a gif set to prove a point they’d already decided on

There are also three news articles linked (copying and pasting directly from the source, sorry for the weird formatting idk how to take it off)

1: That’s the number of hotel rooms in Mexico City used for dance rehearsals. The guys locked down a room for three hours. Louis took control of the rehearsals and even helped conceptualize some of the routine.

That’sabout 1D learning the choreography for Best Song Ever

How exactly does it prove that Louis is the de facto leader for him to take over 1 dance rehearsal when everyone in 1D had confessed they couldn’t dance a million times at that point? Louis had some musical theater experience, so that’s that..

Harry: Louis is still loud and mischievous - he likes to test the boundaries. He’s quite outspoken. You need someone like that, because he’s great at standing up for us as a band.

That’s perhaps the most “leader like” comment any of them have ever made about Louis, and it’s not really about him being a leader once you put it by itself instead of surrounding it by “look at all the times they said he was the leader,” right? It’s just more of a testament about the fact that Louis was louder than the rest, which we already knew. If someone had asked me six months into my journey in the fandom who I thought was the loudest in band meetings I would’ve said Louis. That doesn’t mean he’s the leader. A leader has SO many more characteristics than being loud and outspoken. In fact, a lot of leaders aren’t loud or outspoken at all

The last link they put is once again, what How I Met Your Mother explained as the cheerleader effect X which taken away from the time period sounds quite misogynistic but let’s not dwell on that. Basically, it’s when a group of women appear hot when they’re all together but not individually. When you have the gif set all together, it looks like “wow, these are hot arguments as to why EVERYONE thought Louis was the leader,” but look at them individually, see their context and they’re not as hot now, are they? Especially when you realize, once again, that these are very very small morsels of time taken from very very large portions. That’s how Larries operate

Several people in your management and inner circle have described you to me as the unofficial businessman or leader of the group. Is that a fair assessment? I’ve sometimes felt like that, but to be honest most of the time I’m the immature one who needs to be told to get focused. I’m a bit of a perfectionist so I have to be kind of be on board with every minor detail and [I’m] quite opinionated.

And that last link is also the Billboard interview you mention in your ask. Do you know when it’s from? December 2012. One Direction had just released Take Me Home, their second album, which according to the interview that Larries love the most to base their sabotage conspiracies, didn’t very much involve 1D’s input at all

Savan Kotecha: I think by album 3 (Midnight Memories), yeah, not all of them, there was definitely one or two-one especially-that was like, kind of bitter about the fact, that, you know

Ross Golan: They were a boyband?

Savan Kotcha: And he was not the talented one. He wasn’t the singer, and he wasn’t the star. And you know which one I’m talking about…

Ross Golan: Of course.

Savan Kotecha: And he then started having something against me and against that process, I think. And, you know, maybe we could have been more inviting in the creative process during album 2 (Take Me Home) and not been so…authoritative.

At that point, Louis STILL wasn’t in a position where he could really be the leader. None of them were because the creative process wasn’t inviting still. It wouldn’t be until the third album

The conclusion here isn’t that Louis isn’t outspoken, or that he didn’t care about business or that he didn’t defend the band, or that he didn’t want to write more, or that he didn’t want to make connections. No one here is arguing that he didn’t care at all or not giving him credit for anything. The point I‘ve been making for days now and that people don’t seem to get (one way or another, because I’ve gotten very unpleasant messages about how he’s not equipped to be a businessman and shit like that that I’ve just decided not to publish at all), is that things don’t have to be black and white

I don’t think ANYONE was the leader of 1D. I think that Louis’ personality made him stand out more in certain aspects (such as meetings with their team), and because people need to label everything all the time, instead of describing it as it was, it took the position of “de facto leader”

The problem here isn’t even that people believe he’s the de facto leader, that wouldn’t concern me at all in and of itself because who cares? It’s not hurting anyone… The problem is that it puts an excessive amount of weight on Louis’ shoulders, I also explained this. It’s this dichotomy of a person who basically carried the whole band during its five years but that also is completely defenseless and at the mercy of binding contracts to even choose the socks he wears

These sort of preconceptions aren’t harmful by themselves, they wouldn’t be harmful in a normal band. I wouldn’t have a problem with this preconception if Louis was Calum Hood and this was 5SOS, my problem is that this is One Direction and preconceptions and conspiracies have tormented these guys for YEARS. No conspiracy and no preconception is innocent, they all have to be dismantled, we have to examine EVERYTHING that leads to absolutes if we want a chance at healing the fandom, and I don’t mean the 1D fandom because that’s gone now, it’s never gonna heal, I mean Louis’ specifically

If we want a chance at him being left alone from Larries these things have to go. Stop seeing him as this commodity that you can just paint over and start seeing him as a person, not a caricature

That interview also doesn’t say anything about him taking any calls business or otherwise. I don’t think anyone has ever said it and I have no idea where it came from because I’ve found zero sources. The interview doesn’t mention him “talking about certain things“ either, it’s just what I pasted here. That’s all of it. Everything else comes from years and years of stretching this one question out of this one interview done when Louis was still 20 and 1D had less than 2 years in the music industry. It’s no exactly the smoking gun y’all think it is, guys. Same with the Savan Kotecha podcast

Then the rest of what you say is just noise, man. IDK what to tell you. It’s just noise. If Louis had ran the show BTS for five years, then he’d have access to the best producers and writers on speed dial, why would he not being Harry Styles hinder how he’s perceived by the people that work backstage? They’d recognize the person that was “the backbone of 1D” for who he is because those things spread in the business. If LOUIS said that wasn’t happening, then it’s because your preconception was wrong and you took a bunch of things out of context to create a “narrative” that simply wasn’t real. Louis was dedicated to the band and wanted to write for it and involve himself in the creative side and he GENUINELY WAS IMPORTANT for the band, but he wasn’t its backbone or its de facto leader

Simon didn’t wantt Liam on his label probably because he couldn’t afford him, btw. He decided to stick with Louis because they’ve been thick as thieves since 2014 and those contracts cost money and Syco is a very small label with very limited resources, so they couldn’t offer anything to more than one member. I’m  aware that I’m making assumptions here, but they very much align with reality, especially now that Syco lost so many other acts and now that Fifth Harmony disbanded and Syco landed only Lauren (Camila being like Zayn) and having to leave Ally, Dinah, and Normani go to other labels. That doesn’t mean they saw no value in them (in fact, I think Lauren is the one faring the worst), it’s just that they can only afford so much

And how much can you grin on one report written by the HUFFINGTON POST in 2016?X I’m talking about the “Louis hugged industry people that one time” comment you made. Once again, I’m not saying he doesn’t know anyone. I’m saying I BELIEVE WHAT HE SAYS. If he says he can’t easily get the producers and writers he wants, then I’m going to believe him. And that one report doesn’t really change anything for me. It’s, once again, very conspiracy theorist behavior to put more weight on an isolated report from an untrustworthy source three years ago than on Louis’ own words. If he really had enough reach to be friendly with everyone in the industry, then he’d be able to get any producer he wants

You can’t have this dichotomy that you present in this very ask of “they’re not picking up the phone because he’s Harry Styles” but he was the de facto leader of the biggest band on the planet for five years and everyone in the music industry knows him. It just doesn’t mesh together. You’re placing him in the same impossible position Larries are placing him and that’s harmful. He needs fans that see him as a person and you, I’m sorry to tell you, do not. You see him as a caricaturesque figure that can both be incredibly important and incredibly subjugated

“He has the connects in the business is all I was trying o state” 1. no that’s not all you were trying to state. 2. According to himself, he doesn’t have all the connects. He’s clearly close enough to be friendly with Rob Stringer, but that doesn’t mean that Rob Stringer will lift a finger for him and according to Louis, he’s not.. But that doesn’t mean that Louis can’t get ANYONE or that he’s being sabotaged. As always, truth lies somewhere in the middle. The only reason it’s harder to spot in this case is that people stretch it on every possible side so much

I know this is long as fuck and I probably lost any person that was willing to read my drivel in the first place, but I just really think it’s important that you start taking what LOUIS SAYS ABOUT LOUIS as fact, instead of twisting it around to present alternative facts that would present a reality that will please you more. It starts at “Louis was the de facto leader” and it ends as “he’s been faking fatherhood for three years and lied about his mother’s last few days” Sick..

[archive-sugamoom]

Unit 0 | 3

Summary: While you and Jinyoung are working, Jaebum and Youngjae are working hard to find the last missing piece of the case.

Word Count: 1428

Genre: Drama | Mystery | Crime | Detective!AU

A/N: Well well well, here it is chapter 3. After struggles I finally found motivation to write (I said that with chapter 2 as well wow) I think I’ll write 1 or 2 more chapters and the actual Jaebum x Reader stuff can happen. Please tell me if you like this! Anyways enjoy!

Requests: Open!  Masterlist

Character Introduction | Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

~~~~~~

Date: 15th July.

It was a very hot day, luckily you and Jinyoung were inside a café with the AC on. The two of you go here occasionally to meet up with an old victim named Do Hana. She was a victim of domestic violence. Because Hana was a young child when the three of you met, you and Jinyoung thought it would be a good idea to help her through the years. And even now as she is a young teen.

‘’Detective Park, Detective (Y/N)! Sorry I’m late.’’ Hana says to the two of you as she sits down in front of you two. You smile as you look at her. ‘’It’s al right, we just got here as well.’’ You say while Jinyoung nods. At that moment a waiter comes with your drinks, placing an iced tea in front of Hana.

Looking at the glass Hana smiles and takes a sip. ‘’Thank you, I really needed this!’’ She says placing the glass back down. ‘’You’re welcome Hana.’’ Jinyoung says before taking a sip of his own iced coffee. ‘’Tell us, how have you been? Are you studying well?’’ You ask her.

‘’I’m doing great, thank you. And there’s currently no school, I did finish my summer home work already though!’’ Hana says with a smile. ‘’Good, I hope you’re enjoying your vacation a lot.’’ Jinyoung says as you nod. ‘’Jinyoung is right, you’ve worked hard you deserve the break.’’

‘’Thank you both detectives, it means a lot hearing it from the two of you.’’ Hana says as she takes another sip of her drink. ‘’How are you two??’’ She asks.

You grin. ‘’I’m great as well~ Although the stress for the wedding is slowly creeping up on me from behind.’’ Hana gasps softly. ‘’Oh! Do you and Mr Changwoo have a date already??’’ ‘’Yep, it’s  the 23th of August.’’ ‘’That’s so soon, I hope you have lots of fun and that the stress is worth it.’’ Hana says and you nod.

‘’What about you Detective Park?’’ Hana asks him curiously. Jinyoung leans back against his chair and thinks for a few seconds. Then he looks at her with a smile. ‘’I’m doing fine Hana, do you have any plans this vacation with friends?’’ He asks her hoping he won’t reveal what he is actually thinking.

‘’I do, I’m actually going with a group of friends to Mokpo! For about a week.’’ Hana says with a big smile on her face. ‘’Well I hope you have a lot of fun, and be careful~’’ You say as you take a sip of your drink. ‘’Of course I will do that!.’’ Hana responds.

-

Meanwhile Jaebum and Youngjae are waiting anxiously for the search warrant to be accepted. ‘’Why does it always have to take so long?’’ Youngjae groans as he walks in circles. Jaebum lets out a sigh. ‘’Because the judge needs to look through all the evidence..’’ He says while looking at Youngjae from his seat.

‘’Thanks Hyung, but I didn’t need an explanation.’’ Youngjae says rolling his eyes at the older man. Jaebum huffs and smiles a little. ‘’I know but it’s just so boring while waiting that I had to say something.’’ He tells Youngjae. ‘’You’re right it’s boring… By the way don’t you think it’s a little cruel to not have informed (Y/n)?’’ Youngjae asks as he stops with walking.

Jaebum shrugs and sighs. ‘’I don’t know? Probably.. I wouldn’t know how she would react if we had told her that her fiancé is the suspect. I do know it’ll break her once everything is done.’’ Jaebum says. Youngjae takes the seat next to him and looks at him. ‘’True, she seems to love him a lot.. We’ve only started to think of him as a suspect for a little over 24 hours and yet I feel like telling her every second I see her… Don’t you have that?’’

‘’The thought has popped up, but I try to suppress it as much as I can. Besides I don’t think we have the right to tell her. Even though we are working on this case now.’’ Jaebum says and closes his eyes hoping that the warrant got accepted quick.

The two of them get a call roughly 30 minutes later from JYP. ‘’We got it? Oh thank god. I don’t think we will need any more people. We’ll inform you when we arrive sir. Thank you bye.’’ Jaebum says and hangs up. He gets up as he looks at Youngjae’s knocked out form and lightly kicks his leg. ‘’Wake up we have work to do’’ He says to him.

Youngjae wakes up and looks at Jaebum. ‘’You’re not joking around with me right Hyung?’’ Youngjae says. Jaebum rolls his eyes and pulls him up. ‘’I wouldn’t joke about something important like this Youngjae, now let’s go.’’ And with that the two of them are heading out.

-

Jaebum and Youngjae are currently standing in front of your house, not all too sure what to do. Well they do know what to do, they have to get inside find the murder weapon and done. The two of them look at each other but they do not move. ‘’Hyung you go first.’’ Youngjae says looking at him. ‘’No you go first you’re younger.’’ Jaebum responds.

‘’ Yeah but you’re older shouldn’t you be taking care of the younger people?’’ Youngjae grins at him. Jaebum looks back at Youngjae and groans. ‘’I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.’’ ‘’You’re right Hyung we did. Back then Mark-Hyung helped us inside. But he’s not here right now so… You go first.’’ Youngjae says still grinning.

Jaebum sighs and walks closer to the door. ‘’Alright, alright I’ll go first.’’ He says as he gets the extra key the landlord gave them out of his jean pocket. Youngjae follows shortly after. ‘’Don’t you hope to find it as quick as possible?’’ He asks.

‘’I mean I hope so too, but we should be careful.’’ Jaebum says as he sticks the key inside of the keyhole and twists it, opening the door. ‘’Hackers voice, we’re in.’’ Youngjae says with a dumb smile on him.

Rolling his eyes Jaebum goes inside taking the key with him. ‘’Please don’t use dead memes in my presence.’’ He says and looks around. Youngjae quickly goes inside as well. They both take off their shoes before going inside the house further.

‘’Hyung I’ll check the kitchen, will you search in the office?’’ Youngjae asks as he looks around once more while walking towards your kitchen. Jaebum nods ‘’Goodluck Youngjae.’’ He says before going upstairs. ‘’You too Hyung!’’ Youngjae says.

 Taking a special Blue light lamp out of his bag Youngjae starts to look through the cupboards and drawers of your kitchen. He finds a few spots on one of the plastic cutlery boxes. Youngjae quickly places the light on top of the your kitchen counter and tilts the box out of the drawer.

He then notices a knife. Placing the cutlery box quickly down he grabs the light again and shines it on the knife lying in the drawer. ‘’I have it!’’ He says loudly enough for Jaebum to hear when he sees the blood on it. Hearing Youngjae, Jaebum quickly goes downstairs to him.

‘’You did??’’ Jaebum asks and looks at the knife in the drawer. ‘’Oh thank god..’’ He sighs relieves. Youngjae grabs a plastic bag and carefully takes out the knife putting it inside the bag. ‘’Hyung did you find anything?’’ He asks once he put the now evidence in the bag. Jaebum shakes his head. ‘’Not yet, we might find something though, I noticed a few notebooks with dates on it, might be journals. Who knows he might have confessed what he did.’’ He says as he waits for Youngjae putting back the cutlery box.

‘’Show me the way Hyung!’’ Youngjae says once he’s done cleaning up. Jaebum nods and they both head upstairs towards Changwoo’s office. They head straight towards the bookcase and Jaebum looks thoroughly through the notebooks.

‘’Youngjae I think I found something.’’ Jaebum says after a few minutes of searching. Placing back the books he was holding Youngjae quickly went to Jaebum’s side. ‘’Really?’’ He says looking at the notebook Jaebum was holding. Jaebum nods as he reads the title. ‘’I mean this must be a journal of some sorts. It got the current month and year on it.’’ Youngjae looks at him and then back at the notebook. ‘’Guess we will have to read it then.’’

~~~~~~

Tell me if you want to be added in the tag pls!

Tags: @nshitae

[rhainontheshelves]

Hey could I request 94 & 87 for Rocky?

A/N: In light of the Astro comeback, I finally ditched my original idea for this and came up with this! Thanks for being patient for a year and 4 months! Happy New Year, and happy reading! - Rhin

#94: “I had a bad dream again.”

#87: “Stay awake.”

    You woke up in a sweat, your heart racing and mouth dry. Your head whipped to the left, expecting someone to be there, but all there was was the piercing light of your alarm clock, reading 1:15 AM. Sighing, you covered your eyes with your arm and did some breathing exercises to calm down. It’s okay. Everything’s over, you’re fine.

    Finding the familiar worn plastic in between your mattress and the bed frame, you pulled out your phone and dialed your best friend Minhyuk.

    “Oh, please be awake, please be awake.” you muttered as the other end rang. At the last second, he picked up and relief washed over you.

    “Hey (Y/N), what’s up?” Minhyuk’s low and scratchy voice came over a bit too loud. It was obvious that he was tired, but he often stayed up late to choreograph songs for his group. You could faintly hear music in the background, further confirming what you knew.

    “Are you at the building?”

    “Yeah, why?”

    “Is it alright if I come over for bit? Or would I be destroying your creative process?” You tossed in a teasing tone. He often told you that he liked being alone so he wouldn’t get distracted, but you knew that having someone there to listen to his ideas and give him feedback helped him a lot. He recognized this too, but most of the time was too stubborn to admit it, so you two threw around the “creative process” joke whenever times like this came around.

    “My creative process is and always will be intact,” he retorted, feigning offense. “It doesn’t care if you’re here or not.”

    Laughing, you rolled out of bed and started changing into your go-to leggings and hoodie. “I take that as a yes.”

    “No, I wouldn’t want my BFF’s company at 1 in the morning! Of course you can come over. I’ll unlock the side door for you.”

    “Cool. Thanks, man.”

    “No problem. See you in a bit.”

    “Yep!” With that, you hung up and slipped on some sneakers. Grabbing your keys and a hair tie, you left your apartment and walked to Fantagio.

    About 15 minutes later, you pulled open the side door and walked down the dark hallway. The light from the practice room and the faint playing of Call Out guided your steps to Minhyuk.

    “Hey, close the door! You’re letting all the cold air in,” Minhyuk called from the middle of the room. You were standing in the doorway, watching his fluid movements and the little quirky ones as he tried to figure out what should be next.

    “It’s burning up in here! You need some cold air,” you fully entered and set your keys down on the table next to his phone.

    “It’s perfect in here, thank you very much. Besides, you’re wearing a hoodie!”

    “Because it’s cold outside! It’s winter, Minhyuk!” you shook your head. “Where were we going with this?”

    “Honestly, I have no idea.”

      “I don’t know either.” Plopping on the couch, you started scrolling on your phone. Soon, a sweaty and kinda smelly Minhyuk joined you.

    “To what do I owe this visit?” he asked, not-so-sneakily looking over your shoulder at your screen.

    “I had a bad dream again.”

    “Again? Why was I not aware of these?”

     You shrugged, trying to push the recollections to the back of your mind. “They don’t happen too often, and they don’t include you, so you didn’t need to know.”

     Out of the corner of your eye, you saw possibly the biggest eye roll known to mankind. “If you’re having nightmares that keep you up past 2 in the morning, I should definitely know about them.”

    “Look, I usually wake up from them around 4, so you’re lucky this is early for me.”

    “Still isn’t a good reason,” he sing-songed.

    “Ugh, shut up Minhyuk.” you slapped him on the arm and switched to Twitter to continue scrolling.

    “What are they about?”

    You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

    “The nightmares. If you want to talk about them, then they might go away.”

    “Honestly? I’d rather go back to middle school.” you tried to be as nonchalant as you could, but there was a tremor in your voice anyway.

    “They’re that bad? Wow, they must have you really shaken up.” Concern made his eyebrows furrow and a small frown appear. The only other time you refused to talk to him about something was when you were having problems with family and choosing between the company and university. You had explained to him after it passed that you had felt like you needed to listen to yourself and not have anyone else’s opinion influencing you. He figured it was something similar this time, too. “Just know you’re not alone in this, okay?”

    You dabbed at your eyes. “Okay.”

      “Hey, do you still remember that routine we did before you left?” Minhyuk hopped up and held out his hands.

    “Hyuk, that was like three years ago! How could I remember?”

      “I could re-teach you!”

    Finally, a grin broke out on your face. “Okay, let’s do it. See if I still got my moves.”

    “They’ll come back, I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

    You took his hands, got hoisted up, and followed Minhyuk to the middle of the room, ready to dance like you used to.

~~~

    “Yeah!” you yelled, jumping up and down. “We did it!”

      You two just did the whole routine all the way through without any mistakes. It took you a bit and a lot of reminders, but eventually muscle memory kicked in and suddenly you were dancing pretty much like before you left. Minhyuk loved the moment when you realized you were matching him with minimal effort. Your eyes lit up and you grinned really big, suddenly gaining more energy and charisma. He loved this side of you.

    “Yeah! I’m so proud of you!” he mirrored your excitement, hugging you and spinning you around. “It’s just like old times!”

    “Old times.” you hugged him tighter, “I miss the old times.”

      “Me too.” he sighed, enjoying this little moment.

      You pulled away and put your hands on his shoulders. “We have to film this.”

      “We do?”

    “Yeah! So we can compare it to that video the staff took when we first mastered this!”

    “Okay. Ddoca should be around here somewhere.” Minhyuk began to look around.

    “We could just do it on our phones. Is there a tripod anywhere?” You opened a closet and found one.

    “My phone doesn’t have enough space. Ddoca probably has better filming quality, anyway.” Minhyuk pulled a little white camera out from behind the soundboard with a triumphant “Aha!”.

    “Okay.” you shrugged. “Having the company label on it would probably be safer, anyway.”

    Minhyuk laughed as he set the tripod up and screwed on Ddoca. “You know all of that is added after we film everything, right?”

     “Yeah, I know! I’m just saying that I don’t mind if the company releases it if they want to.”

      “Alright, we’re set.” Minhyuk looked up at you. “Wanna do an introduction?”

    “I guess that’s probably the best way to do things, huh?” you came and crouched next to Minhyuk. “It’s gonna be weird, though.”

    “You’ll get used to it.” Minhyuk chuckled. “Ready?”

    With a nod, he reached over and pressed record.

    “What’s up! It’s Rocky,” Minhyuk started, using his stage name out of force of habit. “Today is kind of a special edition of Y.Y.Y. I have a guest today!” He grinned as he put both arms out and gestured to you like that Will Smith meme. You shyly smiled and waved.

    “I’m (Y/N). I used to be a trainee here at Fantagio.”

      “We auditioned and got accepted around the same time, so we kinda became best friends.” Minhyuk put an arm around your shoulders, throwing you off balance and causing you to fall on your butt. You two dissolved into giggles, mostly due to it being 3:30 in the morning.

    “Dear god, we’re tired.” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “It’s so early.”

    “Stay awake!” Minhyuk shook your shoulders. “We gotta get this done.” he went into another giggle fit.

      “Anyway, we’re best friends here to recreate a routine we learned before I left and he debuted.” You smacked him, signalling him to calm down and focus. “We spent an hour and a half relearning it, so hopefully it’s pretty similar to the original.”

    “It’s probably way better now. We’ve both matured and changed our styles, so it’ll look way different. Are you ready?” Minhyuk looked at you.

    “As I’ll ever be. Let’s go!” With that, you went to your spot, Minhyuk started the music, and you two performed.

    It felt like a huge audience was watching when it was only a camera. Nerves turned into focus. Focus on your moves, on your expressions, on the flow with Minhyuk. It felt like the old times, and that was the best feeling you had in a while. And just like old times, the routine was over way too quickly. You both froze in the ending pose, breathing heavily and grinning from ear to ear.

    Minhyuk picked you up and spun you around again, making you squeal in surprise. “Minhyuk, I swear to god-”

    “That was even better than the last time! We should have filmed the whole process.” Minhyuk continued to hold you as he walked toward Ddoca.

    “No! I would have made a fool out of myself!” you lightly smacked his head. He put you down and squatted for Ddoca again.

    “You did fine, (Y/N)! I swear, this girl is too hard on herself.” He said to the camera.

    “Do you want me to actually whack you? ‘Cause I can do that.”

    “Okay, okay, I’ll stop! Let me live.”

    “We’ll see.”

    “Uh, yeah. Anyway! We need to go, so this is Rocky and (Y/N) signing off.”

    “Hopefully we’ll get to do more stuff in the future! Bye Ddoca,” you waved once again as Minhyuk said bye and stopped recording.

    You flopped on the ground. “My legs are burning. Is that normal?”

    “You haven’t danced seriously in years. I think it’s normal.” Minhyuk chuckled.

    “Getting sleepy…” you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. You were warm from dancing and exhausted.

    “Ah, let’s get you home before you do that. Come on, get up.” Minhyuk grabbed your hands and pulled you up.

    Minhyuk walked you home after locking up. You yawned pretty much the whole way home, infecting him with them too.

    “Do you want to stay the night?” you asked before you entered the apartment building. “You’re just as tired as I am.”

    “I would, but Jinwoo-hyung and Dongmin-hyung are gonna have my head if I don’t go back to the dorm soon.” Minhyuk rubbed his neck.

    You frowned, but hugged him anyway. “Be safe going back, okay?”

    “I will.” He said, squeezing you once for good measure. He watched you run up the stairs and open the door to the complex.

     “(Y/N)!” Minhyuk called just before the door closed.

    You stuck your head out of the door. “What?”

    “When you have another nightmare, I’ll always be there to dance with you.”

[butweareafamily]

rules - I bolded the most important bits in case you can't read long text

hello everyone, this is a mutuals only and canon divergent side-blog that will likely only follow back a few people because it’s created to fix things I didn’t like in canon and/or try other canon divergent plots that didn’t happen. It’s important you read the rules because there are characters I don’t interact with (due to how I think Emma would realistically react to some things outside of a tvshow and its limitations) and some changes in Emma’s feelings. Also because of triggers, because Emma has been abused in many ways.

My name is Ele and I’m 30+, pronouns she/her, super friendly but chronically ill. I follow back from butwearefamilymain. If I follow you with my other main blog thecharmingknightemma you are not required to follow it back. I may follow you with that Emma and not this one because I’m extra selective about the plots I want to explore with Emma Swan but can see things happening with my au one.

If we are mutuals and you want to specify the season/context/verse when you send a meme or reply to something, I welcome it. If you don’t, I’ll pick randomly. 

I’m primarily interested in roleplaying with her parents, son, and especially her husband, but I’m open to other friends too, au ships and so on; at the moment I’m not confident enough to write crossovers but I’m open to do that in the future when I have fully developed this canon divergent Emma. Here to plot for Elsa or Anna or other people to become best friends with her through the seasons. I like prolonging seasons as needed to give everyone time to grow and develop, especially the first half of season 3 by ‘trapping’ Pan for real and having him escape and curse everyone only later. Opens and memes and starter calls are always open, no expiration date, and if you worry about me considering you too pushy: if you request something from my wishlist I’ll be super happy, I’m a rper who loves when people read her stuff.

            ************************************************************************

Now here’s where the more controversial positions I have come into play, and while I don’t mean to offend anyone and I do rp with these characters in other au Emma blogs and respect the fact that you like them, I don’t want to do it here where Emma won’t be friendly due to what happens in canon: I will not write threads with Regina, Gold (after season 3) and Neal in this blog. An exception can be made for interactions with Gold: since her feelings depend on what the others have done in the past and present, if you write an au version of him that didn’t do anything to harm Emma&co. starting in season 4 (basically if he doesn’t rip Killian’s heart out/tries to kill Emma in 4a, and everything after that), Emma has no particular problems with him. 

She will never consider or call Regina a friend, but she will try to keep things civil between them for the sake of everyone in town, even if sometimes she has to bite her tongue (while not accepting any criticism over rescuing Marian and not being okay with being scolded for her ‘stupidity’ or having her loved ones insulted). With Neal she was more forceful about not wanting to date him and realized that she only loved her idealized memory of him, not the man he is now and that she doesn’t know.

If for any reason we decide Neal is alive in the background, they are simply co-parenting and he comes over to pick Henry up, she’s polite, but they don’t spend time together as friends because it hurts.

If you love one of those three canon characters or have a multi and write some of them too we can just avoid the subject, just let me know or otherwise her negative comments about canon events might happen.    Also I’m sorry but the only child of Emma I’ll write with is Henry, not because I don’t love the idea of Hope but because I have too many ideas of how she’d raise her and other children, I find it too godmod-y from both sides.

Also,  Emma’s relationship with Belle depends on whether she’s supportive of her husband/ex husband unless we write an au, regardless of whether she and Killian are friends. 

Other divergences: unless we plot a different name she’s not happy about her baby brother being named after Neal for several reasons; she will call him ‘baby bro’ and ‘little brother’ and any other possible variation of petnames. To be clear she wouldn’t be happy about another sibling being called Killian either, even if Killian had stayed dead. Just no.

I ignore the idea that Emma being good comes from her parents taking away the ‘evil potential’ for several reasons, including logic, but I’m okay with the ‘author’ having made her parents believe it/having written their actions and thoughts to force the story in that direction. I am also okay with Emma ‘reverting’ to hiding things from people in season 6 whether she’s called out for it or not, since a couple of years with a family (and more tragedies during these years) will not undo a lifetime of trauma but people have a right to get frustrated. For every step forward, if she feels rejected or betrayed she’ll take ten back.  Very interested in au Dark Swan plots, you can find examples here X.

It’s not necessary for you to read more details, you can guess some plot changes because for example she would tell Regina she can’t enslave a man and put him in a mirror as she pleases, but I’ll still write them in case you want/need to know more: they’ll be in the about page.

Just keep in mind that Emma is an incredibly traumatized woman who never had a ‘normal’ life, and before turning 28 believed to have never been loved and to always have been maliciously betrayed if she tried to hope it would work, with plenty abuse in her past (including literal physical and emotional abuse in her childhood as I state in the triggers section): a few months of having a family while also living through more tragedies certainly didn’t fix all of it nor taught her how to be perfectly functional and nice and reasonable at all times. She always tried to do her best and she has good instincts, and many wounds will heal but scars will stay. 

here the other standard rules:

-nobody here should get stressed out about replies. They happen when we can write and feel like it, if you need to drop a thread do it, be slow, give priority to what your mood tells you. I’m here for both of us to have fun, or we stop and do something else, that’s all. 

-nsfw is tagged and under read more if it happens.

-I try to tag everything but if you have special triggers do tell me. One exception is threads that involve a ship. I can’t tag every single thread with a Killian ‘captain swan’ especially if the other mun hasn’t given the okay for a ship, and by then it’d be quicker for you to just block the other rper name anyway. 

-triggers (to be read even if not all bolded so you don’t get surprised later): I don’t want to write rape or toxic relationships between our muses, in the backstory is fine (and canon, for many). No miscarriage. Please tag your gore images, daddy kink and nsfw in general or I can’t follow back. In this blog there will be talk of child abuse (Emma being the victim), abuse in general (especially since she will interact with abuse victims), PTSD, violence. Specifically, Emma was physically abused by some guardians, emotionally neglected or abused by others, and while for several reasons I don’t write her as a victim of sexual abuse, for some time she was canonically a homeless child and was aware she was at great risk of it, likely had to run to protect herself more than once. However she felt used by Neal for years, when it seemed that he had just been a conman, until finding him in Manhattan (and it helped a lot, though it doesn’t erase that for years she thought that was the truth), and she is NOT comfortable thinking about the romantic and sexual aspects of her relationship with Walsh, who turned out to be manipulating her and lying the entire time about everything, and was ready to kill her as well. 

-I can ship lots of things: Wooden Swan, Gremma and Mad Swan too? Even Frankenswan in more au ways and ScarletSwan, and crossover ships and others, but they require lots of plotting. Captain Swan is still OTP though and the default. If we are writing together and you sorta see a ship, this is your permission to ask. I don’t forceship, ever. 

-I adore Mary Margaret and David, if Emma is ever a bit unfair to them in threads or they made mistakes it can be solved in universe, you don’t have to worry about me disliking them. If anything this blog is also so that they can have a better and deeper relationship. 

-very okay with aus, other ways the show could have gone, other ways for her and Killian to fall in love, threads where one of her parents got to raise her, different ships, stronger friendships, and so on.

-I don’t want to hurt anyone, if I’m ever accidentally rude or hurt your feelings you can totally tell me! I’ll be happy to fix things and clear anything up if language barriers are what led to the misunderstanding. Just don’t be passive aggressive. Every time someone has told me ‘Ele, explain to me this thing because I’m feeling upset’ I ran to fix it, and it’s usually just a misunderstanding. Every time someone is passive-aggressive they stop existing for me.