#been slowly starting to scrape some ones people had up on youtube off into my hard drive this week

[himbeaux-on-ice]

debating putting together a "games i am looking for" (ie past nhl games i am seeking a full broadcast recording of but have not yet found) list, and linking it somewhere on the blog like people do with their amazon wishlists or w/e, just on the off chance someone stumbles across it who happens to go "oh yeah i have that one on my hard drive actually, here ya go" which feels like a fantasy but i mean. weirder things have happened on the internet lol

[namjoonchronicles]

finer arts | th

↳  genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung  ↳  words 4.6k ↳  summary inspired by the Baumgartner Restoration channel on Youtube, Taehyung is written as a fine art restorer. This fic centres on the point where arts and science collide. Also, long haired Taehyung. Unedited. :’) ↳ song miley cyrus ‘when i look at you’ slowed ver.

Very soft. Taehyung’s hair, at this length, had always been soft. It’s been awhile since he told you he wanted them to grow longer, and it’s finally paying off. He looks terribly soft with bangs going just a little over his brows and poking his eyes. Gathering his hair into one apple sprout and tying it up has always been your favourite way to start the day. He was humming Frank Sinatra's in the living room as it played on the bluetooth speaker when you found him. Always so hardworking. You leaned on your side by the wall, folding your arms and watching your husband pouting at the document he was reading as his head hung low. Big round glasses sliding down the slope of his Godly carved nose he learned to hate, growing up. Parker Fountain Pen in his slender fingers, cross crossing, underlining, circling the paper in a professional manner makes you remember why you had fallen for him. Slowly, but surely.

He lifts his eyes, noticing another presence in the room, and briefly smiles before returning to his writing pad again, greeting in a deep voice, “You’re awake?”

“Yes, I am…” you nodded, indulging the view still. When he starts to repeatedly push his hair away from his face, you take off your own hairband and have him sit down on the floor, with his back leaning against the couch. And you gather his hair with your finger raking the locks gently, tying an apple sprout hair. His eyes were glued on the work he brought home.

“I take it that you’re leaving home for the studio today?” you tipped his head back, chin pointed upward, demanding his attention. He chuckles through his nose as you leaned in for a chaste kiss on the lips, where his beauty mark is and then the tip of his nose and the skin between his brows. With the chuckles alone, you knew you were right. Judging from the wrinkles on his forehead when he crosses out the plans he had, you knew that he was handling a semi large painting.

Taehyung is a fine-art conservator-restorer and because of it, his work consumes him. He treats his client’s painting like his own wife; each with their own time, loving and care. Instead of being envious towards the time he puts in them, you weigh more on the term ‘admiration’, towards his work and dedication. He truly is invested in his line of profession. It was only natural for an art lover like him to eventually become an artist himself, but after some unfortunate series of art blocks, he began to turn to conservation midway through college. You were always supportive of his aspirations. Although you don’t share the same passion for arts to actually go to a college as an art major like him, he always says you should have been an artist rather than scientist when he saw you sketch a lion behind your notes, after being frustrated about writing papers on your research.

Ever since then, you and Taehyung shared an art studio at your shared home after marriage.

“Polyurethane,” he let out a deep sigh. One word is enough.

A big part about restoration and conservation is perfection. When the previous conservator uses polyurethane as varnish, the next restorer, in this case is Taehyung, will have endless scrapings to do. Polyurethane becomes embedded in the paint, which makes most restorers emotionally frustrated. This poorly chosen varnish not only becomes a part of the paint, it makes it difficult to remove because it is scraped along with the original paint by the painter and artist. This then, leads to more restoration work because the objective of a restorer, is to… restore. Using polyurethane just adds into the time working on it. The last time he dealt with polyurethane paintings, he went home with colors drained out from his face. He spent a week on them because he needs to be extra careful to get most of the polyurethane out with minimal damage on the painting.

After the scrapings, he will have to remove the paintings from the old plywood it came with and it was glued with rabbit-skin glue which is the most tedious process, one after the other.

“When it came to the studio, I was holding my breath because the state of it... was just,” Taehyung puffed his cheek and deflated it. Where does he even start? Dented surface, skewed plywood frames, rabbit skin glue, and polyurethane varnish. The owner’s cat sat on the painting. And this painting was already fragile at this time. It was a very old painting auctioned for at least a million dollar. Taehyung almost fainted.

Right. That was how he is. When Taehyung works on a painting, any painting for that matter, of any values of any age, he is consumed by it. Giving it his all, but careful not to leave traces of him as to respect the original painter.Taehyung, as an artist, is mind blowingly authentic. He has unique perceptions towards everything he sees and he was the first few artist you knew that began with taking photographs. Actually, he was the only artist you knew all your life that was intimate enough to have this talk. Back in the days, art students don’t really mingle with science nerds due to unforeseen differences seniors claim to have. You personally were told that art students are too superficial to really want to understand the world and that they see you as a fuss in human form. You believed none of that bullshit.

You have always been the kind to look deeper than what is on the surface, always skin deep. Taehyung noticed this from the first time he laid eyes on you. There was something worth uncovering.

Just like today, when your eyes tunnels into the magnifier to see the photographed version of the painting he was supposed to restore, he gets giddy at the fact that his wife, his forever girlfriend takes so much interest in so many things and is well-versed in all kinds of art despite not being a member of the field. It was at moments like these that he relentlessly wonders why you never considered to seriously take art degrees just like your science stuff.

“Looks flaky, and the dent is so deep…” you commented, craning your neck on his desk as he watches fondly from the side, “You’ll have to patch it up and sew it together…”

The smile melts away and he averted his eyes, tapping his index finger on his knee at the same time. By his demeanor alone, you know that he dislikes this. The work just keeps piling on, and more and more of the original paint is lost. Like a wet on wet painting work, that keeps bleeding color, the painting will have more of Taehyung than it would of its owner. Taehyung let out a sigh you understood so well. You leave the painting’s print on the table with the magnifying glass set away on the corner with the rest of his tools. You bring yourself next to him and put your arm around his neck and the other palm rests on one side of his face, sliding down his chiseled jaws and thumb, tracing his lips. His cologne swims around your nostril, and the smell of his hair that you love, engulfs you. He gathers his arms around your waist, rests his head under your chin and stays like that as long as you both need.

He will be away for long and intimacy of such degree would be difficult to execute. Long tiring week ahead will make you drift you both apart, only to hopefully meet each other like the first time again.

You remember the first time you laid your eyes on Kim Taehyung. He was helping the waitress picking the pieces of fallen tissues after a minor accident. He looked like he walked out of someone’s innate dream. Clean-shaven, dark brown comma hair, boring a dark brown suit and pants to match. The selfless act was something intriguing to you. It’s so rare to find someone who would take the time to help others in such a fast-paced era where everything has to be quick and perfect. You remember turning away and smiling to yourself, grateful that there’s such men still in the world. You never planned to find any attachments that night, it was just a casual formal gathering that you had to attend in order to remain in the social circle. You actually wanted to leave after thirty minutes, and probably watch a late night movie at a nearby movie theatre to appease yourself.

A drink in your hand, a small talk about how good the eclairs were, and a little bit about your short-term plans; apart from that, there was nothing much. You were never the kind to approach people first, finding more interest in the food than you do the people attending. But not your best friend, not Jimin. He is the loudest, most animatic figure out there, talking about all kinds of things, doing a lot of gags and just, a walking entertainment channel, with his addictive laughter and outgoing personality. Jimin would make friends with a broomstick if it attended. It was because of him that you were dragged into this little dinner party. He said if you come, he will join your presentation that he called boring and asked relevant questions. After careful consideration, and losing a couple of friends because of your hectic college schedule, you had no choice but adhere to his demands.

“Hi,” a succulent honeyed deep voice greeted you from behind, “Where did you get those jelly desserts?”

You glanced at him and when you recognised that he was that dude who helped the waitress, you shot your eyes back to your plate instantly, then jerked your head back up, “From the dessert corner, next to the pillar… I think they haven’t refilled them,” you said to him through a smile. Wow, he was so much taller than you expected. And, smells so nice.

“Oh thank you,” he tutted his tongue and nodded once, before he walked away grinning, “Over there right?” He walks sideways to talk to you still. He almost trips over the folded carpet and you got instantly worried before replying in a haste, “Yes! Oh careful, please!”

He gave an okay sign and puffed his cheeks.

Finding the back of your calves began to strain from the long period of standings, you had to find yourself a bar stool and ate your food alone, while Jimin was throwing his head back at a joke one of his new friends were telling. Someone took the empty seat next to you and sat with a huff.

“We already met twice and I still don’t know your name,” he peels his eyes off of his plate and turns sideways to you, “I’m Taehyung, Kim Taehyung.” You said your name in a hurry with an awkward giggle at the end, before poking your fork into the grapes and shoving them into your mouth.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked. “No, but he looks like he is having fun,” you didn’t specify who it was and Taehyung hung his head low with a dry, “Oh.” “You?” you replied. “Alone,” Taehyung said, “Didn’t plan to stay very long…I was going to catch a movie.”

Your eyes light up, “What movie? Because I’m not staying too!” Taehyung pouts, “Haven’t decided… I was going to decide there and then.”

“It’s nice to watch movies alone ha…” “Helps me recharge…” “What major are you? We’re from the same uni, correct?” “I am. I am an art major, and now more to restoration and conservator.” “Oooo, interesting… Meticulous work. That’s amazing.”

Taehyung then learns that you’re a science major, pharmaceutical technology. It sounded foreign to him, he had never known anyone with a science major, let alone talk to one. They always seem so…

“Fussy? Introverted? Closed up?” you listed. He shakes his head, jutting his lower lip out trying to think of a better adjective to describe, shooting his eyes to the ceiling then to the right. “Guarded,” Taehyung tipped his head to the side, looking at you as he spoke. “I get why we seemed that way,” you swirled your fork around the plate of spaghetti you took and nodded in agreement, “But we’re probably thinking about our gazillion unfinished reports and stressed out about why the results aren’t tally, and forgetting our breakfast, lunch and dinner, being high on caffeine…” you shrugged your shoulder, explaining.

“Doesn’t seem like a healthy way to live,” Taehyung commented, “But I understand the struggle.”

Discussing about the stereotypes, the polar opposites of a science versus art majors lasted longer than you expected. Art majors and science majors actually share more in common than you’d think. For starters, both are extremely meticulous and precise. Taehyung spoke about the specification of colours and blending of several techniques into one art requires an extensive studies of observations and practice. As a conservator, he must recognise personalized styles of close to thousands of painters to differentiate a genuine piece from a copy--a skill that would take years and decades to perfect.

For science, specifics come in the definition of science. There has to be hypotheses to be proven, and theories that aligned with the results. Making medication has several strict rules; and the process, the testing are endless. From the drug is being formulated, to the way it is processed, and how it reacts when it enters the human body, to how long it takes to be expelled and whatever happened in between must be noted. Uniformity, size particles, bottling, storage, etc. are all taken into custody when it comes to making drugs. You told Taehyung about the exhausting 48 sets of 100mL volumetric flask being used in order to determine the complete dissolution of 100mG of paracetamol.

“I get cross-eyed having to stare at the mark, trying not to make mistakes,” you smiled and Taehyung giggled. “I understand about getting cross-eyed,” he added. He continues about having to re-color a varnished painting with a limited set of light in the studio, and not being able to determine what pigment it was until daylight reveals that he was wrong.

“I think art and science are two things humans can’t live without,” you started, looking down at your semi empty plate, “I mean, life depends on science, but art is what makes it worth living.” “Rebecca Atwood,” Taehyung cited. Then you both looked at each other for what seemed the longest time, as if you both had found home in each other.

Your heart clearly whispered, “Where have you been all my life?” And for a period of time, you actually believed it was one-sided. How could someone like Taehyung want to spend time with you. But you guys eventually went to the movies together.

Jimin called midway through the movie. You excused yourself and took the call outside the hall.

“Yo, where art thou? The party’s over, don’t tell me you went home without me,” Jimin nags.

“I’m at the movies, I’ll get the Uber, don’t worry,” you hissed, “No, Jimin, I’m going to be fine. It’s not that late, I’ll call you when I get home. Yes, I know there’s class tomorrow at 2pm, alright bye,” you hang up and rush back inside.

Taehyung looks at you with wondering eyes and you felt inclined to explain, “Jimin. Asked me where I was, and wanted to go home. I said I’ll take the Uber.”

“Uber? No, I can drive you home,” Taehyung offered. You don’t think you should be in a car with someone you barely know so you politely declined. Taehyung however, waited with you for the Uber, and waved you goodbye. He didn’t ask for your number, much to your disappointment. But maybe it was a one night thing for him. It’s not like you expected anything, so why do you carry yourself heavily to your dorm?

It was rare to find someone you could connect to in such a short time. Tonight was a miracle at work, and it was short lifted. Laying down in your bed with the light from your phone shone over your face, you scrolled down Instagram to see your married highschool friend cradling babies. Another friend just got married. Another is half a world away. A few are taking pictures of cute dates they went on. And then there’s you, who is now staring at each one filled with envy and discontent, wondering if anyone will ever find the time to notice you and hopefully fall for you. Deep inside, all you ever wanted was to be in love. Despite you plunge yourself into heavy work in the most strenuous field out there, you were inexplicably lonely. It gets increasingly difficult as you grow older, and your options for men decreases.

They say, everyone has a soulmate. But for some reason, you think God forgot to make yours. Real connection is possibly impossible to find. The love you seek probably doesn’t exist.

And as you turn your phone face down next to you, it vibrated a message in.

Jimin: Are you home yet? Hello? Jimin: So you found Kim Taehyung? From arts? Jimin: He texted me the Uber car’s plate number to make sure I know where you are…

You replied,

You: yes.. You: you know taehyung??

Jimin: uh yeah. Orientation week together. Campmates. Jimin: how was it? You: he was nice… Jimin: You cold-blooded women. You: XD

The next day was your presentation. After spotting Jimin in the crowd, you immediately felt better. Some familiar faces would be nice. Final year project presentations can be brutal. Some of the questions you expected would be the purpose, the motive, the need for this project to be funded and why it carries such significance. Sometimes what you expect doesn't happen, and because of that you get very disheartened and disappointed. No matter how brave you decide to be, your body protests and rebels against your wishes. The way the bottle tremble in your hands shows how much this is hammering your dignity. It is as if you expected to be humiliated. You glanced down to your heavily arrowed notes and scribbles, closing your eyes as you stood in the back stage, mentally preparing yourself. How to be bulletproof?

Had he not helped the girl to purchase a canned coffee from the vending machine, he would not have been late, Taehyung thought. Now he creeps in the back of the lecture hall, carrying his own opened canned drink. There was an extra unopened canned coffee drink he snuck in. You had already started your presentations. Does he have the mental capacity for this new information? Of course. There were a few terms he wasn’t familiar with, but it was not enough to bore him. Your simpler explanation the night you met actually helped a lot. The oozing charisma you carry and the calm way you carry yourself was something worth looking up to. It was the kind that he actually envied about you. He had a feeling that you weren’t showing all parts of you and because of that, he was intrigued. Even as he sat there as an audience, completely at awe of your presentation, you were magnetic.

Not a single one person in that auditorium was paying their attention elsewhere. Being able to draw such dedication and passion is a talent. And it was all Kim Taehyung wished he could do.

“With all the existing medication with the same purpose, what good would a research in the same area pose? A renewal?” “And what about the gene-specific cancer studies that are already initiated since 2004? Haven’t we spent enough on that?” “What about the ethical issues surrounding the existing CRISPR, the so-called genetic-specific medications?”

The questions from the PhD holders you presented were all valid. You agreed.

“As a scientist, we understand that our research will continue far after our death. Many researches are done without a clear view of where the finish line is. If we want to talk about ethical issues regarding gene modifications, we have done them on all the things we could consume, grow and breed. If we have the power to prevent abnormality before it becomes one, why do we second guess ourselves? Isn’t the purpose of science to better understand, and then to prevent? To create a better living?”

The room fell into a deathly silence, and you were inclined to go back to your statements but when you dragged your eyes to the corner of the room, you saw some juniors nodding in agreement to what you’ve just said, you regained a little ounce of confidence. “But we haven’t truly understood the after effects of gene modifications. And through all prolonged research thus far, it doesn’t suggest a good result. How do you guarantee a perceptible study in the development of the medication you’re proposing?”

. . . Sniffles greeted Taehyung at the door he pushed opened gently. You were standing by the handrails on the faculty’s rooftop, the papers you brought in scattered around the ground. Some are drained into the pool of water puddle from last night’s rain. Digging the heels of your palm into your eyes, you heard the door creaked open and jumped.

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then turned away. Not because of anger or fear, but from shame. You have never shown anyone this timid side of you. You’re always expected to be strong, and you took that mask on literally. Having someone witnessing your vulnerability is as foreign as the sight of a shooting star. How unlucky for Taehyung, you thought.

“I bought you…” he placed the canned drink on the ground, next to where you placed your backpack, “A canned coffee.”

“How did you,” you sniffed, “How did you know that the presentations’ today?” “You told me the night we met?” he answered, in a confused tone.

And you gave him a lopsided smile, “Oh right. I’m not used to people remembering my errands. Jimin never does. No one ever does.”

“I am not actually good at remembering. But for some reason, yours was unforgettable,” he added an awkward chuckle at the end, scratching the back of his head not sure why he finds conversation with you feel homey. Sincerity and honesty comes naturally like breathing the air in.

“I did a crap job at presenting, didn’t I?” it was a statement, pretentiously laid out as a question.

But Taehyung knew better than to cement the depressive thought. Then he scooted near to you, and coil to your side, to give you a puppy eyed bright smile.

That was when you first knew a Kim Taehyung. Everything else that happened after that seemed like a story written just for you. But loving Kim Taehyung didn’t come without challenges. When you love a man as attractive as that, there will be wandering eyes directed towards him. And you have your own fair share of evil eyes directed at you. How can a science nerd catch the attention of an art student? It was totally unheard off. Had Taehyung paid any attention to those thirsty hyenas, you would have given up the fight. However, this is Taehyung you’re talking about. Once he had his eyes set to a person, he developed tunnel vision only to that person.

For years, you struggled with perfection. And the thing about the struggle is that it was common to everyone, but so few would understand. Perfection quickly becomes a disease to over-achievers. Had it not been Taehyung, you would probably engage in an insufferable discontentment towards life and everything it has to offer. Everything changed when he handed you a paint brush and a 200-sized plain white canvas and a studio to yourself.

You felt liberated.

Not knowing where your illustrations will take you was the first taste of freedom you had ever allowed yourself to feel. Because in the arts, there are no wrongs or rights. And it's uniquely yours. And the look on Taehyung’s face when it's done? Priceless. To the point that you think you began drawing because of him and that he was just saying the things you wanted to hear. Then he hangs your drawings in the open hall, and brings home the comments written by the art lovers to prove that you are wrong.

When it comes to relationship turbulences, Taehyung and you personally respect each other’s space, friendship choices and principles. Such maturity is again rare so you’d like to think that you’re lucky in that sense. However, Taehyung’s family proved to be a massive hurdle. While you were raised in a humble home, and accustomed to having sleep as dinners, Taehyung’s family owns a collection of farms that produces vegetables and fruits, and Taehyung’s favourites happen to be strawberries. He surely is raised in an upper middle class well into his elementary years and then catapulted into first class around his high school time. Not to say that he doesn’t know what it’s like to starve, he has a fairshare of that in his rebellious years; but he was not used to the life you lead. The part-time jobs, the tutoring weekends, the errands. He never had to do those.

When he brought you home to his parents for the first time, you felt out of place. His penthouse, his army of maids, sports cars and spacious area. His parents, they were wonderful. They welcomed you with open arms. Even inviting you to a family-only event, introducing you to everyone, and then letting you see their family photo albums. Taehyung has a massive support system, a healthy relationship compared to yours. No matter how much he wants to convince you that his life isn’t perfect, it was a whole lot better than yours. You remember how he snuck you into his bedroom in the middle of the night when his parents were asleep, the snickering, the whispers and the night you shared, cuddling. You had tears in your eyes that night, because you never thought you’d be this fortunate.

Watching him fall asleep in your lap so soundly really made you think about the last time you ever made someone this comfortable. Is this how it feels to love and cherish? Finding a middle ground is not always easy, and most people take time to reach there. For Taehyung and you, sacrificing a lot comes without say. Your internal conflicts and his willingness to understand your perspective, and vice versa--it all takes time. You can owe it all to Taehyung’s ultimate patience. Just like the way he handles his work. Meticulously, and carefully. Like how chemicals are precise, the paints are too.

In every phase of life, we are being prepared for the phase that comes next. In accordance to what we are made of, we continue to evolve, continue to grow. And it is in this stage that we feel most vulnerable, most bare, most uncomfortable. Sometimes you dread the things that you weren’t allowed to have, much like the doctorate you sought after (that took much longer than others), the way it was withheld from you because life said you weren’t ready yet, even when you thought you were. Waiting patiently becomes the hardest part of it all. Although Taehyung might not understand half the things you went through, isn't he still here? Isn’t he still holding your hand? Isn’t he still singing to you?

Fine arts are creative art, especially visual art whose products are to be appreciated primarily or solely for their imaginative, aesthetic, or intellectual content. If that’s the case, then Taehyung must be finer arts.

.

.

.

.

copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

:. I wrote a bit about the things I do in university, I’m sorry if you find that boring... it’s the only world I know... I am currently going through mid-semester exams, and I’m not doing well, spark up a fever with 3 more papers to go. Anyways. Have a great day!

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Season Zero: The Yo-yo Crimes of Jounouchi Pt 2

OK, last we left off, we were in a different Youtube video. This one I grabbed off of 2 different videos (you’ll see their watermark in the corner change) and it makes me appreciate the quality that our other episodes have been, honestly. A little bit of compression going on in these, just to give you even more of that nostalgic feel of watching a bootleg anime from the 90′s your brother got from his weird high school friend’s Napster account.

Because this is done with subtitles on, it takes more caps to cover it. Part of why I rewrite the dialogue in these recaps is to help abridge stuff, and so consider yourself warned...there’s a lot of caps in this one. For most of you, that’s probably not much of a problem. But I’m just letting you know because...I sure wasn’t expecting it to be over 40 caps for half an episode, and I’ll probably just type less to make up for that. (Tumblr keeps Erasing All My Words anyway, so this is for the best, but that’s a tech issue I already went into in another post.)

(read more under the cut)

So, to start off, Yugioh and co. walk up to a bar like a really weird version of a bar joke and are like “do you know where we can find the yo-yo gang?” And, much like a video game npc, the bartender was like “I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about, and I heard every part of their intimate conversation. Let me give you all the details, children.”

Hey, PS, there’s an entire Wikipedia entry about the bar joke. And that is wild. Apparently the first bar joke was from Ancient Sumeria, and Wikipedia was like “Here is the Sumerian joke, but we Do Not Get it. Please don’t try to get it.”

The joke being: "A dog walked into a tavern and said, 'I can't see a thing. I'll open this one'."

Damn. I can’t believe the Sumerians were onto meme humor before we ever invented memes. They were in the Galaxy brain over there in the land before time, holy crap. Depositing their memes knowing that 7,000 years later mankind would look at the world’s first joke and be like “I don’t get it!” while all the millennials and zoomers with our MB of nonsense memes on our phones are like “No. I get it.” Good on you Sumerians, that is freakin the best joke ever made. 7000 years to get to the punch line of confusing the hell out of all us. Bless.

They promptly tell Miho that everything was resolved and that she should go to bed and she was like “Cool!” and exited stage left. Bye, I guess. Anzu also went home, but she didn’t have to be tricked into doing it, she just went the hell to bed.

(PS, I just realized that if I want to write less...I should probably not look up Wikipedia articles about the world’s first ever bar joke. But y’all, habits die so freakin hard, and I just feel like it’s very pertinent to this Yugioh recap, although I know it’s really not.)

Yuugi and Honda decide to visit the warehouse and harass Jounouchi. In the context of the show, they’re going out of their way to pull their best friend out of society’s systemic downward pull of a life of crime and most likely turning into exactly like his Father. But, the way that it’s storyboarded makes it look a lot like these kids just show up out of the corner and this gang was like “Damn it, again? OMG small children, please leave us alone!”

Honda hands over the symbolism sash, to which Jounouchi symbolically says “Nyeh.”

And Honda didn’t take it very well.

After tending to his kidneys for a little while, Honda decided to go back at it again at the Krispy Cream and do some sort of insane parkour over this completely ordinary fence.

Ah, the very first instance of real duel law where you duel over a relationship. In later seasons duel law is invoked for things like Mai’s marriage and the right to date Tea (and then just kind of forgetting you ever won the right to date Tea twice). But to think the very first time was Honda dueling for the right of Jounouchi to be part of nerd gang because Jounouchi had fallen to the dark side yo-yo gang across the street run by some 40 year old man with blue hair.

How many times is Honda gonna fight with a broom? Like are they just magnetized to his location? where are they even coming from?

Freakin janitor powers over here, put him in a Final Fantasy style RPG. I want to see what his limit break would be.

Not like it matters, because Hirotani very quickly explains why these yo-yo’s are at all a threat.

Which honestly shouldn’t be...so lethal? Seems like the weight is all you need, not really the spikes. But it’s at least stronger than Honda’s janitor stuff.

Unfortunate for Honda that he just destroyed an antique.

So with lightning reflexes, Yuugi does what he does most:

The death yo-yo ricochets back and does this little itty bitty scrape to this guy’s face and he’s real bothered by it. Although it’s like...well dude, you’re a 50 year old high schooler, I don’t think people will notice the scrape compared to everything else falling apart in your life.

And so then the Yugioh Season Zero team was like “oh shoot is it time to torture Yuugi???” and they got hella excited.

Like I thought it was just Yuugi’s class that were a bunch of disturbing criminal disasters, but I guess it’s the whole city. Like...was Yuugi’s class the good school?

I mean, it can’t be, there’s no way...

but like...is there a good school in this universe? How does anyone survive till graduation? If you so much as disgrace a yo-yo, you will get the torture treatment that I sure did expect in Yakuza games, but not so much in Yugioh, tbh.

Just a reminder: This is the third time we’ve beat up Yuugi this episode. Within the first meeting of Yuugi and Hirotani, he beat the tar out of Yuugi within eye shot of Jounouchi. So like...Jounouchi was reallllllllllllllllly lax on that deal, right? Like...he took his toot sweet time to realize “yeah this just ain’t ever gonna happen.”

And then the yo-yo wars begin.

Just like Solid Snake crawling through the radiation chamber.

Hirotani throws his Fyper-yoyo, Jounouchi intercepts with his Eireboy, and Hirotani’s completely terrible yo-yo just flies off the string again because Hirotani should have just sticked to using his fists. No wonder they wanted to recruit Jounouchi so badly, their yo-yo game is so off.

We never get a door to darkness in this episode, dipping our enemies into mind horrors. Instead, we get home-alone style traps. But, this makes sense. Not only do the show makers have to make Yuugi avoid solving problems with magic in front of Jounouchi, they also have to make it Jounouchi’s choice to leave Hirotani behind. If Yuugi did it for him in like...some sort of duel law situation...then that sort of leaves out Jounouchi’s choice in the equation.

Not like this ever really comes up in later seasons, since who even follows through with duel law and marries Mai? But like, it does feel like Season Zero calls out the later Seasons a bit in this regard. Honda got beat up because he tried to win Jounouchi back by force (or game, I guess.) That was just another form of coercion on the heels of Hirotani’s. What Jounouchi actually needed was to make his own decision to leave.

...most other anime I’d be like “I’m sure that’s just a translation error” but not this one.

So Yuugi runs to the roof where Jounouchi will never see this.

My audible sigh reading this line about fight club roof.

These stupid gang members went into Yuugi’s native territory, not just a fight club roof, but on a warehouse? They were dead before they arrived.

This was like maybe 3 frames of animation in just rapid succession, it was pretty silly and good.

Reminder that like 4 minutes ago, Yuugi was about to get like executed on a meat hook.

Speaking of getting executed on a meathook:

Hope you like the idea of glass in your eyes, because this anime’s got it.

They chase Yuugi around, in a sequence that was done mostly to conserve frames, so you rarely saw the ground until this shot:

Lots of falling down this episode, but unlike Tea, who fell from a warehouse ceiling once and just kind of rubbed her ass after and was like “ah damn it.” these guys won’t come out of it virtually unscathed.

Also, Honda is here now:

Jumping off of his symbolic sash trapeze, he decides to do in Hirotani for good.

Hey so like...walk the dog is a fairly gentle walk that a yo-yo does slowly on the ground right?

Just pointing out how sensitive Hirotani’s fingies are.

And he...didn’t appear to be dead, so I don’t have to add to the bodycount...but it’s gonna be a real long road for recovery.

And now, with the gang back together Jounouchi is back at school knee deep in make up assignments he’ll probably completely ignore since we know that in a years time, these fools are going to be trapped on Pegasus’ island, and at that point school will be just that place you talk about when you try to remember why you’re friends with Bakura.

---hey aren’t those chairs attached to the desks?

Because...holy crap, Anzu.

Honestly this is what you see before you die, but I guess Jounouchi died off screen after the episode ended, so I don’t have to add him to the deathcount (again). RIP.

Alright! That took like...8 tries to get Tumblr to save this one, but it managed! (well...I guess “managed” isn’t the word you’d use for a typing program that takes 8 tries to save)

Next time, we’ll be back to S5, for an arc I’ve heard is kind of boring. We’ll see. If it truly is, I can condense episodes into fewer posts. Or maybe it’s a secret gem? I guess we shall see.

And if you just got here this is a link to read all the Season Zero recaps from the start:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yuugi-muto/chrono

(there’s also a link to read all the Yugioh posts we wrote from the start in chrono order but straight up, this file won’t freakin save, and I just can’t even will myself to look up that link again. It’s on the home page of this blog on the right.)

[nebula-jazz]

Fictober prompt 28

ROTTMNT Donatello x reader

Note: Sorry I have been gone for so long! I have been wrapped up in school and I also know that this isn't my normal fandom... This is completely self indulgent because he popped on my feed on youtube and he was my first comfort character. And now I found ROTTMNT and I got hit in the face by my best friend on exactly my type... Intelligent, gremlin, cocky, and emotionally unavailable... So this is a complete callout to everyone who has the same type no matter the gender and please enjoy this drabble. And fully expect on several different fandom releases on Halloween including a oneshot for His World. But enough of my rambling! To the story!

You had been in quarantine for nearly an entire year and now your favorite month had been ruined by the hussle and the bustle of your closest aunt asking you to come to New York. Her explanation was that she was taken ill and she needed someone to look after the house and your youngest cousin April O’Neil, much to your distaste.

It was not that you hated your youngest cousin, opposite in fact you adored her, but you two never exactly saw eye to eye on most things. You two were so close up until about five or six years ago and then she changed and you felt as if for the worst. This change caused you both to drift apart.

Since she was your only friend and family member that got you; this distance caused you swirling into an unhealthy mind set. And you got caught up with the wrong people at the worst time in your life as your younger brother disappeared and your mom got distant.

Which lead you here, packing all research that you had gathered over the past few months since the shredder accident, your Bo staff, and other essential items. Taking the time to slide the delicate frames of your glasses up every few minutes. Your boss Baxter had called you a few minutes ago saying that he set you up an apartment and a plane to New York and expected you be ready for training with Rocksteady as soon as you landed. Thinking about it made you flinch.

Grabbing the metal case with your research, your duffel with clothes and toiletries, and your backpack filled with snacks your Bo and training clothes you headed down stairs. You kissed your mom on the head who was on the phone at the couch; gently leaving a large stack of cash that should last her awhile. You slipped out the front door and slid into a sleek car that Baxter had sent for you.

During the car ride you stayed silent, typing away at your computer, jotting down the breakthrew that you had made. Your specific specialty in his company was the idea of spirits and how to harness them, extract them, and even switch with them. Baxter had found out about you and what people and even yourself, at the time, believed as a silly project about four years ago. You had proven that spirits were real and that there was a possibility to do something with them.

He accelerated you through highschool and college, easily making you apart of a team and gave you everything that you needed for your research. You honestly didn’t care what he would do with it as soon as you had perfected everything in your now extensive project. All you cared about was getting your mom and brother back and he promised to keep the investigation open if you handed all research over to him as soon as you were done.

You barely slept on the plane. Fear creeping up your spine and turned your veins icey as you mulled over what was waiting for you when you landed. The training with Rocksteady was not normal. As he was a huge hog and the training was to get you faster, but it would inevitably end with a concussion and a broken bone as it normally would. Then Baxter would inject you with some green liquid that, yes would accelerate the healing process and you would no longer have any broken bones, but it would feel like your entire body was on fire and your back feeling like it was being ripped to shreds.

You eventually drifted into a fitful sleep. You felt like you had barely closed your eyes before you were woken up by the gentle but cold hand of Baxter. You were in a car now just outside of headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh MAh Gawd! Y/N! What happened to you?!” You winced at the worried yell that came from April. You had just gotten released from the lab and your head was pounding from the lack of food and water.

“Just a little scuffle just outside the office. Don’t worry about it.” You croaked out and offered a, what you hoped to be, a reassuring smile. You tried to swallow against the sandpapery walls of your throat.

You felt her soft but calloused hands cup your face as she looked at you. You winced as she prodded at the dark bruises on your jaw and forehead. She lead you to the kitchen where she started to clean the bruises and cuts up.

After several cups of water and an entire pizza, which you had devoured, she was now questioning you.

“So you are working for Baxter?” she asked, you gave her a quizzical look as you swallowed another bite of the second pizza that she had ordered. You had heard the slight tremor of fear in her voice and now it set you on edge.

“Yeah..” You answered slowly and pulled out your laptop. “He is funding my research. Take a look.”

You pushed the computer over and let her skim through the many pages of work as you dumbed down what she was reading.

“So... what you are saying is that you could put someone in a comatose state and do whatever you wanted to them but at the same time you can still talk to them in a spiritual state?” she summarized. With a soft smile you nodded, your eyes heavy from the long two days you had.

“However there are some side effects. With the trials that I ran at home it is extremely difficult to put them back in and more often than not their mind can completely erase one or multiple people from their memory. They will always remember the time they were, what I call, Ghost. There are still kinks in it but i'm pretty sure in this state there is a possibility to redirect this targeted amnesia to get rid of trauma.” You said excitedly.

She gave you a terrified look and excused herself and ran out the front door into the dim light of the dawn. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. Tears formed in your eyes and you fought down the urge to sob and throw up your food. You slammed the computer closed and stormed into the guest bedroom. You had honestly thought that she was going to be proud of you. She seemed genuinely excited about your research. But it was April, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from her.

A few weeks drifted by lazily and October was slipping through your fingertips. April was avoiding you, especially after you caught her in the act of trying to steal your laptop. So today, as a way to get away from the dreariness of the apartment and the fearful glances of April you were in the lab. You were in a loose hoodie and had a stack of pizza boxes next to you along with a large jug of water on your other side. You had just gotten done with another training session and were now working on a new test. it had gotten dark out and Rocksteady had volunteered for the new test.

You scraped your hand roughly through your hair in frustration as the program refused to start for the third time. You huffed in frustration, and looked up in alarm as the security alarms started to go off. You heard an explosion from behind you. Reaching down and grabbing your Bo you didn’t notice the jug being knocked over causing the computer to go haywire. You panicked as you tried to shut down the computer and the large machine pointed at whatever caused the explosion.

However you were too late to stop it from going off once you were able to press the emergency shut off just in time to prevent it from happening again. You heard a shout and roars from Rocksteady. you tried to reach for your more enhanced staff but were swiftly knocked out. All you saw as the world started to darken was green and a ghostly purple figure.

~~~~~~~~

That was a couple of days ago. You were now with 6 foot tall turtle ninjas. They had explained, with the help of April, what Baxter was going to do with your research. The person that you had shot was their brother Donatello. The genus out of the group who was allowing you to use his lab as you tried desperately to keep his body stable and fix his state with what little tools you had.

Your own paranoia had shot through the roof as any fast movement caused you to flinch very heavily. You and Donnie had found out that Baxter was injecting you with mutagen after a nightmare filled night caused wings to sprout from your back.

You stayed away from the other three turtles and only finding solace with Donatello. You both could ramble on and on about different projects you both were working on and the other would listen intently.

You hadn’t noticed how comfortable or how hard you had fallen until you reached the end stages of completing the ray that would make him right.

Neither of you two had noticed that you had started to flirt with each other. But everyone else knew and were eagerly waiting for him to return to normal. They were excited to see him finally kiss you and actually take you out on that date that he had been teasing you for a month with. April was happy to see you smiling again.

You didn’t realize how much you loved him or he you until you both were going over some of your note s to make sure everything was in order.

It was the end of November, just before thanksgiving. Donnie was excitedly telling you that he had been working on a surprise for you with Shelldon. That he wanted to give it you in person. And that he was excited to finally eat something instead of just watching everyone else eat. He was also rambling on how he was totally going to spar with you.

“i'm excited to finally get an infamous hug from you Don!” You chuckled barely paying attention to the notes and more on him. He laughed and he floated closer to you.

“I’m excited to give you one Angel.” he said cheekily. You glared lightly at him and the nickname that he gave you after your wings came to be.

You however stopped in your tracks as you read the small but major detail that you had mentioned to April all those weeks ago. The air ran from your lungs as a soft. “Oh.” escaped your lips.

“What?” he asked worried. He turned to the computer that had your notes on it and read through it and his face dropped. Tears welled in your eyes and the amount of hurt that ran through you was like that day that April ran.

And something inside of you knew, even as Donnie tried to think of anyone, anyone at all that he could possible forget, you knew it was going to be you. You stared at him tears running down your face and it was then you realized how hard you had fallen. And how much you will lose.

Two days before Thanksgiving was the day that was planned to fix him. You were in a room alone with his Ghost. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Here,” he said softly, and gestured for Shelldon to bring a small box forward. “This is for you... don’t open it until my eyes do.. ok?” He said leaning down and trying to catch your eye. You looked up at him, willing the tears back and smiled brightly.

“Will do Don! I will see you for that hug ok?” he smiles back softly and nods. He hovers his hand over your cheek, you lean into it until you feel the cool radiating off of him and you closed your eyes.

That unspoken ‘i love you’ rang through you head as you heard the machine wurr to life. You only stare at him as he floats by his sleeping body and you pray, you hope, and you plead to whatever god is listening. To allow you to have him, to allow him to remember you. As you slowly nod your head and you hear April press the button.

~~~~~~~

You try to stifle the sobs in your throat as you hear him and his brothers enjoy their thanksgiving meal that April and you had prepared for them. He didn’t recognize you as you sobbed in happiness when you saw his eyes open. He thought of you as a threat.

You carefully pulled out the small box as Shelldon floated beside you. You looked at him and he bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Slowly opening it you tried to steady your shaking hands. Inside was a locket, a bit larger than one you would find in a jewelry store. You carefully opened the locket and you saw a picture that you had taken with ghost Donnie and the music box version of your both favorite techno song. Engraved on the other half was the french translation of I love you. A loud sob ripped its way from your throat as you clutched it to your chest. 

Donnie was leaning against the wall closest to where you had ran off too. He was watching his brothers laugh and eat with their father and April. He had heard sniffling from the tunnel and quietly escaped the celebration to see where it had came from. He was surprised to see you covering your mouth and Shelldon with you. He was going to call to his creation until you had looked at Shelldon and pulled out a velvet box.

He waited a moment, watching you open it and something inside. He had to nod his head to the song that played. He did not expect the loud sob or the wail that came out of you next. He heard his brothers stop laughing and heard a soft.

“They opened it...”

“Yeah...”

“Poor Y/N... I can’t imagine.”

“Why can’t we tell him my sons?’

“Because he wouldn’t believe us.”

“Yeah! And he already distrusts Y/N... and they asked us not too.”

“A broken heart is something that can kill my children. Especially with a love that deep.”

Donnie didn’t hear anymore from his family. And confusion seeped into him. What happened while he was out?

[captainsassmanes]

Follow up to It’s the Little Things

Alex poked his fingers between the blinds and slowly lifted them, hoping not to draw attention to himself. 

It was 9am on a blazing hot Saturday and he’d been woken by the sound of a weedwacker whirring right outside his window. He didn’t have to look to know exactly who it was, but he was curious as to what the fuck Michael was doing.

He’d be lying if he said the image of Michael, shirtless and sweating, didn’t turn him right the hell on but this was getting out of hand.

After Alex had spilled his guts, throwing his insecurities into the wind before thinking about where they’d land, he couldn’t get up. He lived for helping Michael, for finding ways to give back, to make some kind of difference, however small, in the other man’s life. 

Michael had managed to call him on his bullshit, though. It was Alex’s way of staying involved, of being as close to Michael as he could be without physically being near him.

But he’d pushed too hard and it really was over. 

That first night was awful. He replayed their conversation, or the word vomit he’d spewed, nonstop. He drank, and then drank some more, until he woke up on the couch, stiff and barely able to move with a headache that made blinking agonizing.

After a puke, a coffee and some eggs, Alex had taken Buffy outside and sat in one of his patio chairs, taking in his house, his car, his stuff.

It meant little now.

The thought of Michael, of their potential relationship, possible future, had quietly been keeping him going all these years. To have that hope extinguished...he didn’t have the words to describe how empty he’d felt.

His chest ached as he went inside and opened his laptop, starting his search for the country’s top cities. He knew he’d want to live somewhere busy, populated, but safe. His job could easily be remote once his re-enlistment period was up, plus he had quite a bit of money saved so he could take his time getting readjusted.

New York City and LA definitely had his attention, the music scenes alone would be worth the trip, but the apartments were tiny, and he may end up having to sell a kidney to pay his rent. Miami wasn’t his scene and Seattle looked like the type of place to send his depression spiraling.

He grabbed his third cup of coffee and moved to the living room, getting comfortable on the couch and making room for Buffy to rest her head on his lap. He found another one of those top cities lists and was intrigued by Portland. LGBT friendly, relaxed people, music scene, not so far that he couldn’t visit if he wanted to.

That afternoon was spent clicking through photos, checking out postings for apartments, falling down a YouTube spiral of some artists who got their start in the city.

The next day, feeling a bit better with a plan under his belt, he’d ventured outside to Beam Me Up for a cup of coffee and a snack. On his way out, he literally bumped into Maria.

“God, sorry. Did any of that spill?”

Alex just blinked, an uncomfortable wave of jealousy moving over his skin and pinching him where it landed.

He shook his head and said, “no. It’s okay.”

She gave him a smile as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. He wanted to say something, even if it was small or unimportant, just something to break the ice, but his instincts telling him to get home were clouding his thoughts.

“Michael mentioned he saw you the other day.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. They hadn’t spoken in weeks; nothing more than worthless pleasantries and she knew why; he’d been honest with her. He’d also felt he’d been fair, leaving them both alone to their relationship, not interfering or getting involved.

At least he’d thought that was what he’d been doing.

But now, as he stared at his oldest friend, watching as her face changed to apprehension, maybe realizing that playing the we can connect over Michael card was the wrong move, he felt angry.

“I’m moving.”

Maria stepped back, surprised. “What?”

Alex nodded, looking around the street, hoping he looked as relaxed and casual as he was aiming for. “Yep. When my enlistment period is over.”

Her mouth opened and shut a few times, small sounds trying to become words escaping. Eventually, she was able to croak out a, “where?”

Alex shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Portland looked interesting. I’m looking at a few apartments there.”

The silence took over again as the street became a bit busier with the weekend tourists coming out to enjoy the weather and the sights. Maria’s hair bounced, the ends of her head scarf wrapping loosely around her throat. “You’re leaving because of me, right? Because of me and Michael? You can’t just go because – “

“I have no reason to stay, Maria.” Their eyes met and both sets were filled with a sadness neither could describe. Alex’s heart felt too heavy in his chest, memories of late nights and shared shakes and tears and joints and hugs threatening to leak out of his eyes. Instead, he smiled. “My time here’s up. I did my part but it’s time to see something new.”

With that he turned and walked to his car, coffee cup shaking in one hand while his fingers curled painfully around the bag in the other. Fuck he missed Maria. But he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look at her the way he used to again.

It was that night, his excitement dwindling and replaced by a quiet desperation, when the first text had come through.

Don’t leave.

Alex stared. Obviously, Maria had told Michael about their chat. Maybe he felt bad, a twinge of guilt. Alex hoped he did, then felt guilty for hoping Michael felt guilty. This was exactly why he had to leave.

He ignored the text and went back to his computer, sipping on a beer and occasionally giving Buffy some nice scratches behind the ears.

His phone pinged again. Alex stared at it, hoping his glare would make it blow up or something. In the end, curiosity got the best of him and he looked at the text.

Don’t leave me.

Alex’s heart raced as his fingers moved without thinking.

You wouldn’t come with me anyway.

He turned his phone off and tossed it across the room, not caring when it bounced along the wood floor a few times.

He didn’t sleep well after that. Thoughts of car rides and spaceships and apartments and soft blankets and bright sunshine and honey curls played behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest.

The further away from Michael he was, the better it’d be for everyone.

The next morning his doorbell rang at 8am. Alex had thought it was a part of his dream at first, cuddled up on a firm, warm chest, wiry hairs beneath his fingers while nails scraped his scalp, lulling him back to sleep. When the buzzing continued, he was thrown back into reality with a big, empty bed and a headache to boot.

Grabbing his crutches, he went to the door and threw it open, shocked to find Michael on the other side looking clean shaven with a cup of coffee.

Michael looked…different. Yes, the beard was trimmed, maybe his hair, too? His clothes were definitely clean. But there was an energy, an aura, around him that Alex hadn’t seen in years. One side of Michael’s mouth lifted, an almost bashful smile, and he held out the coffee cup. Even Michael’s fingernails were clean. Alex lost some time staring at those nails and remembering the comfort they’d brought him in his dream just moments before.

Michael cleared his throat, bringing Alex’s attention back to the moment. “Whole milk and one sugar.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Michael shrugged and pushed the cup gently into Alex’s chest. “Bringing you a coffee. Good morning, by the way.”

Alex would later blame the broken night’s sleep for the dreamy way he’d whispered out, “good morning,” while accepting the cup. He took a sip and was instantly in his glory. His favorite coffee from his favorite café made perfectly delivered by his favorite…

“Well, have a good day, Alex.”

While Alex stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open at a loss for words, Michael sauntered back to his truck and drove away.

It had fucked with Alex for the rest of the day.

After that morning, Michael made appearances most days. A delivery of a burger and fries one afternoon, randomly bent over the hood of Alex’s Jeep for a tune up a few evenings later, dropping off a case of Alex’s favorite beer. Each time Michael came around, the conversation was limited. Michael would smile, explain why he was there and, as soon as he was finished, he’d smile and say goodbye, driving off once again.

Alex hated it. It was so confusing and contradictory, it made him fucking furious.

Alex really loved it.

He was seeing more of Michael than he had in years and Michael was absolutely different but in a way that suited Michael, not as though he’d changed to fit someone else’s wishes. He looked great and seemed healthy. Happy.

Apparently, today was clean up the yard day. With a sigh, Alex turned from his window and looked at Buffy with her head raised and cocked to the side in concern.

“Yes, it’s Michael.” Buffy’s tail wagged furiously. “You little traitor.”

Alex watched him for a few quiet minutes, taking in every detail, from the way his curls looked almost blonde when the sun hit just right, to the pattern of body hair scattered across his torso, to the flex of his legs when he bent and stretched.

He’d realized the other night, as he sipped on one of the beers Michael had bought him, that he’d stopped looking at apartments, collecting more information on Portland. All it took was for Michael to notice him and his universe tilted, and its center of gravity became Michael once again. That was the first night since their fight he’d allowed himself to cry again.

With a sudden surge of resolve, Alex threw open his drawers and grabbed whatever clothes his hands touched. He took the time to get his leg on, wanting to feel stable and steady for whatever came next.

By the time he got outside, Michael was leaning against the bed of the truck looking like a tan god, bottle of water to his lips, head tossed back with his face covered in sunlight.

Taking a deep breath, Alex charged ahead.

“I want a reason.”

Michael startled a bit, lost in his own thoughts, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t help but stare at the dampness his hand missed.

“What reason?”

“Don’t be coy, Michael. It’s not cute.”

Playfully, Michael pouted while batting his lashes. Alex wanted to laugh and scream and cry and hold Michael, confusion and caution warring within him.

Alex looked at the ground, noting a nasty scuff across the toe of one of his boots. He pushed his foot into the sand and whispered, “why are you doing this to me?”

Michael made a quiet noise that sounded hurt and stood straight, blocking out the sun from Alex’s face. “To you?”

Alex looked up and fell into hazel eyes. He nodded. “You’re not actually trying to talk to me. But you’re being- being really kind and generous. I don’t understand.” He shook his head this time and took a step back so he could think. “You told me to get out of your life, I say okay, and then you come flying back into mine.”

Michael shook his head and started digging around the bed of his truck, apparently looking for his t-shirt to throw on as well as his trademark hat. Turning back to Alex, he shrugged and pulled out his car keys.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Alex.” The silence between them felt thick with opportunity; to be honest, straightforward. Just a chance. “But that night I…” Michael scoffed and broke eye contact, looking around at Alex’s house. “You’ve got a loose shingle up there – “

“That night you what, Michael?”

With a sigh, Michael continued, “I knew that might be it. I know I’ve pushed, and you’ve walked and recently I’ve been pushing a lot harder but I just, I dunno, never let myself imagine you not being in my life somehow.”

Alex crinkled his eyebrows, confused yet again. “If you didn’t want me to go then why say all that shit about – “

“I have been drowning for years, Alex. In booze, in sex, in work, in regret. Just fucking drowning. Then you came back, and your dad was the fucking devil and then my mom and Max. I couldn’t separate it all out. Everything felt like it went back to you.”

Alex nodded, feeling the familiar creep of guilt working its way into his gut. “And I said I understood all of that. I gave you as much space as I could.”

“Did you?”

Alex sighed and dug his hands into his pockets, wishing he had something in his hands to keep them better occupied. He could either choke Guerin at the moment or pull him into a suffocating kiss. He couldn’t decide.

“I guess I didn’t.” He blinked as the next thought smacked him across the face. “I’m not as strong as you, Michael. I can’t know you’re nearby and struggling and do nothing.”

Michael shook his head, taking a step closer to Alex.

“That’s why I’m moving. I can’t stop myself from being in your orbit and you made it clear that’s what you wanted. It’ll give me a fresh start, too, you know. No one’ll recognize the Manes name. No one will care. I can just be another face out there, have a little anonymity and figure out what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Alex groaned. “C’mon, Michael! You just came here not that long ago bitching that I sent you some food! I’d think you’d be thrilled that I’d be gone.”

Michael laughed. Alex watched as his face changed with the humor and his heart broke a little to see how much younger Michael could look when he relaxed. Even if just for a second. “I told you stay away. You didn’t. I told you again stay away and then you did. Then I couldn’t stay away and now you’re gonna leave. Can we just say the fucking things we need to say and stop doing this?”

Alex took the challenge at face value and straightened up, nodding his head. “Fine.”

“Why did you do all those nice things for me even when I told you to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

The ease with which those words slid from Alex’s mouth surprised both of them. There was something freeing about the honesty, of finally just saying the words out loud to Michael without fear of rejection or consequence.

He took a deep breath. “Because I love you and I was worried about you.”

Michael licked his lips and looked away, nodding in understanding.

“Your turn,” Alex whispered, pulling Michael’s attention back. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I regretted everything I said as soon as I said it.” Alex lifted an eyebrow, not fully understanding. “I thought I needed distance. Not seeing you all the damn time helped me focus on other things. And I did tell you the truth; I didn’t think we were good for each other and I really, really wanted to be good for Maria.”

Alex took a step back, feeling the burn in his throat start at the mention of his friend’s name when Michael’s callused fingers wrapped around his wrist. “The second I realized I probably pushed you completely out of my life, I regretted it. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to stop caring. I want to be better. I just – “

Michael stopped and took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed as his voice began to crack. Alex slowly shifted his wrist from Michael’s grip and gently held his fingers in his own.

Michael sighed, “can you ask me one more time?”

Alex nodded. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

They stood together in the blazing sun, sweating and staring at one another as though the world had fallen away. The moment was broken when Alex’s eyes shifted to Michael’s turquoise belt buckle. “But you love Maria, too.”

Michael nodded and watched helplessly as Alex let go of his hand. “I do. But I love Maria the same way you love Maria.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She’s my friend, Alex. That night we fought I had an epiphany.”

“An epiphany?”

“Yeah. You probably already know this but I’m an alcoholic.”

Alex’s head whipped up with concern in his eyes. His mouth moved but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Michael took it as his cue to continue. “I’ve also been a shit brother to Isobel, so I’ve been working on that. But the morning after I left here, I talked to Maria. Told her how I was feeling, she talked about her feelings and, we both just told the truth.”

“Which was?”

A smile tugged on Michael’s lips. “That we both love you.”

Alex cleared his throat, doing his best not to start crying. “I’d like to get back to the alcoholic piece of this, and I’m glad you’ve stepped up to support Isobel but, uh, are you and Maria still together?”

Michael shook his head. “Not for about, what? Two weeks now?”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“Go out with me.”

Alex waited a beat, making sure he’d heard clearly before repeating, “okay.”

“The Crashdown? Lunch tomorrow? Around 12?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

Michael smiled and closed his truck. Slowly, he took off his hat and leaned in, kissing Alex on the cheek. They were both just piles of sweat and beet[TS1]  red, but Alex thought it might be one of the most romantic moments of his life.

“I wanna do this right, Alex. From the beginning.”

Alex smiled. “Me, too. I’ll see you tomorrow. For our first date.”

Michael laughed, his youth bursting through every pore. “For our first date.”

[starship-squidlet]

New Music: Act 2, scene 7

Chapter summary: The aftermath of the fight with the Delanceys. Cora and Davey get to spend some time together.

Word count: 2,122

Warnings: blood tw, injury tw (nothing serious, but just as a heads up these are things that come up in the chapter)

Disclaimer: Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @i-am-a-wizard @xbanner-carriedx @chaotic-sunflower-galaxy (let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the tag list!)

Links: Spotify playlist, YouTube playlist, ‘Just the Way you Look Tonight’ on YouTube

A/N: Hey, look, I finally figured out how to put the keep reading links in mobile!!! Now y’all don’t have to scroll past mega-long chapters any more!!! I’ll go back and add them into the other chapters at some point, too. Also! There are some deleted scenes that I’m going to be posting today or tomorrow! Two are from this chapter, and one is from an earlier chapter and I just forgot to post it then (oops). So stay tuned for those!

Previous chapter: Act 2, Scene 6

Next chapter: Act 2, Scene 8

Davey turned around as the door to the club opened, ready to join the others in their typical gentle ribbing of Jack, Albert, and Race for being late, but his comments died on his lips at what walked through the door.

Race and Cora came through first. Even with her face buried in Race’s shoulder, the filth covering Cora’s clothes was obvious, and Davey immediately knew that something was wrong. This conclusion was supported by the next people through the door: Crutchie, clutching a bloodied handkerchief to his head and walking half-supported by Jack. They were followed by Albert, carrying Elaine on his back, and Mush, holding another bloody handkerchief over his nose.

Henry was the first person to move, running for the first aid kit Medda kept behind the bar. The others shifted into action right after him, getting chairs to set Crutchie and the girls down in, getting them glasses of water, and wrapping ice in towels to help with swelling and bruises. Spot took Mush by the shoulder and led him into the bathroom. Albert set Elaine on one of the bar stools and helped her out of one of her shoes, grabbing one of the bundles of ice and holding it to her ankle. Race set Cora down and gave her a quick, tight hug before picking up another ice bundle and holding it to his knuckles.

Henry went straight for Crutchie, checking out the bleeding gash over his eye first. “This isn’t actually as bad as it looks,” he said. “I don’t think it needs stitches. The bleedin’s slowin’ too. Keep pressure on it until it stops.”

Davey noticed Cora’s eyes flicking around the room, like they couldn’t focus on anything. With everyone flitting around, chattering with each other, demanding answers, he couldn’t blame her. He stepped forward hesitantly and brushed a hand against her shoulder. She flinched away, nearly falling out of the chair.

“I’m sorry!” Davey said. “Come on. Let’s go over there.” He offered his hand to her. Cora took it, trembling, and let him lead her to the other side of the club, where they sat down in a corner booth. The high seats blocked out some of the noise the others were making, like they were in a bubble. Davey looked down and saw Cora picking at the skin on her hands, pulling it away from where it had split over her knuckles. “Hey,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hands. She pulled away from him with a little gasp. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” Davey murmured. He held his hands up, then set them on the table. “I don’t want to hurt you, or scare you at all. I just want to help. What can I do?”

Cora shook her head and stared down at her hands. Davey nodded and crossed his arms on the table, resting his chin on them, hoping that his presence alone would help Cora relax.

Back over by the bar, an argument was brewing. Davey glanced over, trying to catch up on what he had missed.

“That’s it,” Jack was pacing back and forth, clearly furious. “That. Is. It. This is done. We’re done—all of it.”

“Jack, come on, you’re not makin’ sense,” Race said, shifting the ice on his bruised knuckles.

“No,” Jack snapped, spinning on him. “I said before—the last time—that we should stop before things got outta hand, but youse convinced me to keep goin’. Well, now it’s over.” He stalked over to Elaine and lifted her arm, showing a nasty scrape that went from her elbow almost all the way down to her wrist under the ripped fabric of her sweater. “Look at this. All of youse. Look at this, and at Crutchie’s head, and Mush’s nose. I’m not okay with this.” Elaine yanked her arm back and cradled it against her chest, glaring at Jack. “I ain’t gonna let anyone else get beat up over music.”

“What are you sayin’, Jack?” Mush asked, his voice low.

“It’s over,” Jack said, turning to face him. “All of this. The band. Over and done.”

“Jack, the Delancey twins have been beatin’ people up long before we started playin’ music and doin’ shows,” Albert protested.

“They didn’t start because of us,” Race added.

“Yeah, but we all became a target because of this,” Jack said. “Everybody knows that the Delanceys have been beatin’ up kids on Pulitzer’s orders since freshman year. Kids he couldn’t punish otherwise. Pulitzer wants to control us, that’s why he’s got Snyder and his goons patrollin’ the school all the time. If he can’t control us through legit means, he’ll do it through the Delanceys.” He flung his arms out. “Well, Pulitzer can’t control this. He tried—last night, he was the one who sicced Snyder on us, I’m sure of it. He’s doin’ whatever it takes to shut us down.”

“He’s doin’ whatever it takes, and he’s winnin’!” Mush snapped. “Because you’s lettin’ him! If we stop what we’re doin’ now, it’s tellin’ Pulitzer that we can be controlled, just like you was sayin’. It’s lettin’ him win and givin’ in to his pressure.”

“You’d really let him take away something that makes you as happy as music does over a couple of bullies?” Elaine asked softly.

Jack turned around and took her hands in his, looking up into her eyes. “If it would keep you—all of you, or even one of you—safe? Absolutely.” He kissed Elaine on the knuckles and released her hands, then turned around, looking at the rest of the group. “Look, youse may be okay with this, but I ain’t,” he said softly. “I ain’t gonna be responsible for anyone else gettin’ hurt.”

“You’re not responsible for this, Jack!” Finch insisted. “Pulitzer is. The Delanceys are. It ain’t your fault.”

“It’s none of our faults,” Spot said, taking a step closer. “The Delanceys is just a couple of meatheads. They ain’t thinkin’ for themselves. All they wants is to hurt other people. Pulitzer just gave ‘em an excuse to go after all of us. They was probably told that they could do whatever they wanted to us without gettin’ in trouble, and that just made us the easiest targets for them. The Delanceys have come after all of us before. It’s nothin’ new. Now we’s just easy pickins.”

“That’s the point!” Jack cried. “We’re easy targets to them. Why would they risk goin’ after anyone else when they could just keep pickin’ us off?” He grabbed Elaine’s arm again. “What’s it gonna take before we do let them win? Broken bones? Worse? What if they put someone in the hospital? What do we do then?”

Elaine snatched her arm back again. “Do me a favor, Jack. Don’t use me as an illustration.” She slid gingerly off the barstool and limped towards the door, stopping to pick up her bag. “It’s clear we won’t be getting any rehearsing done today. I’m going home.”

Finch sighed. “I’ll drive you.” He stood up and took Mush by the arm. “You too. Let’s go.” Mush didn’t protest, but let Finch pull him out of the club.

They passed Medda on the way out, and she gasped when she saw Mush’s face. “What happened?”

“The Delanceys,” Mush sighed. “Everyone’s okay. Henry’s patching Crutchie up now. Jack’s pissed, though, so fair warnin’.”

“Can I assume you all won’t be rehearsing today?” Medda arched an eyebrow.”

“Yeah, but we’ll be back tomorrow, don’t worry,” Finch grinned.

“I look forward to it,” Medda smiled. She patted Mush on the shoulder as she passed, and nodded down the street. “You’d better hurry and catch your girlfriend before she gets too far away.”

Finch glanced down the sidewalk and sighed. “Elaine! Wait! I said I’d drive you!”

Medda opened the door and stepped into the club. As advertised, the atmosphere was tense. Henry was taping up a gash on Crutchie’s forehead, Jack hovering nearby. Some of the other boys were close and seemed to be trying to help—Mike and Ike, Boots, JoJo, Specs. At the other end of the bar were most of the other boys—Spot, Blink, Albert, Race, Romeo, and Smalls. Medda looked around for Cora, concerned, but spotted Davey’s side in the corner booths and smiled to herself. She went to check on Crutchie first, and patted Henry on the shoulder. “That’s a nice job you’re doing there. If any of you need anything, I’ll be in my office.”

On the other side of the club, Davey glanced back down at Cora. She had her eyes squeezed shut, and her hands clamped over her ears. Davey raised a hand to brush against her shoulder, but thought better of it. “Cora? Cora, can you hear me?”

Cora opened her eyes slowly and looked over at him.

“They stopped fighting. It’s quieter now. It’s okay; you can uncover your ears.”

Cora moved her hands away for a moment. When Davey proved to be correct, she moved them down into her lap and started picking at her skin again.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Davey murmured, reaching out to take her hands in his. “It’s okay. You’re okay. No-one is going to hurt you. I promise. I won’t let them.”

Cora offered him a watery smile. Davey looked around, not really sure what to do. “Hey, Cora, what’s your favorite song? That we sing, at least. Or your favorite song to sing. Or perform. If… uh, if that makes sense.”

Cora stayed silent for a moment. Davey didn’t think she was going to answer, at first. But then:

“I like… I like when you sing Sinatra,” she said, her voice small.

“Oh yeah?” Davey grinned. “What’s your favorite Sinatra song?”

She paused. “Um… I can’t remember what it’s called. I liked the one you sang for your audition. That was real nice.”

Davey thought for a moment. “‘Moon River’? That’s a good one.”

Cora nodded. “It sounds real pretty when you sing it.”

Davey smiled to himself. “Thanks.”

They sat quietly for another minute. Cora shifted slightly and leaned into Davey. He very gently slipped his arm out from between them and wrapped it around her shoulders. “What other Sinatra songs do you like?” he asked finally.

Cora shrugged. “Lots. He’s got a nice voice. It’s soothin’. Like yours.”

Davey smiled down at her. “Thanks.” They lapsed into silence again. Once again, Davey was the one to break it, as he began to hum softly.

Cora glanced up at him as he began to sing quietly:

“Some day, when I'm awfully low,

When the world is cold,

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight.”

Davey didn’t miss the soft smile that was beginning to creep over Cora’s face, so he kept singing, emboldened now.

“Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm,

And your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight.”

The rest of the club seemed to fade away. He could no longer hear the other boys talking—he wasn’t sure if it was because they had left, or if he was just so focused on him and Cora in their little bubble.

“With each word your tenderness grows,

Tearin' my fear apart,

And that laugh, wrinkles your nose,

Touches my foolish heart.”

The longer the song went on, the more Cora seemed to relax. She rested more and more of her weight against him, letting her head fall against his shoulder. Her breathing grew steady and even, and her hands relaxed in her lap, no longer tearing at themselves.

“Lovely, never, never change,

Keep that breathless charm,

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you

A-just the way you look tonight!”

Davey’s breath hitched in his throat and he stopped singing. Cora looked up at him, green eyes wide, but she didn’t say anything. Davey swallowed thickly and whispered the next words: “And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart…” He found himself leaning lower, drawn by some magnetic force to Cora. His voice cracked, but he kept going with the lyrics, his voice getting even softer.

“Lovely, don't you ever change,

Keep that breathless charm,

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you

A-just the way you look tonight”

He swallowed again and pulled away. Cora looked down at her lap again, her hands shifting like she was about to start picking at them again. Davey took a deep breath, leaned down, and quickly pecked her on the cheek. When she looked up at him again, her eyes were even wider, shining happily as a beautiful smile spread over her lips. Davey grinned back at her.

“Just the way you look tonight.”

[angelicwolf98]

Dark Anticipations

A/N: This is my first time posting fanfic on here so please go easy on me. I wrote this almost two years ago, so, for now, it's unedited. My writing has greatly improved since then, so I want to see what people think of the story and see if it’s worth rewriting or not.

Pairings: platonic!Mark x OC, platonic!Jack x OC

Warnings: mild violence

Pain.

That’s the first thing my brain is able to register as I slowly regain consciousness. A dull, throbbing pain that reverberates throughout my skull.

What happened? Where am I?

Then I hear the voices. Fear grips my heart at the realization that I’m not alone. Continuing to feign sleep, I do my best to listen in on the conversation, hoping it could shed some light on what the heck’s going on.

There are two voices, both male. One voice has a deep baritone, while the other is more high pitched with an accent that I can’t quite place. These voices sound so familiar, yet I can’t put my finger on where I’ve heard them before.

“How long do you think she’ll be asleep?” the accented voice asks.

“I don’t know,” the deep voice responds. “From what I can tell, she took a pretty hard hit to the head, so she may be out a while.”

“I just don’t understand why they brought her here. I mean, what do they want with a freaking kid?”

The deep voice sighed, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

A sudden wave of intense pain shoots through my head, causing me to involuntarily groan.

“I think she’s waking up,” the accent says.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A large hand is placed on my arm, startling me. I quickly sit up and crawl backward as fast as I can until a wall prevents me from moving any further.

“Whoah, hey! Easy, easy. It’s all right, we’re not gonna hurt you,” the deep voice says.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my pounding heart, I finally focus on these two strangers. The minute I look up at them, my jaw drops. I now realize why their voices had sounded so familiar; it’s because I know exactly who these guys are. I mean, how could I not! I watch their Youtube videos every single day!

I glanced at the man to my left. He had dark brown hair that was flipped to the side, facial hair that was more stubble than anything else, and bright brown eyes that were filled with concern. He had tan skin, and his facial features suggested that he was probably part Asian. He was pretty built, but his muscles seemed relaxed, and his hands were slightly raised in a non-threatening way.

Focusing on the other man, I can tell that he’s slightly built too, even though he’s much skinnier than his friend. His dark brown hair is similar to the other guy’s, except it’s more spiked at the top. This man’s facial hair is more grown out, but not to the extent of being called an actual beard. He has pale, white skin, and cerulean blue eyes that are also filled with concern.

“Are you okay, lass?” the pale guy asks in his accent.

Lass…

His accent…

It’s Irish…

I mentally slap myself for not recognizing this sooner. Still gaping at these two men, I struggle to find my voice.

“Y-you’re, you’re Markiplier…” I stutter towards the Asian. “And you’re… Jacksepticeye…” I look at the Irish man in awe. Their concern soon turns into surprise.

“So… you do know who we are?” Jack asks. I can only nod. Of course, I know who they are! They’re two of the biggest names on Youtube! Well, on the gaming side of Youtube, anyway.

As the shock of seeing my two idols finally wore off, my mind was immediately bombarded with a million questions. What are they doing here? What am I doing here? Where exactly is “here”?

I glance around to find that we’re in some kind of filthy, dank holding cell. The only piece of furniture is an equally filthy single mattress that lays at my feet. I’m guessing that’s where I’d been laying only a few minutes before. I see a rusted bed frame in the far corner, which is probably where the mattress came from. Seeing just how aged and fragile the metal looked, I can understand why they would choose to lay on the floor instead of the bed.

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Mark speaks up, “and I promise we’ll answer as much as we can. Is it all right if we sit with you?” He asks this hesitantly, and I can tell he’s trying his best to show he means me no harm. I hesitantly nod, and they both sit on either side of me.

I don’t know how long we sat there talking, but what I do know is that as time passed, I began to feel more comfortable around them, more…safe. I told them that my name was Hailey Peters and I had just turned fifteen only two weeks prior. I explained that all I could remember was that I went for a walk after being cooped up inside all day due to a heavy snow closing school. I slipped on some ice, hit my head, and before everything went dark, I had seen two pairs of glowing eyes looking down at me.

Mark and Jack tensed as I said that. I looked up at them, seeing the distress in their eyes.

“You know who brought us here, don’t you?”

Mark sighed, “You wouldn’t believe us.”

“Try me.”

“You know our evil alter egos, that the fans made up and we brought them to life in our videos?” Mark asked.

I nodded. I knew all about Jack’s and Mark’s demonic alter egos, or better known as Antisepticeye and Darkiplier.

“Well, somehow, they’re real…and they’re the ones who took us…” Jack continued.

I let this new information sink in. Dark and Anti are real… and they kidnapped us… no. No no no no no. Heck no!

I stood up and faced the two Youtubers.

“Look, I may be one of those fangirls that squeals every time Dark or Anti makes an appearance in your videos, but I know fact from fiction!” I started rambling, “I mean, what is this, a fanfic! There’s no way Darkiplier and Antisepticeye are real!”

“Oh, but my dear, we are very real.”

I froze as a deep, demonic voice spoke behind me. Mark and Jack jumped up quickly, their eyes wide with fear as they stared at the figure behind me. I slowly turned around and came face to face with not one, but two demonic beings. The very beings that I didn't believe existed until now… Darkiplier and Antisepticeye.

They looked completely identical to Mark and Jack, but at the same time, were completely different. Dark was clad in his usual attire of a white dress shirt and grey suit, which matched his deathly grey skin. Anti wore black torn jeans and a black t-shirt that was stained with the blood that dripped from the slit in his throat. His pasty, white skin had a greenish hue to it, while Dark was surrounded by a blue and red aura of light.

I gasped in fear and began to back away from the demons before I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder and pull me backward. The next thing I know, Mark was standing in front of me, shielding me from Dark’s piercing red eyes. Jack moved forward a bit, trying to keep his counterpart’s malicious green eyes on him instead of me.

I was silently grateful for them attempting to keep me out of harm’s way, even though we had just met. Because I knew very well what these alter egos were capable of, and the fact that they were alive terrified me.

“Ḑ̣̔̄ò̘̐ͅ ̫͚̀̕y̖̭͆͗ỏ̠̣́û̘̞́ ̣̙̂̆b̛̫̱̆ė̢͍̈́l̳̰͂͠ì̝͖̾e̪̲͂̓v̜̲́̓e̱͚͂͒ ̟̥̀͛w̬͖͒̈́ĕ̼͙͋'̞̼̈́́r̬̻̒̔e̝̱͊͠ ͖͓̇͝ŕ̯͆͜e͚͓̅͊a͕̘͌̈́l̩̙̎͝ ̨̗̍͐n̛͔̩̆o̩̙̾̽ẉ̬̂͐,͍̈́̉ͅ ̫̳̇̊H̥̤̄͘a̩͇͛̚i̳̘̊̊l̫̜̅͝e͈͚͆̈́ý̢̗͐?” Anti asked with a psychotic smile.

My heart skipped a beat at the fact he knew my name. Jack placed his hands on my shoulders as Mark kept his stance between me and the demons, both men's eyes never leaving the glares of their egos.

“What do you want, Dark?” Mark finally asked.

Dark smirked, “I thought it would be obvious. We’re here for the girl.”

My body shook with fear, and I felt Jack’s grip tighten on my shoulders.

“Over our dead bodies,” Jack growled.

The demons chuckled. “W̲̑e͊ͅ'̱͑l̼̽l̝̕ ͓̐g̈́͜l̮̉a͎̿d̙̔l͙͝y̰͠ ̫͛t͚̋a̠͋k͙̎ẽ̱ ̖̈́ṷ͛p̲̊ ̪̎ṭ̀h͇̑ḛ̀ ̡͆o̖͗f̠͒f̛̹e̮̕r̂͜…”

“Once our plan is complete.”

Dark flicked his hand, sending Mark and Jack flying across the cell. They slammed against the wall, Jack slid to the ground while Mark crashed into the old bed frame, causing it to completely fall apart. Before I could even react, Dark and Anti grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I kicked and screamed, fighting with all my might, but it was no use. I was powerless against these two demons.

“Hailey!!”

I heard my name echo through the hallway as Mark and Jack threw themselves at the cell bars, all the while yelling threats and curses at the demons. Dark and Anti took no acknowledgment of it as the dragged me into a room and tied me to a chair. By this point, I was crying, my anxiety spiking to new heights.

“What do you want with me?!”

Anti chuckled maliciously, “Y͋͜ó̭u͕̔ ̢̈s̢͂ȇ̲e̬̾,̠͝ ̭̽ḱ̪ĩ̢t̫͊t̮̓e͍͗n̦̐,” I cringed at that nickname, “ĕ͉v̘́e̱̓n̰͠ ̣̅t͔͆h͓͂o̭̚u̝͆g̤͠h̛͕ ͈́ẅ́ͅe̠͂ ̥̌a̬̋r̨̅e̠̋ ̥̀o̤̾ư̫r̨̂ ̻̂o̺͐w̼͝n̡͊ ̺̉b̈́��e̥͝ǐ̠ñ͓ǵ͜ŝ͕,o͆ͅů̗ṟ̆ ̼̈́ẽ̢s̺̓s̡̚e̩̽n͇̋c̤̈́e̝̾ ̣͐ị̌s͚̃ ̙͑ŝ̟t̯̾ȋ͖l̐ͅl̰̎ ̮̄c̞̈́o͓̔ṇ̽n̦̅e̦͂ç͝t͉̃e̺̎ḍ̓ ͂ͅt̠̽o͌ͅ ͉̉t̠̾h̖͊o̯͆ş̐e̛ͅ ̧̓m͕̋o̤͛r̞̄o̭͆ṅ̢s̝͗.W͐ͅh͚̉ḯ̗c̼͂h̻̀ ̲̕m̹͒e͙͛a̺͑ň͕s̟̓ ̦͐ị̚f̥͗ ̜̆t͖̓h̭͑e̠͌y̼͝ ̻̍d̼͒ì̻ẹ̉…”

“…we die.” Dark continued. “While we can hurt them all we want, we can’t kill them without killing ourselves. So to free us of this, we need the blood of our makers, and the essence of an untainted soul.” Dark smirked at the as my mind struggled to wrap around this information. They needed my soul… They were going to take my soul…

“Ẇ͙e͑͜'̺͗v̜͐ë͓́ ̧͝n͎̑e̖͊v̝̏e̜̚ȓ͚ ͕͝s̲͠e̜̾ẻ̱ṅ̞ ͍͝s͓̅ō̼m̱̈́ė̝ō̜ṇ́e̪̾ ̦͋s̪̚o̪̓ ͖͐p̡̈́u̖̅r̯͝e͔̾,” Anti said as he scraped his fingernails across the blade of a very large knife. Dark slowly walked behind me as Anti continued to speak, “I̲͌t͎̑ ̜͘w͙̚ȃͅs̱̎ ̣̇a̺̎l̼̒l̦͝ ̐ͅs̨̑o̼̒ ̬̈p̲̈́e͕̍r͕͌f̣̄e̼̋č͚t̳̍,̬͂ ͚̋u̦̓ś̢ ̫͒f̺͐i̧̓n͚͋d̮͘i͕̎ñ͍g̬̽ ̰͠t͖̚h̡̍ḛ̆ ̳́v͍̎é̥r͍̾y̘͝ ͙̃t̯̆h̫͝ĭ̞n̡̕g̜̐ ̦͐w͙͐e̼͘ ͓͐ṉ̉ě̳e̝̓d̟͐e̝̔ď̥ ͎̊m͔̂o̫͝s̡̏ẗ̺́.”

“And now, we can finally be free.” Dark was now standing behind me. He gripped my hair painfully tight and yanked my head back, exposing my neck. Anti walked towards me, an insane glint in his green eyes as he raised the blade. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that there was no escape. Just as I felt the cool metal touch my delicate skin, a loud bang filled the room.

“W̧̊h̗̿à̤t͖̄ ̧̎t̮̄h͍̎e̝̒—”

I opened my eyes just in time to see Jack smack Anti across the face with a metal pipe. He fell to the ground.

“How did you—” Before Dark could finish, Mark tackled him to the ground and stabbed him in the chest with a knife he had grabbed off the wall. Mark began untying my hands from behind me while Jack worked at the ropes around my feet.

“How’d you get out?” I asked as the astonishment wore off.

“Took a screw from the bed frame. Picked the lock,” Jack huffed breathlessly.

Suddenly, I saw movement behind him. Just as I yelled in warning, Anti lunged at Jack and pinned him to the ground. Jack used all his strength to hold Anti’s arm back, which still held the knife. Mark freed my hands and rushed to help his friend as I finished untying my feet. Once I was finally free, I looked up to see Anti lying on the ground with his very own knife protruding from his chest. Before I could say anything, Mark grabbed my hand and we all bolted out the door, ran through the maze of hallways, and finally found the exit. But we didn't stop there.

Once we were outside, we continued to run, trying to put as much distance between them and us. We kept running until we couldn't run anymore. By the time we stopped, the building we had escaped was miles away. All three of us collapsed as we caught our breath. It was only now that I realized we’re in the middle of a forest.

“Hailey, are you okay?” Jack asked breathlessly. I looked at him with tired eyes.

“I-I don’t know…” I then told the boys everything that had occurred while we were separated. When they heard about the demons’ plan, their faces fell in defeat. I knew what they were thinking. As long as Dark’s essence is attached to Mark’s, and Anti’s to Jack’s, then they weren’t really dead. They’d be back, and probably very ticked off.

Mark hoisted himself up. “Come on, we should keep moving. Who knows how long we have before…” He trailed off, but Jack and I both knew what he meant. We were all thinking it. We may have escaped, and we may be safe. But the question was, for how long?

[qwordy]

First Line Tag

I was tagged by @zmlorenz for this tag. Thank you, I’m up for it as it is a nice distraction from my grief.   I’m tagged @raevenlywrites @bitchyeahmagnets @confunderewrites and @andiwriteunderthemoon I’m showing you the first lines of each POV in Chapter 1 of my WIP Humane Society for Creatures and Cryptids.  Thalia:  There are two types of people in Pandora: those who will never leave and those who want nothing more than to get the hell out. Thalia Lambros was the latter. She already had everything planned.  Once she finished her senior year at Pandora High, she would take her car and drive straight out towards Telluride until she was out of Colorado entirely. From there, she’d end up wherever she damn well pleased. It didn’t matter, as long as she wasn’t in Pandora. Melpomene:  There was too much to do.  She had been trying to fix the leak in the bathroom sink for over an hour now and all she had to show for it were wet clothes and a pile of even wetter towels slowly growing next to her.  She wasn’t a plumber. She wanted to call a plumber to fix this but, oh no, no one was allowed to help the Lambros family. No one was allowed in to just fix something that could probably be solved in a few minutes rather than the hours it was taking Mel to attempt to watch YouTube tutorials on a very spotty wi-fi signal.  It was going nowhere fast. Calliope:  “You’re really not being all that helpful, Harriet.” Calliope folded her arms and laughed at the sasquatch pushing a rake forward against a pile of mucky leaves and loose hay, most of which was sticking to the hair on her body. She’d shake it off creating yet another mess.  Harriet grunted and groaned as her tantrum grew at her discomfort. “Come on, hand me that and I’ll finish it.  Start picking those off yourself and then we’ll go get the wolves.”  Harriet grunted away, pushing the rake towards Calliope.  She began scraping away at the area behind the house, clearing the small entrance hidden behind stone steps.  Calliope was happy to see that it wasn’t as clogged as she originally supposed and would provide an easy entrance to a former wine cellar for Sapphire.  It wasn’t long now when her pups would come, and Calliope wanted to have easy access between the quarantine room and the den they were making. Asha:    The truth about Asha Singh was that she had moved to three different towns in the last year and a half and out of all of them, this one was the worst. All she wanted for her senior year was to stay in one place long enough to actually finishing unpacking her books and maybe make some friends.  The only friend Asha had was her cousin, Eila and that was only because Eila was in the same situation as Asha.  Their parents both ran Singh Resorts and so wherever their families went, they were forced to go.  Sure, they had moved to some pretty nice places.  The last three had been in Maui, Singapore, and Spain.  So, coming to a tiny former mining town in the middle of the southern Rocky Mountains had not been an ideal place to finish out her high school career.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Logically Speaking: Two

Tony Stark listened to your phone call and frowned. You sounded fucking tired. The kind of tired that needed a vacation and some tequila. He tried not to listen but... well. He hadn’t known it was you. He thought it was an intern or something. He’d never heard you sound like that. So fucking flat.

“No, just tell me how much he owes you,” you repeat. “Of course I can pay it, I’m his payee. I pay all his bills. But I need to know what the bill is.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Fine, that’s fine. Send me the invoice and his rental agreement. I’ll get it paid tomorrow. M’kay... yup. Thanks, Rick.” You put your phone back in your back pocket and continue fixing your meal. If you’re pretubed you don’t show it. 

You don’t seem to notice anything at all but the chicken you’re grilling. Tony inches closer, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

You know he’s there. You don’t care. It’s none of his business and it’s a private matter. You may live in a Tower that has his name on it, but you don’t answer to Tony Stark. You’re just biding your time until Fury decides you served your time. Tony cleared his throat and you glance up. “Yes?” you ask quietly. “So uhh, any plans this weekend?” he asked.

You shrug and look back at the grill. It doesn’t matter and he doesn’t really care. “Want some plans?” he asks. “No,” you say in the same flat tone, “Not with you.” Tony stepped back away from the counter. For being someone that was so good at hyping people up, you were really good at stopping them cold. He’d never seen you be that fucking empty and cold. He left defeated as you assembled your salad. “You’re up, Rogers.” he said as he started trying to find your financial records. He wanted to know whose bills you were paying. What connections you had.

You sat at the table and picked listlessly at your salad. You knew you needed food. You needed to eat. You were due to the training room for your daily round of “training” in 30 minutes but there was nothing that sounded or tasted good. Some people ate when they were depressed. You survived on caffeine and Tylenol. Sometimes ice water. You pushed it away and sighed, standing up slowly and clearing your plate. You really hated this and you honestly wished you were in jail but in jail you couldn’t take care of everyone. The family your powers had torn apart.

You head down to the training rooms and take a spot against the wall. You know you should probably stretch or something but... all you’re going to do is move swiftly out of the way. You have super speed- ish and you can manipulate energy fields. You don’t need to fight hand to hand. You just have to get out of the way. You don’t fight. 

Even as Steve is yelling at you. Trying to make you fight back. Not even after he’s nailed you a couple good times. It infuriates him. He literally cannot handle it. He tells you you’re going to get people killed. That it’s your job now. But you keep dodging, using the “protective interventions” that have been pounded into your head over the last 7 years for your other job. “Grow up!” he barks, “You’re going to get someone killed!” Somehow, in the back of your mind, that was enough. How fucking dare he. He didn’t even know how to use twitter. 

You grab hold of the threads of his energy field and pull. Hard. Whipping him around like a ragdoll for a few seconds. Steve, no matter how hard he tries, cannot fight. Back. He’s stuck, about 9 inches off the ground being whipped around like nothing. Until you fling him to the side and he slides across the mats. You’re trembling and pale but you stay upright. Folding your arms across your chest, “Fuck off, Cap.” You turn on your heel and head towards the doors, pushing them open with a bang. Steve watches you go. He knew you could manipulate energy. He knew you could use it to move things, like the train you tried to stop. But he didn’t know you could whip a person around like that. Steve had been powerless to move until you dropped him like a sack of garbage. He didn’t know how you did it, none of them had ever asked how. It wasn’t anywhere in your dossier, not from the scientists that had done this to you or the testing Fury had done. As he scraped himself off the mats and popped his neck, trying not to feel like his pride had been dinged, he thought it was probably time to find out. Clint strolled across the room, smirking, looking a little impressed. “How’d that work out for you, Steve?” he asked. 

He’d told Steve to ease up on you. That you needed careful handling. “Fuck off, Hawk,” he said stretching. “Language,” Tony gasped, mock scandalized. “Any luck with your digging?” Steve asked with a sigh. Tony nodded, “A lot actually. Her back story is fucking tragic... Like one bad day away from becoming the bad guy tragic.”

“Lay it on me,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “So... long story short, Mom and Dad regularly did and sold massive amounts of drugs. They’re in jail and she pays their commissary accounts. They’re lifers. And she has two younger brothers. One on the hook for a murder he definitely did and one that’s so fucking fried on drugs he can’t pay his own bills.” Clint whistled softly, “So, it’s fair to say she grew up. Quick. Looked around a bit and said, “Fuck this I’m out?” Tony nodded and shrugged, “Pretty much. I mean, she got in a bit of trouble as a kid but mostly some petty theft. Food. Once some shoes... Not too hard to figure out why. Also not too hard to figure out why no one pressed charges... Small county. People knew who she belonged to.”

“When’s her birthday?” Clint asked suddenly.

“Why?” Steve asked. “I need to know when to stage a bit of a party... And when to avoid them. If we out and out just start giving a fuck about her she’s going to keep shutting us out,” Clint said. “She’s not used to being cared about to start with and she probably avoids us because she learned to avoid conflicts to survive.” Tony snorted, “You really need to stop watching Dr. Phil with Bruce.” Clint rolled his eyes, “I’ll have Tasha start with a girl’s day. See if we can’t coax her out of her room to start with... it’s super not healthy that she stays in there so much.”

_______

Back in your room, you lay on the bed. You’re hungry and thirsty and tired but there are people everywhere and you don’t feel like trying to stay out of the way. You sit up slowly and make your way to the desk. It’s been a month and you can’t hack it. Everything you do is wrong. It makes sense because you aren’t a hero. You’re a time bomb. You could flip at any time. It’s what you were made for. So you start drafting a letter. A letter of resignation. Telling Fury to take you to jail and outlining what you’d like to make sure he takes care of.

Natasha pauses at the door. She knows you’re there. You don’t go hardly anywhere in the tower but here. Unless you try and make something to eat or go for a run. It’s the closest thing to a sanctuary you can find. She’s got some sweet and sour chicken and a coke. It’s awful for you but it’s comfort food she figures. And throwing Steve around like a rag doll probably made you hungry. She knocks and she can picture the look of irritation on your face. You like being left alone. She hears drawers open and close and papers shuffling before the door opens.

“I brought food,” she said smiling a little, “As a thank you for throwing Steve around a little... It’ll make a great youtube video.” It smells amazing but you back away a little. You’re used to being lonely outside of work. You’ve never had many friends anyway. “I’m not hungry, but thank you,” you say politely starting to shut the door. “Y/N,” she said, thrusting it out, “Just take it and you can eat it when you’re hungry. I mean. There’s a microwave.” You take it hesitantly and nod, “Thanks, Natasha.” She smiles a little, “Any time... Do Sam next. He keeps stealing my peanut butter.” She winks and turns to walk down the hall. Leaving you to just eat and watch your shows in peace. She hopes Clint’s right and it’s like feeding strays. That a little food and some affection will go a long way. But she knows at the very least, you’ll eat. Probably before she makes it back to her own room. 

[simpleidiotpsychic]

Serizawa Week Ficlet #2: Power

@serizawaweek2019

Day 2: Gen. Tome learns the true extent of Serizawa’s powers.

AO3 Link

“Fuck,” Reigen wheezed.

It occurred to Tome in that moment that he didn’t usually swear in front of her. She’d assumed he just never swore in general, but now she had a flash of suspicion that he consciously chose to wash his mouth out around her and Mob.

What the hell, Reigen. She was 17, not a baby.

But this thought came and went very quickly because they were both currently running for their lives, and that was a more pressing issue to attend to.

The forest around them bent with a cracking and snapping of trees, like they were wrenching their own roots out of the ground. It was only a little farther until she and Reigen made it back to the village at the edge of this cursed woods, but the sun was blotted out by a mass of darkness chasing after them. At this rate it would catch up to their heels in no time.

Tome had abandoned her dress shoes to run better, and her socks were absolutely sloshing with mud. She wasn’t used to running in a suit either. Since this was the first weekend job they’d allowed her on, she thought she’d put on the charms and prove herself as a useful marketer, fashion and all. She wanted more experiences that could actually be put on a college application when the time came, and maybe she’d been a little inspired by Reigen’s general getup as well. But now even the memory of how snazzy she’d felt earlier was a little bitter with how much the nice blazer weighed her down. At least a suit was better than her school skirts for running, but her tie kept flapping around her head like it was trying to attack her face.

She didn’t want to die looking so stupid. Least of all with Reigen.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” he was spouting like a mantra, stumbling out of the way of a falling log. He threw his arm across Tome’s back--either to keep spurring her onward or to shield her from something, she didn’t have time to check--and then the whole earth heaved under them, throwing them up into the air. Something grabbed her before she fell back down again. The world spun and jerked around. Then she found herself hanging upsidedown with her legs held fast by something itchy like ivy. She blew her tie and her hair out of her mouth. The darkness had caught up with them and she couldn’t see a thing.

“Reigen-san!”

“I’m working on it!” came his voice from beside her, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was similarly confined.

Well. They’d lost.

“My mom’ll never forgive me if I die!” she yelled, and the darkness grew thicker, suffocating. It was like she could feel it sticking to the insides of her lungs. This wasn’t even supposed to be a real exorcism! It was supposed to be a networking event!

“Your mom will never forgive me, she practically murdered me just because you lost your uniform’s tie--”

“It was your fault for not going down that sewer after it--”

“Are you telling me you’d gladly wear a sewer tie?”

“You’re the worst!”

“I know! Shut up!”

Then all of the sudden the darkness exploded in a blinding wash of purple. The awfulness constricting in Tome’s lungs shriveled up into nothing and she gulped in good, fresh, warm air and blinked into sudden sunlight.

She was hanging in the air not by possessed trees now, but instead by Serizawa’s psychic powers. He had both hands extended toward them. Reigen was weirdly sideways and looking irritable.

“Just in time, Serizawa,” he said, spitting out a leaf.

Serizawa smiled a little, but looked worn out and worried.

He gently tilted them both upright and then floated them to the ground, depositing them lightly on their feet. Tome stood there for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to think of a joke, but then the shock wore off and she realized where she was standing.

Serizawa had not just exorcised the evil entity of this woods. He’d reduced the trees surrounding them to nothing but splinters in an instant. A huge circle was leveled to a fine powder around them, indistinguishable browns and greens all trampled down together, as if there hadn’t been a forest here at all within ten meters.

Tome was stunned. It was more power than she had ever seen Serizawa use.

He was still thrumming with it, a certain intensity in his eyes that wasn’t usually there, a leftover energy radiating from him.

It maybe frightened her a little, how very powerful he was.

Reigen seemed to sense something, because he stepped his way through the rubble and laid a hand on Serizawa’s shoulder.

“Just in time,” he repeated, in an oddly comforting way. “Good work, Serizawa.”

Serizawa seemed to shake off his darker mood and his smile became more genuine.

“You two really need to be more careful,” he chastised.

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

Tome had done some research. She knew that Serizawa Katsuya, perhaps one of the most powerful espers in Seasoning City, had not just popped up out of nowhere.

What could she say? She was a conspiracy theorist at heart. Just out of her own interest she’d been poring over news footage and Youtube cellphone videos of the terrorists who tried to take over the world just over a year ago, and she’d spotted an umbrella among them that made a sick feeling coil in her stomach. After that shock, she’d had to stop prying for about a week or so. It felt like she’d seen something private, something twisted.

But she was always too curious for her own good. She couldn’t stay away from it.

She went to the internet and found a tiny local newspaper story about a boy twenty years ago who hurt four other kids and his own mother in an accident. The story didn’t supply details on the nature of the accident, but it did supply a name.

Serizawa Katsuya.

She started grilling Mob, who to his credit lasted a very long time before he finally caved under peer pressure.

“Serizawa-san has had a hard life,” he said simply. “He drew the attention of cruel people.”

“Tell me about Claw,” she demanded.

So he did. She could tell he was leaving out important details, probably for Serizawa’s sake, but she couldn’t blame him for that. She felt a horrible guilt even asking in the first place, like she was betraying Serizawa and everything he’d done for her.

But she was always too curious. She needed to know.

She’d known for awhile now.

She knew Serizawa Katsuya was powerful, so powerful that he was actually quite dangerous.

And sometimes she didn't know what to do with that.

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

They still had a ways to walk to get back to the village. It would probably take some explaining to tell the villagers why their local forest had a giant hole in it now, but they’d surely be relieved to hear that their evil spirit problem had been greatly reduced.

Reigen talked too much as they walked, like he always did, and Serizawa quietly chuckled off and on. Tome was a little distracted. She’d lost her shoes after all, and now she just felt kind of foolish for dressing like a professional when she was really so over her head all the time.

Also her ankle hurt. A lot.

She must have twisted it or something. It kept shooting pain all the way up her calf to her knee, until she was limping to avoid putting pressure on it. It was just turning out to be an unexpectedly shitty day.

“Are you alright, Kurata-san?”

Tome stopped and looked up. Serizawa had appeared beside her, his eyebrows just slightly creased with worry.

“It’s just my leg…” she mumbled, feeling weirdly embarrassed. Or maybe it was more like ashamed.

Ashamed for knowing. Ashamed for being scared, even for a moment.

“Can I look at it for you?” he asked.

She sat there on the ground and he knelt in front of her, like a knight in front of a queen, and gently rolled her nasty mud sock off her foot. He pressed her heel between thumb and forefinger. It kind of made her think of getting help from her dad when she was little, when she scraped her knee or something. Even now she was still young enough to get that treatment sometimes, if she hurt herself badly enough and her dad was there. If the timing was just right. He was a good dad, all things considered.

Serizawa’s fingers were big but careful, barely touching her unless they had to test something, and then they were firm and sure.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, laying his palm on the bottom of her muddy foot and pushing up slowly.

“No-- not yet-- YEP there it is.”

Reigen hovered over them with a calculating look, but she had a feeling he was just bullshitting because he wasn’t sure how to be actually useful at the moment.

“It’s not broken, but…” Serizawa frowned. “Well. My powers aren’t really good for healing,” he said quietly.

Only destroying things.

She thought maybe she spotted a hint of sadness in him because of that, and she again felt ashamed.

“That’s ok,” she said lamely.

He turned, still kneeling, and patted his back. “Want a ride?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but laugh because it was so ridiculous. They were both still wearing suits. It looked so stupid.

“A ride would be great,” she said.

She climbed up on his back and he looped his arms under her knees and stood. Reigen was sneering at them. But Tome liked this, honestly. She perched her hands on Serizawa’s shoulders and sneered right back because hey she was taller than Reigen now so fuck you Reigen.

Also Serizawa’s back was warm, and she could feel a sturdiness behind her, like he was holding her in place ever so gently with his powers as well, to make sure she didn’t fall.

You’re really powerful aren’t you, Serizawa-san?

But like Mob he didn’t see a usefulness in psychic powers. In the sort of powers that could level trees and take over the world.

He instead saw usefulness in carrying someone on his back, very carefully, making sure they didn’t fall. In having gentle hands.

She remembered what he’d told her about finding out for herself what skills were important to her, and doing her best to put those out into the world. She decided that Serizawa was doing a really good job.

She luxuriated against his back like a queen, or maybe more like a cat who’d stolen her owner’s dinner.

“This is so much fucking better,” she declared.

Reigen’s head whipped around at the swear with the most alarmed look she’d ever seen.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #20: Decadence

Prompt: bisect | Master Post | On AO3

So after upsetting people with my prompt eighteen fill and outright traumatizing folks with my prompt nineteen fill (regrets: none), here’s some fluff and food porn. The recipe I had in mind for the goody here is based off the one in THIS video from HidaMari Cooking on YouTube.

When Synnove turned around, closing the coldbox door and cake pan in hand, she was met with the hungrily curious stares of both Galette and Aymeric sitting at the kitchen counter. She yelped, nearly dropping the pan before she got her other hand under it. She turned a glare on both innocently blinking individuals and jabbed a finger at them.

“There are rules in this house about sneaking,” she said.

“Oops,” said Aymeric, completely unrepentant. Galette giggled on the stool next to him.

Synnove grumbled good naturedly as she took the two strides back to the counter, opposite her lover and her carbuncle, setting the cake pan to the side next to an empty glass, a sheet pan, an offset spatula, a serving plate, and a towel. She picked up the small bowl of cream from the little warming device it had been slowly heating on top of for the past ten minutes, setting it in front of herself, and dipped a small spoon into the bowl, then touched the spoon to her wrist to check the cream’s temperature. Warmed through but not scalding, perfect. She set the spoon down and dragged over the cutting board piled with finely chopped chocolate on it.

Aymeric set his chin in his hand, leaning on the counter as he watched her carefully slide the chopped chocolate into the cream. “What precisely are you making today, Synnove?” he said.

She scrapped the last bits of chocolate into the bowl with the knife she’d used to cut it, before turning to set both knife and cutting board in the sink. “Chocolate ganache at the moment,” she replied as she turned back. She picked up her spatula and began stirring the chocolate-cream mixture.

Galette’s ears had pricked, standing straight up on her head like a hare’s as she vibrated with excitement. She chittered. Chocolate ganache for what, Mama?

Synnove smirked, but didn’t look up from her stirring. The chocolate was slowly starting to melt into the warm cream and she didn’t want any lumps in her ganache. “Oh, nothing special,” she drawled, “just a chocolate hazelnut cheesecake.”

Galette cheered, front paws tapping against the stool in delight. YAY!

Aymeric hummed thoughtfully. “Chocolate hazelnut?” he said. “I don’t believe that’s a combination of flavors that I’ve enjoyed before.”

Synnove stopped stirring. Galette stopped tappity-tapping her feet. Arcanist and carbuncle exchanged a look of disbelief, before turning to stare incredulously at Aymeric. He blinked back at them.

“Never had chocolate and hazelnut together?” said Synnove.

“Never.”

“Never ever?”

“Most assuredly never.”

A slightly worried yip. Mama, stir the ganache.

Synnove automatically started stirring again, still staring at Aymeric. “Are you sure?”

He smiled at her and said, “My love, without a single doubt in my mind, I have never enjoyed chocolates and hazelnuts together.”

“This,” she said, “is unacceptable and needs to be rectified posthaste. Here,” she slid the bowl of cream and melting to Aymeric, along with the spatula, “keep stirring. It needs to be completely smooth and glossy.”

He took the items with no complaint, stirring obediently. Galette’s nose twitched as the chocolate came closer, but her eyes reminded on Synnove.

Synnove, in turn, had spun around and stomped to the breadbox, opening it with a flick of her wrist and pulling out the fresh loaf she’d baked early this morning when she had gotten up. She picked up the bread knife and sliced off two thick pieces, stashing the loaf back in the breadbox once she was finished and setting the bread knife down again. Then she shuffled to the cupboards, opening the left most and pulling out two small plates. Closing the cupboard, she placed the slices of bread on each plate, stomping back to her place at the counter and setting the plates down. She reached into the mess of jars of assorted ingredients she kept on the counter for one half-full of some dark paste-like substance, opening the cutlery drawer at the same time to grab a butter knife before closing the drawer with a cant of her hip.

She held the jar up for Aymeric’s inspection. “Chocolate hazelnut spread,” she said, “made from the first crop of hazelnuts gathered in northern Gyr Abania this year.”

“Let me guess,” Aymeric said, voice dry, “your aunt’s home village?”

“Where else?”

“Snob,” he said fondly.

Synnove smirked, unscrewing the lid on the jar. She reached into it with the butter knife, taking out a large glob of the chocolate hazelnut spread, plopping it on one of the bread slices before smoothing it out in a thick layer. She did the same with the second slice, then resealed the jar and unashamedly licked the knife clean, humming happily.

Aymeric stared at her, pupils blown wide. Synnove gave him a lascivious smile. Galette gagged.

“Oh, shush, you,” Synnove said to her carbuncle. She slid the plates forward, one in front of Galette and one in front of Aymeric, and took back the ganache bowl and spatula. She gave it a few more stirs, lifting the spatula slightly to test the consistency, and nodded, satisfied.

As she set the ganache bowl aside, Galette was devouring her slice of bread, ears twitching in delight as she got chocolate hazelnut spread all around her mouth. Aymeric lifted his own slice and took a large bite, chewing curiously.

Synnove knew the exact moment the flavors burst across his tongue. His eyes rolled back into his head just a bit, and he made an absolutely filthy moan she most often heard only in the bedroom. She met his gaze and leered at him, waggling her eyebrows.

Aymeric stared at her with wide eyes and swallowed. “That,” he said, “is obscene.”

“Isn’t it just?” Synnove said sweetly.

As he devoured his snack as ferociously as Galette had, Synnove took the towel next to the cake pan and went to the sink, turning the faucet on and running it beneath hot water for a few moments. She wrung the excess moisture out, turning the faucet off, and stepped back to the counter to wrap the now-hot towel around the cake pan. As that sat, she dragged the sheet pan in front of herself, setting the glass top down in the middle, then reached over to press the towel into the sides of the cake pan for a minutes before taking the towel away and balancing the cake pan on top of the overturned glass.

With a bit of careful wiggling, she slid the sides of the pan down and off the cheesecake, briefly lifting the dessert to pick up the siding and set it on the counter corner. That done, she peeled back the two strips of parchment paper wrapped around the sides that had prevented the cheesecake from adhering to the sides of the cake pan, revealing a light brown dessert with a dark chocolate cookie crust on the bottom. Galette and Aymeric both ‘ooooh’ed appreciatively.

Picking up the ganache bowl, Synnove poured the ganache directly on top of the cheesecake. The chocolate had cooled quite a bit already, so it merely pooled on top as Synnove scraped every last bit she could out of the bowl with her spatula. Once that was done, she set spatula and bowl aside, and retrieved the offset spatula. Carefully, she pushed the ganache with the spatula until it started to flow over the sides of the cheesecake, smoothing the ganache over the top and sides until it was evenly coated. When she was satisfied, she slid the serving plate over and picking up the cheesecake from the bottom, wiggled the offset spatula between the cookie crust and the bottom of the cake pan, slicing through to loosen it. That finished, she slid the cheesecake onto the plate, then held the ganache-covered spatula out to Aymeric. Aymeric took the offering with obvious glee and set about licking it clean as Synnove plucked the glass from the sheet pan and slid that to Galette for the carbuncle to lick up the spilled bits of ganache.

As her two goofs enjoyed their spoils, Synnove fetched a chef’s knife from her cutting block and ran it under hot water from the faucet for a few seconds. She patted it dry, then returned to her cheesecake. With a few deft twists of the serving plate, the trained eye of a geometry-obsessed arcanist, and the steady hand of someone who drew perfect circles freeform, she cut a perfect line down the middle of the cheesecake, neatly dividing it into two.

Galette pointed with a paw and chittered. That half is mine!

Synnove gave her eldest carbuncle a look before deftly cutting four more lines, so the cheesecake was now perfectly divided into ten slices. To Galette, she said, “Go get your brothers, then you can have a slice.”

The carbuncle burbled, mouth still covered in chocolate ganache, and jumped down from the stool and raced to get her brothers from downstairs.

Synnove reached out without looking and smacked Aymeric’s hand away from the cheesecake. “No,” she said firmly.

Aymeric gave her his own look. This one Synnove recognized as the one he usually had on his face before he pinned her to the bed and did things with his mouth that had her screaming.

“Nice try, honey,” she drawled. “But there isn’t any kind of sex you can give me that’s better than my cheesecake.”

He huffed, crossing his arms as he pouted, and Synnove just laughed at him. After a moment, Aymeric reluctantly joined in.

[daphneyoumustmakehaste]

JAMILTON - VALENTINES DAY - MODERN AU

Alex stood back to admire his work. The day was 14.02.19, and Alex had managed to get the day off to surprise Thomas. It hadn’t been easy however. After a long series of ‘its not for Valentine’s Day’ ,and ‘I’m just not feeling very well today’ with loads of fake coughing, Hamilton had finally managed to convince Washington to let him have the one day break he desired.

Now he was stood around his small table, laying out all the decorations. He had started of with a soft iris shaded tablecloth and had steadily added more and more decorations.

Alex stood back and smiled fondly at the purple themed table. The centrepiece had a grand, modern candle that he would light as soon as Thomas came through the door: which he would. It was Valentine’s Day; if he didn’t come to visit him, Alex would be dumping him — over text.

Alex’s chocolate eyes flickered up at the clock which was perched on the white, brick wall. He still had, at least, fifty minutes before Thomas escaped the clutches of what was probably going to be a strict and weary George Washington. Then, he still had twenty minutes additional time as it took Hamilton twenty minutes to walk to work. However, Thomas was a fast walker, so reducing that to eighteen minutes, he had (approximately) around an hour before the moment of truth.

Alex sighed as he turned on the oven. He couldn’t believe he was doing this for Thomas of all people. If you told him a year ago that he would be dating Thomas Jefferson he would have presumably screamed and burst into tears.

The thing was, none of their friends knew they were dating. The two had been going out for two months now and were dreading the day their friends found out. Jefferson and Hamilton has hated each other before Christmas. That was when everything changed.

It was Christmas Day, and the two were at each-others throats, more irritable than usual; the whole Cabinet had been forced to stop overnight due to being snowed in. It was a long story, but they had gone to get coffee and found out they had more in common then they both thought. They had started dating almost immediately after on New Years Eve.

And their friends still thought they hated each other.

It was no use denying Hamilton adored Jefferson’s kisses. Alex sighed longingly and smiled, lifting himself up onto the marble counter next to the oven. They were so soft. So irresistible. So...

Hamilton was too wrapped up in his own head that he didn’t realise the macaroni and cheese was almost done. He smirked as he imagined Thomas’ voice in his head.

‘I’m that irresistible am I?’ That would be what he would most likely say. And then he would snake his arms around his waist–

The macaroni and cheese.

Alex cautiously pulled out the heated tray and set it on the countertop. He winced at the pain this caused his hands and regretted not using gloves. Cooking safety wasn’t his best subject to say the least.

Alexander smiled as he began dishing the macaroni and cheese onto two smaller trays. He hoped Thomas would be impressed by his sensational work and expertise in designing tables.

As he strode towards the table with the two plates, he noticed something rather off about the set up of the table. Confused, he set the two plates down and stood back to get a better view of the table he called a masterpiece.

It all looked fine though: the tablecloth was right, the knives and forks were in the correct place, the centrepiece was exactly in the middle, the vases were at a perfect size and even the god damn swan napkins via YouTube were immaculate, so what was it?

Then he realised what was off. Although the vases were at a considerable size, they had no flowers in them.

He almost laughed at his stupidity. The flowers! Anxiety flooded through his veins and he turned around to look at the clock. He had twenty minutes left. He was screwed. The nearest shop he knew that sold lavenders was twenty minutes away.

Last night, Thomas had mentioned he had a garden to himself when he was younger where he grew flowers. Alex had asked him what his favourite flower was and Thomas had responded with ‘lavenders.’

Alex felt a sense of defeat run through this body. That had never happened before. He just wanted this to be perfect! His phone pinged.

ALizard

Hey Alex! Look at these flowers I created for me and Maria tonight!

Eliza was good at art and crafts...

———

Hamilton heard the familiar opening of the door before it even happened. His heart was thumping against his chest. He took a big gulp of breath, surprised his lungs still worked.

“Lex?” Alex felt a blush creeping its way up his neck at the nickname. “Lex!” The footsteps were coming closer up the stairs; Hamilton lived in a flat. Alex’s mind was swarming with different possibilities of how Thomas would react . “I thought I’d come see you as it’s-“

The door opened and Alex felt the floor sway beneath his feet. Taking deep breaths, he cautiously looked up. Thomas was standing there, five bags in hand, lost for words. Completely lost.

Alex smirked at this. He watched as Thomas stood there baffled, trying to form words. Thomas’ eyes locked with his and Alex felt his confidence slip away again. He quickly diverted his gaze down to the floor, pulling his sleeves down to cover his sweating hands.

“Washington said you were ill!“

There was a sudden thud on the floor that made Alex jump. There were heavy footsteps on the wooden floor that made his breath hitch.

He sensed Thomas’ hands wrap around his waist and exhaled deeply.

Alex nuzzled his head in Thomas’ neck and hugged him back. “I missed you,” he murmured into his shoulder.

“I missed you too,” Thomas whispered back into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Thomas’ lips grazed over his cheek and made their way over to his.

Alex gasped as Thomas’ cold hands snuck up his green t-shirt. Thomas laughed mid-kiss and pulled away. Alex hit his arm and crossed his arms across his chest.

“You look cute when you’re angry.” Thomas smirked and loosened his tie. Alex scowled.

“Well I’m about to be fucking gorgeous.”

He huffed as Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Come back to me when you’re my height.”

“You’re like three inches taller than me!”

Thomas smiled. “Do I smell macaroni and cheese?” He asked, his dark eyes questioning and hopeful.

“Yeah, and now I have to reheat it because you took so long coming back. Also, turn the light off, it needs to be romantic,” Hamilton complained, acting like a whiny child. Jefferson let out a breathy laugh at his inner thought.

As Alex left, he turned towards the light. Had the ‘stoic, witty’ Alexander Hamilton took the time off to do all of this for him? He switched the light off and heard Alex begin heating the macaroni and cheese.

He rested his head against the wall and took a deep breath. It had been a hard day at work, he thought, yawning. He couldn’t wait to get back and collapse onto his bed.

He heard the microwave stop buzzing from the other room. “Thomas, sit down,” Alex’s voice called.

He took a seat on one of the chairs and gazed into the dark: the room only slightly illuminated by the stars outside.

A candle was lit up and Thomas chuckled. He saw Alex set one tray down for himself and another in front of Thomas.

“You’re so romantic,” Thomas remarked, a grin evident on his face.

“No I’m not,” Alex snapped back. Thomas just raised an eyebrow in response.

“I noticed the flowers too, thank you.” Alex looked up, almost snapping his neck in the process. “Oh, no problem.” Thomas frowned. Alex had been acting really jumpy and awkward today.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound being of the forks and knives scraping against the tray.

Thomas looked up at the flowers again, his eyes more adjusted to the dim light. On further inspection, they hardly looked like flowers at all. He slowly picked one up and held it to his nose.

“Hamilton...” Alexander looked up. His eyes widened. “Why don’t these feel or smell like lavenders?”

“I got them from a bad shop,” Alex replied almost immediately.

“Hamilton.” Thomas repeated. “You and I both know Mrs. Jones sells the best flowers in the whole of New York City.”

“I didn’t go to Mrs. Jones’”

“Mr. West’s? Mrs. Foster’s?”

There was a silence. “No...”

“Hamilton,” Thomas said again, exasperated.

“Thomas Jefferson will you do the honours of becoming my husband.”

“Hamilton.” Thomas laughed. “No, I will not.” He stood up from his chair and walked around the table. “Hamilton,” Thomas sighed.

Alex lunged up out of his seat and grabbed Thomas by the waist, catching him of guard. He connected their lips and ran in hands through Thomas’ hair. Thomas murmured something in the kiss and pulled away, a look of amusement and annoyance on his face.

“Don’t change the subject by kissing me, it’s not going to work.” Hamilton looked down at the ground and began messing with his hands.

“Did you make the lavenders? Yes or no?”

Alex blinked a few times. Why was he getting upset over something so small! It was only some stupid flowers. He nodded slowly and bit his lip. He wanted everything to be perfect to prove he was better than Thomas at everything!

Of course he had forgotten something. He couldn’t do anything right.

Thomas looked at Alex in shock. Was that a tear cascading down his face? Over something so simple? It must have meant a lot to him.

Thomas’ heart shattered a bit. “Hey, ‘Lex?” He said softly, taking Alex’s hands in his. “Look up at me.” Alex just shook his head. “Hey, I’m not mad. Just look up at me okay?” He heard Alexander sniffle and watched as he raised his head.

His eyes were slightly puffy and red, tears still making their way down his cheeks. Still holding Alex’s hands, he walked over to the sofa and sat Alex down on his lap.

“Look, I’m not mad. I just don’t know why you’re crying,” he explained wiping some of his tears away, but they just kept falling.

“You...You think I’m weak don’t you?”

Thomas stared at Alex in disbelief. “Weak?” His voice cracked. “You? Never in a million years would I think you’re weak.”

Thomas picked Alex up and placed him besides him. “Just tell me why you’re so upset and we can fix it”

Alex sniffled again and buried his head into the crook of his neck. “I wanted to impress you. I wanted to prove I was better than you at designing tables and making macaroni and cheese.”

Thomas laughed lightly and cuddled up to him. “You’ve proven yourself. I’m not sure about the macaroni and cheese part, but you impressed me.”

Thomas pecked Alex’s forehead. “I got you something today, you wanna see?” Alex nodded in response. Thomas got up off the sofa and walked over to his pile of bags near the door. He picked up one of the bags and walked back over to his boyfriend.

“Have a look,” he whispered, rubbing Alex’s back gently and resting his chin on his shoulder.

The first thing Alex pulled out was a lion plushie: It’s legs floppy and it’s mane fuzzy.

“For my little lion,” Thomas said, smirking. Alex pushed him away. “Shut up!”

The second thing Alex pulled out was a small book. It was an antique, leather-bound notebook with his name engraved on the front.

‘Property of Alexander Hamilton’

Hamilton set the book down on the table and snuggled up to Jefferson. “Thank you so much.”

“So you like it?” Jefferson asked tentatively, fiddling with Hamilton’s dark hair. Alex hummed in response and yawned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Are you tired?” Thomas inquired as Alex lay his head on his shoulder.

“A bit.”

Without saying anything, Thomas lifted Alex up and walked to his bedroom, practically throwing him into the sheets. “What the fuck Jefferson?” Alex said, glaring at him.

“Sorry,” Thomas laughed, holding his hands up. He sat down on the bed and crawled over to Alex, who had his legs crossed.

Thomas pushed down on his chest and lay on top of him. “Hey.”

Alex rolled his eyes and flipped them over so he was on top. “Hey.”

Thomas pushed him off with a slight nudge and scooted up to him. “Permission to sleep in Alexander Hamilton’s bed?”

“Permission granted.” Alex smiled back.

The two woke up entangled in each other’s arms.

[jimlingss]

The Deli Diaries [6]

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 [Finale]

➜ Words: 1.8k

➜ Genres: Fluff & Cuteness, That good ol’ slow burn, Slice of Life

➜ Summary: Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

➜ Warnings: Mundane-ness that might make you bored to death

➜ Notes: i swear the story is moving...just...very slowly.

Your job sucks.   But it’s starting to suck less, especially when the microwave reads 2:00pm.   Right on the mark, you come strolling to the other side of the deli where your kind manager is putting away some of the orders that arrived a few minutes ago. “Hey, Serri. Is it okay if I go on my lunch break now?”   The old lady frowns in concern. “You haven’t eaten lunch yet? Yes, yes! Go right ahead.”   “I’ll be back in half-an-hour then, in time to package the chicken.” You’re ripping off your gloves and she nods, urging you to not worry about it and to go eat and refuel yourself. On the way to grabbing your bag, you wash your hands and rip off your hairnet, adjusting your black cap in the tiny mirror above the sink, trying your best to clean yourself up.   You nabbed a hat from your insane supervisor, having requested she order one for a few weeks now. The constant reminders annoyed her but it’s the only reason you have it now. For one, it’s completely free so why not. And secondly, you could hide your greasy hair and actually tame it from the long day of work. Plus, in this way, you can look less horrible for a certain someone.   “Hey, produce boy.” You run into that certain someone on the way to the staff room and he has his own bag slung on his shoulder. His brunette hair is ruffled, red apron clean, black shirt and pants appearing like it’s been ironed.   “Hey, deli girl.” Jimin smiles, still amused with the little nickname you gave him.   “Are you going for lunch?” You push the backdoor open for him and he says ‘thank you’ as he enters.   Mischief twinkles in his eye and he downcasts his head trying to hide the way the corners of his lips are upright. But Jimin can’t help himself and he steals another glimpse of you. “I am.”   “What a coincidence.”   Or more like the two of you have been syncing up your breaks every other day now.   The job was actually pretty nice now that you had a friend to share your meals with. It’s not like you could hang out with Yuna in the breakroom considering only one person at a time was allowed to leave the deli area. Plus, you found Jimin’s company surprisingly nicer than your phone or any youtube video you could scrape up using the shitty wifi connection.   “What are the odds?” He laughs and then opens the door to the room for you. This time, you’re the one saying ‘thank you’ as you enter and he follows behind.   “I know, right?” You giggle and then move to pop open the microwave, throwing the stolen chicken-pot pie into it and hitting a minute to heat it up. In the meanwhile, Jimin pulls out two chairs and begins setting up, putting a few napkins down on the table not to make a mess and taking out his sandwich that he always cuts into two nowadays.   Luckily, there’s no one else in the staff room, only one person who exits the washroom and beelines out, down the stairs, returning back to their job before time runs out.   As the microwave whirrs, you move towards the wall of postings, scanning each of them and looking for your center’s number. “Are you thinking of switching?” Jimin asks in curiosity, moving to stand beside you. “Bakery? Or are you gonna transfer to another store?”   “Psh.” You move away when you can’t find anything of interest. “Why would I leave this store when it’s literally a ten minute walk from my house? If I had to take the bus, I swear I’d be late and fired on the first day.”   He laughs and the microwave dings, causing you to open it and grab two plastic spoons from the dispenser. “Plus, I don’t think bakery is hiring for another two years,” you mumble as an afterthought. “Unless someone dies, they’re not gonna train anyone here. Those ladies have been working there for a loooooong time.”   “I guess you and deli are gonna be together till death do you part,” he teases while taking a seat and you take yours adjacent to him. You grumble at the thought of the deli being in your foreseeing future and he smiles, cracking open his water bottle to take a sip.   “Oh. I actually have something.” Your eyes light up when you remember and you dig into your bag, pulling out a ziplock. “It’s honey ham.”   “Again?” Jimin laughs, grabbing a piece to eat. “I thought you hated hams.”   “Yeah...but I cut too much for a customer earlier, so I took it with me.”   “Aren’t you going to get fired?” He questions while you pick up the half of his sandwich and take a huge bite of it. In turn, he grabs the spoon and begins to eat the chicken pot pie that you took.   “Maybe.” You shrug, not really caring if you get fired. At the moment, you’re more preoccupied with enjoying this food, unable to stop taking massive bites of Jimin’s sandwich. “Y’know, I’m not a big fan of sandwiches but this is pretty good. Did you make it yourself?”   “Yeah.” Jimin smiles, a bit bashful over the compliment. “It’s not that hard. I just have to toast the bread for a minute and spread a teaspoon of butter. I also spread some mayo on the other slice and I cut a tomato, put in a bit of baloney and sometimes egg. There’s some cheese and lettuce, pickles too….”   He admits, he might’ve upped his sandwich game ever since you started sharing a half with him.   “God, that’s already ten steps too much for me.” You steal another bite, appreciating the flavour more and more. “But how do you get it so it isn’t melted and squished in your bag.”   “Oh, I put it in the produce cooler when I get here.”   “Dude…..you’re awesome.” You flash a huge thumbs up, wholly impressed with how seriously he takes your lunches together. “I like how you think ahead. Meanwhile, I’ve had the same pot pie for four days now. I’m so sick of it.”   Jimin takes another scoop of the pie. “Why do you keep getting it then?”   “Well, you like it, don’t you?”   You say it nonchalantly but it hits Jimin and he tries to repress a smile, though failing to do so. “It’s not bad, but I’m really fine with anything.”   “You’re too nice, produce boy.”   He really doubts that, especially when he’s sitting next to you. But he doesn’t say anything about it. “How was work so far? Any cute kids? Any rude customers?” He takes another bite and swallows it down. “Any grease you want me to help pour out?”   You grin. “None yet….of any of that. But you might need to help me pour out some grease later. I call holding the door.”   “Deal.”   Really, it’s a deal that sucks on his end. Yet, Jimin insists he can pour the whole bucket of the icky liquid into the dumpster every time your shifts overlap. You don’t understand why he offers so much help to you.   Maybe he’s just an extremely nice guy.   “How about you?” You motion your head over to him. “Any people asking you grocery questions?”   “Yes.” He giggles and you can’t help but smile. “Many. At this point, I think I’m better at navigating the grocery section than some of the grocery people. Did you know rice pudding is next to the butter section? Who knew.”   You laugh with him, amused with all the times people ask him where things are and he has to navigate them through the grocery aisles that he doesn’t even know himself. Earlier you caught a senior citizen grasping at his arm instead of her walker, trying to find some almond powder. He flashed you one look and that’s all it took for you to start giggling while the customer in front of you thought you were absolutely insane.   “What time are you off?” You ask, dusting your hands off after finishing the sandwich and some of the pot pie.   “Six. You?”   “Six too. We can walk home together,” you note while standing, heading over to the fridge and freezer to take a peek. “Hey, want some ice cream?”   “What?” He looks at your mischievous expression when you turn around. “Sure. But does that belong to anyone?”   “No name.” You smirk to yourself, glancing at the front of the open box where there’s an absence of black marker labelling ‘do not eat’. “No name means a free for all. What flavour?”   “Any.”   You grab two at random, shutting the freezer door before tossing it to him. Jimin catches it one hand like a pro, putting on a smug expression when it was really due to luck and reflexes. You plop down in your seat again, peeling the wrapper open and discarding it.   Jimin watches as you eat and he backs up. “Wait. Hold on. You bite your ice-cream?”   “And you don’t?” You twist up your face as if you’re offended that he does something different.   “No, you monster.” His tongue pokes out, rubbing all over his cold treat which makes you scrunch your nose up in distaste. “It hurts my teeth too much.”   “It’s gross to lick it.”   “It’s weird to bite it,” the produce boy counters and you scoff. “What flavour do you have?”   “Vanilla. You?”   “Chocolate.” Jimin’s brow eyes light up in curiosity and his pupils flicker over to the treat in your hand. You can read him like an open book, already knowing what he wants before he asks. “Can I try?”

“Don’t lick it,” you respond immediately like it’s a reflex. But instead of placating you, the boy grins, his eyes crinkling into half moons, plump lips spreading into his chubby cheeks. He takes your hand, curling his fingers over yours and he pulls it closer to him, moving your entire body towards his direction. “Don’t! Jimin! Actually!”   But like the little shit that he is, his tongue rakes up the entire side of your ice-cream. He licks it with a laugh and pulls away. “It’s good.”   You narrow your eyes at him before leaning over faster than he can react. You bite the top half of his ice-cream off completely, and he cries out as fifty percent of his treat is devoured. You laugh evilly before screaming. Your brain freezes, aching painfully and it makes him hysterical.   Jimin folds in half, wheezing, as he watches you clutch your head in your other palm, gasping for air and yelling about how cold it is. Still, it was worth getting your revenge.

[eris0330]

Hiraeth - Twenty

☽Pairing☾ ; BTS | Reader ☽Genre☾ ; Angst

☽Word Count☾ ; 2.2k

☽Summary☾ Returning back to Korea after years of being under the ground, to see your parents. You wished it was all it took, to feel complete again. The aftermath of confusion, betrayal and sorrow was the reason to never come back into the boys presents. But it wasn’t until, seeing one them enter the same cafe, at the right time.

☽Warnings☾ Mention of suicide and along those lines.

☽M. List☾ ;  1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 [ongoing]

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Forgetting to pull the blinds from the previous night, you woke up to the burning sunlight striking through the window. You were getting closer to the day you would meet the boys, where everything was seemed to change everything. So far, everything has seemed like a dream filled with coincidences. But you were longing to see them, to feel them and talk to them. The fact you were seeing their last messages to you yesterday, felt unreal and was holding you back. You were so exhausted that you couldn’t even remember, when you fell asleep. But the messages, they were circling around in your head and your heart beating at each burning word. There were questions, you couldn’t possibly get any answers to, unless you searched deeper. Regret, building within while thinking of how the boys must have wished, to hear from your again. Did they really want to see you? After you never showed presence in their lives? There were so many worries, that it continued like a loop. Remembering that someone taught you to reach out for help, in the need of comfort and wonder, you decided it was time to change. Reaching for your phone, you checked the numbers you could call for help but there was only one you felt was the right one. The sound of beeping and anticipation, knowing well that he had a stuffed schedule. Even in the early mornings of 8 am, he was quick to answer your call.

“Hello?”He sounded surprised, as if he had just woken up. The rasp of his voice is significantly clearer in the phone speaker, almost coughing to get a better vocal.

“Hey Yoongi…” You whispered, trying to adjust the feeling of calling someone like this. Scratches were audible from the phone, hearing his body shuffle within his duvet.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay??” He sounded worried, almost if it was immediate response when hearing your voice.

“Yeah… No…ye-“

“No?”He was quick to cut your off, not letting you finish the last word. He was worried. Unable to settle down, when hearing you in distress. You sighed, a little happy that he showed his concern even before hearing your problem.

“Really, I’m alright. But could we meet? Maybe today? There is something I want to talk about with you, before I meet the boys” You requested, hearing another rustle through the speaker. His mumbles were louder by each second, as he pouted while speaking of his schedule. It was always clear, to hear when he spoke in ‘pout’.

“Give me 20 minutes, I’ll come to your place” He stated, rushing to find his beanie while you could only agree to his deal. Most of the time, you just had to take what you get because he won’t always have the time to get around like this.

“Okay, see ya…” You hung up, slipping into a robe as to stay comfortable of an early morning. Brewing the coffee and searching in the fridge, trying to find something that was edible for the both of you. Nothing was appetizing as for now, so you hoped that a cup of coffee was enough. Even though, you both knew that’s how you all stayed throughout a day anyways. Back in the days, when you were scraping the bottom of the bowl to get a snack, while your stomachs were almost eating itself. You had gotten used to, when there was nothing to eat to fill your hunger as a trainee. Lost in your own thoughts, you heard a faint knocking on your door. Opening it up, you were faced with a barefaced man with the biggest blue beanie and darkest clothes. His eyes growing large, watching your attire. “Isn’t it a bit too… casual? To look like that with a man?” He commented, pushing his shoes off to step inside your small residence and looking at the less personalised room, realising how different I was compared to your dorm room.

“Shorts, Top and robe? I mean, you have seen worse after all these years living in the same room basically?” You answered, puffing your cheeks while he put a paper bag on your coffee table.

“I got scones, figured you didn’t have breakfast yet” He scoffed with a light smirk, seeing you pour coffee into two cups. Handing the other one to him, to sit beside on the couch. A sly smile forming on your lips, as he blew onto the steamy cup.

“Raising my sugar count already? You must have been in a hurry” You joked, taking one of the scones in the bag. His brows raising, letting a scoff pass his lips.

“In fact I was, but I also know how much you like sweet stuff” Chuckling, as he munched on a scone too. “So, why the sudden call? What did you need to talk about?” He questioned curiously, settling back into the couch with his legs folded. Your scones holding still on the tip of your lips, remembering why you called him so urgently this morning. Your eyes wandering towards the phone on the table, to return back into his wondering eyes.

“Chan followed me home yesterday, after meeting Wonho” You explained, making his brows raise once again but with a hint of confusion.

“Wonho?”He repeated in surprise, making you nod. He quickly realised Wonho wasn’t the reason you called him, but something else that he wasn’t prepared for.

“Chan gave me my phone, that I lost a few years ago… right before the accident” You continued, making his lips purse into a thin line.

“So that’s where it went… Is it still working?” He questioned with a deep voice, letting the scone rest in his hands before he put it back on the table. His body chilling of your discovery, unable to know what you have seen.

“It is… and I saw the messages… all of them.” You whispered, feeling his eyes close slowly in front of you. His face adverting to anywhere else than on your soulless body, making you feel the regret grow stronger.

“I… I disappointed you all. I betrayed you with my trust and never responded to those messages, that were left for me to read about hope. I know you all said, that you’re hoping to see me again even though there was no light on my whereabouts. But is it really true? After all these years? Texting to this phone that was never found, to never receive a response?” Your lips were shivering, lounging your hands on your thighs. Yoongi’s brows scrunched of worry, trying to reach for your uncontrollable shaking hands to put your scone away. Your body jolting of his touch, as he notices your eyes pooled.

“Y/N-“

“I’m so sorry…. That I never answered… That I never tried… That I just let you guys live in grief… I let you suffer so many years and now I’m going to act like nothing has happened? I can’t do it, Yoongi. I can’t meet the boys… not after all of this… What if they will hate me for coming back like this?” You started to get cold feet and your tears falling upon Yoongi’s hands, he guided you to nest in the comfort of his arms. Your face hiding in the crook of his neck, to feel his hands stroke the shivering off your back. Hushing you to calm down and let yourself go, feeling each breath become quiet.

“This is why you need to meet the boys… It doesn’t matter how long it has taken, because time heals all wounds at one point. It’s time to meet them, to let you know that they aren’t mad at you and you never forgot about them… They miss you and wishes to see you every day. You have to believe me, that meeting them will help on all of us. It’s time to put away your worries and face your fears, okay?” He whispered, as his fingers ran through your soft hair. The sound of your sniffles become quieter, he knew you were calming down in his embrace. Your face retreating from his neck, to face his worried expression and sniffles one last time. Nodding of his words, you took a deep breath as his hand came close to linger on your cheek, drying away the tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise” He finished, letting a tiny smile form on his lips. Your face mirroring him, feeling the warmth embrace your chest.

“Okay...”You responded, reaching for the unfinished scone to hold it up in between your bodies. “Now eat, I know you don’t always get enough throughout the day” You chuckled, hearing him sigh with a smile to let his own scone nudge against yours to finally munch it again. The silence contributing to the coffee being slurped and the gulps of food, filling up your empty stomachs. Finalizing the last scone, you wiped your fingers in a paper towel while looking at the phone on the table.

“I wondered… who pays my phone bill?” You questioned curiously, watching his lips pout and shake his head in response.

“I don’t know, but you might find out” He answered, making your brows scrunch of his puzzled answer. Did he know then?

“Oh right… I came in thought about it yesterday, but did you guys hear anything from Soomi after I went away?” It was like the name, gave a splint of lighting through his body. His eyes grew wider and lips formed into anger, hearing your question.

“She’s a so-called youtuber now. Does dance covers, vocal covers and some Vlogs” Fishing his phone from his pocket, he found the Youtube channel in seconds. Handing you the phone, you noticed a few of the titles and confusing struck you once more. Your mouth gaping, aware that it could be dangerous that Soomi is a public figure.

“You don’t think-“

“Relax. She’s still under contract, so don’t worry about her outing you or us” Yoongi assured, taking the phone away again. But something still urged you, knowing she is someone who has a following and people support her. “By the way, I have something I want to show you. Didn’t know when was the right time, but since you start getting cold feet, I might as well make you sure about that the boys actually do miss you and want to see you again” Yoongi spoke in a light raspy voice, searching further in his phone. Your head tilting of curiosity, to see his fingers slide against his phone screen.

“See”His phone screen viewed for your eyes to see, looking at the group photo of the boys in the field. Not just any field, it was an open field where you shot spring day and carved a heart on the tree.

“The boys wanted to go there, to remise” Yoongi explained, seeing the smile on the boys standing in front of the tree, to see the carved heart above their heads. It was your place, in the winter while the snow drizzled during the recording of the MV. “And here”

The restaurant that you used to go to, as trainess and the start of the rookie days. The placement like usual, with an empty spot for you to sit. “The owner misses seeing us around and hoped you would have time to come with us next time”He added, to see the plates of food scattered in the middle of the table. Yoongi continued to show photos of the boys, being in various places that you have left a trademark. Would it be a carved symbol in a stem of a tree, or a lock which symbolises the strength of your friendship. They would go there, only to know you had been there before with them, sharing the love they were longing to feel again.

“They always insist on going to these places, over and over again. So don’t doubt that the kids miss you, because they can’t stop thinking about you.” Yoongi finished, putting the phone away in his pocket. Looking at the time, it was soon scheduled to practice. His eyes lingering for longer than he would normally allow, watching your smile linger on your lips after seeing the photos. His groans were louder, having to get up from the couch to leave your company but you followed him to the exit of your apartment. His jacket zipped up and mouth mask on, covering his identity enough to not get caught in public. You waved softly, standing by the door to watch him walk away before he turned back to you with a pointed finger.

“Get packing, Missy. Can’t have you coming unprepared” He ordered with a cocky smirk, before turning back on his trail and towards the exit of the building. Scoffing with a heartfelt smile, you closed the door. “Yes, sir” You whispered.  After watching the photos of the boys, staying at the memorial spots that you used to visit together. You felt assured, that it was time to let them heal fully and not by themselves, but with you by their side. The day of meeting them were coming close and you have never felt readier, knowing you’d soon be in their presence again.

[fcrvcnt]

( alex fitzalan, cismale, he/him ) i just saw KIERAN WALSH walking down the street’s of provincetown the other day playing LOST by DERMOT KENNEDY out loud. rumor has it that the TWENTY-TWO year old is +ATTENTIVE, but can also be -DISTRUSTFUL — overall they’re an INTANGIBLE CONCEPT. they remind me of A GENTLE BREEZE RESURRECTING A HOT DAY, STORMY WHITE CAPPED SEAS, SMUGED FINGERPRINTS COVERING WHITE PAPER & RESTLESS NIGHTS .

hey, hi, hello!!! i’m bronny, i’m 22, i’m from new zealand ( possibly one of the worst timezones to be in but we learn to survive!! ) and i’m so excited about this group and being able to write kieran again  ( with an fc change bc alex?? newest love of my life, who does he think he is ?? ) ?? i’ve been missing writing him and been looking for a place but just haven’t found the right place.....until now!!! enough rambling about me though, lets get onto what you’re here for......

KIERAN WALSH

for the first 12 years of kieran’s life, you could say that his life was pretty happy and smooth sailing?? the walsh family were nowhere near rich but they were comfortable middle class. his father was a builder and his mother worked part-time as a kindergarten teacher. his childhood was nothing spectacular but it was full of love and happiness and that was the only thing kieran really cared about?? 

***ALCOHOLIC & ALCOHOL & ABUSE MENTION ***

but when kieran was around 13, his life took a turn no one really saw coming. whether it was the stress his father put on himself or it was old demons rearing their ugly head, kieran’s father turned to the bottle to self-medicate the darkness growing inside him.

it started off with small things. kieran’s father overreacting to tiny inconvenience at home and him coming home late at night. raised voices became the usual in the walsh household after that and kieran & amelia would both end up in his room attempting to shut it all out by going over the little cartoon strips kieran would create for amelia - eventually there was enough to make a whole little series.

slowly the walsh family drifted from middle class to lower-middle class thanks to kieran’s father losing his job and his mother retreating into herself.

kieran was 15 when he really took on the role to support amelia & his mother as best he could. kieran couldn’t care less about what happened to his father.

at 15 kieran grew up far quicker than any 15 really should. he got his first job and began trying to keep things at least just scraping by, because if he didn’t there was a real chance that he, amelia and his mother would be kicked out of their family home.

his mother did manage to help him out as best she could but his father’s actions and behaviour was taking a toll on her.

he was hellbent on not allowing amelia & his mother from suffering the full brunt of the storm their father and husband had created.

kieran thought that this would be his life forever. juggling school, work and trying to keep his whole life and family from completely collapsing but one night, one action taken too far that left kieran with a black eye given to him by his father, was all it took for kieran’s mother to kick kieran’s father out.                                                 *********************

kieran was in his last year at high school and 18 when his father left and to say kieran’s upset about not knowing where he went would be a complete lie. seeing the back of him was a blessing because even though their lives had taken a dive and it would take a lot to get back up to where they were, at least he wasn’t in amelia & his mother’s lives anymore.

but before we can go any further, there’s one thing you need to know !!! anything creative had been kieran’s saving grace over the course of his teenage years. drawing, painting, photography, music, creating, it helped settle all the emotions that raced through him, it grounded him when nothing else could and if there was one thing he knows, it’s that his ultimate dream would be to become a concept artist for films both live-action and animation but for all his life that’s just what it feels like it’ll always be—a dream and since college wasn’t exactly something on his radar—mostly because he was damn sure he couldn’t afford it and his grades weren’t good enough to get a scholarship—it felt even more out of reach.

but he wasn’t exactly going to give up on his dream that easily, especially when his younger sister wasn’t going to let him let it go that easily either, so as graduation came and went and everyone started to leave to go to college, kieran walsh stayed in provincetown and started to enrol into online courses for concept art and illustration via the online college of digital art & animation, cg spectrum and as a whole he studied three courses over the course of 3 years.

there are sometimes where he wishes he could have gotten out of provincetown and gone to college—just to experience that #collegelife. but he knows he couldn’t ever bring himself to do that because you see, even though his mother got a new job and started trying to return back to some sense of normal when kieran was 18, kieran can’t bring himself to leave?? the thought of leaving amelia and his mother on their own is too much, he’s terrified of his mother retreating back within herself and leaving amelia to look after herself—he can’t bring himself to leave them after more or less supporting the whole family for almost his whole teenage years. but he knows eventually he’ll have to go out on his own and he is in the process of it!! he’s managed to move out at least into an apartment of his own when he was 20, though it’s not all that far from his family home. but it’s a step.

though he’s still procrastinating on the finding a steady job thing, in the mean time he’s doing a lot of freelance things here and there for adverts, small indie animated videos/short movies, designed a couple things for some big name youtubers and even has helped on the illustrations for some children’s books. but he’s still holding out for his dream to come true.

PERSONALITY

an actual soft boy!!! loves his little sister & mother more than anything in the world and has literally put his own happiness and life to the side to make sure they’re happy and thriving after the shit they’ve been through. he loves with his whole heart and it’s both a blessing and a curse.

but he’s so use to being the one to take care of everyone else that he’s never stopped to take care of himself?? and to imagine someone caring about him and loving him is something he cannot get his head around??

a very private person. maybe comes across like he’d be a bit of an asshole but he’s actually relatively friendly?? probably that person you think you know everything about but in reality you actually don’t know nothing about them??

he finds it hard to let people get close and finds it hard to trust others??

may have something to do with the fact that he’s terrified of becoming life his father?? but really is far more like his mother, he just has a bit of a hard time showing it??

hasn’t ever really touched alcohol that much and doesn’t intend on doing so any time soon, he terrified of turning into his father!!!!! we love that

a little rough around the edges and takes a while to break down his walls but once you’ve managed to weed your way into his heart you’ll be there forever and he’ll love you with his whole heart.

loves the snackpack with his whole heart, his dumbass energy really comes out strong around them because YOU KNOW he’s a complete idiot underneath that hardish exterior.

proud of his friends that got out of provincetown and went to college, but also a little salty about being left behind — we don’t talk about that though

if anyone would like to plot a little something, my ims are always open, i’m also up for plotting via discord, and i’d love to plot a little something!! i swear i don’t bite so please send me an im if you’re up for something, but honestly if you give this a like i’ll come to you!!

but if you are interested in plotting, i have a plots page with loose ideas here!!

[justanoutlawfic]

Rewrite The Stars: An Outlaw Queen/Hood Mills Family Fic

Summary: Resurrected Remix. Regina could never return. The story of their lives in the before and after.

I got the idea for this angsty bugger based on a prompt tweet by @queen-of-the-merry-men who wanted Roland to learn how to do makeup from Regina...but then Regina died, so he did it for Peanut when she went to her first dance.

Now, I could never actually kill Regina Mills, BUT, I can make her family think she's dead. So, here's an AU of probably my most popular OQ verse. It'll flash around to show why she left (it's different this time) and why she can't come back. It'll show their lives before & after. It's angsty, it's got fluff, it's got family, it's got everything. Please don't hate me. I'm fragile. Send prompts, questions and other things to my Twitter/CuriousCat: justanoutlawfic or my Tumblr: findingtallahassee.

Also on AO3

To Roland, there was nothing his mother couldn’t do. She could tend to his scrapes and made them feel all better in just a few minutes, save an action figure from losing its leg, always knew how to make him and Henry were happy with the movie night and somehow, always knew exactly what his baby sister needed to calm down. Yes, to Roland, his mom was truly like a superhero from one of the comic books that Henry would read to him, Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel. She could always save the day and not even break a nail while doing it.

 One night, he sat on the floor playing with some toys while his parents got ready for date night. His uncle Will would be by soon to watch them and had made promises of pizza, movies and wrestling. It was going to be so much fun, he could hardly wait.

 Regina exited the walk-in closet, wearing a navy-blue dress, her hair curled. She stood at her vanity, opening up a box. Roland didn’t pay much attention at first, until he got a good glimpse of her putting on her makeup. She made it look so easy. He moved closer as she moved onto her eyes, managing to not poke herself with any of the tiny brushes or sticks. Roland watched in awe, his mouth agape.

 “How do you do that?” He asked, in wonder.

Regina arched an eyebrow, looking at him in the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“The paint.”

Regina continued to look puzzled and then the realization washed over. “Oh, my makeup.” She smiled and finished up her eye makeup. “Here.” She placed hand on her padded stool, so the 5-year-old knew it was okay to jump up. “I’ll show you.”

 She did her blush, explaining exactly where to put it and how she blended it. Then, she found the shades that would be best on him and taught him how to apply it on himself. She did some light lip gloss next, followed by some eye shadow, explaining it every step of the way.

 “Why do people wear makeup?” Roland asked as she went to dip the brush in for his second eyelid.

Regina paused. “I guess it’s just something that was always a part of growing up for me. I watched my mother do it, my aunts and cousins after she passed away. But people wear makeup for a bunch of different reasons, just as they do everything. Some do it to cover up things, other do it to for work. Just know, that you never have to do it to improve how you look. Makeup doesn’t make you anymore beautiful than you already are.”

 Roland grinned and then watched her select her jewelry. He found a bulky bangle.

 “Can I wear this? It looks like treasure.”

“Of course you can.” Regina kissed his nose and Roland beamed brighter, sliding it onto his wrist. Neither noticed Robin standing in the doorway of the bathroom, grinning from ear to ear. “Just make sure you wipe that off before bed, or your face will get infected. I can teach you how to do more as you get older.”

 There would be a few more lessons after that. She taught him about looks for different times of the day or occasions. Overall, she taught him that makeup was there to supplement beauty and that it was there to define it. He’d sit by her and watch her do her makeup when he’d catch her doing it, but there’d be a time when he’d wish he had done it more often.

 Only six months after the lessons began, Roland was told that his mother had passed away in a car accident. He had no way of knowing the truth, that she had to be sent away for their own protection. If he had known the truth, it probably wouldn’t have changed the pain that it caused their family. It wasn’t hard not to see the change it brought about their dad. He wasn’t the same bright, goofy person he had been for Roland’s whole life. Robin snapped easier and the boys knew that he waited until he thought they were asleep to cry. Henry wasn’t around much; he would skip school or leave the house at night. Even Bryony, as young as she was, seemed to be acting differently. Roland felt sad too, all the time, and he couldn’t laugh. He felt like no one understood how he felt. He couldn’t even talk about his mom without wanting to cry.

 Eventually, they fell into their new normal. It took time-and lots of therapy-but they did. Henry slowly stopped running away and his grades picked back up in school. He even made the honor roll. His dad was back to telling jokes and smiling again. There were times he still got a wave of sadness over him, but it was clear that he was a much happier person. Bryony was growing and Roland found that telling his baby sister about her made things a lot better for him. Despite their 5-year age gap, they ended up very close.

 Which is why it wasn’t a surprise that Henry texted him an “SOS Peanut” text, when their little sister was 12 years old.

 Peanut was the nickname they had coined for Bryony when she was just a baby. She was so small and Bryony seemed like such a mouthful to say for a 5 and 8-year-old respectively, so they came up with that. Now that she was getting older, she tried to argue it, but she would always be that to them-especially when they wanted to get a fun rise out of her.

 Roland was already on his way home when he received the text and he figured that his dad wasn’t there, Henry probably would’ve gone to him if he were. Robin and Bryony had a pretty close bond, so there was pretty much no problem that he couldn’t solve. However, their father was probably at work. It wasn’t that Henry and Bryony didn’t get along, but he was 8 years older, home from college for spring break and they were just so different. He was better for playing video games or ice cream rushes. Roland and Robin were the ones Henry texted when she had a crisis.

 He pulled into the driveway and headed into the house, finding his older brother sitting at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. She came back from the mall and went straight up to her room, she’s acting weird.”

“And that got an SOS text?”

“She just seemed really upset, alright? I tried knocking on her door, but she told me to get lost. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

 Roland nodded, wanting to appease his worrywart of a brother. He definitely got that from their mother. She had been so overprotective; he could remember thinking that at even 5-years-old. He walked up the stairs and knocked on his sister’s door, which had donned a “Keep Out” sign since she turned 10 years old.

 “I said go away Henry!”

“It’s not Henry.”

There was a moment of silence. “Roland?”

“You know anyone else this cool?”

 Some shuffling, followed by the door clicking and unlocking. While Henry looked more like a mixture of both of their parents (Regina’s dark hair, hazel eyes that were a mix of both of them and Robin’s pale skin) and Roland was pretty much a carbon copy of his mother outside the dimples from his father (thick, curls, eyes the same color as chocolate and Regina’s coloring), Bryony had been the one sibling to inherit the most looks from their father. Her blonde hair fanned out at her shoulders and her arms were crossed over her Storybrooke Junior High Track & Field t-shirt.

 “You’re not at all cool,” she told him, matter of fact.

Roland rolled his eyes. “Henry said you were bummed out. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Henry needs to mind his own business.”

“We live under one roof, and he cares about you.” She didn’t budge. “I mean, if you wanna wait until Dad gets home…”

 Bryony huffed, but stepped aside. Roland walked into her room and noticed the transparent garment bag on her closet, containing a purple dress. He tilted his head.

 “What’s that for?”

“The school’s having some stupid dance.”

“Oh, you don’t really want to go?”

“I do, it’s just,” Bryony sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Aunt Mulan took us. She’s going to be helping Greer get ready, all the girls will have their moms to.”

Roland didn’t need her to stay anything else. “And you don’t have a mom to help you.”

Bryony shrugged. “There’s a lot Dad can do, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know too. I just wish I could have Mom here to help me get ready.” She pointed to a shopping bag on her bed. “I mean, I had the sales lady help me find the perfect makeup and I don’t even know how to put it on.”

 A small smile poked on the edges of Roland’s mouth. It had been 12 years since his mother’s “passing”, but he could remember her tips like the back of his hand. They had come in handy as he entered middle school, where he ended up having more girl friends than guys anyway and would help them out. He had even looked into YouTube tutorials about hair, so he could be of more assistance in that department.

 “Well, I may not know much about dresses or shoes,” he said. “But makeup is my specialty.”

“Huh?”

“Just sit down, I’ll teach you everything I know.”

 Bryony skeptically sat down at her desk, which had a mirror on it. Roland grabbed the bag and unpacked the supplies. Luckily, she was right, the sales lady had steered her in the right direction for someone of her complexion and age. There was nothing too extreme about any of it. He started just how his mom had with him, the cheeks.

 “You want to spread it out, then blend it,” he explained, as he moved the brush. “The more natural it looks, the better.”

“I was afraid I’d look like a circus clown.”

“It’s common for first time users to make that mistake, but it gets easier with use or if you have a good teacher.” Roland gave her a wink.

 Next, he did the lipstick, choosing the more subtle shade of the two. It was then he realized that perhaps he should’ve asked if his dad was okay with sister wearing makeup, but they could cross that bridge later. For the moment, it was important to teach her how to wear it without looking ridiculous. He had seen far too many people make that mistake and he was not about to have his mom haunt his ass. Like Regina had with him, he spoke every step of the way, explaining his process, so she could easily do it again.

 As he was getting the eyeshadow ready, Bryony finally spoke up herself. “Where did you learn all of this?”

“From Mom.”

“Seriously?”

Roland nodded, dipping the brush into palette. “When I was 5, I was watching her do her makeup and I was completely mesmerized. It was like…witchcraft or something. I asked her how she did it and Mom just decided to show me.”

“Wow. Most moms probably wouldn’t have done that with their sons.”

“Mom wasn’t most moms,” Roland pointed out. “She really didn’t care what we did or wore.”

“So, like Dad, she wouldn’t have cared about you being bi?”

“I highly doubt it. One year, I wanted to be an angel for Halloween and someone made fun of me. She told me that in the Bible, angels were both male and female.”

The smile on Bryony’s face wouldn’t disappear. “She sounds like quite a lady.”

“She really was, close your eyes,” Roland instructed, feeling himself getting choked up.

He applied the eye shadow, thinking back to those days. What he wouldn’t get for another one of those talks, his then-pudgy hand on her cheek, her warm smile looking down on him. There were days it felt like just yesterday and others, that it felt like a whole other lifetime ago.

 When Bryony’s eyes opened again, Roland found himself thinking of Regina’s words from that night. “You know, Mom once told me that makeup isn’t what makes someone beautiful. It doesn’t improve how you look. Beauty is more than the surface. And I want you to remember that, even if you start wearing it now.”

“That’s really cheesy, Roland,” Bryony told him with an eye roll. “Though, I do appreciate it.”

 A few finishing touches and the job was done. Roland did a quick simple braid to show her what he could possibly do the night of and then suddenly got an idea. He rushed down the hall to his room, going through the top drawer of his nightstand. He found what he desired and returned to his sister’s room, handing over the bangle.

 “What’s this?”

“It belonged to, Mom,” he explained. “I borrowed it the same night she taught me how to do makeup. When Dad decided to clean out her side of the closet a few years back, I asked him if I could have it. I figured you could wear it to the dance.”

The bangle was bulky, flashy and didn’t at all go with the flowery purple dress that hung on the closet door behind them. Yet, Bryony looked from it, back up to her brother and said, “Of course I will.”