#big dipshit move on my part

[lostcndfound]

house and cat sitting for the weekend!

So probably wont be on to get to replies properly until Sunday night or Monday.

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing; part two [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: y’all this ain’t much i’m still trying to reacommodate myself back into writing but i will share a final part 3 to this imagine eventually!!!

again this is just fluff and banter i love keeping things light hearted

and i’m trying to heal myself with what could’ve been 😔

summary: you and the hargreeves siblings start your rescue mission

“Well, you all certainly look shittier than the other,” You crossed your arms awkwardly, watching the seven Hargreeves siblings as they were all clutching onto their bodies, sprawled across what used to be the fancy mansion that they grew up in.

Now it was just looking as beat down as your family.

“You’re fucked up in the head,” Ben groaned, making you roll your eyes.

“Coming from the dipshit who roofied his siblings with space juice… that’s a big statement,” Diego mumbled, as the others nodded in agreement.

After Gracie’s birthday party, you intended to go back to the office and catch up on some paperwork. The current case you were working on was truly a pain in the ass. Ever since you started working on it a couple of months ago, you didn’t think that anything else was more important than trying to win it. Boy, were you wrong.

You intended to leave the party a bit earlier, so that’s exactly what you did. Even if you felt like you couldn’t get enough of bantering with the family, playing with Gracie and most specially, talking to Five, you eventually dragged yourself back to the car and drove back to work. You needed that gathering, you truly did- in spite of the inevitably awkward moments.

That’s why when Five called you to inform to that Viktor got kidnapped, you didn’t hesitate to drive back to the mansion and regroup with the siblings to rescue their brother. One thing led to another, you managed to save him and even celebrate after that, but it wouldn’t be a Hargreeves mission without something going sideways.

“We have to get going, asshats,” Five reminded you all, stroking his hair.

You wanted to comfort him, as your heart sunk watching the dark circles around his eyes. His skin was as pale as a ghost, and he was groaning lightly through heavy breaths. His long fingers were running through his messy hair, as his other hand was holding the marigold jar loosely.

You always thought how stupid it was that you could just look at him for hours, just because he was so pretty. He could be doing nothing, you still couldn’t get enough of him.

This is so embarrassing, it’s been six years, you thought to yourself, looking away exactly as he caught a glimpse of your stare, Besides, he looks like he is dying. Handsomely, but dying, nonetheless.

The same man who kidnapped Viktor last night entrusted you with a rescue mission to bring his daughter back home. You decided not to pursue it, eventually, and before you went your separate ways, you all had a shot of Sake, ushered by Ben.

The rest is history.

Point is, everyone seemed to have their powers back.

“Shotgun,” You raised a hand, as the seven siblings started cussing at you on your way to Diego and Lila’s van.

You felt very nostalgic, since so many years passed without being with everyone. It was bittersweet, but you tried to promise to yourself to not get too attached. You liked your current life, and as lovely as it was spending time with Five, that led to nowhere. It was just a stupid little crush, anyway.

The family van was parked in front of the building, right in front of your car, so Diego started moving some thing into your car trunk to make room for everyone. Allison and Klaus were talking to Claire on the phone, as Ben, Luther and Lila were bickering about the sconces and Viktor was still trying to calm his nerves.

“You okay?” You placed your hand on Five’s shoulder, feigning a confident smile.

You were honestly so concerned for them, all of them.

“Just the most annoying hangover in my life,” Five placed his hand on yours absentmindedly.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal, he appreciated your concern, he always did. When he got hurt in missions you were always scolding him and he acted annoyed with your protectiveness, but this was the first time he actually showed gratitude for it.

“But you don’t gotta get all up in my ass,” He added with a smirk, taking your hand off his shoulder.

There it was.

He still held onto it, proudly, as you rolled your eyes, not even noticing how naturally your hands locked together.

“Oh please, you’d love me to get all up on you,” You scoffed, making him chuckle.

“Since when are you so arrogant?” He wondered.

“I may have picked up a thing or two from you over the years,” You shrugged your shoulders lightly.

“Should’ve picked up the phone more often,” Five said, causing you to wave a hand in front of your face bored of how many times you’ve been told that;

“The phone that…”

“Works both ways,” He interrupted you, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Then you don’t really have a leg to stand on,” You declared with a smile.

“Is that right?” He took a step closer, eyeing you curiously.

If you were to ask him where did that come from, he really had no idea what to say. Five always was unpredictable, but this was something new. But then again, it’s not like your relationship was that cold- it wasn’t. However, he was playing with fire a tad too much.

It all felt so ridiculous. How could he still make your heart thump heavily just with a simple look? You felt so little compared to him, as hard as you tried to seem confident. With the help of your platform boots you were still almost reaching his chin, and that was to show you just how young you both still were, even if your mental ages begged to differ.

“You still look like shit,” You broke the ice, still trying to keep up a tough exterior.

“Bullshit,” Five grinned, obviously feeling a lot better.

Little did you know how much your simple presence helped his mental well-being.

Surprisingly, he thought to himself.

“Are you two gonna suck faces or can we move along?” Ben suddenly walked up to you and his brother, as the rest of the family was watching everything unfold as if it was a soap opera.

“Why’d you wanna watch your brother kiss someone?” You wondered, letting go of Five’s hand to climb into the car along the others.

“That’s not okay,” Klaus agreed.

“You’re getting weirder by the second,” Allison told Ben, as he tried to argue.

“What the fuck?” Diego turned to watch his brother disgusted, as Viktor was just silently side-eyeing the tentacle man.

“I fucking hate you all,” Ben said defeated, looking around the car.

“At least they don’t wanna watch their fresh 19 year old brother eat tongue,” You couldn’t help the banter.

“Don’t say fresh 19,” Luther chimed in as well, as the siblings turned to you now.

“He is 64, nothing about him is fresh,” Klaus pointed out.

“Shut the fuck up, fuckface,” Five only rolled his eyes.

And thus the road-trip begun.

[miniy00ng1]

Not Yours pt.2

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 2239 (not proofread yet!)

warnings: swearing, fighting, lmk if i missed anything

find part one here my masterlist here

Hi lovelies! While writing I realized that this was going to be more than two parts like i had originally thought it would be. but regardless i hope you enjoy and don't forget to give me feedback! pls ignore and grammar errors! thank you <3

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“Welcome mi familia to my home away from home. My dearest Hotel Obsidian.” Klaus introduces, arms spread wide and breathing in the musty glory of the hotel. “Oh how I’ve missed her. Lookie who’s here! Mon frère Chet! How are you? We need your finest rooms good sir!” Chet places a sign on the table cash up front. The group of super siblings empty their pockets managing to gather enough for two rooms. 

“So what’s our next move you guys? Because the Sparrows can attack at any given moment. I know I would.” Diego asks, anxious to kick some more ass. Luther turns towards Diego, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Diego, just relax man. They’re not coming, they’re going to need a couple of days to recover with the way we left them.” “You really think so?” Diego asks hopefully, at this moment you peek around Luther’s body into Diego’s view and shake you head, sliding you thumb slowly across your neck. Five notices you trying to rile Diego up and drags you to the elevator.

“First, I get kidnapped. And now I have to bunk in the boys room. Just kill me now.” Y/N complains as she is forced into the room being shared between four men. “You can complain all you want Y/N, but I have to keep an eye on you, so deal with it.” Five huffs taking a seat on the lower bunk bed. You roll your eyes, “There are only four beds in here dipshit and five of us. Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” Five smirks at you, putting his hands behind his head and fully reclining on the bed as you make a gagging sound.

The other three brothers enter the room shortly after and begin to discuss how there are now other versions of themselves out in the world. Your curiosity gets the best of you, “What was you guys’ version of me like? Everyone seems to like her so much better, she couldn’t have been that great.” The men all speak at once listing all of the good qualities other you had such as her kindness, or her mindfulness, or her hopefulness. You jokingly smile extra big and say, “Doesn’t she just sound like a ray of sunshine.” The rest of the night is uneventful as everyone is exhausted from the events that occurred earlier. 

That night, you end up taking the bottom bunk and Five sleeps on the floor next to it. The morning sun shines directly into eyes, disturbing your slumber. As you wake up and try to adjust your eyes, you feel a pressure on your hand. Lifting your head from the pillow, you glance over the edge of the bed and see a slumbering Five holding your hand–warmth spreads across your face. You quickly snatch your hand out of his grip, startling Five awake, he immediately scans the room for any threats. Five furrows his eyebrows once he makes eyes contact with you. No words are exchanged between the two of you as you get out of the bed and head towards the bathroom down the hall.

While freshening up in the bathroom, Y/N takes note of everyone in the restroom. There’s an elderly lady, a woman in her late 40s that looks like she’s done every drug on planet earth–twice, and a tan woman with a young boy standing behind her. The woman stares at you as if you’re familiar with one another. “What the hell are you looking at lady?” You says while drying your hands. The woman laughs in disbelief, “No fucking way.” You raise your eyebrows at the lady and exit the communal bathroom, startled to find Five dressed in a suit and waiting for you. “This entire hotel is full of freaks.”

The two of you take a seat at the table joining Klaus and Diego. The table covered in boxes of Chinese takeout, Five hands you a container and chopsticks, “Eat up, you must be starving.” You nod your head as a thank you and dig into the noodles. The siblings discuss their next course of action, if they have to fight the Sparrows to get the briefcase back or stay in the timeline. Across from you, something has caught Diego’s eye as he abruptly drops his food and rushes away from the table. You turn your body to see where he’s run off to and see Diego chasing the woman from the bathroom.

Diego returns to his seat five minutes later wih a young boy who claims to be his son. Not a single one of the Hargreeves at the table question the legitimacy of the relation. “So if you’re his dad..Is that blonde lady his mom?” You question, not seeing the resemblance at all. Diego nods in confirmation, “She claims he’s my son and that lady, is Lila. You two have met, she tried to murder us like two days ago.” “Two things Buddy. One, I am not your Y/N. And two, you’re an idiot. No wonder she tried to kill you.” You say, piecing the missing information together.

A short haired Vanya approaches the siblings. “Wow Vanya! I am loving the haircut! It really suits you!” Klaus calls out, admiring the new style. “Oh, it’s actually Viktor.” Viktor says awkwardly. The brothers glance at each other before Diego speaks up, “Who is?” “I am, always have been.” Viktor confirms. “Does anybody have a problem with that?” Everyone at the table shakes their head no and congratulates Viktor. “Look, I met with Marcus last night he agreed to give us the briefcase in exchange for Y/N. He says he doesn’t want to start a war.” You sit up straight at the mention of the trade.

Five’s face hardens at Viktor’s statement, “Absolutely not Viktor. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but this timeline in perfectly acceptable, there are no apocalypses or psychopaths coming after us. And last time I checked, you don’t speak for this family. There won’t be any unnecessary trades. Especially not if they include Y/N.” “You’re wrong Five. We don’t belong here. Allison is miserable, her own daughter doesn’t exist and you’re holding Y/N hostage just because she looks like your Y/N!” Viktor argues back. Five seethes in Viktor’s face, “I said no.” Five drags you off the chair forcing you to follow him. You hear footsteps chase after the two of you, “Five! Five wait up!” Five stops, still holding onto your wrist as Klaus catches up. “You two sure move quick for such little legs. Anywho…how would you two like to join me on a little roadtrip? We can relax and cruise the open road, it’ll be a grand ole time!” Five agrees to go with Klaus against your wishes.

Leaning against the car, you scan Five’s figure, “Like what you see?” Five says cockily, smiling at you. “That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen. Genuinely, you should burn that for the sake of everyone else. And take that stupid hat off, you’re embarassing me. What did I ever see in you.” Five’s smile drops but before he can make a rebuttal Klaus skips over towards the car, “Let’s go bitches! This is going to be so much fun!” It was not fun by any means. Thirty minutes into the drive, Klaus and Five start arguing due to the fact that Klaus tricked Five into coming to meet his birth mother because he was scared to do it alone. 

“You were scared? So you brought me along like an emotional support schnauzer?” “I would say you’re more like a little cute, feisty chihuahua.” You say mindlessly. Five turns and glares at you, you’re certain he’s picturing murdering you in his mind. The fighting goes on for a little longer before the boys make up at the big ball of twine. Soon enough, you guys arrive at a farm where Klaus’ mother is supposedly living. Five tells Klaus that this is something he has to face alone and that he’ll stay with the car. 

Five moves the car to the side of the road and turns on a radio station playing songs from the 60s. He then exits the car just to open the rear door, “Scoot over, I want to stretch out my legs and do my crossword.” “You are such an old man. I don’t know how I could be into that.” You say while scooting over to make room for the teen. Five slides in next to you ensuring that his body is facing yours, “I’ll have you know that I have a lot of redeeming qualities that you loved. Not to mention, I’m a sweet talker Darling.” Five brushes his hand against your cheek, holding eye contact with you. Five’s green eyes are intense as you stare back noting the specks of blue in them. “I know, it’s hard to look away from them right?” Five winks at you finally breaking eye contact and sitting back, attention back on his newspaper. You blink rapidly trying to process what had occurred between the two of you.

Suddenly, a pulse rushes through the car shaking it as it passes. Five immediately sits up, hand gripping yours as he scans the area for signs of danger. You two exit the car, still holding hands. “Five? Where’d the cows go?” You question pointing towards the previously filled farmland which was now completely vacant. “Damnit can’t I get just one day off?” Five sighs throwing his hands in the air. The teenage boy gets to working on equations trying to figure out what he and his siblings fucked up now. In the distance, you hear a faint yell. A few seconds later comes Klaus with an angry Amish mob chasing after him, “Start the car! We’ve got to go now!” The three of you clamber into the car and speed off.

Klaus tells Five his findings and experience with the Amish and how his mother died before he was born. Five stomps on the breaks, causing you to fly forward, “We are so fucked. We’ve created the Grandfather Paradox.”

Once back at Hotel Obsidian Five takes you with him to find Lila. Her son, Stanley, tells you that she’s in the women’s restroom. Five is about to enter before you stop him, “Hey perv, this is the ladies room. Let me go.” You spot Lila in the bath and wave at her, “Y/N! Long time no see. Well actually, I guess you’ve never met me before but…I know you. And I can’t stand you just as much as I hate your husband.” Lila throws a knife in your direction and you are about to move out of the way when you feel a rush of air as you are blinked across the room.

You pull out of Five’s grip, “I can handle myself Five. And he is not my husband!” Lila approaches the two of you fully nude, “If you lovebirds are done with your couples quarrel. I’d love to get this over with.” Five and Lila fight and blink around the bathroom–you never knew two people could have the same powers. Lila manages to knock Five off of his feet, she then blinks to you and punches. You duck down, narrowly avoiding her fist. You sweep your leg at her feet aiming to knock her down. Lila lands on her back and you use your powers to transform into Luther in order to have an advantage, size and strength-wise. You swing your arms up in the air readying to pummel the woman into the ground. Lila mimics your power also transforming into Luther–your eyes widen as you realize what her powers are. Lila pulls her legs to her stomach before kicking them out, launching her legs into your stomach. You fly back, groaning as you land on a sink and breaking it off the wall. Curse Luther and his stupidly big monkey body.

Five has recovered and catches Lila off guard by slamming his body into hers. While distracted he squirts her in the face with soap, “Okay! Fuck! That’s enough!” Lila calls out, wiping the soap out of her stinging eyes. Five blinks over to you as Luther, “Y/N? Are you okay?” You transform back into your teenage self, accepting Five’s outstretched hand, “Never been better.” After making sure you were okay, Five grabs the briefcases from Lila’s possession. They were of course broken and the two decided that they would use their powers to travel to the Commision.

“We can’t bring her, we barely have enough power to bring ourselves.” Lila states motioning towards you. Five looks at you trying to figure out where to put you for the time being. Five walks you to his brother Diego, “I need you to watch her. I’ve got things to do and she can’t come with.” “What the hell? No! I’ve already got one little shit to take care of. I don’t need another.” You scoff at the conversation between the men, “I can hear you guys, you know?” They both ignore you. “Just make them watch each other, I don’t know. Figure it out, I’ve got to go.” Five walks off quickly with his hands in his pocket. Diego looks at you and rubs his face, “Stanley! Get your ass over here and come meet your Auntie!”

part three

taglist:

@ohmyitsfaith

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

❤️

You're tired of hearing about Eddie's crushes, hiding your feelings for him. Sick of feeling second best, you decide to move on.

Beer, a pool, and a very handsome Steve Harrington happens. Eddie isn't so thrilled about the Steve part.

Just a lil two parter to get back into writing

Part one

Eventual Eddie Munson x Reader

Steve Harrington x Reader

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work

❤️

It was a rainy Tuesday when Eddie broke your heart. Unknowingly, but it was broken all the same.

He had came to the Hellfire table in a suspiciously good mood. Beaming smile, eyes shining with happiness.

Turns out he had ran into Jessie who was his newest crush, she was the coolest, most badass babe on the planet according to Eddie.

This had been repeated constantly for the last few weeks and usually you were able to smile politely, pretend you weren't dying inside hearing him talk about his dream girl.

It had been this way for a year now, through multiple crushes, a few hook ups and one near potential girlfriend for Eddie, so you could push yourself to be happy for him one more time right?

No, today it was like your heart finally had enough, a deep ache was building inside you and felt like all the pain was exploding inside of you all at once.

Tears pool in your eyes and you catch the sympathetic look that Dustin throws in your direction. It's enough to sober you up instantly.

You didn't want to constantly pine over Eddie when he didn't want you, it was agony being so completely smitten with someone who noticed every woman but you.

It was like something in you just snapped and you had enough.

"Hey princess, you okay?" Eddie's voice breaks through your reverie and you startle a little as he peers at you intently with his big brown eyes.

His hand is on yours and your whole body feels alight at just his slightest touch, it was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, Eddie could be extremely perceptive when he wanted to be.

You needed to get over how you felt about him and soon, because you were sick of the constant heartache, second guessing yourself and feeling second best to Eddie's crushes.

Moving on would be a good thing. You couldn't take it if Eddie ever found out how you felt about him, embarrassment burns inside of you just thinking about his reaction, and how awkward Hellfire would be due to his rejection.

No, it was best for everyone if you found a way to get over Eddie.

❤️

Normally you didn't go to parties, especially not parties on a school night. However, there was a small part of you that wanted a change, to have some fun and let loose.

One of Jason's friends was throwing a party at his house, there was beer kegs, wine coolers and the biggest pool you had ever seen in your life.

Eddie was at the party to do his usual dealings, he catches your eye and looks stunned for a brief second.

"What are you doing here sweetheart? Parties aren't usually your thing?" you shrug and grab a bottle of beer.

"Just wanted a change of scenery I guess" it's then you notice that Jessie was also at the party and Eddie had noticed judging by the way his eyes light up.

Your heart sinks and you're about to make an escape until Eddie tugs on your hand.

"Hey, maybe you should stick close to me incase one of Jason's dipshit friends tries anything" you smile, touched at his protectiveness but you know deep down he'd rather be talking to Jessie than trailing after you all night.

"It's okay. I saw Robin by the pool so I'll go and chat to her for a bit" he's about to say something else but Jessie comes over and takes up all of his attention.

Yup, it's definitely your time to leave. There's no way you wanted to be around for Eddie making googly eyes at Jessie.

❤️

Between the pounding music, Eddie and Jessie and the fact you've lost Robin in the crowd, it was safe to say that the first hour of the party was a bust.

By the second hour you had gotten involved in a game of beer pong with Robin, Steve, Vickie and a few others.

At first you were kinda wary hanging out with Steve but you soon found out that he had changed so much from the King Steve of a few years ago.

He's kind, funny and kind, genuinely a good guy and him and Robin are like two peas in a pod. Platonic besties with a capital P she tells you and Vickie.

It's nice hanging out with them because everytime you see Jessie and Eddie together it needled at the ache in your heart.

Eddie joins in at one point but seems tense.

"Why are hanging out with Harrington?'' he hisses under his breath and you scowl.

"He's really nice" Eddie scoffs at this.

"Preppy, rich, douchebag? he's seen dating total babes every few weeks." you stiffen.

"Of course so why would he be seen with me right?" you ask heatedly and his eyes widen.

"That's not what I meant... You're beautiful sweetheart..." yeah but just a friend you finish his sentence in your head.

"Just forget it Eddie, go back to Jessie" you hurry away from him and curse yourself for getting so upset.

Steve notices and asks if you want to hang out in the pool.

It's quieter outside than in the house, people are just lazing around lightly buzzed, lost in their own conversations.

Steve makes you laugh by jumping in the pool fully clothed, he lets out a yell when he hits the water.

"Fuck, its freezing" and you swear you hear Robin calling him a dingus. The thought makes you smile.

"So Munson huh?" Steve asks gently and your smile vanishes.

"Mmm, tonight was my big plan to get over him. Didn't work out so well" There's a brief moment of silence that's broken when Steve takes you by surprise and you're suddenly in the pool beside him, soaking wet and torn between laughter and exasperation.

"Steve!" you huff out and his answering smile tugs at your heart. There's also something you didn't expect, a spark.

He moves closer to you and it's like the two of you are magnets. Steve strokes your cheek and his lips meet yours.

It's nice, it's really really nice and you moan softly as Steve gently tugs at your lower lip, deepens the kiss and pulls you even closer.

Steve pulls away and you both exchange a secret, shy smile at the moment you had.

You kiss him again and this time it's a little more hot and heavy. Only this time when you come apart, you're not alone.

Eddie has just come outside. He's staring at you and Steve, his expression blank but you notice something stirring deep in his eyes, a flash of emotion that you can't place.

Then it's gone and he storms back inside..

🖤

[cosmicalily]

"written by the aces" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

6. "stay" | lee felix x gn!reader

Don’t be lonely ‘cause you’re not alone, gotta send me pictures, save em to my room, if I fly to see you would it feel like home? If I change my number, you’re the first to know

author's note: literally minimal side notes from me, i just rly love this angel boy.

warnings: ji gets drunk, ji gets kicked (with much love)

“No, dipshit, I said orange soda, not lemon,” Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically as you showed him what was in your shopping basket. 

“Shut up, they’re literally the same,” you fought back, not wanting to walk the full length of the grocery store again. “You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.”

Jisung smiled sweetly. “I am! What a bundle of joy you are, Y/N!” 

You reached forward to smack him with the bottle, then, thinking better of the carbonated consequences, kicked his shins instead. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” Jisung whimpered, rubbing his leg. “Do you have to wear those platformed boots everywhere?”

You giggled and flicked a braid over your shoulder. “It’s part of my charm. And actually, they’re called stompers. My friend named them when I got my first pair of Docs as a kid.”

“The Monster Stomper 3000s,” a voice added from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and turned around, coming face-to-face with a boy with freckled cheeks, feline-like features and big brown eyes. A boy whose face you most definitely recognised, although his features had matured. Cheeks a little less chubby, making his cheekbones more prominent. Lips a little fuller, and his hair was now dyed a sandy blonde, the roots darkening. 

“That’s actually the most appropriate name I’ve heard. Especially for a pair of footwear that seem to have caused me more bruises than a weapon of war,” Jisung nodded in agreement, then wandered off to the chip aisle.

The blonde boy was still staring at you, plush lips settling into a sweet smile. “I thought it was you, Y/N, then I knew it was you when you started talking about your stompers. I’m glad you didn’t forget.”

“It was pretty iconic of young Felix, to be honest,” you replied, smiling back. “Why are you back?”

Felix shrugged in Ji’s direction. “His birthday party. Didn’t he tell you? And also, I just missed it here. You never moved out?”

“The little fucker didn’t tell me. And nah, I didn’t want to,” you glanced at a now rather distant Jisung. “Close friends and stuff. I didn’t want to start over. How’s it in Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Felix said thoughtfully. “Nobody knows what stompers are, though.”

“Nobody here knows what stompers are either,” you giggled. Jisung started shouting something from across the store, and you rolled your eyes. “Birthday boy assistant’s duty calls. Sorry, Lix, I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”

Felix nodded and leaned in to hug you before you walked off. It caught you off guard, but you soon melted into his embrace; soft and warm and welcoming, just like he always had been. Your heart thumped a little louder and you swallowed before stepping away. “See you!” he smiled, not missing the pink flush that tinged your cheeks.

Lying face-down in your empty bathtub, Han Jisung was drunker than you’d ever seen.

It was now 5am, and everyone had, naturally, gone home. Although the party had been hosted at Jisung’s, you knew better than to leave him in his current state. He’d probably have found his way to yours regardless, and you didn’t need him wandering the streets. But as you glanced down, taking in his pink cheeks and soft snores, you wondered if you could’ve just left him to sleep in his own bed.

“I told him not to open that second bottle of soju,” Felix sighed, scratching his neck. “He’s really going to regret it when he wakes up.”

“It’s not really in Ji’s nature to listen, Lix,” you replied, resting your head on the blonde’s shoulder. “That’s one habit he definitely hasn’t outgrown since you left, and probably never will. It’s not your fault.”

Felix nodded, slumping a little further onto the cold tiles of your bathroom wall. You two had been sitting there like exhausted parents of a newborn, checking to see if Jisung woke up and cried, needed a drink of water or just wanted to be petted until he fell back asleep. But it had been almost an hour, and despite the occasional snuffle, he seemed out cold.

“I think he’s dead,” Felix remarked, prodding Jisung’s warm cheek.

“Don’t!” you half squealed, half hissed. “He might wake up!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“Well, he’ll probably start complaining and need me to give him medicine and water and then he’ll start talking and you know he won’t stop,” you replied, sighing.

Felix smiled. “Isn’t he like that regardless of whether he’s drunk or not?”

“Pretty much. But I need a break sometimes, you know?”

“You sound like an overtired mum,” Felix chuckled. “We’ll leave him be.” He grabbed your hand and stood up, leading you towards the bathroom door.

You bumped against Felix’s chest awkwardly, your legs asleep from being on the floor a little too long. He caught you, slipping an arm around your waist. You paused, startled by the sensation, then glanced up at him. His eyes were sparkling, the way they always did, but there was some kind of an extra shine to them. You weren’t sure what it was, but you leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, the way you’d been longing to do for so long. Since before he’d left. Since before you’d realised the intensity of your feelings for him. His lips moved against yours, softly, and when you pulled apart, you weren’t sure it had even happened at all.

You felt a dampness on your face, and saw a single tear roll down his freckled cheek. He was still smiling, his eyes shining.

“I really missed you,” Felix whispered. “A lot. I regretted going home a lot of the time.”

“I know,” you replied. “So stay this time. Even just for a bit. Please.”

Felix’s smile faltered a little. “I can’t, as much as I want to. Where would I live? What would I do?”

“You could stay with me, you know you could. Please, Felix. Everyone here loves and misses you. It’s your decision, but just think about it, yeah? Stay the night at least; you can decide in the morning.”

“Alright.”

The sun beamed through the kitchen window, and the soft, sweet scent of pancakes filled the air. Felix was standing by the stove, an arm slung lazily around your waist as you stood beside him, cutting strawberries. You popped one into his mouth, and before you could grab one for yourself, found his lips pressed against yours, the same way he’d kissed you countless times this morning.

There was a sudden thump and a whine, and the both of you sprung apart and turned around. Jisung, hood skimming his squinted eyes, cheeks still flushed and body slouched, was sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

“Where the fuck did you two go? And what’s Felix doing here? I thought your flight was this morning.”

“It’s just now, actually,” Felix said with a smile on his face.

Lee Felix was staying. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was here.

He’d told you he’d be here for as long as you’d have him, and you were pretty darn sure that would be forever.

“You missed your flight?!”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for leaving a note on my neighbors door complaining about his stupid dog?

pretty much what it says in the title: i (20, nb) live with my mother (50s) in duplex (relevant info). not too long ago this guy--we'll call him billy--moved in next door. at first i didn't really pay him much attention. i mean i'd wave if i saw him pulling into the drive and stuff but other then that our lives didn't really intersect.

then a bunch of little things started piling up, like the way his friends were always parking in one of our spots (everyone has two parking spots. we only have one car so it's not a BIG issue, but this meant if we had company over at the same time they had to park in the grass or on the street, which was really annoying), and the weed he smokes is so fucking strong that it travels through the ventilation system and stinks up our apartment (i've burned so much incense. it's never enough. idk what the fuck strain it is but its potent, god DAMN) and now he's got a dog. a big, mean, untrained and UNLEASHED dog. that dog...i don't think i've ever hated a dog before. tbh i never thought i would, like i'm not the biggest dog fan in the world but fuck, man. i hate this stupid dog. it barks all the time. it chases my cat through the yard. it's tried to rush me twice and had to be physically restrained by billy (who was laughing and acting super blase the whole time, btw) and most recently it lunged at my mother while she was in our backyard--which is the part that REALLY pissed me off. it's to the point where we're uncomfortable in our own home.

which is where we come to this crossroads; billy says that he's going to be moving in the near future, though he hasn't specified when. i'm thinking of leaving a strongly worded note for him before he goes, something to the effect of "hey dipshit, maybe put your psycho mutt on a leash before it catches you an assault charge" but y'know, less aggressive. bc even if he's leaving soon i feel like this is something he needs to hear. but at the same time, i wonder if that's too passive aggressive? i suck at confrontation so i can't say this to him face-to-face. i'm also not sure if any sort of comment (verbal or written) would be crossing some sort of line or not, as i'm also terrible at the whole 'understanding social rules' thing.

so, WIBITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tsaomengde]

“The Mission”

A short story about love, time travel, healing, spaceplanes, and making the world a better place, even when no one will ever know.

---

After the TAG forces shot me out of my cockpit in low orbit, I floated there for about six hours.  Something – probably debris from my fighter – had hit me in the back, hard, and I couldn’t feel anything below my waist.  My suit’s maneuvering jets let me correct the initial nauseating spin I was thrown into, but they didn’t have sufficient thrust to get me out of my unstable, highly eccentric orbit.  

My suit told me I had about eight or nine trips around Titan before my periapsis wobbled low enough into the atmosphere that drag would bring me down below escape velocity.  At that point, gravity would catch up with me, I would fall, and I would crash into the surface and die.  The suit had an emergency beacon, but no built-in communications beyond that.  I was alone in the silent dark.

I sped around the moon at a little less than ten thousand kilometers per hour.  The view of Saturn, for the parts of the orbit where it wasn’t eclipsed by Titan, was gorgeous.  That was a small comfort, as my brain endlessly analyzed the ways I could go.  A bit of debris from the battle could kill me outright at these speeds, or it could puncture the suit on a glancing hit and it would be a toss-up whether I would die of suffocation or extreme cold.  My oxygen meter also claimed I had about three hours of air left, which meant I would probably be unconscious or dead by the time I actually hit the ground.  And, of course, there was the matter of my probably-broken spine.  I suspected I was bleeding internally from that.

Later, when I woke up in a hospital bed on the Agamemnon, they told me that the TAG brass had transmitted a formal surrender eighty-seven seconds after my fighter had exploded.  I was officially the last casualty of the Earth-Titan war.

They fitted me with prosthetics so I could still walk, but as the physical therapist with the cute dimples explained to me, there was some kind of incompatibility with my chromosomal something-or-other that meant I couldn’t use them at a hundred percent, which meant I didn’t qualify for combat.  My spine, which had indeed been broken, was too damaged to repair with conventional methods.  That left experimental regenerative genetic surgery, which was more expensive than the navy was willing to shell out for.

So, at thirty-one, after thirteen years in the navy, I got out with an honorable discharge, a pension that was decent enough but far from what it would take to fix my spine, a chromium heart for my injury, and enough PTSD to fuck me over for the rest of my life.

--- 

“I don’t care about my legs,” I said to Kate, the first time we ever met.  We picked a bar about halfway between us for our first meeting. She had a gin gimlet with cucumber simple syrup.  I had an old fashioned.  “They get me from point A to point B just fine.  I just miss flying.”

“Were you good at it?” she asked, blue eyes very wide.

“I certainly thought so. But then some TAG dipshit blew me out of my fighter above Titan and ended my career, so maybe I was less good than I thought.”

“You can’t fly for one of the intrasolar shipping companies?” she asked.  “Or transport?”

I gave her a patient smile. “Do you know what a pilot actually does aboard one of those big fusion torchships?”

“No, actually.”

“They point the nose where the destination is going to be, fire the engine for half the trip, then flip the ship around and fire the engine for the other half.  There’s nothing to that.  I miss flying.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”  I could tell she didn’t, not really, but that she wanted to.

I moved in with her a few months later.  Part of me wondered if it was a good idea, moving so fast, but I was two years from Titan and still waking up screaming in the middle of the night, convinced I was back in my suit, in the dark above the moon.  The greater part of me, the selfish part, was happy that someone was there to touch me, to talk to me, to root me back in myself and pull me back to earth from up there in the black.

In that sense, Kate could have been anyone.  I never thought of her as replaceable, but there was always a vague sense of guilt, of knowing that I was definitely getting more from the relationship than she was.  I voiced this to her once, and she told me I was being silly, and that she loved me, and that was all she needed.

So when she first approached me with her idea for the Mission, I like to think it was that part of me, the part that wanted to be more for her, that moved me to say yes to what was honestly an idiotic idea.  Not the part that missed flying.  Just selfless altruism and desire to help the woman I loved.

I like to think that a lot.

---

We cracked time travel about a decade after I was born.  Much to our collective disappointment as a species, it was not the fun kind of time travel that lets you go back in time and kill Hitler.  

Kate, as she told me once we were living together, was part of a DOD think tank tasked with finding some kind of use for the technology.  After a lot of experimentation, they came up with what Kate called the Four Rules.

1.      It’s time travel, not space travel.  If you want to meet Julius Caesar, you had best make sure you’re in Europe when you travel back.

2.      It only works by going back.  There is no forward travel because the future hasn’t happened yet. The only exception is returning to your point of origin.

3.      If you actually do meet Julius Caesar, it’s because your meeting him will not change history in any measurable way.  If you try to go back in time to change something significant, it simply doesn’t work.  The little box makes the noise, it uses up a lot of energy, and then nothing happens.

4.      The corollary rule to number three, then, is that when you travel back in time, whatever you do end up doing has already happened.

I asked Kate what this meant about determinism versus free will, and she primly replied that she was a theoretical physicist, not a philosopher.  The DOD was not known for employing philosophers and paying them the kind of money they were paying her.

---

The Mission’s personnel consisted of four people.  Myself, the heroic pilot.  Kate, the brains behind the time travel stuff and the one who came up with the Mission to begin with.  Leon, the aerospace engineer slash DOD contractor.  And Ash, the director of the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. We would go over to Ash’s place, have dinner, and conspire.

Over one such dinner – mac and cheese with broccoli, I remember it vividly for no adequate reason – we discussed the logistical difficulties involved.

“We can’t use anything from the last century,” Leon was saying around a mouthful of mac.  “All the guidance systems on those ships are keyed into the orbital satellite network.  There’s nothing like that at the target time.  We need a craft that can achieve orbit, rendezvous, and de-orbit in a single stage, without remote guidance.”

I nodded.  “That means we need a spaceplane.  Not just a fighter, but an actual spaceplane.”

Ash chewed over the problem as well as their food.  “There might be an SR-75 in decent enough shape we could appropriate from the displays at the museum.  The hardest part will be bribing the transport operators to take it to home base instead of, you know, a navy cache where highly dangerous military surplus equipment is supposed to go.”

I raised an eyebrow at them. “That’s going to be the hardest part? What about getting the parts to get it into decent working condition, or the fuel?”

Leon waved a hand dismissively.  “Do you know how many spare parts I have lying around at work?  How many millions of tons of liquid hydrogen and oxygen are stored in poorly-guarded places that I have access to?”

“No.  I’m guessing the answer to both is ‘more than the general public would be comfortable knowing about.’”

“Exactly.”

I looked at Kate.  “Is the magic box going to be able to send a whole spaceplane back, kitty?”

She wrinkled her nose at me for using her pet name in front of our friends, but let it go for the moment. “The magic box can send anything back given enough juice.”

“Okay, but is the shitty little battery at home base going to be able to give it enough?”

“Probably.  If we strip everything nonessential out of the spaceplane, get the mass down as much as possible.  I need to know the exact mass of the plane, plus us, when it’s ready for travel.”  Kate shrugged.  “If it won’t be enough, we can always add to our list of capital offenses and steal a torchship, then use its fusion reactor for the power.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.  “Last resort.”

---

“I don’t really understand why we’re doing this,” I told her one night, in the silence following her helping me out of another flashback.

She shifted a little in bed so she could look me in the eye.  “You said you were on board.”

“I am.  I’d do anything you asked, kitty, you know that. And obviously I’m excited to get to fly again.  But nothing we’re going to do is actually going to matter.  That’s one of the four rules, right?”

With a little shrug, she began running her fingers through my hair, which I’d stopped bothering to keep short after I was discharged years ago.  It was pretty long by now.  “It’ll matter to us, won’t it?  And to her?”

“I mean, sure, but the risk-reward ratio is way off.  You and Leon and Ash could all lose your jobs, we could get prosecuted by the Justice Department –”

“Vee, why did you sign up to be a pilot?”

I stopped.  “I mean, I always wanted to fly.”

“Yes, but what was the reason you put on your application?  And the reason you told me on our first date when we were still trying to look really good and put together for one another?”

That took me back, and I snorted gently.  “To make the world a better place.”

“Exactly.  Does there have to be a minimum threshold of goodness increase in order for an altruistic act to be worthwhile?”

I weighed that particular bit of moral utilitarianism in my mind before I committed to an answer.  “No.”

“So, that’s why we’re doing this.  To make the world a better place, even by the tiniest, slimmest margin.”

I gently snaked a hand out from under the comforter to lightly boop her on the nose.  “And the real reason, since we’re not on our first date and this isn’t an application you’re filling out?”

She stuck her tongue out at me.  “I know how much you want to fly again.  And I want to see my magic box used for something other than letting rich assholes reenact Bradbury’s ‘A Sound of Thunder’ without any of the nuance or lessons learned.”

“Dinosaur leather shoes is not the outcome you probably had in mind,” I agreed.  The time-travel hunting industry generated billions for the government every year now.

We fell asleep that night, and the next morning, we took a magtrain to Vegas, and from there we went to home base.

---

Home base was an abandoned aircraft hangar in the middle of the Nevada desert.  Leon had said something about centuries-old top-secret aircraft testing, when we first conceived of the Mission, and lo and behold, there was a facility with room for a spaceplane.  We spent far too much money on the highest-capacity quantum battery civilians could buy, hooked it into the Vegas grid, and watched it take eight weeks to charge.

It had also cost far too much money to bribe the transport operators to bring the SR-75 here, but the deed was done and they hadn’t sold us out so far.  They probably assumed we were aviation junkies.  What domestic terrorists would bother stealing a hundred-year-old spaceplane when there were far cheaper and more effective ways to kill people, these days?

Kate, Leon, Ash, and I sat at a small table in a corner of the hangar, drinking coffee and going over the ascent profile.  Ash’s part was done, having delivered the goods, but they wanted to be here for everything, and I certainly respected that.  The spaceplane took up the majority of the hangar space, a sleek black dagger with barely a suggestion of wings to either side.  The underside was dominated by a pair of huge jet intakes, and the rear of the plane sported three engine nozzles, the center much larger than either of the ones flanking it.  A gracefully curved tail fin slightly forward of the engines completed the vessel’s profile.

“The plane looks like it’s in good condition,” Leon was saying.  “I’ve sourced the fuels we need.  The main problem is going to be the timing, not the equipment.”

“How so?” Kate asked.

I spoke up.  “The SR-75 should theoretically be able to hit escape velocity just on the air-breathing engine mode, but the target has an extremely elliptical orbit, and we’re launching much closer to the equator, so we’ll have to adjust our inclination, too.  That means either a lot of burns with the rocket fuel mode once we’re in vacuum, or a very steep climb to orbit.  That pronounced an angle of attack might affect the engines’ ability to get enough air to achieve escape velocity.”

Kate blinked.  “Still not seeing how that affects the timing.”

I pulled out my personal comm, laid it on the table, and put it in draw mode, so I could trace pictures on its screen with the tip of my finger.  I drew a little ball, the Earth, and traced a messy, elliptical orbit around it. I indicated the very top of the orbit, where the line peaked like a mountain summit.  “We have about a thirty-minute window to achieve rendezvous with the target.  We need to rendezvous at or near its apoapsis, here, where its orbital speed is lowest and matching relative velocity will be easiest.”

I loved Kate, but it was endlessly amusing to me how she could understand quantum and temporal physics and articulate mathematical concepts I could never grasp in a million years, yet still not understand basic orbital mechanics.  She gave me a blank look, then just said, “And that’s hard?”

“Yes.  It is very hard, kitty.  We are trying to hit a target the size of, roughly, a bullet train car, except the target is going twenty-eight thousand kilometers per hour.  We need to come alongside it, match velocity with it, perform our docking maneuver, and then decouple.  And the parameters of the Mission mean that there is exactly one half-hour window we can do this in if we’re going to avoid violating rule three.”

“I think the best solution is going to be adding some external rocket fuel tanks,” Leon said.  “Not much, since we have to think about flight performance and transit mass for the magic box, but even a few hundred extra meters per second of delta-vee might make the difference in your ability to match orbits with the target.”

“Agreed.  Just make sure the Goddamn things aren’t going to come loose at Mach fuck-you.”

Leon grinned at me.  “I love your optimism, Vee.”

---

Unlike with most modern fighters, and indeed with even-older jet aircraft, the SR-75 did not have a fully enclosed cockpit.  The pilot sat in a big swiveling chair in front of the instrument panel, and the main cabin of the craft was accessible from there.  It was a spaceplane, and therefore supposed to be able to perform orbital docking maneuvers exactly like the one we were about to attempt, which necessitated the crew being able to actually get up and access the docking port without going fully extravehicular.

Kate sat behind me in a second chair that Leon bolted in there for her.  She had the magic box in her lap, hooked up by a pair of very fat and long yellow wires to the bulk of the quantum battery, which squatted heavily just slightly off-center in the SR-75’s main cabin.  (“Gotta keep that center of mass where it’s supposed to be,” Leon had said.)  She was doing something with the box’s controls, squinting at the small readout which displayed some kind of complicated waveform.

“I’ll initiate the breach when we get to fifteen thousand meters,” she told me.  “It wouldn’t do for anyone to actually see us at the target time, because then it just wouldn’t work, but I would rather not get shot down by our modern-day autonomous airspace defenses.”

“Sounds good,” I told her. “Hey.  Kate.”

“Yes, Vee?”

I craned my neck around as best I could while strapped into the pilot’s seat.  “I love you, kitty.”

Her cheeks darkened a little and she smiled.  “I love you too.”

I keyed in the ignition sequence and the SR-75 roared to life.  Leon and Ash, both standing a safe distance away outside the hangar so their eardrums didn’t rupture, started waving and giving us thumbs-ups.  I gave them a thumbs-up in return, projecting more confidence than I actually felt, and brought the throttle up just a little.

The spaceplane practically leapt out of the hangar.  Ruggedized, smart landing gear wheels hit the Nevada desert ground like it was perfectly maintained asphalt.  Within twenty seconds I pulled back on the yoke and the SR-75 was in the air, starting a steep climb.  I opened the throttle up the entire way and was slammed into my seat with the gee-force.

“JESUS CHRIST WE ARE GOING TO FUCKING DIE!” Kate screamed.

I glanced over my shoulder at her.  “You okay, kitty?”

She was clutching at her chest, magic box forgotten, and for a long, terrible moment I thought she was having some kind of heart attack.  But then she nodded, looking pasty.  “I just got taken by surprise,” she shouted over the roar of the engines.  “Sorry!”

“Okay!”  I returned my attention to the instrument panel.  We were already moving at a good clip, and the altimeter was increasing fast enough that even the digital display was having trouble keeping up.  For a long, pure moment, I just relaxed into my seat, hands on the yoke, feeling the currents of air spiraling around the ship.  Now, more than ever before my prosthetics, it felt like an extension of myself.  I was flying again.

“We’re at fifteen thousand meters!” I told her.

Kate pressed a button on the magic box.  Everything blurred like someone just messed with the focus on a camera, except the camera was my brain.  When it re-focused, we were still in the plane, climbing toward space at an impressive clip, but all of the global positioning systems were dead.  There were no satellites to receive data from, not in this era.  However, we had accounted for this; the SR-75 had its own onboard suite of computers dedicated specifically to calculating orbital information.

It was at this point that things began to go wrong.  I felt a sharp tug on the yoke.  Swearing to myself, I corrected, keeping the plane on course, and keyed a status readout. The SR-75’s onboard systems insisted that nothing was wrong, but that the plane was experiencing significant and unexpected drag.

It hit me.  “Fuck me!” I snarled.  “Leon’s fucking external fuel tanks!  I told him they needed to be secure!”

“What’s going on?” Kate asked.

“One of the external fuel tanks Leon spit-soldered onto this Goddamn thing has come loose, and the drag is killing our velocity,” I told her.  “I need to get it off of us, now.”

My gaze was fixed on my instruments, so I couldn’t see the horror in her big blue eyes, but I could hear it loud and clear in her voice.  “How?”

“Shearing force.  Hold on, this is going to fucking suck.”

I stomped down on one of the SR-75’s rudder pedals with my right foot, the motion almost as smooth as it used to be even with the prosthetic, and spun the plane in a sharp, hard three-hundred-sixty-degree roll.  I nearly blacked out, and I know Kate did for a few seconds, since she didn’t go through flight training.  But there was a sudden, violent wrenching feeling that went through the yoke into my arms, and afterward the drag was gone.

“Did it work?” Kate asked blearily.

“Yup.  And apparently an external fuel canister from several hundred years in the future crashing in the Nevada desert doesn’t fuck up the timeline, since we’re here at all.”

“Are we still going to be able to make it?”

I eyeballed the delta-vee readouts on the navigation display.  The lost fuel tank didn’t exactly have a ton in it, and of course, the reduced mass of the ship now that it was gone meant the net loss was slightly ameliorated. But even so, the situation was grim.

“Well, yes and no,” I told her.

“That is never the answer anybody wants to hear, Vee.”

“I should, should, still be able to match velocity with the target and achieve rendezvous. But our margins are basically nil now. If I don’t do this perfectly, we’re going to miss completely.”

I felt her reach out and place a hand on my shoulder, give it a squeeze.  “You can do this, Vee.  I know you can.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” I told her, and was surprised to hear that it didn’t come out sarcastic.

The ascent became a delicate balance.  I was trying to hit escape velocity while still using the air-breathing mode of the engines, which was incredibly efficient compared to the rocket fuel.  But as I got higher, the engines needed to work harder to ram enough air in to function, which meant my thrust decreased.  Without the global positioning system to feed me flight info, I needed to do it all by feel and eyeballing the orbital information given to me by the onboard computers.

I trimmed a couple degrees off my angle of attack, trying to find the sweet spot between still gaining altitude and not starving the engines of air in the increasingly-barren stratosphere. The SR-75 shuddered, engines straining, and began to threaten me with a stall.  I swept my gaze across my instruments.  “Fuck,” I muttered, and switched the engines to rocket mode.

Instantly, we were slammed back into our seats again as our thrust suddenly increased dramatically. I glanced at our projected apoapsis, counted to three, then shut the engines down.

In the sudden silence in the absence of the engines’ roar, Kate asked, “Did we do it?”

“Yes and no.”

“Goddammit, Vee!”

I looked over my shoulder at her and gave her my most reassuring grin.  “Sorry, couldn’t help it.  The drag from the fuel tank breaking loose meant that we lost velocity, which meant we took longer to get to the speed we were needing, and the spin I had to put the plane through shifted our course a little bit.  Our inclination is about five degrees off of where it should be.”

“Okay.  What does all that mean?”

“We are going as fast as we need to be, but we’re not in the place we need to be going that fast.  I’m going to need to do correction burns at certain points in our ascent.  We can still make our rendezvous, but we won’t have the fuel to do a proper deceleration burn. I’m going to have to perform emergency aerobraking.”

“In English, Vee!”

“On our way back down I am going to use the atmosphere to slow us down the old-fashioned way.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Is this plane designed for that?”

“Probably.”  I shrugged.  “Assuming we don’t burn up, I’ll be able to switch the engines back to air-breathing at a certain altitude and land without the need for lithobraking.”

I could see her trace the Latin roots of litho and arrive at the gallows-humor definition of the word.  She went even paler than before.  “Certainly hope so.”

I let my grin fade as we continued to coast on our momentum, rising inexorably up through the mesosphere into the thermosphere, our speed gradually slowing as we crested toward the very top of our parabolic arc.  At key points, I reoriented the SR-75’s nose, now using chemical thrusters to maneuver the craft in the absence of air for the control surfaces to manipulate, and fired the engines in rocket mode, tweaking our orbital inclination until it matched that of the target.

The computers suggested to me, at that point, that we would be able to achieve equal relative velocity, and it would leave us with enough delta-vee to then de-orbit ourselves. We would not be stuck in orbit forever until we died.  I blinked hard, banishing the memory of Titan as it suddenly threatened to overwhelm me, and repeated the affirmations Kate taught me.  I am not there anymore.  I am here, now.  I am safe.

Safe was, of course, a relative term in the vacuum of space, going tens of thousands of kilometers per hour.  But Kate took my hand from behind and gave it a squeeze, and I was good again.

“We’re going to do a long burn once we’re within ten kilometers,” I told Kate.  “That’ll bring our relative velocity to zero.  From there we just point our nose at the target, fire the engines for half a second, get as close as we can until we’re either about to hit or miss, fire them again to bring ourselves back to zero relative velocity, and then we do that over and over until we’re close enough to dock.”

“I don’t need to know all the mechanics,” Kate replied, and I could see she was fighting to keep her teeth from chattering.  The environmental controls were working just fine, so it was fear she was dealing with, not cold.  “I just trust you, Vee.  Make it happen.”

I suited action to words. It took ten long, arduous minutes, and by the end of it we were very short on time to actually execute the retrieval, but I successfully brought the SR-75’s docking port, which sat on the dorsal surface of the spaceplane, in contact with the target’s own.

Not that they were remotely designed to be compatible, being hundreds of years apart in origin, but fortunately the SR-75 had the advantage of smart materials incorporated into its construction.  Its port sealed itself tight around the target’s, flashing a green light and hissing open to reveal the shiny metal surface of the target.

Kate was already out of her seat, plasma torch in hand, and the acrid smell of it hit my nostrils as she ignited it and started cutting through the ancient hull like butter.  It was joined less than a minute later by new smells: faint traces of iodine and ethanol, urine, feces, and a wet, animal musk.

And, of course, I heard barking.

“Got her!” Kate called to me.  “She’s in pretty rough shape, but she’s alive!”

“Strap back in, and get her secured too,” I told her.  “We’ve passed apoapsis and I need to fire the engines right now for the Oberth effect or we’re going to be stuck in orbit forever.”

I keyed in the command for the docking port to close on our end and release.  The leftover atmosphere inside the target puffed out of it in sudden decompression, pushing our two crafts apart, but not hard enough to seriously perturb either of our orbits.  That was the engines’ job, and I brought them to life as soon as we were clear.

They sputtered out as they burned the last of the rocket fuel.  I looked at our orbital readout.  “Ah, shit,” I muttered.  “This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

---

We all but rammed into the atmosphere with the entire length of the plane.  The yoke bucked in my hand and the instrumentation suggested to me that I was a fucking moron that had doomed us all, but with polite numbers instead of those exact words.  I kept an iron grip on the yoke, worked the rudders with both my leaden feet to keep us perpendicular to our approach vector so we would generate more drag and thus lose more speed, and prayed to every God I could think of.  Behind me, Kate’s teeth were audibly chattering, but she managed to avoid screaming again, and the dog was remarkably quiet.

The interior of the SR-75 got incredibly hot, naturally.  The instrument panel helpfully informed me that it was almost fifty-five degrees Celsius inside, and that was with the life-support system working as hard as it possibly could to cool it.  The one saving grace we had was that the spaceplane’s designers had anticipated the need for this kind of extreme aerobraking, and the skin of the craft was designed to tolerate it – in theory.  I sweated, and I panted, and I watched our velocity slowly decrease until we were no longer going to boomerang back up out of the atmosphere.

Then I pointed the plane’s nose down, let gravity take over, and switched the engines back into air-breathing mode.

They decided they did not want to start.

“Well, we’re fucked,” I laughed.

“This is a plane, right?” Kate asked through clenched teeth.  “Aerodynamic?  You can fly it without the engines, right?”

“Well, glide, yes. Fall slowly, yes.  Land… maybe.”

I let us half-glide, half-fall until we were back in the troposphere.  “Magic box time,” I told Kate.

Everything unfocused again, and when I was able to see once more, my global positioning displays were back online.  They told me that, if I did nothing, we were going to crash into the ocean just off the coast of Hokkaido.

I tried the engines again. Still nothing.  The reentry had fried them, as far as I could tell.

I started the plane’s nose trending up again, trying to bring us out of the dive and into a climb. The control surfaces bucked and the plane fought me.

“I’m sorry, Vee,” Kate said.

“Don’t start,” I told her. “We’re not dead yet.”

“I couldn’t go back and save you from what happened at Titan.  I thought, if I could save Laika, maybe –”

“I know exactly what you were thinking, kitty.”  I looked back at her, and the scared-looking mutt buckled into her lap.  “It’s okay.”

“I just – when I read about how she died, all alone, in that terrible little capsule –”

“I said don’t start, Kate. I said it’s okay and I meant it.”

She kept going like she hadn’t heard me.  “She was supposed to have enough food and oxygen for a week.  But the satellite was rushed, and the temperature control system failed.  So when she was –”

“FUCK me!” I shouted.

That finally got through to her.  “What?!”

“Temperature control.” I quickly hit a series of switches. “The jet intakes were superheated by our reentry.  When you switch the engines to rocket fuel mode, they have shutters at the front that close so you don’t get trace amounts of gaseous oxygen mixing with the liquid fuel. Those shutters are probably half-melted shut.”

“And?”

“There’s an emergency release that just drops them completely.”  I pressed the button, felt the SR-75 shudder as explosive bolts fired and it shed hundreds of pounds of metal.  “Okay. Now –”

I was cut off as the sudden force of the engines firing slammed me hard into my seat.  The plane began to corkscrew wildly as the engines put out differing amounts of thrust for the first few moments until the oxygen feeds equalized.  Clearly one of the intakes had had less of its shutters blown off than the other, and the plane had needed some time to adjust.

Kate coughed.  “The engines?  They’re working?  We’re not going to die?”

“Oh, we’re still going to die,” I told her.  “Eventually, of old age.  But probably not today.”

She smacked the back of my head.  “Jackass.”

---

The vet gave us a very suspicious stare as we paid our bill and accepted Laika’s carrier back from his nurse.  “I have never seen an animal in that kind of shape before,” he said.  “Malnourished, half-dead from heat exhaustion, matted shit in her fur, and primitive bio-monitoring equipment surgically grafted into parts of her. I assume you didn’t do this, since it would be colossally stupid to come into my office and ask me to fix her up if you did.”

Kate shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t us.  She’s a stray.  Found her while we were out on a trip.  We felt so bad for the poor thing that we brought her back with us.”

Somewhat mollified, the vet nodded.  “Well, make sure to give her the antibiotics for the rest of the week, and call me if there’s anything else she needs.”

We stepped outside, and I opened the carrier to let Laika out.  She staggered out, still a little loopy from the anesthesia, and I got her leash onto her without too much trouble.

“You know,” I said to Kate, “when we first shacked up, I said I didn’t want any pets.”

She grinned at me.  “For someone who was so against the idea, you went very far out of your way to get me one anyway.”

---

About six months after we brought Laika home, a very humorless man in a snazzy uniform, accompanied by many more humorless men in uniform with large guns, came and visited our house. The humorless man in charge sat and chatted with us for a while, and Laika sat in his lap and let him give her pets.

Nothing else ever came of the visit.

There is no neat bow to tie on this story, unfortunately.  I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night, though not quite as often. That probably has more to do with the passage of time and a lot of therapy than pulling a time-travel dog rescue, though.  The only point to any of it is that we spent a lot of taxpayer money (since Kate, Leon, and Ash are all paid by the government) and risked our lives to make the world a better place, even by the tiniest, slimmest possible margin.  

And perhaps having read about it will have made your world a little better too.

[scarletsaphire]

GRAY GHOST pt 69

"Valerie, please, I need you," Danny croaked, flopping down on the couch next to her.

"What you need is to stop talking and give your throat a rest," Valerie said, not looking up from her book. "You're not going to recover if you keep straining yourself."

"I'm never going to recover end of sentence. This is the end for me," Danny whined.

"You got thrown through walls on the daily back in high school." Valerie flipped to the next page. "You always recovered just fine then. You can handle a cold."

"I'm dying, Val!" Danny inched his way closer, forcing his way between her lap and the book. "I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's almost as beautiful as you."

"You're already dead, dipshit. You aren't going to end up any more dead."

Danny turned over to look up at Val. "If only there was a gorgeous young woman who would give me CPR, to bring me back to life."

Valerie closed her book slowly, laying it on the couch next to her. Danny puckered as she leaned down ever so slightly, before she stood up, throwing Danny to the floor.

"Hey!" he yelped, wincing at the stab of pain it elicited from his sore throat. "What was that for?"

"I don't want your germs, Danny," Valerie said. She stepped over Danny, who was still laying in the same position he'd fallen in.

"I can't believe I've been betrayed by my own wife!" Danny said. "Wasn't there a clause in that whole speech about in sickness and in health?"

"Yea, followed immediately by until death do us part. Once again, you're already dead," Valerie said without turning around.

"And here I thought you'd accepted my ghostliness," Danny grumbled.

Valerie laughed. "How about I make it up to you? The chicken soup is almost done. I'll bring you a nice big bowl and you can put on one of those space documentaries. Will that do the trick?"

Danny righted himself, moving back to the chair where his blanket lay, discarded. "That will do just fine."

[nostromo13]

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Summary: Following the Alvarez war, Natsu has to come to terms with a new reality.

Merry Christmas! I did this one for @endragoneel and I loved their prompts. I wish I'd had more time for it, but other commitments got in the way. I hope you love it regardless, Ever. I definitely want to write more on this topic in the future. Also a big thank you to @allaboutnalu for the mountain of effort that went into organizing the whole gift exchange <3

A little additional info: Cymorth, the title, is a Welsh word that translates to support/aid (thank you to the anonymous person who corrected me on what I previously thought it was! I really appreciated it as I’m rusty on my Welsh)

AO3 Link

Cymorth

“No, dipshit, side K should be on side 296. Wait, that can’t be right.” Gray grumbled, snatching up the instructions to take another look.

Natsu groaned. His hands hadn’t hurt this much since he’d thrown Zeref through the wall of the guildhall. Or maybe since waking up on Tenrou island and the sleep state had preserved not only him but all the cuts and bruises of the fight with Hades too. They’d been at this table and its gibberish instructions for hours, doing their part in the post Alvarez war rebuild by shaping up Magnolia’s library. The whole rebuild process taking way too long for his liking and aching palms were just adding to his impatience.

When Gray began to grumble again, he’d decided he’d had enough. He let the pieces he was holding together at a weird 79 degree angle drop to the floor, creating a loud bang that displeased his entire team and earned him a few choice words as he made his way over to Lucy’s bedroom.

He spied his girlfriend as he poked his head through her doorway, seeing that she was busy sorting through the piles of books torn down from the library shelves in the tremors caused by Acnologia’s attacks. The rest of their teammates had set up base in her living room, arguing through the instructions to build a new book returns table, the noise of which had sent her out to, as she put it, concentrate. He’d sat back from that argument for once, finding more enjoyment in observing since constructing things was not one of his strengths.

Feeling like she was a little too comfortable he readied himself for a sneak attack. Legs set to pounce, fingers ready to poke her relentlessly into annoyance and muscles primed to hold on until she either paid attention to him or Lucy kicked him for pestering her.

He took one step towards her, then another. Her back faced him and with every move closer he could feel the anticipation of how delicious this attack was going to be. Listening to Erza and Gray bark orders at Wendy, Carla and Happy all afternoon had his attention well and truly fried and more importantly his Lucy quota was severely deficient.

His attack progression paused for a moment as he caught himself up in the excitement of it. His partner was in front of him. Alive and safe, busy kneeled in a mountain of books that he was sure to be her happy place. He let out a quiet laugh to himself, foolishly giving the game away and attracting her attention.

Lucy turned her head to pay him a quick glance before returning to her work, speaking to him. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help me?”

“I’m bored.” He complained, rather like an impatient child. Or dragon slayer.

He joined her anyway, nudging a space for himself with his foot in the book pile with more carelessness than Lucy would appreciate. “If the table is done you could see what they’re doing at the guildhall. I have a few more hours of work before I’m done here tonight and I’m not sure how much fun you’ll find this, sorry.”

He gave her bedroom a glance for anything to distract himself while she worked, but nothing took his fancy after so many hours of a tedious task. His attention only really fell on who he’d come in here to distract. His girlfriend enjoyed little organisation jobs and appeared entirely content in the little book nest she’d messied the bedroom floor with.

In the few hours he hadn’t seen her Lucy had tied her hair up. It lay in a braid down her back, and pieces were slipping out each time she moved her head from the absentminded attempt to get her hair out of her face while trying to continue working at the same time.

With an audible “Hmph” Natsu sat himself down behind her. He tugged the hair tie gently so it fell into his hand and he got to work combing out any tangles with his fingers.

He felt her tilt her head slightly into his fidgeting, glad she hadn’t put up a protest and possibly gladder that he hadn’t gone through with his first approach of distracting her. As he worked through her hair and began braiding her features released the tense expression that she usually wore when she needed to concentrate. Lucy always looked a little upset when she did that and he could never quite wrap his head around the idea that she was perfectly okay, She had agreed that her resting face was one that did appear quite frowny, but she’d assured him she wasn’t really thinking of anything when she was like that.

“I’m bored.” Her brow creased as she held two books in her hand, looking between them, but she didn’t acknowledge his statement. “And I’m hungry.”

“Gray said he was going on a food run in a bit. Why don’t you go with him?”

“Don’t wanna go with him. He’s smelly.”

She chuckled a little, not wanting to encourage his insult. “I have too much to do. Go get food and I’ll join you when it’s here.”

He tied the end of her new braid off, letting it fall flat against her back and shuffled closer so his chin could rest on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the fabric of one of his hoodies that lived here. “Take a break with me.”

She smiled, shaking her head.

“C’mon, you’ll strain your eyes.”

With a little huff of her own she began to stretch her legs, leaning against his chest comfortably as she did so. He tucked her head under his chin, meeting her eyes at an angle that made her giggle. “Pizza or Pad see ew?”

“Why do you get to choose?”

He stood as she moved, offering her a hand up off the floor. “Because it’s my turn. And only a few take out places have passed the damage checks.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “I want crepes.”

He hadn’t gathered the heart to tell her nowhere would be open at this time that did them when Gray dropped an agitated f-bomb from the adjoining room. Natsu laughed loudly with Lucy, hoping the ice freak could hear him through the wall.

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

With a quick goodbye and collection of orders from their teammates, they set off down the canal streets to the centre of town where more food options were available. Lucy had opted for a jacket as the September air was now turning frigid and Lucy was the sort that if she didn’t have a hundred layers on in the colder months she’d complain until her fingers fell off. Except he’d never let that happen.

Her fingers met his as they walked, her pale hand clasping his tanned one together in an easy swing between them. It was a short walk to the town centre, and a small debate between the two ended them up at a small dumpling place being run out of the back of a pizza restaurant in an agreement made by two neighbourly owners for the time it took for Magnolia to rebuild.

“I’ve got Wendy some mango pudding.” She told him as she joined him standing outside the restaurant for their order to be prepared. “She liked it here last time, but it can be hit and miss.”

Natsu nodded, taking her hand back. Her skin felt cool in his, contrary to her having been inside moments ago, although his warmer temperature made it hard to tell sometimes. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just chilly.”

She didn’t need to ask. He ran his arms up and down hers, pulling her closer so she could benefit off his body heat.

“It’s only 50 degrees.”

He laughed at her trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. It always felt like a big deal to him when she couldn’t handle the winter months as well as him. He hated the way it made her slow in the mornings and shower ten minutes longer each time. It was nice that it made her cuddle up to him more. She was less of a physically affectionate person, whereas he naturally drifted towards it. At least with her anyway. He’d identified a similar thought sometime around her birthday just before the war.

She gave into his warmth, thinking they probably appeared silly to anyone that looked at them both rubbing her arms.

“After the heat from your book everything just feels a bit mediocre in comparison.” She admitted jokingly between them. “Don’t look at me like that, Natsu. I didn’t mean it to worry you.”

“I always worry about you.” His eyes dropped from hers, looking at the thick coat on her shoulders. He’d ceased warming her arms, stopped her biceps.

“Food order for Lucy.” A waiter called out from the restaurant doors, holding out two full paper bags.

Natsu dropped his hold, grabbing the food with a “Thanks” before they set off back.

The roads were quiet this time of night, and the currently displaced citizens temporarily living in Onibus meant the place was even less populated. Magnolia wasn’t meant to be quiet. Natsu was used to there being a hundred different sounds to choose from every time they walked down the main streets. Now all he could hear was the canal beneath their feet under the bridge and Lucy struggling to adjust her hold on the dumplings.

“Give it here.” Liberating the bag, he paused as she protested. She glared, pouting unconscious of where the streetlights managed to shadow the top portion of her face, making it all the more funny to him.

“What?”

He smirked, showing a cheeky canine. “Nothing.”

“Can we go home then. I’m freezing my butt off out here.” She waddled on the spot in a little Lucy-warming-up dance, trying to produce some friction between her hands. He only responded by watching, making a face that didn’t require him to verbalise to call her a weirdo. “Natsu please it’s practically Baltic.”

“I wanna sit for a bit.”

“The food will get cold.”

He ignored her, dumping the bags by the bridge side and sitting on the stone ledge, letting his legs dangle freely. She may have huffed and puffed behind him in annoyance, but knowing if she had would have required him to put in the effort to turn around. “I’ll warm it up later.” He excused when she finally joined him.

They sat for a small while, taking in the pleasures of a calm September night. The rebuild effort was taking a lot out of everyone at the guild and sometimes Natsu just needed a moment. He thought that after the war forced their lives to stop as it raged through everything they called home he could take a few moments to appreciate it occasionally. Even if it meant food would wait five minutes.

Beside him Lucy swung her legs, leaning back to watch the stars, her teeth absentmindedly chewing on her lip. He hadn’t meant to start watching her, but she had a way of capturing his attention sometimes, and it surprised him when she suddenly spoke.

“Do you think about END?” Lucy asked, eyes still buried in the night sky.

He felt himself frown. It was a valid question; he just never knew where she got them from when she came up with stuff like this. Normally it was more along the lines of ‘What do you think sheep count to go to sleep?’ and not the existential sort. He nodded. “Not so much when I’m in the shower, but when I’m hungry I know he needs feeding.”

She smiled. “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Actually, she really didn’t get it. She’d analysed every bit of her life since they found out her partner was END to see any way she could relate to what he was going through. Finding out something so big so far down the line felt earthshattering to her.

“I guess it answered some questions for me.” He shrugged and she turned, listening with care. “I didn’t know there was a part of me out there in some book, but it doesn’t feel strange.” He paused before he continued with a new thought. “Like when they said I’ve got that dysleck- dyslexic what’s-it.”

“Dyslexia.”

“Yeah. And I didn’t know letters weren’t meant to look like that because that’s all I know. It’s not as if dragons get dyslexia, so how was Igneel supposed to have spotted it when he was teaching me.”

She hummed, understanding better.

“END doesn’t feel separate to me. I just feel a little less tied down.” Natsu corrected himself when worry graced her features. “Not tied down. Just… I think it’s the knowing now that I was tied to that thing, tied to Zeref when he’s the bastard that’s been causing us trouble for so long. I’m happy I got to pound his face into the ground.”

“Without him I never would have met you.” Lucy spoke with a small smile. “I know it’s wrong for me to think about it like that when the whole of Fiore has been affected by what he’s done. I can’t help but want to be a little selfish. Without you I-”

“I get it.” He interrupted accidentally in his eagerness to agree. “I haven’t exactly processed what he did or what he is meant to mean to me. I don’t care about rushing on that. It gave me a chance to meet you, and Happy and everyone else. I wouldn’t be me without ya.”

He gathered her into his hold, her arms holding tight around his neck. She pressed her nose into Natsu’s collar, inhaling his warmth as he stroked her hair. They sat like that for a few minutes. The only presence around them on the cold street whatever wildlife hadn’t been scared off or killed in the war.

Finally, he pulled away. “Did you find the book after you lost it?”

Lucy shook her head. “It disintegrated, Natsu. It shouldn’t be possible for it to turn up again.”

He didn’t like the way her mouth had settled into a sharp line. His skin pricked with anxiety as a wave of stress washed over him. “Does me being END bother you? Like, dating me?”

“What?” She didn’t drop the line, instead directing it more towards him. “Why would you think that? I-” She allowed herself to breathe, refocusing herself on the conversation. “I love you. I love every part of you.”

“Every part?” He grinned into an innuendo, achieving the look of dismay he sought from his girlfriend.

“If I do break up with you it’ll be over you saying stuff like that in public. Maybe I’ll shack up with Cana.” She quickly backtracked. “No actually, she’d be worse.”

“Like you making gooey eyes at my chest when we’re at the guildhall is any different? Besides,” He leaned in closer, his breath meltingly warm against her lips. “We’re not in public. There’s no one here.”

She felt a warm hand place on her thigh, stroking above her jeans, the surprise of it sparking the same feeling Natsu could always elicit from her. Lips pressed to her own, paying particular attention to where she abused the skin frequently as he continued kissing her. Lucy pressed her chest closer to his with a tug on his jacket. His hand came up to stroke her cheek, taking his lips away to smile down at her. She felt herself getting enchanted, and it took a good effort for her to steel herself, brushing his hand off and standing up, too aware of the sharp drop into water 2 inches of a footstep wrong. “If you’re going to do that it’s not going to be where any peeping Tom can get a free show from their curtains. We’ve got food to deliver, come on.”

He followed her off the edge, picking up their food before slinging an arm around her shoulders. Their delay in grabbing dinner had meant a very hangry Gray and several apologies from Lucy, but they did eventually get a Natsu-rewarmed meal.

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

Natsu yawned as he shuffled out of bed, stretching his arms over his head as he made his way to the bathroom in the dark. He’d heard the hour beep on Lucy’s bedside alarm clock, and by his guess it was about 2 AM. Erza, Gray, Wendy and the exceeds had left around 10, leaving him to distract Lucy from the hundred more books she insisted needed sorting tonight. He had managed to coax her into another rewatch of How to Train Your Dragon. A movie he insisted was a cinematic marvel and later when Lucy had introduced the books to him a literary marvel too.

Upon leaving the bathroom he glanced over to his girlfriend passed out in the bed. She’d encroached onto his side in the few minutes he had taken to pee and, worrying it might’ve meant she was seeking his heat, he decided on fetching another blanket to throw on top of the small mountain she required.

He opened her chest of drawers first, finding none of the thicker sort she preferred, before opening her wardrobe. He lifted the first of the fluffy ones, gathering the large monstrosity over his shoulder as his eye caught on the object that had sat beneath the blanket.

It was a book. One with worn brown leather bound to a thick manuscript of papers. It had a patiently decorated boarder with a small sun facing down from the top. If he’d analysed it closely he maybe could have seen that it had been read and re-read many times, but his attention lay solely on the front cover, and the black painted-on font that read ‘E.N.D’.

[magadauthan]

Ep 9: Murder Machine

Aaaaand now for the @trigun98watchparty, we get into what makes Trigun, Trigun. Come for the dumbassery, stay for the trauma.

Cue the entrance of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, wandering priest, and his gloriously bare chest.

--Vash can dish out the whining, but he can't sure take it. Milly is the champion, as the baby of the family. "Pay for our bus fare or I'll hate you! and btw can I have ice cream?"

--oh my lord, Meryl, you are so mean to that poor man. Punch count: 3; insult count: 2 - and then you and Milly steal his water.

--WW's Kansai accent is usually coded in English as Southern. It's probably a good thing the dub didn't tackle that, because it would have been distracting, but wouldn't WW with a Boston or a Chicago accent have been amazing? Come on, the Blues Brothers are right there! (hmmmm... there are an awful lot of similarities between Elwood and Wolfwood...)

--Ah, the portable confessional. Add another notch to the "items seen once and never again" tally.

--Boob shot!

--WW's cold read regarding Vash's empty eyes and hurting on the inside is less impressive when you consider that he has more information than he lets on.

--look at his stupid dress shoes, Tristamp nailed that shit, didn't they lol

--"Why doesn't anything nice ever follow you?" F*ck around and find out, Meryl

--"Did we just become best friends?" "Yep!"

--even the kid thinks you two are a couple of dipshits, seriously

--All of this worthlessness is what Tristamp was missing. Vash and WW have to have adventures where they shoot things, get into trouble, and insult one another. This is what's called "male bonding."

--This is one of the clearer looks we get at how the Plants do their Plant Thing. Push the button and a spider robot comes out. Um, okay. Guess that one was less useful than the Tuna Fish Plant or the Canned Salmon Plant.

--Why was it left behind again? Aren't Plants irreplaceable?

--Vash has a pretty good idea that WW's full of shit and takes a risk on him anyway. He knows how to force a hand.

--they're so cute as a team, aren't they lol

--And there's the second gun. don't ask about Knives' third gun lmao

--Milly gets to be best girl again. WW does take a shine to her right away, doesn't he. That, and he probably thinks it's amusing to make Vash and Meryl sit together. It's so third grade. (it's okay, Meryl, you can admit you don't mind that much)

In light of later events, it's interesting to note what parts of WW's cover story are true and which are fabricated. WW has been handed his orders from Chapel, so his encounter with Vash was no coincidence; WW has to case the joint before making a move. The girls helpfully confirm that WW has made contact, and he has to get Vash to trust him. Not too hard, though Vash isn't quite as naive about WW as he puts on. Everyone's got their act.

WW figures out quickly that Vash is a big softy, or maybe he has info; nevertheless, his generosity towards children (which Vash shares) isn't false. The part about the orphanage and protecting the kids is true, though the circumstances of WW's departure have nothing to do with money and everything to do with a hostage situation. WW's amazement at who he's going to be dealing with is also genuine; he knows Vash is legendary, but seeing Vash wipe out all the mechanical mooks while injured is next-level.

And, at the end of it all...

WW certainly didn't expect to like Vash as much as he ends up doing. (cue the conflict, and a zillion angsty fanfics.) That's going to make everything a lot more complicated.

[g0g0at]

Malevolent part 46

I’ve got thoughts and theories about Malevolent part 46, but it’s my bed time so I’ll save those for tomorrow.

Until then, have my live reaction. Spoilers of course

Creepy start (Arthur trauma in droves)

If an episode starts with Faroe, it’s gonna be rough

Tree things

Spooky spooky

John being caring as is his way recently

Sounds like he was dreaming

Nawwww is Arthur his ligh- oh nvm LILLY MENTION!!

Arthur is half asleep for all of this hehe

Love Lilly? Interesting

Oh we’re going real far back now guess I gotta do a s4 relisten

OMG HOW FAR WE’VE COME IS PLAYING

“Her coming had driven out the world”

I thought he was gonna talk about Arthur ngl

“You gave my friend so much”

SCARY CHILD

THEY WERE HAVING A SWEET MOMENT

Arthur you have been talking about the air and sensing things a lot

Ruh roh beings in the woods

Working together properly nice

“My eyes” not our? Mm language shift

Willow a whisp

A pretty scene

Where is yorick rn? Keep his mouth shut it seems

FUCKING KID LAUGHING

Uh oh he’s being pulled in

He sounds so hopeful

I’m worried

John like “uh what huh??”

Oooh this is interesting

Reminds me of the Nøkken kinda

Don’t follow the light don’t follow the light DON’T

Oh that REALLY REMINDS ME OF NØKKEN

YOU SURE ABOUT THAT ARTHUR YOU SURE

The spooky houses??? ARE YOU SURE??!!

Oiya they are FUCKED

Cult shit?

Cult shit.

Black stone DUN DUN DUN

The sound design is very nice this episode (I say that every episode)

NOT A FUCKING KID

DON’T DO THAT TO HIM

STOP

STOP

ARTHUR

bro got fucking robbed by WILLOW O WHISP!!

WAIT YORICK GOT KIDNAPPED

I feel like some of those things were actually kinda useful

YEAH FUCK HER

Ohhh idk about we dunno who she is

I like how John and Arthur are their own mystery to themselves

You guys are going in circles in here GET MOVING!!

GET MOVING

This episode does feel very fairy tale esc

Very the beasts lantern

WILLOW TREEEEEEE

Guys this is obviously a trap

YOU CANNOT

“We will” YOU ALREADY AREN’T

oooh this episode is really interesting

Guys focus. Guys keep it together

It’s interesting seeing a child as a threat it’s a very unique twist on fairy tale narratives

JOHN JOHN FOCUS

This epsiode is trippy

It’s interesting to see them BOTH enthralled by something

NO NO NO NO NO

AW FUCK

Why is he breathing like that

Nuh uh this is bad

Huh?

What has he got there?

I’m worried

A deer?

GUYS YOU DON’T FUCK WITH DEERS

OH FUCK THIS IS CWD ESC

Arthur’s parental instincts shining through at all times

Uh oh you guys

Arthur sounds so scared

DON’T FOLLOW HIM

There you go, FOCUS

Come on come on you can do it

This episode is SO TRIPPY

It’s hard to tell when they’re being hypnotised and when they’re being earnest

FAIRY CIRCLE DON’T TOUCH THAT

NØKKEN NØKKEN NØKKEN

GRAVES??

EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID WOULD HAPPEN GUYSSSSSS

DON’T DRINK FROM IT

DON’T DON’T

RIVER OF THE DEAD RIVER OF THE DEAD

Alarm bells are ringing

YEAH THAT WAS A REGULAR STREAM THIS IS NOT

Don’t drink good good

You’re getting caught up in technicalities

Another one of Arthur feeling something in the air WHAT is up with that

Like that one mass organism forest

I feel something BIG is gonna happen

Infinite night? Interesting

Pocket dimension forest?

Wandering woods part 2

DON’T BITE OFF ANOTHER FINGER THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY

FAIRY RING

DON’T STEP ON IT YOU DIPSHIT

STOP SNIFFING THEM

Everytime I think they’re in the clear he goes on another trippy tangent

William mention but at what cost

Oh this is making me so nervous

They sound so happy but god it sounds like they’re high

Maybe they are

HE’S DANCING?!!!

NØKKEN NØKKEN

Oh my god my brain is just screaming “WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG”

NØKKEN NØKKEN NØKKEN

What what what what

Oh my god my stomach is dropping

What is happening what is happening

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Oh I hate this so much so much so much

What is happening I hate this so much so much so much

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT

NØKKEN NØKKEN

OH MY GOD THE SOUND DESIGN

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

Someone with his voice? Oohohohoohoho

This is fantastic

Oh this is is OTGW

New Harlan voice making me jump up and down

The audio balancing is fantastic

Any doubts I had about where s5 were going have been dashed this is phenomenal

You’re gonna get munched

“They come and bury only the scraps of the lambs they lead”

Cleansing fire… day of wrath

So the village was a cult…

They voice sends chills up my spine

How it’s slowly moving away from being Arthur to something else

Horig?

Omg tree entity my fave

Horig can cut him off from John?

Oooh the sound ooooh

Arthur what are you offering

Arthur why are you doing this

Arthur

Arthur you’re talking about children here, you know that right? Arthur??

Oh WHAT

AN APOSTLE

Oh this took a TURN

JOHN SLEPT!

Silver lining to that fuckery

Back to the stream?

John being comforting :DD

Nawww John got to sleep

Arthur you gotta be transparent with him that’s part of the deal

Why does he need to get to the stream so bad?

Oh he wanted to get out of it

Oh it really is like the mass organism forest omg

Ah ok it was a ploy. Well done Arthur

Arthur… are you suggesting mass murder?

Enacting justice… how very Day of Wrath of you

I TOLD YOU IT WAS DEAD BODY WATER YOU FUCK WADS

Eww don’t vomit in my ear

Horig’s followers are daba-doo-dead

Great epsiode! Deeply unsettling, can’t wait to see the ramifications of this

[seat-safety-switch]

Our civilization, having reached a sort of immovable object, is starting to get real weird about old stuff. Whereas once old things were simply garbage, now they are jealously guarded, eagerly sought after, meticulously reconditioned, and worshipped. Maybe this is because we can’t make good new stuff, or maybe it speaks to a deeper desire of our entire society to revert to childhood. Either way, a lot of rich assholes have been coming by to scope out my cars.

At some point in the last few decades, “guy with a lot of old Mopars” went from being a mental health crisis to an investment bank. Even the craggiest, nastiest shreds of corroded unibody can haul in big bucks if they have the right VIN plate attached to them. Once acquired, boffo-moneyed collectors will pay an army of experts to restore these cars to showroom condition, then take them to shows where they will sell them to other boffo-moneyed collectors for eye-watering sums.

Naturally, this means that aspiring rich people have been making offers to move some of that “old garbage” out of my back yard, front yard, neighbour’s yard, alley, adjacent alley, and the eight-storey parking garage downtown that I won in a bet and don’t pay the property taxes on, because my attorney does enough ex-Soviet amphetamines to play a dozen simultaneous grandmaster-level chess entirely inside his mouth. Those offers are not particularly generous, or even good, and even if they were, I wouldn’t honour them. After all, if some dipshit  with an MBA wants to pay me as much as six thousand dollars for a 1980 Dodge Diplomat that consists mostly of to-do list entries, that must mean they’re getting rare. And if they’re getting rare, I should hold onto all five of mine just in case I need parts in the future.

One of these days, though, someone is going to make a good offer. And then my backyard will be emptied of all these expensive Malaise Era shit-boxes that I love so much. What will I buy with all that money? Dunno. Maybe a backyard full of Ferraris? I hear they break all the time.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part eighteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, talk of sex, mention of toxic relationships, crying, a lil bit of worthlessness, making out (two times, yeah), and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: Cody Simpson? In my fanfic? You better believe it. Also, there's a shit ton of pop culture in this one, I hope you agree with my opinions on what they'd like. Theres no sex scene in this but there is in fact a lead-up, so.... Be warned. Anyway. Enjoy :))]]

"Pretty brown eyes," Richie sang, loud and dancing around the car (what he could anyway) -moving his and Eddie's intertwined hands with the music, "-Whatcha doing later tonight?"

🎵 Would you mind if I spend time with you? 🎵

"Hey, there," Richie's eyes shot to Eddie's for a second, and Eddie was rolling his eyes (affectionately), "-pretty brown eyes-"

"You're such a fucking nerd," Eddie laughed, but decidedly didn't separate their hands (he never really did, unless absolutely necessary).

Richie took the moment to pull their hands to his lips and started kissing down his arm -a little obnoxiously (as Richie Tozier would). Eddie scrunched up his nose, and it only made Richie do it more (tracing his path back up to their hands). Eddie's lips slipped into a tiny little smile that Richie wanted to physically memorize forever.

It was the beginning of the 6th day, and they would be there in a few hours. Okay, maybe a significant amount of hours, but still. Richie was so excited that he might start fucking vibrating, honestly. Eddie in his apartment, in their apartment, comfortable and happy and fucking... loved. Watching shitty TV together, eating together, Eddie co-starring in some of his streams, waking up to Eddie every fucking day. That was awesome as fuck-

"Such a fucking sap," Eddie hummed, before popping over -at the pull of his seatbelt, and kissed Richie's cheek.

Richie grinned so big that it might physically hurt if he kept it up. But he didn't care then.

"You wanna keep up the questions?" Eddie posed.

Richie hummed, "Do you?"

"Yeah," Eddie responded, pushing himself into his seat in a way that angled him toward Richie, "-I like learning shit about you."

Richie smiled, eyes flashing to him for a spare second, "Me too, Eds."

"It's your turn, dipshit," Eddie nudged him (or tried to there wasn't really space to nudge).

"Okay, um-" Richie blew a raspberry, fingers tapping along the wheel (California would start to fade in pretty soon, what the fuck), "-boring as fuck, but what is your favorite color?"

"Red," Eddie answered, easily.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows (somehow he hadn't expected that), "Really?"

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed -casually, "-I've liked it since I was little."

"I only see you in like... blue or fucking-" Richie motioned with their intertwined hands (which was not effective), "-pastels. Which I love that shit, don't get me wrong, but-"

"I know what I look good in," Eddie shrugged -passively.

"You 'look good' in anything, Eds. If you fucking want to wear red, wear it-" Richie reasoned and then suddenly paused, something fluttering through his mind (he grinned), "-Especially those little red running shorts you have-"

Eddie scrunched up his nose, "You're into my fucking sweaty running clothes?"

"Well, first off, the sweatier the better, you know what I'm saying-" Richie raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Eddie shoved him -hard (it actually kind of hurt), "-but those shorts, man. You're all fucking... leg. Muscular leg, because you fucking run-"

"You're into my legs?" Eddie furrowed his eyebrows -moving to look at Richie.

"I'm into all of you, Spaghetti," Richie quickly clarified, "-but yeah, yes. The fucking... muscles... Look, you're fucking hot as shit, okay? That's what you should take from this."

Eddie's lips quirked up, "I thought I was cute?"

"You can be both," Richie contradicted, changing lanes swiftly, "-Actually, you are both, Eds."

"Then why the fuck don't you call me hot?" Eddie replied -pointedly.

Richie answered, with ease, "Because saying you're cute makes you frustrated and/or flustered. And I fucking live off that shit."

"Huh," Eddie hummed, like he was thinking something over -planning maybe (Richie wasn't sure how he felt about it, but it did feel kinda... hot?), "-good to know. Your turn, Rich."

Fuck, Eddie was gonna tease the shit out of him now. Un-fucking-fair.

"Uh, yellow? Maybe?" Richie offered, uncertain, "-I'm kinda a... 'every color in the world' kinda guy."

"Checks out," Eddie bickered, "-with your hideous fucking shirts."

"You insult me and yet, you love the shit out of me," Richie responded, faux thoughtfully, "-Funny how that works."

"Shut up, dickweed," Eddie hissed -biting (but not really), before adding, "-My turn."

"The floor is yours, darling," Richie responded -voice taking on like a classic movie announcer (the kinds of voices that guys with cigars in old movies had, really).

Eddie rolled his eyes (Richie could honestly feel it), "What about... Your comfort show?"

"Not movie?" Richie clarified.

"No," Eddie frowned, "-That's a different question, asshat."

Richie paused, pressing his lips together, "Cliché as fuck, but probably The Office, or maybe... Always Sunny? 90 Day Fiancé? That shit's pretty good too."

"You can't decide on shit, can you?"

"Okay, okay, jeez," Richie huffed out a breath, "-Yeah, okay, The Office. You?"

"Hoarders," Eddie answered, instinctively, before continuing, quietly, "-or New Girl."

"You fucking hypocrite," Richie laughed, "-you can't pick either!"

"No, it just fucking..." Eddie puffed up his cheeks, defensive, "-depends on the day."

"What if mine depends on the day, Spaghetti?" Richie countered.

"You had three options, anyway," Eddie pointed out, "-That's more than me."

"By one," Richie quickly commented, still laughing, "-Whatever, Eds, you win. On a serious note, though, New Girl is funny as shit."

"Obviously I know that, dickwad," Eddie snapped back, "-It's my comfort show. I've rewatched it like 3 fucking times."

"Favorite character?" Richie posed, curiously.

Eddie followed up, "This the next question?"

"Sure," Richie said -passively, thumb dancing along the back of Eddie's hand, "-if you want it to be."

"Honestly, all of them are pretty good," Eddie echoed, like he gaining a train of thought, "-but Nick. Jess is up there though."

"Really?" Richie tapped his fingers along the wheel, "-I'm more of a Schmidt guy myself."

"'Course you are," Eddie replied, knowingly, before continuing, "-What about The Office?"

"That's a really fucking tough one," Richie blew out a breath, "-Probably Creed."

"Not Dwight?" Eddie questioned, curiously.

Richie conceded, "Close second. Or maybe just depends on my mood. Let's just say both, actually. What about you, Eds? Your Office beau."

"Beau? Who the fuck says beau?" Eddie scrunched up his nose (Richie wanted to kiss it, as he always did).

"People who are clever about pet names, Eddie baby," Richie hummed -eyeing the exit number on the GPS quickly.

Eddie questioned, near immediately, "That's an actual fucking... pet name?"

"Yeah," Richie explained, passively, "-it's like 'boyfriend'. A fucking... male partner."

"It's gendered?" Eddie followed up, before adding, "-How the fuck do you know that?"

"I don't know if you could tell, Eds," Richie laughed, stressing the name, "-but I am fucking... passionate about pet names. Or maybe nicknames in general but same thing."

"You do that for all your boyfriends?" Eddie asked -almost disappointed somehow (no way that was happening).

"No, it's mostly just my friends, actually," Richie clarified, "-When I was dating somebody it was really only fucking... babe. I would try every once in a while, but it never really... stuck. Not like with you."

"So, you've never had like-" Eddie paused, trying to think of the words maybe, "-a fucking... dictionary of pet names for any other boyfriend?"

"Nope," Richie popped the 'p', "-You are a very special case, my dear Spaghetti. Plus, it helps that you actually allow them."

"I don't fucking 'allow' them," Eddie scrunched up his eyebrows -frowning, "-I love them. It's not like I fucking hate them and let you get away with it."

"Yeah, but-" Richie reasoned, "-they are kinda cheesy. I'd probably get sick of them-"

"I won't," Eddie spoke, sturdily (and it made Richie's lips snap shut so quickly that his jaw clicked), "-I like that they're fucking cheesy. It's so... personal."

"How?" Richie questioned, shooting a glance at Eddie (his face was currently very set and determined, or how he got when he felt like he needed to defend his side of something).

"It's... They're yours," Eddie explained, less pointedly, "-I'm not anyone else's fucking... 'Eds', I'm yours. It's like a whole different section of me. Just for you-"

Richie blinked.

"-And I like that shit. That there's a part of me that's Richie's 'Eds' or... or 'Spaghetti', or whatever the fuck you decide that day."

Richie blinked again, saying softly, "Oh."

Eddie's head seemed to turn toward him then, curiously (out of the corner of Richie's eye), and his eyes skimmed along his face. There was a bit of splotchy red crawling up his collar now, and Eddie was most certainly eyeing it.

"I said something stupidly simple that meant a lot to you, didn't I?"

"Maybe," Richie said, low -embarrassed, if he was honest.

Eddie squeezed his hand once.

"It's just-" Richie felt the need to explain (Steve chiming in his head, 'Keep your communication open, Richie. With the right person, it will prevent more problems from happening. Not cause them.'), "-Like I said, no one ever really liked that shit. They wanted me to fucking... cut it out. But you, you do. And there's a part of you that's 'my Eds', and... I don't know, it's just... It's just you fucking valuing me, again. When... When other people haven't, I guess."

Eddie paused, and Richie could feel his eyes flick along his face -processing (thinking maybe), "You're worth the fucking world, Rich. You know that, right?"

Richie thought on it for a second, all that Eddie said, what the Losers said, what Steve said-

"I'm-" he let out a sigh, pressing his lips together, "-I'm getting there."

Eddie hummed, soft and gentle -bringing up their intertwined hands and kissing them (more tenderly than Richie thought he'd ever felt in his entire fucking life), "I know. I'm so fucking proud of you."

Fuck.

Richie pressed his lips together, frankly ignoring the burning in the backs of his eyes, "You asshole."

Eddie laughed, but still, spoke very carefully (fucking... tenderly), "Are you going to cry?"

"Fucking yeah," he stressed the word, voice picking up in speed, "-you can't just say you're fucking proud of me when I'm driving and I can barely see shit anyway-"

"Rich," Eddie spoke, gently but somehow sternly, "-pull over."

Richie let out a big breath, and it kinda hitched in his chest, "Yeah, okay."

He did so, diligently -the car strangely quiet (except for the ever-so-slight sniffles coming from the driver's seat).

Richie took a moment, shaking a breath of out his lungs -trying to calm himself down. Steve gave him a few coping... things, something about breathing-

Eddie slowly pulled his hand out of Richie's, and he snapped to him at the motion. He really fucking wanted to hold Eddie's hand right now-

"C'mon," Eddie spoke, gently -moving to open his car door.

Richie blinked, "What?"

"Get in the backseat with me," Eddie clarified, not fully out of the door (like he was waiting for Richie to move too), "-C'mon."

"We-" Richie sputtered for a second, swallowing down what felt like lead in his throat, "-What about the trip? We'll lose-"

"Richie."

Richie skimmed over him for a second (all soft and certain, a beautiful contradiction -in his mind anyway). And Eddie stared right back at him, still in his place. Almost like he wanted Richie to read all the fucking... love on his face, and the softness and how much he fucking cared. Because, god, he really fucking did-

He let out a big breath and turned in his own seat -getting out of the car.

Not long after he pulled the back door open, Eddie carefully pulled him inside. Richie kinda felt like clay as Eddie seemed to move on a mission (he pulled him forward, Richie diligently moved forward). Eventually, somehow, Eddie was sat up against the door (which Eddie took the keys and ensured were locked) -legs splayed onto the backseat, and then, he motioned Richie forward.

He was a little slow to move toward him, but he did, and the first thing Eddie did was pull off Richie's glasses (popping them into a nearby cup holder). Richie really couldn't tell anything from there, but he felt Eddie's hands pull him forward gently -soft fingertips against his shoulders. Until he was against a warm sturdy surface, heartbeat thrumming into his ear (his chest, his mind mindlessly noted), and felt Eddie intertwine their legs. And then, as a final motion, his arms came to meet around Richie's body.

Richie pressed his lips together, Eddie was fucking... holding him. Holding him. Like he was precious, like Eddie wanted to be careful, like Eddie wanted him to be safe. And fuck, he'd never felt so fucking safe, or... or loved so fucking much-

His eyes started to blur. Fuck.

Almost as if he could tell, Eddie's hand moved to smooth along Richie's back, saying -in a low voice, just for him to hear, "I really am proud of you, Rich. You're doing so fucking good."

Richie inhaled a shaky breath.

"And I know-" Eddie breathed out, "-I know you're still scared that maybe I'm some dick just like all the other assholes you've dated-"

Richie laughed a little.

"-or that I'm not gonna stick around and that's... that's okay. It's not gonna just fucking... go away. So, don't blame yourself for that. I just..."

There was a pause.

"I wanna make sure you know-" Eddie continued, slowly -one of his hands moving to thread into his hair, "-even if I have to tell you every day, that I love the shit out of you and no matter what your stupid fucking brain thinks... I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Richie sniffled, the whirling of his mind lowering to a buzz -a warm buzz. The smell of strawberries around him, and the pressing warmth of Eddie's skin against his own, he felt much calmer. No more old boyfriends or parents or any of that shit, just him and Eddie in the back of his car. Eddie, who loved the shit out of him, and Richie, who (unsurprisingly enough) loved the shit out of Eddie too.

"I love you too, Eds," he muttered against the cotton of his shirt, "-a lot."

Eddie didn't say anything then, just threading through his hair and thumbing over his skin with his other hand -careful touches. Soothing touches that were maybe made just for Richie in mind (like they were a manufactured superhero weakness or something -his kryptonite, if you will). Richie felt something smooth off of him - and emotion sliding away from the tension of his shoulders. Less overwhelming, as Eddie's hand scratched his scalp and completely wrapped around Richie. It felt like his own little safe space in the world, where nobody could see him except for Eddie.

He let out another breath, less shaky, and with no tears now -heart in his chest slowed. Sniffling once, he made no motion to move at all but he felt better, a lot better. Because it's Eddie. And, of course, Eddie made him feel better. Because he loved him and cared about him so fucking much that it shook Richie's bones-

"Jim," Eddie spoke, suddenly -hand still combing through Richie's hair.

"Hmm?" Richie hummed, almost tired in a way.

"My favorite Office character," Eddie clarified, "-It's Jim."

Richie laughed a bit, "Of course it is."

Eddie pulled Richie's face up -leveling it to his, and frowning, "Are you making fun of me, asshole?"

"You made fun of me about Schmidt," Richie pointed out, "-We're even now."

Eddie's frown quirked up into a smile, hands gently on both sides of his face -holding him there (not unlike the first time they physically met). And his eyes skimmed all of Richie's face, affectionately (lovingly really), and the whole thing made Richie's head spin because it was so consuming. Eddie's love swallowed him whole.

And then, Eddie pulled Richie's face forward and kissed him. It wasn't like a signature Eddie Kaspbrak kiss, not all yearning and desperate and passionate, it was... slower. More careful. Like Richie was precious to him, precious in general, and he wanted him to know that. Wanted him to feel the love that pulsed out of his skin for Richie, wanted to cacoon him into it like a warm bubble of affection. And Richie thought he could fucking die there, happily.

They kissed for awhile then (Richie would even say that they most certainly made out in the back of his car -dream scenario accomplished, what the fuck). And it did, in fact, make their arrival time a little bit later, more like dinner time instead of a late lunch. But, Richie frankly wouldn't change fucking anything and he got the feeling Eddie wouldn't either. So, he didn't feel bad or guilty about it and Eddie wouldn't let him.

Now, they were in San Francisco -buildings upon buildings that were in essence a little more rustic than the sleek metal of New York. That being said, some parts were all sleek metal, just not really too much where Richie lived.

Richie was completely in his element, navigating through lanes and streets like it was routine. Because it was. They were so fucking close that it almost made his hands shake, just like when he was close to meeting Eddie -anxiety prickling his skin. Because god, him and Eddie. Living together. Their apartment. Richie had a wonderful fucking boyfriend and he loved him and he was going to be there every day-

"Are you thinking too much again?" Eddie broke him out of his head -suddenly. Richie really was a wanderer in terms of thoughts. Dissociation's a bitch, am I right?

"No, I'm just-" Richie wanted to physically bounce up and down, "-I'm excited as shit."

"Yeah," Eddie laughed a little, softer, "-me too."

Richie grinned so wide it hurt and tapped his free foot against the floor of the car -anxiously. He squeezed Eddie's hand a few times, eager maybe, and it made Eddie laugh.

God, Richie wanted to make him laugh forever.

"My dear Eds, we are like a minute away," Richie chimed, like an announcer -naturally.

Eddie's eyes shot to the windows, "Shit, really?"

There was an assortment of things by Richie's apartment, cafés, little stores, and restaurants. He'd hit a few of them, either by himself or with Bev, but not enough. He never really had a purpose to explore, really; his job was streaming and all he'd had was Bev so it never... He'd never really had the motivation or reason to. But now, with Eddie, he could show him shit -experience it with hum. He had all the reasons now-

"It's really nice here," Eddie hummed, big brown eyes bubbling along the streets and the buildings -almost in wonder, "-What the fuck."

Richie laughed, "We can look around when we get there if you want."

"Maybe later," Eddie's thumb rubbed along Richie's skin (it made his brain fuzzy), "-I think we should stay home today."

Home, home, home, home-

"Whatever you want, Eddie baby," Richie grinned, and felt his heart flutter in his chest (our home).

"You know, sometimes-" Eddie offered, eyes all along the windows, "-I wanna know what you want, dipshit."

"You," Richie answered, instinctively, "-Anything with you is sick as shit to me."

Eddie's eyes flicked to Richie's face -skimming over it, "Yeah, well, you ever think it might be the same for me, fuckface?"

"Yeah?" Richie hummed, eyeing the roads -his turn was right fucking there.

"Of course," Eddie leveled, looking at him straightforwardly, "-I love the fuck out of you."

Richie grinned like he always did (he loves me), "I love you too, Eds."

It was, as he had said, a few minutes later and he was pulling into the parking lot. Where he always parked, and Richie was hit with the fact that he was finally here. Home. Right back to his apartment, his office, and he was with Eddie. With Eddie-

"This is it?" Eddie asked, curiously -big eyes blinking up at the stretch of building.

"Yes, sir," Richie chimed, maybe nervously, "-we are here."

Eddie laughed a little, freehand fidgeting with their intertwined ones, "Holy shit."

Richie started laughing too, repeating, "Holy shit."

"Well," Eddie tugged at his hand, grinning at him in a way that made his heart twirl, "-let's go then, asshole. What the fuck are we waiting for?"

So, they immediately started moving. Eddie nearly running inside the building with his suitcase. It should be said that Richie is all about... 'being a gentleman' but Eddie was a strong little fucker. Working out and shit. And Eddie was distinctly terrified of elevators, so if he wanted to carry his shit up the stairs -Richie wasn't going to combat him. He could always help with the boxes later-

"You're so fucking slow," Eddie laughed -pulling himself up the stairs -eagerly, if Richie was honest.

"You know how many trips we have to make, Eds?" Richie countered, "-Ya wanna tire yourself out on the first one?"

Eddie's lips flattened into a frown, just above Richie on the floor between stairs -looking at him like he knew he was right (and he hated it), "Shut up."

"Don't worry, Spaghetti," Richie hummed meeting him up on the floor -smoothing his hand down his arm (and taking on a superhero sort of superhero voice), "-I'll carry you up here myself if I have to."

"You could not fucking do that," Eddie disagreed.

"You wanna bet?" Richie questioned -raising an eyebrow.

Eddie paused for a second, smoothly eyeing him from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. It made Richie squirm a little.

Finally, he winked (Jesus fuck), and smiled coyly, "Maybe later."

It took everything in his body not to fall right then and there. His knees went a little wobbly, and he thanked god that he was holding onto the railing. Face blossoming a bright red, Richie watched as Eddie eyed it -grin bubbling bright along his face. So fucking beautiful-

"Now, come on, asshole," Eddie groaned, nearly jumping in place impatiently, "-we've got so much shit to do."

Richie stayed put.

"You're such a shithead. Fine," Eddie huffed, "-I'll make out with you on the couch if you-"

He pushed past Eddie with a sense of urgency he hadn't felt in a long, fucking time. He heard Eddie burst into laughter behind him, and even resisted the urge to look back at him.

He was a simple man, what could he say?

It should be said, it took them like 2 hours to bring all the boxes up. Well, Richie was finishing now, actually. By himself. Eddie was a quick fucker, and Richie, well, adrenaline only worked for so long. So, he was taking his time -measuring out breaths.

When he did finally reach the door, everything in his body was relieved.

"Jesus Christ, Eds," Richie exhaled, slowly putting back the boxes, "-What did you put in these things? Bricks by the fucking pound?"

"You took fucking ages," Eddie breathed out, impatiently (maybe even a little frustrated).

"Well, yeah," Richie slowly straightened, turning toward him, "-We've been doing this for hours, ya gotta give a man a bre-"

Eddie cut him off by literally jumping into him -fully legs wrapped around him and arms around his neck style. Richie almost stumbled back and tripped over the fucking boxes-

"Jesus fucking Christ-" Richie tried, aiming to look at his footing. Instead, Eddie kissed him -knocking the air out of his lungs.

And despite the fact that there was an ache in Richie's arms, he situated them to hold him up with ease.

The way Eddie was kissing him was new. Well, not completely new, actually. It was, at its core, a trademark Eddie Kaspbrak kiss. All passionate and grabby and like he'd been waiting years, or maybe like it was some build-up romance scene and they had finally confessed after years of friendship. But it was also... like desperate and feverish and quick. Richie would try to describe it more, but his brain was turning to goo because he was just so-

Fuck, Richie knew where this was going.

"Eds," he tried (kiss), "-Spaghetti," he tried again (kiss), "-Eddie baby-"

Eddie finally pulled back, eyes a fiery steel, most certainly frustrated, "What, Richie?"

Richie blinked at him a few times, Eddie Kaspbrak pissed that he had to stop kissing him. God, he was definitely fucking dreaming-

"Look, I know where this is going, and believe me, I'm a big fucking fan of it, but-" Richie explained, "-I gotta get a picture of you to post."

"Right now?" Eddie whined, and Richie felt a little like he could die happy.

Richie almost swayed (god, Eddie Kaspbrak turned him to mush), "Yes, yeah. I wanna get it over with, so I don't forget."

"I won't let you forget," Eddie offered.

"Eds," Richie leveled.

"Jesus fuck," Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes and dropping down, "-Fine."

"It'll just be a second, Eddie baby," Richie hummed, apologetically (because Eddie wanted to kiss the shit out of him, fuck), "-I promise."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but Richie could see the tension in him relax, "Whatever, asshole."

"Alright," Richie pulled up his camera, and pulled Eddie into his side -maybe moving a little quickly (who's to say really), "-3, 2, 1, cheese!"

Richie turned to press a kiss on Eddie's cheek and pressed the button -he could definitely feel Eddie loosen up then.

His eyes caught on the photo for a second, eyeing it. It was Richie, hair still mostly shiny and new, kissing Eddie's cheek -who, in the picture, was shriveling up his nose and frowning. His freckles were already peaking through from the sun of their trip. Richie wanted to connect them with his fingers like constellations-

"Richie."

"Jeez, yeah, okay-" Richie laughed, opening up Instagram and clicking on 'new post'.

After perfectly framing it, Richie thought over some captions fairly quickly (Eddie was literally tapping his foot like a disappointed mother). He wanted to laugh at it, but felt like it wasn't the right time. And then, he got it.

'just picked up some takeout: 🍝,' he typed, before adding, '-#eddiespaghetti'.

He laughed for a second, and then posted it. Eddie must have been eyeing him like a hawk because-

He intertwined their hands and tugged it so hard that his phone flew to the floor -immediately walking forward.

"Hey-" Richie spoke, a little defensive.

Eddie ignored him, "Which way?"

"You're just gonna go straight into it, Spaghetti," Richie joked, "-I thought we had a little more class than th-"

Eddie kissed him -hard. And then, with a breath between them, repeated.

"I asked which way, asshole?"

Richie blinked, answering -with a squeaky sort of voice, "To the left."

He didn't hesitate, dragging Richie down the hallway. And Richie felt like he might fucking faint. But luckily, if he was, Eddie was there to catch him. Eddie, in his apartment, in their apartment. Waking up to Eddie, seeing Eddie everyday-

Eddie kissed him, and Richie couldn't really think of anything else.

[katyawriteswhump]

I think we're alone now (steddie/steve whump fic)

Finally finished my latest 'ate the whole of my life' fic on AO3 (forgot to post the ending here before-- srsly can't possibly keep up with two streams, but figured I'd cross-post the start now it's completed in case anybody is interested) Thanks to anybody who stuck with me for the ride ;)

I think we're alone now (56194 words) by katya1828 Chapters: 25/25 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Steve Harrington Series: Part 6 of Hard to Hate (aka Steve whump fic thread!)

Chapter One

Eddie’s night was warming up—i.e. he was rolling his second joint—when a loud crack sounded from the undergrowth. That was when Steve Harrington stumbled into his life.

For a few thudding heartbeats, Eddie was spooked. Was it a very lost, totally smashed freshman? A bear?

Eddie jumped up from his favourite log. Steve lurched, aimlessly, toward Eddie’s half-assed attempt at a bonfire. Then he froze—perhaps noticing he was on course to transform himself into a Nike-clad version of the Wicker Man.

From a few yards off, Steve stared at Eddie, who recognised the douche from the eternity they’d spent together at High School. Eddie gawked back, incredulous: “What the heck, man?”

Steve kept staring. Didn’t move. Only stared.

“Uh, Harrington. You know me, right?”

Harrington didn’t seem to—only saw a long-haired freak. “I swear this doesn’t happen to Jon Bon Jovi,” mumbled Eddie. He made a mental note to push some low-quality stash to Steve and his dipshit friends next time they came crawling. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Still no answer.

“Harrington? You okay? Never thought I’d see you wandering round like a lost little sheepie.” 

Of all Eddie’s off-road haunts, this was the most remote and secret. Nobody un-initiated ever found it. That said, jerks like Steve had their woodland haunts, too—Lovers Lake, Skull Rock. Maybe the moron got lost? Most likely… but, Oooooh shit! All kinds of alarm bells clanged off in Eddie’s head. It was kinda chilly this late on a spring night, and Harrington had got no jacket—he could afford a decent jacket, right? Uuuuuuh, and Steve wore only one sneaker.

Eddie edged close enough to spot a bruise near Steve’s lip, the blood streaking one side of his face. “Jesus, what happened to you, man?”

Steve’s knees buckled, and he slumped heavily onto them. Eddie indulged in a split second of indecision—this wasn’t his problem, and he could just run . Then he crouched down and caught Steve, clumsily, before Steve crumpled face-first into the mud.

So, there he was, arms wrapped around platinum dickhead Steve Harrington, who leaned heavily against him

“Shit,” said Eddie. “Okay, big guy, do you think you can make it over to that luxurious couch?”

Eddie nodded toward the log. Steve didn’t even lift his head. He trembled violently, his breathing ragged and uneven. Eddie—because wtf else could he do?—hauled Steve to his feet. He guided Steve over to the fallen trunk, groaning at the near deadweight pressed against him. Steve sank onto the log, drooped forward, then wrapped an arm tight around his ribs. Finally, as Eddie hovered, still tempted to flee to the next county, Steve lifted his chin and blinked.

“Munson?”

Okay, maybe Steve wasn’t quite the dick Eddie thought him to be. That was becoming far from the least of Eddie’s problems. Steve was pale and bleeding, and yeah, there were goddamn twigs in that fabled hair.

“Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” Eddie sat down beside Steve, who widened those huge eyes even further, then kinda flinched. Most shocking of all, his lower lip trembled… and Eddie baulked, half-wondering if that single joint had gotten him trippy.  

Because Eddie was suddenly as up close and personal as he’d ever been to Steve’s incongruously pretty, if currently somewhat bruised mouth. The mouth he loathed the hell out of, because he got why girls wanted to kiss it so bad. Or, even why some guys did… If the homophobic bullshit that beyond-asshole Billy Hargrove recently put around about Steve had any truth behind it.

Oh, yeah. Eddie had long harboured a beyond-dumbass hankering to do the same as all those lucky gals and guys.

Steve trapped his trembling lip between his very white teeth. “Hey, it’s okay,” said Eddie. “Uh, welcome to my fort. I apologise—it’s kinda rough around the edges. No luxury picnic bench at this one, though the builders are due next Tuesday to plumb in the ensuite.”

Steve didn’t laugh. The drop of fresh blood sliding down the side of Steve’s face proved the final straw. If Eddie wasn’t going to run away, then he was going to have to take this seriously. 

Ugh, seriously?

“Okay, Harrington—where do you need to be? Because I ain’t go no wheels. Not that they would be much use out here, anyhooo.”

It was kinda a surprise when Steve answered: “I… uh, I don’t know.” He ran his fingers distractedly across that mouth. His nails were dirty, and when he pushed them into his hair, they snagged.

“Look, you’re bleeding—are you hurt bad? Do I need to get you some help?”

“No. I’m okay… I’m good,” mumbled Steve. “Just gimme a minute, all right?”

“Cool.” Eddie couldn’t contain a sigh of relief. One unwanted guest here was one too many.  “Can I get you…” Okay, so he didn’t exactly have a supply of WASP-friendly mineral water. “It’s beer or 7-11 fake cola.”

“Beer,” murmured Steve. An owl hooted and the wind rattled through the trees, and Eddie scooted off to oblige. He fumbled in his pack to locate a not-too-grubby Dunkin Donuts napkin. Meanwhile, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Steve reach into his jeans pocket, and draw out a jar of pills.

By the time Eddie returned, Steve was tipping the contents into his palm. Which was going badly, because his hand still shook. Way too many pills came out, and Steve grunted as they tumbled to the moist forest floor. Then he dropped the jar altogether. “Shit, shit, shit! I need those, man, I need them.”

He sounded totally distraught, half-sliding, half-falling off the log in pursuit. Eddie kneeled down to help and got to the jar first. When he squinted to read the label, his eyebrows shot sky-high.

“Valium, dude? Wow—never thought I’d see you poppin’ the housewives’ fave.”

Steve, kinda shame-facedly, grabbed the jar back. “Can I have that beer now?”

“Hey, not judging, dude! Stole ‘em off your Mom, huh?” Steve's latest flinch answered that one for him. “Look, I can fix you up with more if you’re interested. Better, in fact.” Eddie opened the beer for Steve—no point risking further spillages—then had second thoughts. “Okay, if you’re going to take those, do you mind if I suggest the Cola option?” 

Steve shrugged, as Eddie’s mind screamed—since when did I A, counsel the sensible choice, B, give a flying fuck? That said, he wanted Steve to be able to leave, ASAP. Eddie side-lined the beer, and grabbed the Cola, and opened it for Steve. Who palmed two pills into his mouth, and washed them down with the weak, brown nectar. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he closed his eyes, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Another drop of blood trickled down his cheek.

“We need to stop that bleeding, man.” Very carefully, Eddie leaned forward with the napkin and dabbed at the blood. Steve flinched harder than ever, and sliced up a hand as if to protect himself.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going in for the death blow. I just need to clean you up a bit.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, as if in surrender. Eddie tentatively wiped more of the blood from Steve’s brow, and his own worries ratcheted up a whole new notch. 

Harrington was usually a brash dick, and had no trouble mouthing off about anything and everything, straight outta the gate. Whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into, he was clearly badly shaken, maybe even in shock, and… Crap, what if he had amnesia? If he was found with Eddie… Oh yeah, baby, Eddie could see exactly where that would go.

Everyone who was anyone would assume he attacked Steve. The Pigs would do anything to dump trailer-trash Eddie Munson Jr into jail where he belonged. Harrington himself could easily lie, or simply not refute any assumptions, and flush Eddie right down the shithole.

Eddie removed the blood-spotted napkin, folded it over and handed it to Steve. “Hold that over the cut.”

When Steve didn’t instantly respond, Eddie took his fingers—cool, smooth, weirdly brittle right now—and placed them in the right spot. Steve hissed between his teeth, and Eddie withdrew his touch. 

This was weeeeeeiiird.

“Look, Harrington—are you gonna level with me about what you’re doing out here?”

Steve stared at the fire, mouth pressed into a thin white line.

“You’re making me nervous, man.” 

Eddie glanced at the napkin Steve held to his head. Not soaked with blood, so the wound had clotted. Steve's fingers still trembled, though… and something panged, deep inside Eddie. 

He slid off his denim jacket, placed it carefully around Steve. “Hey, we’re safe, I promise. Nobody ever comes out here, and you don’t have to spill your guts, but… Did you, uh, by any chance clash with Hargrove tonight? That boy has some serious unchecked anger issues."

Steve palpably tensed. Eddie was onto something. Not his business, and yet…

“Those rumours he put about were harsh, man. What he said about you putting out for him—and, uh, any dude who dropped their trousers—totally out of order.”

Steve’s laugh was one of the most miserable sounds Eddie ever heard.

So Eddie went and said waaaaay too much: “Look, if by any remote chance you and Hargrove were real, and he’s gone and been a tool about it, it’s cool, man. I’m… uh, I’m not like other people.”

“Wha—” That had Steve looking up sharply, a single line creasing across his forehead. He looked away just as swiftly, shook his head. “Nah. Tonight had nothing to do with Billy, it was my fa… No, I guess… I guess Billy started it.”

Eddie reached for the opened beer can. He casually took a slurp. If only to put Steve off the scent for now. ‘Cos, yeah, Eddie was gay. Worse, he’d been begrudgingly hot for Steve for an age. Not that any of that mattered right now—damn his stooopid soft heart.

Although getting involved would doubtless place Eddie in peril, he was genuinely worried about Steve. Rumours alone couldn’t have landed him in such a mess.

Eddie puffed out his cheeks shuffled a little closer along the log, till their thighs almost touched. He offered the beer: “You wanna talk about it now?”

Read more on AO3...

[xanadontit]

OK let's get to it!

SIL and MIL arrived Saturday afternoon with two dogs in tow. I braced for impact but that day/evening was pleasant enough.

Niece 2, her boyfriend, and the baby are moving to Tennessee next week. So I guess the reason SIL is out there is to help pack/watch the baby while Niece packs. I'm trying (with limited success) not to be annoyed that she claimed it's impossible for her to get time off back when FIL was sick. ANYHOO. The boyfriend got a great job offer in Tennessee, there's not much keeping them in Missouri so off they go. It's kind of impressive how these two were living with parents a few months ago and now they're taking on this new adventure.

Mashed Potatoes and a couple of buddies finally bought their restaurant/tap room and are aiming to open in December. SIL is acting like he's Thomas Keller. It sounds like The Bear but with unattractive people. I hope for Niece's sake it works out because I cannot imagine the hissy fits that will happen if it doesn't. Niece 1 is flying to Missouri this week, too, and MP will stay behind to work on his knockoff Schwartz & Sandy's.

MIL told E that Niece 1 and MP have been trying for a baby since before their wedding (!) which was over a year ago. Nothing. MP is refusing to get tested. Unclear if Niece has done any tests and, if so, to what extent. Also not entirely clear if he's refusing or putting it off. Doesn't sound great.

I guess MIL called E out (maybe not "called out" but brought up) on not being too fond of MP. E told her what we've observed and that we hope Niece is happy but he's immature and there are times he's been outright rude to us (like, all of us) and neither E nor I have a ton of patience for that behavior from a grown man. MIL shared that she has some concerns about the way he treats Niece and tried to voice them but SIL told her to cool it. SIL is terrified that anything other than effusive praise and welcoming him with open arms could drive Niece away. So basically everyone enables this dipshit and Niece probably thinks "well, my family likes him..." and now here we are. Great stuff. Anyway, this was part of our big talk and I acknowledged that it's not helpful when I roll my eyes but like... I don't take shit from anyone (and definitely not a cop lol) and if it's a problem if I say something what am I supposed to do other than remove myself altogether? I can't dictate how anyone else interacts with him but I can set my own boundaries. She actually listened and didn't get defensive or burst into tears (this is serious progress) and agreed that was fair. No one had a fabulous solution guaranteed to please everyone but at least she didn't freak out and accuse me of trying to ruin Christmas (this has happened before, but was not MP-related).

I will report on more hot goss and shenanigans as they unfold. Thanks for joining me on this journey.

[hypnoneghoul]

Hey!! When you get the chance~ could we get some cute fire ghoul cuddles with Alpha, Ifrit and Dew cuddling up to the lovely ghoulettes? Its cold in this abbey!

-🍁

Hi lovely, there you go <3 I didn't really have any good idea because, well, they're just cuddling, but I did my best and I hope it'll make someone giggle lmao (wc. 720)

The winter, as well as fall, was dreaded in the Abbey by most. Ancient stone walls radiating cold, ever present dampness all over and no sufficient heating system was a curse not only for humans, but for ghouls also. Only fire and part fire ghouls didn't have issues during that time of year and were used as personal heaters.

Not that they ever complained.

That evening was no different. While Aether and Omega were working in the infirmary, Mountain with Ivy and Pebble were preparing the greenhouses’ contents for winter, and Rain was spending his day being snuggled and warmed by Swiss, the youngest pack’s common room was hosting a cozy cuddle pile.

The couch was moved back, against the wall, and its big cushions were on the floor  creating a soft wall of its own. A thin mattress was laid out on the floor in front of it, more pillows and tons of blankets and comforters, as well as plushies, were thrown all over. Somewhere in there a few ghoulettes were buried, wrapped up in a few fire ghouls’ arms.

Ifrit and Alpha were on the very bottom. Half on top of them there were (respectively, from left to right) Aurora, Cumulus, Cirrus and Mist. Between Cumulus and Cirrus there was Sunshine, providing just that additional bit of warmth. Dewdrop was on the outskirts, cuddling up to Aurora’s back.

They all were just a big tangle of limbs, and everyone prayed silently that no one would have to pee.

Minutes passed and it was quiet, peaceful and, most importantly, warm. Having a bunch of fire ghouls, and part fire ghoulette, in a pile would inevitably cause said pile some disturbance, though.

“Pssst,” Ifrit hissed, “anyone awake?”

“I think everyone is awake,” Dewdrop scoffed. “It’s like… middle of the day, we won’t just sleep 24/7.”

“Wish we could, though,” Cirrus said and everyone murmured something in affirmation, also announcing their consciousness.

“What did you need, Iffie?” Cumulus asked, lifting her head to look at him.

“Dunno, I’m kinda bored.”

The series of groans that was let out could’ve probably been heard all across the Abbey. Bored Ifrit did not mean peace.

“Don’t you dare move,” Mist growled, no real venom, into Alpha’s armpit. The big fire ghoul tightened his hold around her.

“You wouldn’t even be affected,” he chuckled. It got quiet again, for a minute, but everyone could feel the tension, could hear the gears in Ifrit’s head turning. After a moment-

“I think I’m bored too,” Sunshine admitted, and this time growls, whines and groans answered her. “Oh, come on! We’ve been here for hours, just laying there. It’s boring!”

“Comfy,” Aurora corrected, wiggling in Dewdrop’s arms. “It’s called resting, Sunny.”

“I second Sunny,” Ifrit chimed in. A few more noises of disapproval were let out.

Cirrus sighed, “What time is it?”

“Uhm…” Mist patted around trying to locate Alpha’s wrist, “nearly half past two.”

“Dinner’s at three so-”

“Great,” Dew interrupted her, “you two kits can survive half an hour longer?”

“Hey!” Sunny giggled, failing to fake being offended.

“I’m older than you, dipshit!” Ifrit started squirming under Aurora and Cumulus in an attempt to poke Dewdrop with his finger.

“Oh, stop it,” the latter ghoulette scolded him. “You really are a kit.”

“And you are even younger than the firecracker!”

“I’m the oldest and I’m telling you all to shut the fuck up,” Alpha groaned, burst of giggles answering him.

“Can we all get just half an hour more of peace? Please?” Mist pleaded, a slight tinge of amusement in her tone.

With a few more laughs and snickers, the pile settled again.

*13 minutes later*

“Who on Earth is stabbing my thigh?” Cumulus asked exasperated.

“Sorry…” Ifrit mumbled, his face getting red.

“Please, don’t tell me this is what I think it is…” Aurora sighed and moved her leg, feeling around for- “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry, okay!? It’s not my fault!”

“Dude, did you get hard… out of boredom?” Dewdrop teased him.

“Well, now that we’re on it…” Sunshine started, squirming a bit.

“Sunny… is that thing at my belly…?” Cirrus started, trailing off.

“You too?” Ifrit asked her.

“Yeah,” Sunshine admitted, just before the whole pile burst out laughing again.

“Kits…” both Alpha and Mist sighed, fighting their own smiles.