#but even though i hate him i cannot resist the urge to make a shitty edit

[withacapitalp]

(Okay I saw a post about a premise similar to this but I cannot find it for the life of me. Anyway I loved it so much that I had to write a version of it myself. A post s2 AU!) Now with Part Two

Steve was never exactly the most perceptive person in the world. 

He missed all of the signals that Nancy had given him, every sign that had pointed to their failing relationship. He hadn’t seen the moments that proved she was right about everything going on in their town either. Steve overlooked important details in his college applications, and took shots in basketball that almost always missed. He even sometimes walked right into walls these days, because his spacial awareness had kinda been shot since Billy smashed a plate over his head fifteen days ago. 

A lot of that could be forgiven, but, this…

Well this was a little bit obtuse, even for him. 

“You know you’re sitting at our table, right, King Steve?” 

Steve looked up from his Tuna Surprise, resisting the urge to flinch at both the blinding light from the windows in the cafeteria and the nickname he hated so much. Eddie Munson stared back, carrying a lunch tray in one hand and his signature metal lunch box in the other. 

“Your humble court is awaiting you on the haves side of this blessed cookery. This side is where the dweebs and the nerds parlay. A single place we get a reprieve from the endless bombardment of the average” Munson continued, flinging his arms to and fro, gesturing to the group of teens behind him who were staring at Steve like he was dirt under the bottom of their shoes. 

He hadn’t understood the majority of what Eddie had just said to him, but those looks were enough to give Steve the gist. He was not welcome here. 

“Sorry,” He muttered, grabbing his tray and sliding it to the other end of the table. He took a deep breath the second he was alone again, letting the tension melt away from his body as he collapsed back in his seat. 

Even though he was no longer welcome to sit at his old table, Steve probably could have gone and eaten in the library with Nancy and Jonathan. They had awkwardly invited him to join them a few times since everything had gone down, but he always said no. 

It was better this way. Better to be alone. Better to not have to watch the two of them try and hide how much happier they were now that they could be together. They deserved that happiness, Nancy deserved that happiness, and Steve refused to be the one to make her try and stifle any of that. 

He had hurt her enough already. 

“What happened to your face?”

Once again Eddie dragged Steve out of his thoughts. He was standing over Steve’s head, nearly hovering on top of him, watching Steve like he was trying to work him out. Like Steve was a particularly complex puzzle that he could solve just with his eyes. 

Nancy had always looked at him that way. Steve had hated it when it was her, and he hated it even more coming from Munson now. 

“Got into a fight,” Steve grunted, stabbing at his shitty cafeteria food and hoping that his abrasiveness would be enough to get Munson to leave him alone.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he could say now that they had all signed another round of NDAs, but he was pretty sure even talking about this was toeing the line. It was safer all around to get Eddie to go away as quickly as possible. 

It wouldn’t be all that hard. Usually all it took were a few well placed bitchy comments to get people to see the picture and give up on him. The only group of people who hadn’t been perturbed by Steve’s spikiness was the kids. They had shown up at his house pretty much daily since the gate had closed, and had even taken to begging on him for rides to and from school. 

Dustin in particular seemed determined to stay latched onto him like a barnacle, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind their clinginess.

 It was nice to be needed, even if it was only a group of pre-teen smartasses. 

“With who?” Eddie asked, leaning his hip on the table next to Steve and crossing his arms over his chest, “Cause Billy Hargrove is telling everyone he can that he beat your ass for messing with his sister,”

“I would never do something like that,” Steve shot back instantly, feeling the fading bruises on his face twinge as his jaw clenched in fury. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth, unable to stop them, “Billy’s a racist jackass who tried to put his hands on one of my fucking kids,”

Shit. 

“There is…so many confusing parts of that sentence,” Eddie stated, blinking in shock.

“Whatever,” Steve murmured, biting his cheek to stop himself from saying anything more and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. They weren’t exactly his kids, per say, but Steve was invested in keeping them safe now. The idea of doing anything to hurt any of them was painful, and the thought of Billy spreading that kind of rumor made bile rise up in his throat. 

Fuck Billy. Fuck this. Fuck his life honestly. 

“Look, Munson, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Steve sighed, hating how weary he sounded. It would have been better to fight his way out of this. Steve was crappy at fighting though, and there wasn’t much spirit left in him. Not after two weeks of perpetual stress and tension. 

“Harrington-”

“I moved down, I’m not in your way, isn’t that good enough?” Steve bit out, halfway to just grabbing his tray and throwing it in the trash. He was barely eating anyway, might as well go to the gym to shoot some hoops instead of sitting here being interrogated by drug dealing  extraordinaire, Eddie goddamn Munson.

Couldn’t he just let Steve eat in peace? Everything else was already so goddamn difficult these days. Could Steve at least manage to eat a mediocre meal without the entire world demanding something from him? 

By the grace of whatever god was potentially out there, Eddie took the hint, pushing off of his resting place and stalking back over to his group of weirdos on the other side. Steve let his eyes slip shut and dragged in a heavy breath, utterly exhausted. 

He was contemplating skipping the rest of the day and going home to sleep when a blue plastic tray identical to the one in front of him bumped his right hand

“What are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud, raising his eyebrows and fixing Eddie with a confused look as he sat down right next to Steve and began to dig into his meal. 

“Eating lunch alone sucks?” Eddie offered, shoveling Tuna Surprise into his mouth and shuddering, pushing the rest of the disgusting concoction to the far side of his tray, “Plus I’m hoping that if I get in your good graces you’ll give me your pudding cup,”

Steve stared at him for a few more moments, waiting for whatever prank was about to be pulled. But Eddie didn’t budge, continuing to eat around his main dish with strange efficiency and ignoring Steve’s gaze. 

“Go nuts,” He finally said, offering the plastic container over to Eddie who grabbed it and gave Steve a big smile

“Mazel Tov, Eddie said, hoisting the pudding aloft and tearing into it, “So, you have children?”

“I- I babysit,” Steve stammered out, completely perplexed by the strange set of circumstances that was playing out in front of him. Eddie paused with his spoon midair in front of him. 

“You babysit,” He repeated, turning his head towards Steve. The younger teen nodded and Eddie hummed. He put his pudding down and licked his spoon clean. When he was done, he hefted it aloft, bringing it down on the back of his right hand with a smack that echoed all around the cafeteria. 

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, flapping his hand around in the air to try and get rid of the sting. Steve looked frantically to and fro as the rest of the room stared at them, whispering behind their hands. 

“Why would you-” 

“Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Eddie explained, interrupting Steve’s furious whisper with a breathless little laugh, “Because I just heard the words ‘I babysit’ come out of King Steve’s mouth,”

“Would you cut it out with the King stuff?” Steve snapped, beginning to lose his appetite, “It’s been a while since I was King of anything, and it was a stupid fucking idea to begin with,” 

There was a beat of awkward silence as Eddie gave him another one of those soul searching looks. 

“What are you doing Thursday afternoon?” He finally asked when he found whatever he was looking to find. Steve startled, dropping his fork. 

What kind of question was that? 

Was Munson asking him on some sort of date?!

“I’m…benched from basketball ‘cause of my concussion. So nothing, I guess,” Steve said cautiously, carefully picking his words and trying to avoid the spike of hurt that shot along his chest as he said them. 

It wasn’t much, but basketball was one of the only things Steve really thought he was genuinely good at. Not having it was kind of pure torture. 

Almost as bad as not having Nancy in his life anymore. 

“In that case, come to Hellfire,” Eddie offered, glancing at the clock on the wall and grabbing both of their trays. Steve scrambled to grab his backpack, hefting it onto one shoulder and jogging to keep up with Eddie. 

“What?”

“Hellfire?” Eddie repeated, dumping their trash into the bin and stacking the trays next to it, “It’s the club I run,”

“What is it?” Steve asked, curious but unwilling to commit just yet. There was still a part of him that was kind of convinced all of this was some elaborate ruse to fuck with him. 

But before Eddie could say anything the bell chimed all around them. The rest of the student population moved as one, and the sound in the lunchroom immediately went from dull roar to cacophonous mess. Steve’s left ear started to ring again, and he winced, shying away from the sudden noise. 

“You’ll have to come and see,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, completely ignorant to Steve’s pain. He turned on his heel, raising a hand in a wave behind him as he loped towards the rest of his friend group.

“Thursday after school! In the drama room, don’t be late!”

[cosmicoceanfic]

(happy birthday, @emeraldcas!)

Sam is just standing there, laughing, like the motherfucking asshole that he is.

Dean glowers up at him. It’s not an impressive glower right now, he knows, which just makes him glower harder. Cas is presumably also glowering at diminished capacity.

“I fail to see the humor inherent in the situation, Sam,” Cas snaps, voice unchanged, which he guesses is something.

“Yeah,” Sam wheezes, leaning heavily on the table in the war room. “I bet you do.”

“Are you just gonna stand there and laugh at us or are you gonna fucking do something about it?” Dean demands, voice getting a little Kermit-y at the end there.

“I think,” Sam manages. “I’m just gonna stand here and laugh at you.”

Dean contemplates wrapping soft, felted hands around Sam’s throat. He wonders if Cas still has smiting capabilities. Cas should absolutely smite Sam. Just jump on his big dumb head and burn his big dumb brain out.

“We can’t stay this way forever, Sam,” Cas says irritably.

“What’s all the-“ Jack stands in the doorway, blinking, still disheveled from sleep. “Oh.”

“Hello, Jack,” Cas says wearily.

“Hi, Castiel.” Jack looks at Sam. “Why are they Muppets?”

Sam, who had managed to get himself under some semblance of control, starts giggling again.

“We don’t know,” Cas answers at the same time Dean snaps “Jesus Christ, Sammy, pull yourself together.”

Sam, wiping tears from his eyes, turns to Jack. “No, I don’t know what happened to Bunsen and Beaker over here.”

“What are we supposed to do when we have to eat?” Dean pesters, because on the whole, he’s feeling pretty pestery. “Or when I need to take a piss?”

“I don’t think Muppets have digestive systems,” Jack says.

“Or dicks,” Sam adds.

Dean states at him, appalled. “Everything you two just said sucks, dude.”

“Sam,” Cas says, in his best I Am Being Patient With You Because I Am An Angel of the Lord and You Are Beneath Me tone, which normally Dean hates, but is honestly feeling pretty good about right now. “Dean and I cannot leave the Bunker. Something must be done.”

Jack kneels in front of them, peering at them. “Your eyes are very green,” he tells Dean. “Like a football field. It’s disconcerting.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Thanks, kid.”

“I bet you’re made of really shitty felt,” Sam says. “Like bargain bin at the Dollar Store felt.”

“Sam, I am gonna punch you in the motherfucking testicles.” Muppet height is pretty good dick punching height.

“Go ahead. It’s probably about as bad as me walking through long grass.”

Jack looks up at Sam. “Actually, Miss Piggy always has some force when she attacks somebody. You should be careful.”

“Thanks, kid,” Dean repeats, more earnest this time.

Sam scoffs. “Dean wishes he was Miss Peggy. He’s not even fucking Scooter.”

“I think you two have a Statler and Waldorf kind of charm to you,” Jack tells them loyally.

“Thank you, Jack,” Cas answers, even though Dean’s not entirely sure he understands the reference.

Sam heaves a big sigh. “Okay. I’m gonna call Rowena-“

“Do not call Rowena,” Cas and Dean both say in haunting unison.

“Do you have a better idea?” They sullenly say nothing. “Okay. I’m gonna call Rowena. Jack, you should go back to bed, get some sleep.”

“I think I’m gonna make a sandwich, actually.” Jack fondly pats the top of their heads, and Dean resists the urge to bite him with the teeth he doesn’t have. “I’ll be back!”

Sam smiles at them, extremely smugly and extremely shitty. “Hang tight, Bert and Ernie.”

The two of them leave before Dean can actually punch him in the balls. Dean sits heavily on the floor and after a moment Cas joins him. He looks mournfully at his soft, vaguely fuzzy hands.

“Didn’t you once tell me that Bert and Ernie were the homosexual Muppets?” Cas asks.

Dean puts his head in his hands. “The second we’re people shaped again, I’m throwing Sam off a bridge.”

“Mm. I will assist.”

“…thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

[heresathreebee]

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio.  She laughed when you said you were too. 

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer. 

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica. 

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked. 

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?" 

"There." She points at the screen. 

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?" 

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest). 

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question. 

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean." 

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas." 

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here. 

"No timer?," she asked. 

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart." 

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?" 

"Something like that." 

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better. 

But she can't know. 

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze. 

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her. 

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you. 

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…" 

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but… 

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that." 

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair." 

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo" 

"What was that?" 

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…" 

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too." 

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before. 

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?" 

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier–  looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too." 

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?" 

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them." 

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door,  but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over. 

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart. 

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her–  that is how eerily quiet it is. 

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then." 

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?" 

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here–  just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too." 

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!" 

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch." 

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them." 

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.  

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective." 

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light. 

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip. 

"So cute…" 

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence. 

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice." 

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry." 

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually." 

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair. 

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup. 

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…" 

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house. 

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.  

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down. 

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?" 

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was." 

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes. 

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?" 

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…" 

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything." 

~

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep. 

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home. 

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before. 

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place. 

[damselofblueroses]

The Name of the Rose, Chapter 3

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo made a mistake on his delicate relationship with the reader, then he could not find a way of apologizing. Reader made his life harder than he could imagine. They accepted that they mutually have some feelings however they could not name them. Catastrophy begins with Kyungsoo’s acceptance of reader’s interesting and unexpected offer.

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist

Prettier than Roses

Perhaps Kyungsoo was still punishing himself even after all this time, whether he was aware of his regrets or not. But he was punishing himself, for not being vocal about his feelings for you. He burned for you, he followed you just as a bloody puppy dog tail, but he always kept his heart’s desires in his chest.

He was resisting the urge of confessing, the dire need of being more than a friend for you as he was performing all roles of a friend, but God, he hated his role in your life. Even though he strongly believed that he did not have a chance with you, not even in the slightest, not after he played his role very well, more than he wanted and resulted in being your very dear and close friend. A friend, but nothing more nothing less. He hated so much, if he could, he would change everything in the blink of an eye.

He knew that he had to take you back to the safety of your room immediately. Before he was going to lose his shit. Before he was going to make a mistake. Before he was going to fuck the things up so bad. He was determined to take the cab and keeping you away from himself.

He did not want any distraction, shit he fucking dreamed of ripping that bloody dress off you during the dinner, he did not wish anything but managing to lock himself inside of his room before doing something stupid.

His clenched his fists in order to focus on a different thing. When he saw the cab coming to your direction, he was on the verge of praying.

However, when he turned to you, he just lost his shit.

You were looking at him with you big-doe eyes, a pout on your lips. The city lights were painting you with a dim yellow shine, multiplying your summer rose vibe. To Kyungsoo’s dismay, the wind carried your floral fragrance to him.

He remembered what you asked him.

He remembered what you requested.

Kyungsoo would do it right, he would touch you rightly and correctly, goddamn, he was fucking dreamed of how he could touch you since years. He was not better than the men you went out with, he was fantasizing a lot about you, he felt bad since he did not have your permission, fucking hell if he would ask your permission, but at the same time he knew that he was just helpless when those thoughts about you popped up in his imagination.

Unfortunately, all those dreams were so vivid.

You were like an island to him. A place for self-isolation, a place of happy utopias, a place of loneliness, a place of joy and fruitful ways of living, a place of exile and a place of connection. You were his island, his harbour and he needed to make you his, only his.

Since the day you were asleep on his shoulder in the bloody library, Kyungsoo wanted nothing but you.

Since the day you jumped in front of Kyungsoo out of nowhere with your fucking Cheshire cat grin, Kyungsoo only wished for being able to stick to you till the end. He did not care if he was torturing himself by dreaming of you when he knew he could not have you.

Your scent was too good.

Kyungsoo did not think what the heck he was doing, his mind could not catch his actions. His breath caught in the center of his throat like he was thirsty since ages, he could feel all dryness. He watched himself out of his body, he reached to you and dragged you into the cage of his arms.

Your smell was something else and Kyungsoo was immediately drunk in your scent.

“It is okey, Kyungsoo.” he heard your sweetest voice.

Kyungsoo did not need anything more to hear. The cab just disappeared into the darkness he caressed your face.

“You are so beautiful.” the words he was desperate to say finally fell from his tongue, mingled with the air. Your eyes slightly widened, and he heard your little gasp, that was the nail of Kyungsoo’s coffin. “Goddamn, you are fucking beautiful.”

“Kyungsoo” you literally moaned his goddamn name, and if there was still a kind of sanity left in Kyungsoo’s mind, your moan unconditionally destroyed it.

He kissed you and it took your breath away, both of you.

He kissed you enough to empty your lungs, and made your mind go to mush.

You were the one who broke the kiss in order to catch your thoughts. Your mind was scattered all around. You leaned over to your shaking knees and held them tightly.

“This… This…” you were panting, trying to find an excuse in the book in order to justify the kiss he gave to you.

“This means nothing.” Kyungsoo muttered but he could also reject to his claim with two reasons. First, It definitely did not fell like fucking nothing, and he never want something more than kiss you.

“Well, it means a lot to me.” you could not help but spill the beans. “Where in the hell you learned how to kiss like this?”

“I told you that you never have a proper taste of me.” Kyungsoo tensely chuckled, hell, he was aware of he was doing everything in his not-to-do list, but the spell you put on him made him impervious to anything except you.

“If you kiss every girl like this,” you hesitated to tell what you wanted to say, then you just gave up. JesusfuckingChrist, if he did not want to hear, he would better not to kiss you. Since he turned your brain into mush, he had to listen. “There is no surprise they are chasing you every day.”

“I do not kiss every girl first and foremost.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed. “If they want to chase me, what can I do?”

“And now you are bragging about yourself.” Your mood quickly changed into a less pleasurable and preferrable situation. “Can we go back?”

“Yes, of course.” he nod but you knew that you just destroyed everything was building between you in the blink of eye. You bite your upper lip so hard, preventing you from crying. Not now. Not before you were going to be under your blanket.

That kiss, that fucking kiss, it was all Kyungsoo’s fault.

He gave you a proper taste of himself, and you just wanted to cry, you were deeply sad because of you were not able to have him, you could not have him. He would not come to you as he boldly stated that the kiss meant nothing.

You were angry.

You were sad.

You were disappointed of yourself.

You just wanted to go back to the safety of your room and being able to talk with Chanyeol. He would understand. You knew that Baekhyun would give you a lot of advice in order to seduce Kyungsoo, but you did not want even to hear them.

He told you the kiss meant nothing.

Hell, if you could agree with this shitty statement, you would be lying your ass off.

Fuck off, you bastard you thought. You were fighting with your tears, trying to send them back. You were a big, strong girl and you could control your feelings.

You always were extremely strong, and you were famous for your self-control. You were not going to let Kyungsoo to destroy your inner peace or seeing you in tears because of his fucking rejection. You thought Kyungsoo would do it better, kissing you better, making you feel good, but the only thing he did was dismantling your foolish dreams.

He put you in your place, he gave you a lesson about your place in his eyes.

Nothing.

Kyungsoo could not look at you while you two were in the cab, going back to the hotel.

He knew that he fucked the things up so bad and he could not think a way to claim back from the pit he fell down by himself.

He kissed you, goddamn, it was the best kiss of his whole life, then he just said it meant nothing.

He cursed himself, he wished for the earth cracked like an egg and swallow his worthless presence. He made you upset, that’s why he could not look at your face. He knew what he was going to see, your eyes were going to mirror his mistake.

He lost in the moment, and while he was trying to give you a justification of that kiss, he just irrevocably ruined everything.

When you arrived at the hotel, you paid for the cab without saying a single word to Kyungsoo and directly walked to the inside of the hotel.

Kyungsoo was dying to grab you and apologizing on his knees, but your face telling him not to dare touching you.

He did not enter the hotel, he just sat on a chair in the garden. He was lost in his self-hatred, dreadful overthinking that had his skull feeling stuffed and a lifeless gaze washed all his feature.

He expected nothing but long days where the minutes bled into hours, hours into days and the inability to differentiate one day from the other. He mentally prepared himself for more than self-hatred, he knew that depression, isolation, and numbness were on their way to finish him, to eat him alive. Your face expression when he told you it was nothing was carved behind his eyelids, whenever he closed his eyes.

Kyungsoo was ready for flashbacks and nightmares, disturbing recollections that would render him for the following days.

Comatose, Kyungsoo thought. It was going to be a comatose for him.

How could he think he was better than those guys you went out? They did not destroy your expectations; they did not blend your self-confidence as Kyungsoo did in the seconds.

You did not know but there was a reason why Kyungsoo hopelessly tried to spare you from his kiss. You did not know but Kyungsoo heard a conversation between you and Chanyeol for once, when Chanyeol was telling that Kyungsoo was different for you, Kyungsoo was caring you more than anyone else, Kyungsoo was always there for you before anyone else just like he forgot how to shut his mouth as he continued. Chanyeol was the one who told you about Kyungsoo’s feelings.

And you just giggled of disbelief as Chanyeol went on about everything Kyungsoo wanted to tell you. Open your eyes to the facts.

You just laughed at his feelings coming from Chanyeol’s mouth and you told him it was impossible, you declared that there was nothing could be happened between Kyungsoo and you. You told Chanyeol, Kyungsoo was a good guy, but you did not think he was for you.

He wanted to save you from an unwanted situation which Kyungsoo could put you in by kissing you. It was sake, telling him to teach you, and Kyungsoo stupidly fell for it.

Till now he preferred to hide in the shadows, dancing around the subject than jumping onto it.

But this logic that his mind was following did not change how much he hated himself right now.

He had no regrets on kissing you, god knew that. He still could taste your velvety lips under his lips, he knew that moment was going to live with him till the end of his life. That kiss was grounding but inebriating, he was feeling sane while bringing both of you to the edge of insanity, your lips burned him like a fire.

When you touched him, you marked his skin, your touch stayed on him.

But he hated himself so much, enough to made him feel suffocating.

He found himself standing up and heading to your room before he could understand what the heck he was aiming for. The deep rumble of his chest that he could almost feel vibrate through the air as he walked through the way coming to you, helped him to prepare himself to face with you.

What could it be? he asked to himself. You could tell him get the fuck off, but he was not going to obey to your wish this time.

It was going to be a rumbling, he knew your possible reactions when you were sad, Goddamnit, you were extraordinarily upset with him, but he did not let this fact to disheartened him. He was not a coward; he was going to fix his mistake.

Kyungsoo raised his hand to knock your door, but before doing it, he heard your voice. As he thought, you were talking with Chanyeol or Baekhyun, he was not sure. He came closer to the door as much as he could, and did not give a shit to the rightful concern what if someone saw him while he was leaning on a single woman’s room like a stalker pervert?

He did not care.

He only cared for hearing your words after the incident.

Your voice was cracked, and he could not hear you properly, your voice was coming and going like a goddamn ancient radio. He could hear some words but there was no consistency or no chance of building a logical sentence of your words. He could perceive his name, with couple of words which Kyungsoo hoped not to be used with his name again, some broken lines on how disappointed you were, and he caught your oh-god-fucking-damn-it type of annoyance against Kyungsoo.

He gave up and knocked your door.

Twice.

There was no sign from you, and Kyungsoo was tired of patiently waiting.

He did his waiting. Seven years. In a fucking friendzone he put himself in.

He aggressively knocked on your door, and he did not stop until you gave up and opened the door.

“Shit.” he cursed when he saw your face. “You look horrible.”

Oh really? you thought.

After leaving Kyungsoo, you did not spend a single second to lock yourself in your secure and lonely room, then you just pressed the right numbers to make a call. Chanyeol was there for you, he listened your rambling and gibberish without a sign of inconvenience. He let you to curse Kyungsoo as much as you wanted, he joined you for the little party of swearing at Kyungsoo and he was generous on his vocabulary.

But you cried even when Chanyeol managed to put a broken smile on your face by telling you maybe Kyungsoo was not interested in girls, otherwise he had to be on his knees for you.

You cried for Kyungsoo more than anything made you cry till now.

Your sadness caught you off guard, even you did not expect to be upset with him like this, your feelings were like a blunt blade, it was turning in your heart over and over, using your own blood to be sharp again, then continuing its spinning in your heart. Pain made you numb; you could do only cry.

Your eyes were puffed and literally red. Your cheeks were red. Your lips were red.

Of course, you looked goddamn horrible as Kyungsoo, this asshole, proudly observed. Applause time for him for his greatest deduction.

“Nothing can escape from your eyes, Sherlock.” you murmured. “Couldn't you pay your attention on the fact that we already passed the midnight? Why are you here?”

“May I come in?” Kyungsoo kindly asked but something in his eyes were telling you to be on your toes and careful.

“No.” You congratulated yourself because of your refined answer. You were an idiot for sure, instead of playing with him and showing that he had no impacts on you, you chose to manifest how much you were broken by him. Good for you.

Transformation started in his eyes. Those chocolate brown and very warm eyes, reminding the deer’ beauty, perfectly shaped as almonds turned into crescents, and it was a bloody indicator of his mood was shifted into something dangerous. He was always quick to switch the moods, but he had never looked intimating at this level. You really could not believe what the heck he did, he just grabbed your fucking wrists, dragged you inside of your fucking room without your permission and pressed you on your fucking wall.

“Kyungsoo, fuck off!” you hissed at him, trying to save yourself from his iron grasp, swallowing hard.

“Tell me just one thing and save both of us from misery.” he whispered; his low-pitched voice gave you goosebumps which you really tried to take no notice of, but your traitor body willingly has been taking everything if the giver was Kyungsoo. “Why did you cry?”

“What if I do not want to tell you?” you lifted your chin, you needed to distance yourself from him, he already ruined the progress just a couple of hours ago. His statement clearly taught you whatever your friendship was not the best way to build a new kind of relationship, and you strongly opposed to be friends with benefits or those kinds of agreements. You would not go for them, you wanted Kyungsoo as your lover, not as your fuckbuddy.

“Do me a favor,” he enunciated each syllable and moved his right hand to your shoulder, pressing you into wall just like he wished to ground you right there. “Tell me.”

He leaned on you, his palm made contact with your shoulder, sliding up to your neck and staying there. His touch was heavy again, hotter than before.

He was goddamn close.

When you tried to save your body from him again, Kyungsoo’s hips rutted against yours.

Well, now you could feel more than before.

“Stop fucking moving!” he grunted, surprising you with the sudden and macho voice tone. He looked like very uncomfortable. “You and your idiotic behaviour!”

“If you do not like it, let me go!” you hissed, but you felt a knot was forming in the pit of your stomach. You were afraid of his impacts on you, especially after that fucking kiss. He had you over there as melted like a chocolate under heat.

Even while you were fighting to free yourself, your eyes unconsciously gravitated along his features, all you could do was thinking of him all the time you had spent with him. Those piercing brown eyes and those plump, smooth and heart-shaped lips that are always set in a witty line, the smallest moles and a couple of freckles all around his tiny nose and rosy cheeks, his long eyelashes, and that bloody soft hair of him, caused you to desire running your fingers through.

He was driving you fucking crazy, and you hated his power on you.

“Oh, believe me if I do not like even your idiotic side,” he leaned forward, closed the little proximity between your bodies and you felt the air left your lungs with your sanity. “I would not kiss you, damn woman.”

You were lost for words, you were run down, the only thing you could voice was an exasperated huff. Kyungsoo stared at you, refusing to loosen his grip around your body, instead he held you for his dear life and his gaze was nothing but absolutely penetrating.

You turned your head, trying to find something else to fix your eyes upon while you had been seeking the meaning of his words about liking your idiotic side.

Did he convey his feelings? Did he really stand for liking you, if he liked even your idiotic side, did it indicate that he liked all of you?

If he kissed you because he liked you, did that kiss imply more than nothing for him?

If yes, why he told you it meant nothing?

“Look at me.” his left hand cupped your face gently, on the contrary of his eyes, burning with fires, you could see the red was invading chocolate brown circles. “Do not avert your eyes.”

You blinked and shut your eyelids tightly. Suddenly, the silence in the room was more palpable than it was before, drowning both of you in a foggy swamp of riddles.

You were pissed off, broken and now, thanks to his complicated words, you were more than confused.

Kyungsoo was pissed off, broken and now, thanks to your complicated reactions, he was more than confused.

“If you were so keen on trying to convince yourself that I meant that kiss was nothing,” his jaw flexed, and his eyes were clouded. “I was trying to make amend for my fault. I should have not kiss you.”

You shivered, despite it was a very hot summer night, and Kyungsoo’s warm body made your temperature skyrocketed.

“Why?” you asked. “You do not make any sense, Kyungsoo.”

“Look, who is talking?” he rolled his eyes back. “You never make any sense about our fucking relationship since the beginning. I told you many times, pay your attention.”

You should be warned to follow the signs. Collect them and find the hidden meaning. Kyungsoo was sure on his patience, he could wait for you as much as you wished, he could give you time as much as you needed, but he had no patience to hide in the shadows anymore.

He knew that his constant shifting between one side to the other surprised you, hell it surprised even himself, he did not think about any of this, but since that kiss happened between you, since Kyungsoo got a taste of you, since he could touch you… Everything was changed.

He did not want to let you go.

He could not let you go.

He was aware of you did not belong to him, maybe you did not perceive Kyungsoo as a man, but he could not be your friend anymore. He wanted to tell you how much he adored you more than before. He wanted to kiss you more than before. He wanted to see your face when he woke up, he wanted to cuddle you when he was sad, he wanted to lean on your shoulder when he was broken, he wanted to cook for you, he wanted to sing for you, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to make you feel good, he wanted to be your harbour to shelter from the stormy seas, your rock to build your home.

He wanted to live his life with you. He wanted to share even the smallest detail of his fucking life with you.

“I told you that I even like your idiotic side,” he clarified. “And you still avert your eyes from me.”

That ignited the fire of your soul.

“Hell, excuse me for my idiotic side but if I remember correctly and my memory never fails me, I told you that it was fucking okey just before you kissed me, after I shared my catastrophic first kiss experience with you,” your voice was not trembling anymore. It was firm, fuelled by your anger. “Then, all you could say was that kiss stands for nothing. What do you expect me to say?”

“Even if you are upset with me, talk to me!” he frowned. “I ask nothing but your words, truly and fully. Is this too much to expect? Hell, you were the one who said that I am a good guy but not made for you, why you are so upset with me because I made an excuse for that kiss?!”

It was your turn to froze. Kyungsoo finally let you go, he stepped back, and his arms crossed over his chest, but you froze to death. You could not move but looking at his unchanging expression like an idiot he just named it correctly.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath. If Kyungsoo said this to your face, it meant that he wanted you to face a revelation. He wanted you to know that he heard your words about him, the words which you vividly remember as you said them to Chanyeol without knowing that Kyungsoo was able to hear them. If he heard them, you owed an explanation to him. Maybe you were just searching an excuse in the book, but you gave up. You were going to tell him what you think of him. “It was me. I still have the same observation. You are damn good for me, if I would say the opposite, I would be lying my ass off.”

Kyungsoo’s face went blank.

What did you say to him? He wanted you to talk truly, however right now he was nothing but almost regretful what he had said to you. Kyungsoo hoped for you did not mean that for real, he wished it was just a gibberish.

Were you a goddamn fool?

He knew the low level of your self-confidence, but your statement was nothing but the shittiest one he has ever heard.

“What?” he murmured. “You think I am good for you?”

“Yes.” you nod. “Look at yourself, Kyungsoo! You are damn good at everything you do, you are clever, hard-working, funny, firm and always trustable, I even do not go for your physical quality, it is fucking obvious, you are handsome as fuck. Of course, I could not say anything different, you were not made for me.”

Suddenly, your hands became the focus of your attention, you fixed your eyes onto them instead of looking at Kyungsoo, who took his time before registering and recording your words in his brain. Then, his hands started were smashed together unintentionally.

“And during all this time,” he heard his own voice trembling, as if being blown by the brute force that he was trying to contain inside of his chest. “I thought you are the cleverer one.”

“Ha?”

“I really do not understand why I think you can follow the signs I have been giving to you like a bloody idiot.” he could not help but growled at you. “In my opinion, you are the only girl who deserves to feel fucking good, and if I can be that one to bring you to such a high, I would willingly do it.”

“I do not un-

“Because you do not want to see!” Kyungsoo could not control himself but go ballistic because of your blockheadedness. How could a woman be clueless at this level? What should he do, continue to scream at you about his feelings or should he bring a testimony that was approved by lawyers?

Didn’t you understand how much he cared for you?

Didn’t you see his almost tangible desires for you?

Everyone could sense his love for you, but you could fucking not, and Kyungsoo was burned out because of your total ignorance.

“Are you,” your whisper reached to his ears. “Are you interested in me?”

Kyungsoo decided that, on the contrary of your academic success, you were literally a retard.

“Why do you think I follow you everywhere like I am your dog tail?” he clenched his fists. Quickly, he walked towards you, but stopped just in front of your trembling body. “What do you think of me, do I look like a lost puppy?”

“No.” you were offended by his words. Dog tail? Puppy? He was not that much cute at first place with his level of being witty and shitty! However, after one look at him, you were not sure anymore, even he was clearly pissed off, he was fucking gorgeous and cute. “Shit, Kyungsoo, you are annoying.”

“You are the damn annoying one.” Kyungsoo started to question himself, he wanted nothing more than to fuck this attitude out of you right there, in your double sized bed. “All I did was finding an excuse which can make you relaxed with me, and I accepted my failure. I should have neither kiss you nor lie about it. But I did, and I apologize for my misbehaviour. Let’s look at you, you are just asking goddamn questions and ignoring my answers. Who is the annoying one?”

You whipped your head around; your eyes were glistering with a layer of tears, forming in the edges.

“Are you interested in me, or not?” you cried. Kyungsoo glanced up, he registered the sudden stiffness in you, and how you consciously averting your eyes away from him. He remembered that same stiffness invaded your posture when you wanted to learn what happened to your dad while he was in emergency, or you were hopelessly driving into Busan when you received after the news of Chanyeol’s motorcycle crash.

He finally understood what you needed to hear.

You wanted his words.

You wanted him to say those words.

“I have always been interested in you.” he gave up. Your heart jumped into your throat at his blunt answer, you did not know how you feel about this information, having a place in Kyungsoo’s head was something you always hoped for, but never believe it could be real. Half of you thrilled with a delicious excitement, while the other half wanted to run away because of fear.

What if he was going to fuck around with you then ditch you?

What if he was going to try being with you then decide to leave you?

What if he was going to pour happiness into your life, you even could not dream of, then disappear?

Your dilemma was in your head. Carved into your mind, body, and soul.

Your biggest fear was losing Kyungsoo.

“I hate this eerily silence between us.” Kyungsoo cut you off before you could dig yourself into a deeper hole. How could you tell him he was everything and more you wanted from this life? How could you make him to understand how much you devoted yourself to him unconditionally? You watched him with darkening eyes, darkening with your fears, with your concerns, with your worries. Your eyes were dark as the pitch-black. “I am sorry to disturb you. See you tomorrow morning if you want to have a breakfast with me.”

Every layer of privacy and secrecy that you desperately tried to build till now in order to keep your weakest point from him were dissolved when he directly headed to the door. You did not even realize but threw yourself in order to stop him.

“Do not go.” you let the tears fall then and held his toned arm for your dear life. You could not let him to leave you behind, otherwise you would be damned. “Do not leave me, before you really have to do.”

“Why should I have to leave you?” Kyungsoo turned back to you. You saw the hesitation of his moves, he wanted to caress your face, but he was holding himself. “I cannot do it, even if I want to. You are too precious for me, bookworm.”

Your face was softened by his rich baritone voice and the nickname he gave you. Calling you as a bookworm was reserved to Kyungsoo, he beaten the shit out of even Baekhyun when he also called you like Kyungsoo.

“One day you will, Soo.” you were lost in your nightmares, mulling over horrendous scenarios your subconscious had been giving you in a fucking row. “One day someone will steal you from me, one day you will fall in love with a girl and leave me behind.”

Something told you that you should have been keeping this logic to yourself, but you were extremely emotional at the very moment. Your expectations, dreams, fears, hopes, everything was mixed up and conjoined with the amount of sake you just consumed.

You were talkative tonight, something very rare for you and Kyungsoo was happy for that. Even though you had been going through a hell of a night. He was also oversensitive, his mind was clouded by his own dreads and doubts, however when you sharply deducted on his not-existed-because-of-you love affairs, he could not help but chuckled.

“First, I have to see the girls.” his throat was like a sandpaper as he swallowed. The rosy tint on your cheeks was obviously growing, invading your skin, and heading to the south. He hardly took his eyes off your neck and the rest of the direction. “Excuse me, but I have eyes only for you.”

“You cannot say that!” you winced, by fanning your face with your hands.

“Then enlighten me.” he defended himself. “How should I say it? Sorry, but I believe in monogamy.”

Your knuckles paled as your grip around his arm tightened.

How could you name the hunger that driving you into crazy? How could you tell him even looking at him, even if you have not a single clue what was going to be happen, riling you up? You supposedly liberated yourself from Kyungsoo, but tearing his gaze away was impossible for you.

You wanted him. So, fucking bad.

You wanted his hands. His lips. His body.

You wanted his soul. His heart.

You were starting to pull him to yourself without noticing, Kyungsoo’s eyes were widened when you took the initiative to your hands.

Literally.

“Do you remember what I asked to you?” you whispered.

“About?” Kyungsoo exhaled with your unexpected shifting between moods. He did not trust his voice, not now, not when you were so close to him, enough to feel your breath on his lips.

His throat was like the deserts of Egypt right now.

“About teaching me.” you murmured into his fucking ear. “When it comes to touch someone?”

“Yeah.” he swallowed very hard, biting a tsunami of cursing back.

“Will you teach me?” your hands wandered around his arms to his chest and stopped there. “For the future references?”

“If I were you,” he groaned. “I would not think about future references.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your hands back off his body. Kyungsoo caught your hands and put them back on his chest, while he was aggressively dragged you into his arms.

“I am going to teach you.” his eyebrows were furrowed. “How you should be touched.”

Kyungsoo was never going to forget how your eyes glowed after his words with excitement.

He was not sure but it seemed like you wanted him almost like how he wanted you.

Desperately and fucking needy.

He carried you to the bed.

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major 

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

[ifellintothestyx]

AU where canon is running smoothly but Jouno and Dazai actually knew each other before the entire DOA disaster.

They meet around the time Dazai was fresh out of the mafia. Jouno smells the blood on him, asks him what's that about, and figures out his identity from the smell of bandages and the way he talks (the Port Mafia was very loud and very hysterical about the fact they lost a bandage-wearing jerk executive and that is a headcanon I will stand by).

Instead of arresting him, Jouno decided to have civil conversation with him because he isn't exactly the model of police ethics (and also because I think Jouno was a former criminal).

They somehow bonded over being former criminals and them being shitty people who are just trying to live in the light like normal people.

Meeting up at bars outside of Yokohama so they could talk shit about the people around them.

Not hating each other because they slowly realize how similar they are.

For some reason, Dazai starts to hang out at Jouno's apartment. Jouno lets it slide, although he hates it when his house is a mess.

JOUNO HELPING DAZAI TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF ON HIS BAD DAYS

DAZAI SITTING CLOSE TO HIM AND HOLDING A PART OF HIS BODY TO HELP WITH THE SENSORY OVERLOAD WHEN THEY'RE OUT IN PUBLIC

PLATONICALLY SHARING A BED BECAUSE THEY'RE BOTH INSOMNIACS AND JOUNO NEEDS TO CANCEL OUT HIS ABILITY FOR A NIGHT AND DAZAI IS TOUCH-STARVED

Dazai talking about Chuuya and Jouno just listening and sighing at how much of an oblivious dumbass his friend/brother is

Jouno ranting about Tecchou and Dazai just listening and sighing at how much of a hopeless dumbass his friend/brother is

When Dazai joins the Agency he asks Jouno for advice on what to do and what's not acceptable

"Not even low-key torture?"

"Just sound confident but reprimanding and most low-tier criminals will fold easily."

"'Most'?"

"Well, it doesn't work for some people, and that's when the fun starts."

Jouno asking Dazai for help on some difficult criminal they can't catch.

Kunikida asking Dazai why he doesn't sleep at the dorms and Dazai saying "I already live with someone very dear to me, Kunikida-kun!"

The Agency losing their shit once Dazai leaves (Ranpo figures out it must be some former criminal who's pretty responsible and caring (he does not figure out that it's a Hunting Dog))

Jouno casually packing up some food from an outing with the team and when Teruko asks why, he says "Well, I have to feed my roommate, don't I?"

The Hunting Dogs silently questioning reality, because who the fuck would room with Jouno "the screams of the damned please me" Saigiku?

All of their colleagues thinking they have a secret lover and going crazy over it because who?? Would?? Date?? Them??

Dazai and Jouno being assholes and encouraging the rumors because they find it hilarious

Tecchou secretly hurt and jealous but also encouraging Jouno to be happy, which also hurts Jouno because it makes him think Tecchou actually doesn't like him and only sees him as a friend

JOUNO MAKING SURE DAZAI TREATS HIS WOUNDS SAFELY AND RESPONSIBLY

DAZAI HELPING JOUNO RELAX AFTER THE MONTHLY SURGERIES WHICH HE CAN STILL FEEL DAYS AFTERWARDS BECAUSE OF HIS SENSITIVITY

Dazai coming home after seeing Chuuya that day and Jouno sighing because here comes the pining, again

When Dazai gets back from the Lovecraft fight and he just starts crying because Chuuya still trusts him even though Dazai thinks he isn't worth it, Jouno just sits with him and tries to logically explain the situation (he is resisting the urge to tell him "IT'S BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU YOU OBLIVIOUS DONUT")

When Jouno hears about Dazai getting shot and getting sent to a hospital he freaks out because Dazai hates hospitals

Goes over there and glares at any doctor who walks by, silently daring them to do anything while he stands protectively over his best friend

Helps him escape the hospital soon afterwards

When Jouno's talking with government officials or high-ranking military officers and they're disrespecting or subtly mocking him for being blind, Dazai will know

Those bastards are mysteriously wiped off the face of the Earth and Jouno just sighs when he realizes why

(Dazai may or may not have leaked Tecchou the information needed and let him do the rest)

When the DOA rolls around and Jouno's given the order to arrest Dazai Osamu he does not fall for the Page's bullshit and warns Dazai beforehand

They set up his arrest in a dramatic way, and communicate through Dazai's a heartbeat, which Jouno can hear

Guess what? Dazai has not one, but two people working for him on the outside!

Jouno treating the Agency like he would usually treat normal targets but inside it's hurting him because they're Dazai's friends and genuinely good, innocent people

Making sure to send direct the Hunting Dogs to the casino so Dazai's cooperation plan would work

Testing Kunikida with the prospect of walking free and joining the Hunting Dogs, and satisfied with his denial and adherence to his Ideal

"The doctor's execution is scheduled for today" Hurry up and save her

"Is it enough yet?" If you cannot push past this, you are not Kunikida Doppo, the most righteous member of the Agency

Laughing internally at Teruko's face when Ranpo saves everyone

Finding Tanizaki and Kenji and directing them to the cafe, where they will inevitably be found by Ranpo

When the whole mess blows over and Fukuchi is finally arrested or killed, the Hunting Dogs go over to apologize to the Agency

Dazai, who was freed from jail with all his charges dropped, completely ruins the apology by throwing his arms around Jouno and grinning smugly because they defeated the DOA

Everyone just gaping because, instead of Jouno shooting Dazai, Jouno just wraps an arm around him and sighs

They explain that they were working together the entire time

Jouno bowing to Yosano and Kunikida and apologizing sincerely, with no excuses but "I'm an asshole, and I regret hurting you all"

Everyone in the vicinity losing their shit because THEY WERE EACH OTHER'S ROOMMATE/FRIEND/BROTHER/NOT-LOVER???

I might continue this in another post. I know this is far-fetched, and very unrealistic, but I like the idea because I find Dazai and Jouno to be very similar to one another. Still, canon stands, and Jouno's a sadistic asshole in canon, and no way is this post being used to justify his actions.

[gaylotusthatexists]

things will get better

pairing: moceit

summary: Janus tries to convince Patton to move on from the past and forge a better future.

trigger warnings: sympathetic janus, implied domestic abuse (nothing explicit), please let me know if i need to add anything else

word count: 1294

a/n: it’s the last day y’all!!!! i actually cannot believe i kept this up haha. today’s prompt was ‘the future’. i hope y’all enjoy this!!!!!

ao3

Patton didn’t want to think about what was to come. He never did, never wanted to look into the future, always happy to stay firmly planted in the past. Things were better in the past, back when he was happy all the time, always knew what to do, back when-

He sniffled, wiping his eye underneath his glasses and hugging his teddy tighter. He missed how his life used to be. He wanted things to be like that again. He knew that they couldn’t, not now, not again. Things were different - he had to grow up, had to move on, had to...

He heard banging downstairs and clung even tighter, sinking down under his covers. Things were fine, he’d be fine. Things had always been fine before, why wouldn’t they be fine now? Even if she was gone now, even if she’d been replaced. It was fine. He was fine. Soon enough, things would be exactly how they used to be. A loving family, a smile on everyone’s face, a feeling of warmth and a skip to his step, just like it used to be. The future was bright, surely, just like the past. Everything- Everything was fine. He’d just made a tiny mistake, he was sure everything would blow over by the morning, and he’d be on right track back to the way things used to be.

He heard a knock on his window and almost jumped out of his own skin. The window slowly opened, another boy climbing inside and making his way over to Patton’s bed. Patton couldn’t find it in him to care.

Said boy slowly dragged off Patton’s covers and looked at him, his head tilted. Patton looked back up at him - his boyfriend, Janus. Oh.

“Hello,” Patton said, wiping his tears again as he slowly sat up. “What are you-“

“Are you okay, Pat?” Janus asked, sitting down on the bed besides him.

Patton blinked, then looked away. “I-“

There was a crash downstairs, and Patton visibly cringed. Janus took hold of his hand. “We should get out of here.”

Patton frowned. “I- You shouldn’t even be here, Janus. If- If they-“

Another crash. Janus dragged Patton up, leading him over to the window. Patton didn’t protest. Before he knew it, he was on the street with his boyfriend, the sun beginning to set as the two made their way over to the park, at the back of Janus’ house. They sat down on their usual bench and Patton scooted closer to Janus, leaning his head on his shoulder. Janus wrapped an arm around Patton, pulling him closer.

“I was worried,” Janus finally said, after a long silence. “You left so soon earlier, and you weren’t picking up your phone-“

“They took my phone off me,” Patton explained.

Janus breathed in. “Oh.” He paused. “Are you-“

“I’m okay,” Patton lied. “They, uh... They’ll come around. Everything will be fine.”

Janus frowned. “I... I don’t exactly know what’s going on,” he admitted, “but that did not seem fine.”

Patton sighed. “I... I know. I...”

Janus pulled him closer. “You don’t have to go back, you know,” he said.

Patton glanced up at him, frowning. “I... don’t?”

“No,” Janus confirmed. “You and I could run away together. Start a new life. You’d never have to come back here.”

Patton breathed in. “I don’t want to just leave my life behind.”

“You don’t... have to.” Janus’ grip loosened a little. “It was just a suggestion. I’m just... I’m worried about you, Patton. You always used to seem so happy, but now-“

“I am happy,” Patton insisted, plastering on a smile.

“You don’t have to pretend for me, Patton.”

“I’m always happy with you, though.”

“I have no doubts about that.” Janus gave him a soft smile. “It’s whether you’re happy the rest of the time that I’m worried about.”

Patton was silent for a while, a little too long. “I... I’m always happy. I have to be.”

“You don’t have to be happy all the time, Patton,” Janus said. “You’re allowed to be sad. And you don’t have to hide that sadness.”

“But...” Patton looked down at the floor, his smiled fading a little. “But being happy is, like, my one defining personality trait.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true, Patton.”

Patton was silent again, for even longer this time, as he tried to figure out how to string his next words together. Nothing came out.

“Do you... want to talk about whatever’s going on?” Janus asked, quietly.

Patton shook his head, still unable to form words.

“Do you want to talk about anything else, then?”

Patton hesitated. Usually, it was so easy to talk to Janus - Janus was a good listener, and Patton could just ramble on about whatever he wanted, but... talking about feelings was harder. Patton liked to think he was in touch with his own feelings, and he found it fairly easy to read other’s emotions, but actually explaining his feelings was a lot harder. His mind was always conflicting, always trying to convince itself that everything was fine, even when he knew that it wasn’t, when he knew that it wouldn’t be. But...

“I know that eventually everything is going to be fine,” Patton ended up saying, more to himself than Janus but Janus still twisted around to listen better. “Everything was fine, and- and it still is, it’s just a little different now. I want everything to be like it used to be.”

“You know that can’t happen, Patton,” Janus said. “Repeating the past has never done anyone any good.”

“But...”

“Just because you think that everything will eventually be fine, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t shitty now.”

Patton resisted the urge to scold Janus on his swearing, and instead just sighed. “I don’t... I don’t want to think about the bad stuff.”

“Sometimes you have to think about the bad stuff to figure out how to get it to stop.”

He hated that Janus was right. Janus was always right. He understood the world in a different way to Patton, he didn’t try to just focus on the positives and force out all the negatives, and sometimes Patton needed a reminder that it was okay to acknowledge the not-so-good stuff about his life, and work to fix that.

“I don’t want to go back,” Patton finally said, without even thinking about it. “I- I want to be out of there, but at the same time I don’t want to abandon everything.”

“Tell me this, Patton,” Janus said, “has being in that place ever done you any good? Have the people there ever cared about you, or done anything to help you?”

Patton took a while to respond, once again unsure how to approach the question. “They used to. Before...” He shook his head. “I can’t just leave them behind. What if- What if it gets worse, and someone needs my help?”

Janus sighed. “Sometimes the best way to help is to remove yourself from the situation and come back when it’s safer, or when you’re more mentally or physically fit to help. I’ve told you this, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Janus was always going on about how important it was to take care of yourself first instead of sacrificing your own wellbeing to help others. It was something that Patton still needed to work on. “You’re right. I- I need to get away. Is- Is your offer to run away together still open?”

Janus smiled. “If that’s what you want.”

“Then- Then let’s do it.”

They sat there for a while longer, possibly figuring out their next move, but probably just happy to be in one another’s presence, until they stood up and walked away, searching for their new future.

[nrth-wind-a]

SO. I... don’t have an excuse; I was exploring the rough patch of the Fashion AU at the time of doing this meme and uh. The ending of this spawned. I consider everything up until the kiss ‘canon’ for the AU. The kiss is... purely because this meme was still on the brain lol

Accompanying Playlist --

"...congratu-fucking-lations." Bellroc's voice was low, as they glared at the sketch they'd been working on.

Some of the lines had nearly pushed through the paper. 

Skrael glanced over to them, the smile previously on his face sliding off. He knew this was going to happen. He knew it.

So why did it still hit so hard?

 "...excuse me?" He fought to keep his voice steady. 

Bellroc's grip on their pencil tightened when Nari slipped from the room. 

Skrael followed their eyes, getting distracted for just a moment, stomach sinking when he noticed Nari's absence. She'd been doing that lately, whenever they seemed like they were about to have it out once more. 

Skrael turned back to face Bellroc-- there was little he could do to stop Nari, and he’d never subject her to even more of this than she’d already had to handle-- raising his chin in defiance. "Why aren't you happy for me? I just broke one of the best deals any one of us has ever gotten. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but this is our dream, isn't it? To get into the big leagues? This is our chance to do that, Bells." 

Bellroc's eyes were a viper's. "Okay.” They set their pencil down, but did not stand up. “First of all, Starr Occult is barely above Hot Topic, and you know it. That’s hardly big leagues-- it’s not even a high-end department store. So what-the-fuck-ever; big fucking deal, Skrael. They growled. “And secondly, it’s not even a deal for all three of us. I thought we were supposed to do this together.”

Skrael scoffed. “And we will. But we have to have some kind of in, first, and if this has to be it, then, I don’t see why not. Besides, they didn’t say I couldn’t get help from you two.”

“But they didn’t say you could, either, did they?” Bellroc stared into his eyes, lip curling. “In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that you didn’t even think to ask, did you?”

Skrael went silent. 

It wasn’t that he’d intended not to ask… it had just happened so quickly…

“I-” Skrael huffed. “I didn’t need to. They know we’re a package deal; we’ve never hid that.”

“And yet, I am quite certain mine and Nari’s names are not on the contract, Skrael.”

“That… that doesn’t have to mean--”

“Yes it does, Skrael! We can help you all day, but Nari and I don’t get to see a single ounce of credit for our work if we do! Not to mention the royalties, and god, I don’t even care about that, but you know we would get nothing!” They noticed him open his mouth, but held up their hand to stop him. “Don’t you dare. I’m sure you’d share it with the rest of us, because every dime any of us makes goes to keeping this car crash going-- I am plenty aware. It isn’t about the money, Skrael-- hell, it isn’t even about the deal. I need you to listen to me; the problem is that you did this without us.” They couldn’t quite clear all of the pain in their voice, and they wanted to scream, yell, be loud, because he wasn’t supposed to know they were hurt; he was supposed to know they were angry. 

But they could barely even feel a hint of the flame. Instead, they felt the way the Titanic must have. 

“You did it without us, even though a decision this big should be something we all talk about first. What ever happened to talking, Skrael?”

Skrael had clenched his jaw, his fists, against the avalanche on his tongue. “I just wanted to advance our careers, Bells… it’s one deal. It’s not even that big. Nine pieces, total. Three pants, three skirts, three shirts. Straightforward. It should have been easy.” 

Bellroc gave a haughty laugh, “Easy. As if anything is easy these days. Things haven’t been easy for us in weeks, and you know it.” They paused there, to see if he’d say something. They almost wanted him to. They wanted him to fuel their rage; they wanted him to retort, and they wanted to rebut it, and they wanted so badly for him to strike that match, grate against them, push back, cry out.

But Skrael didn’t say a word. 

They almost got what they wanted, though, as his cold stare locked onto their heated one, and ah, it wasn’t nearly enough, and that, too, irritated them-- how could he just stand there like that? While they were twisting, curling, crackling-- so they took the opportunity he presented them anyway, even if it wasn’t the one they’d silently begged him for, and continued.

“Did you really think that this was okay, Skrael?” They glared.

Skrael’s shoulders went visibly tenser, and-- a vicious delight ran through them, seeing that-- he finally broke. “I’m sorry; did I think giving us a leg up in our careers-- our dreams, Bellroc-- was okay? How fucking dare you. Of course I thought giving us an in to the professional world was acceptable! Since when did I have to clear everything with you? I didn’t know we were a hivemind, Bellroc; I didn’t know I had to go and get a permission slip to do my job.” 

Bellroc bristled, and finally stood up. One, two, three long strides, and then they were crowding Skrael’s personal space, “Your job is not to do ours for us-”

“-then maybe you should make more contacts in the industry! At least I’ve gotten a deal at all!” Skrael spat, resisting the urge to step backward.

“Oh, yes, I see; because it’s my fault a second-rate retailer with shitty fabric and bad stitching hasn’t picked me out for mass consumption to idiot teenagers who don’t know the difference between cotton and polyester. Wow, I feel so bad, Skrael; really! I’m just aching for Wal-Mart to set their sights on me! You piece of shit. You got lucky that they’re still looking for clothes that thirteen year olds wear to pretend they’re being rebellious. As if a paper-thin graphic tee makes you Alexander fucking McQueen, Skrael! This deal is stupid, and you know it. What happened to not selling out? To a mass retailer, Skrael? A chain?”

Skrael couldn’t resist a humorless, shocked laugh, “Are you kidding me? You’re really going to act like you’re gonna suddenly get asked to collab with Westwood on your first fucking try? We have to start somewhere, Bellroc!”

“I know that, Skrael! I just thought that maybe-” they cut themself off, looking to the side, shutting their eyes. They took a steadying breath… then leveled him with a mercilessly disappointed glare. “Well. You know what I thought.” 

The air stilled for half a second. 

And then Skrael rolled his eyes. 

“I never said we aren’t going to do this together, Bellroc. You are wildly overexaggerating.”

Ah… there was the strike. 

They accepted it in stride, lighting up. “Oh…” They growled. “Fuck you, Skrael. If that’s how you want to do this, fine. I’m just delighted to oblige! Fuck you and your stupid fucking deal-- I hope you have so much fun with your brand new, shiny contract, and all the assholes who come with it. And you know what? Don’t even bother asking for my help. This is your deal, remember? So take it, cherish it, and then shove it up your ass.” They slung their words at him like blows, before whirling to collect their coat and their backpack, stopping just before the door to hiss, “Don’t fucking show your face here tomorrow.”

The door was on its way to being slammed, but Skrael managed to catch it, as he followed on Bellroc’s heels, out into the rain. “You cannot tell me not to come in-- you don’t have that right! You don’t have the authority.”

Bellroc spun on their heels to face him. “Like hell I do! I’m not telling you that as a business partner, Skrael; I’m telling you that as a--” don’t say friend, “...a co-worker. If you show your goddamn face tomorrow, Skrael, I will make you regret it.”

Skrael looked unbothered, “What are you gonna do, get in a fistfight with me? Duel me at sundown? Please. Avoid the empty threats, Bellroc; they’re not a good look on you.” 

Bellroc made a hateful noise. “Do you want me to? Because if you keep fucking pushing me, I just might.” With how wired they felt, they almost, almost, wanted to… but Skrael was-- unfortunately-- right. Their words were empty.

Still… when Skrael had the audacity to start laughing, it was much easier to see the appeal. 

“You would never.” He managed between laughs, and god, they just wanted him to shut up; between his laughter, the rain, the blood rushing in their ears, the bonfire in their chest--

Something had to give.

As if they were watching from outside of their own body, they reached up, clapped their hands onto the sides of Skrael’s face, and he looked so stupidly beautiful in the rain, in the street lights, and they weren’t even sure what they were doing, but they were leaning in, suddenly, and it felt like a fever, it felt fake, it felt--

It wasn’t a nice kiss. 

They were too angry for that.

Instead, it was vicious, and too hard, and mean, and Skrael wasn’t moving, except-- was that bite from them or him? They couldn’t even tell. So they stepped closer, making him crane his neck, and he should have pulled away then, but he didn’t, so they didn’t, and neither of them understood what was happening, and--

The kiss wasn’t supposed to be good. 

It wasn’t supposed to light yet more of their insides ablaze. 

But it did. 

And they hated it. 

And they loved it. 

Eventually, they pulled back, slow, full of hesitation and something that wasn’t regret, but felt like it.

Bellroc cut Skrael off before he could ask.

“Shut. Up.” They said, tone dangerous, before they let him go and stormed to their car. 

The apartment was a graveyard that night.

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Like The Stars Miss The Sun

ao3

Sometimes, he lets himself think about her.

Usually, it’s late, when the kids are asleep and the sun is no where in sight, and he finally has a few moments to himself. Times when isn’t thinking about training the kids, or wondering if they finished their homework, or scouring the internet for food that is healthy and will also keep growing teenagers strong. Times when he should really be trying to fall asleep but old habits and training die hard, as he’s learned, and sometimes, he feels more awake when the sun is down and the the sky is black. Side effect of being raised by Bruce “I am the night” Wayne.

It’s then, when he lets himself think about Kory. And by let himself, he means finally allows himself to deal with all the thoughts he’s had about her all day come to the front of his mind, because for a few moments, he can. He doesn’t have to worry about other things. So he lets himself think of her, and where she is and what’s she’s doing and how she might react to things that are happening. Like Rachel learning to control her powers, or Gar turning into new animals every few weeks, or Jason not acting like dick for 2 minutes every once in a while, or if she would be able to help Rose stop walking on eggshells around the tower.

Dick Grayson know’s he lives a pretty dangerous lifestyle, but he thinks these moments, these silent, stolen moments when he thinks of Kory’s smile and her laugh and the way she knows what he’s thinking sometimes even before he does are the most dangerous parts of his day. Because, they are almost normal. For a few moments, he can be a 28 year old guy who may or may not be pining after beautiful, terrifying woman. Until he remembers he’s actually a somewhat retired superhero who is currently training a new class of superheroes, who may or may not pining after a princess of an alien planet.

They are dangerous because his life has never been normal. Because he has never been normal. Because no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop thinking about her.

His thoughts get more dangerous the longer he hasn’t head from her. The sometimes in the middle of the night have started creeping into other parts of the day. Like when he’s coming back from the farmer’s market and hopes, that maybe, just maybe, he’ll open the door this time, and she’ll be sitting on the couch, smirk on her face, green eyes full of mischief and stories. Or when he’s making dinner and he thinks about making extra just in case Kory pops in. Or when he’s teaching the kids a new training routine, and he pauses in the middle of an explanation, stupidly listening as if she’ll appear behind him and tell him he’s doing it wrong, step in saying “here let me show you should actually do it.”

Or when he stops a half a footstep away from opening the door to his bedroom, trying to banish all thoughts of Kory tangled in his sheets, fingertips dancing down his chest as he tells her about everything and anything.

Dick tries to chalk it down it to the fact that he hasn’t heard from her in 3 months. That part of him is just curious about what she has been up to, if she is planning on staying on Earth, if maybe, just maybe, she’s thinking about him too.

It’s dangerous but no matter what he does, he can’t seem to get her out of his head.

Part of him knows that whatever they had for a few brief weeks would have ended in flames and blood and disaster. Part of him knows it's a good thing it ended like it did, careful, safe, smiles on both their faces.

But the other part of him, the much less logical side of Dick Grayson, can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if he kissed her by the car that day. That part of him wants to know, wants to wonder.

That part of him never wants to stop thinking about Kory ever again.

xXx

Sometimes she lets herself think about him.

By sometimes she means most of the time.

By most of the time, she means too much of the time, Dick Grayson is invading her thoughts in ways she did not give him permission too.

Kory knows there is lot about herself that she does not know. A lot of her time before earth and on earth and before she ran into Dick and Rachel and Gar and everyone else is a mystery to her. One she plans to figure out a remember. But, knowing so little about herself, she likes to think she has some sort of control over her own, current thoughts. But apparently her brain has a very different idea.

She’s up with the sun in the mornings, way to early in her opinion, but it happens every day without fail, and every day without fail, the smallest, most annoying part of her brain has a wish. That this time she will open her eyes and Dick Grayson will be there, softly snoring, his face peaceful, some part of his body tangled around hers.

It’s an impulsive thought. One she cannot shake free of. Even though she knows it's mainly her fault that it is just a thought, not an actual action. He asked her to come with him. In his own, round about way, eyes almost pleading with her as he casually said the car had enough room. But she said no. Because she needs to figure out who she is before she can do something as impulsive and reckless as allowing herself to get dangerously close to Dick Grayson. They both need to figure themselves out.

She spends too much of her time not allowing herself to think about him. Which means alot of her time is spent thinking about not thinking about him, which sometimes makes her want to fly all the way out to California to punch him in the face.

And the thing is, she knows where he is. The last time Donna had talked to him, her told her about San Francisco and Titans tower, which led to Donna telling her about the original titans, and now, Kory knows where he and the kids are. She has a decent idea about what they are doing, and it lends itself to her imagination more than she cares.

So she distracts herself. Donna has plans and lets Kory stay in her spare bedroom. When they are not tracing down criminals or the occasional meta human, Donna helps her translate her notes from the storage locker, and they try to figure out her life before she woke in the Vienna and the guns and whole plot to kill Rachel.

And when they aren’t doing either of those things, Donna is showing her Earth. She knows what is like for things to be foreign and unfamiliar and she’s opinionated and funny and Kory trusts her. It’s a hard thing for her to do, learn to trust others, but she Donna has her back, even if she make fun of her music choices. She knows thee best food trucks and drags her to all the fun dancing clubs, and sometimes, she smiles, and Kory can see just the smallest amount of Dick’s smile in hers, and Kory wonders if that’s something that happens with all siblings, blood related or not.

Which leads to her thinking about her own family who she can’t remember. And also, sometimes, (most of the time, too much of the time) leads to her thinking about Dick. Dick and his stupid smile, and his stupid fluffy hair, and his stupid, perfect, magical mouth. Dick and his family, before and after and now. Dick Grayson and Rachel Roth and Gar Logan and her, their tiny, broken, disaster of a family that somehow grew in the space a few weeks, a family that she misses, that she thinks about too often. A family that could be hers if she wanted.

A family she hasn’t heard from in about 3 months.

Donna asks her where she wants to go next and she says Florida because it’s warm, but California is also warm. Warm and has her family, and Dick, and his stupid, perfect, magical mouth.

Part of her wants to go to California. Part of her wants her impulsive morning thoughts to be a reality.

But the other part of her, the more logical and political part of her wants to run. Run away and never look back, because she knows it can only end in disaster, one she doesn’t think she would be able to pick up the pieces from.

But, before either part of her can weigh the pros and cons, everything goes to shit.

xXx

“What do you mean Kory’s missing?”

Donna makes a noise on the other end of the phone, one that sounds an awful lot like she is kicking something rather hard, but he waits for her to explain herself.

“I told you. Shimmer. Tacos. Roy. No tacos. No Kory. I’ve called all my contacts in Florida, and used just about every ounce of pull with anyone to see if they’ve caught a glimpse of her. But nothing. She’s just gone. I know it’s shitty timing with Dr. Light but I can’t leave Chicago. Not without knowing she’s okay.” Donna sighs, and then kicks something again, and Dick presses his head into the kitchen counter.

All of his thoughts about Kory Anders turn to a slow sort of panic. Kory is missing. Dr. Light is sending light bombs after them. Hank and Dawn are having some sort of argument he hasn’t figured out yet. Rachel is definitely hiding something from him, and he still doesn’t know how to talk to Gar, and Jason is a whole natural disaster bundled inside a 19 year boy, and Rose still won’t tell him who she’s running from, and he’s only one guy. One guy who was almost having a good few weeks.

He should have known. Things were starting to feel normal.

“Dick?”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He drops his head to the counter again, this time with more force. Kory’s missing. Has been for 2 days. And he didn’t know. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

He can almost see Donna’s glare the second the words are out of his mouth. “It’s been two days, Dick. You used to disappear for weeks when we were kids, so I was giving her the benefit of the doubt for a few days before I called in the calvary.”

“Your right, I’m sorry, I’m just-“

“Worried,” Donna says. She knows him better than almost anyone, and sometimes hates it. “You’re allowed be. But you’re also not the only one.”

“I know.” He sighs, resists the urge to kick something like Donna has been doing for most of the conversation. “I’ll see if I can find anything out from over here. Keep me updated,” he says. Dick squeezes his eyes shut, and tries not to think of any of the terrible scenarios that instantly are forming in his mind. “Please.” The word slips out from his mouth without his permission, broken and hopeless.

“Of course. And Dick,” Donna says, stopping him just before he hangs up on he. “If anyone can take of themselves, it Kory.”

“I know.”

He drops the phone onto the counter much like his head, almost hoping it cracks. But to do that he would need to chuck it at the wall, a few times, probably, and he doesn’t have the energy for that at the moment. Kory is missing. Kory could bee in danger or dead and he’s been too worried about everything going on in the tower to even think consider Koriand’r, alien princess who can shoot fire from her hands, finding herself in danger.

He wants to fly to Chicago. He wants to track all of the steps that led to her being there one minute and gone the next. He wants to know where she is. He needs to know if she’s okay.

But he can’t. Because he has his own problems and his own dangerous situations, and he has four teenagers he needs to keep safe from a bad guy he thought was stopped already, and he still hasn’t made dinner for the night.

Dick wants a lot of things. He doesn’t want normal, because that’s not who he his. That’s not who the people he loves and cares about are. But he wants safety, or at least some semblance of it. He wants the kids to be safe, and he wants Kory to be safe and okay, and he wants for the world to stop spinning so fast for single moment so he can breath.

He thought working things out with Bruce and letting go of the darkness inside of him would lead to something new, something better, something slightly less stressful.

But it hasn’t. At least, not in the way he wanted it to. And he doesn’t know what to do, or how to move forward, and for a second he wants almost normal again. But almost normal led them here to this mess. So he doesn’t know what he truly wants, and that only makes him want to smash his head into the counter until he has an answer, even if that answer is being unconscious.

“Dick?” Rachel’s suddenly behind him, probably able to read his mind or feel his stress through the walls. He knows he needs to tell her about Kory, and why Dawn and Hank are here, and why someone blew up their car, but he can’t seem to bring his head up from the marble yet.

“What happened to Kory?” Rachel forces herself next to him. He lifts his head and she’s staring at him with a glare that could rival Donna’s, and it give him enough motivation to push himself from the counter.

“I don’t know yet.”

Before he can say anything else Gar and Jason come into thee kitchen bickering about something, and the Rose comes, hovering by the door and Hank and Dawn follow the sounds of Jason and Gar’s argument until the kitchen is full and for a split second, Dick pretends its because everyone is hungry and they are here to talk about dinner.

But that’s not why they are here.

So he tells them, about Dr. Light and about Kory and everyone looks at him for a plan.

He doesn’t know how to tell he doesn’t have one.

xXx

She lets herself be embarrassed over being taken down with a single taser for about three minutes.

It was Tamaran taser, which lets her be slightly less embarrassed.

And then she turns that embarrassment into rage, and embarrasses everyone who thought sending one person to drag her back home would be enough.

She remembers bits and pieces about who she is. More than she used to but still not enough to really know who herself, so she gets him talking first, until she learns enough for even more memories to slowly unlock in her brain. Gets him talking until he’s close enough for her knock him out and tie him up, more efficiently than he did with her.

She kicks himself for good measure, hoping she’s hit him hard enough to stay asleep while she searches for her phone.

Kory gives herself a moment to be proud of herself. And then another to think about how proud Dick would be for her not killing him, even when he definitely deserved it.

She finds her phone and then rolls her head, working out the cracks and tension as she thinks for a second. A moment.

Really, at this point, she knows exactly what she wants.

She types in Donna’s number first.

“Oh , my god. Are you okay? Where are you?” Donna is talking a mile a minute and Kory is only able to confirm she is alive before Donna is off, asking questions she doesn’t give her time to answer.

“Donna. I’m okay. Stop for a moment.” Kory says, and Donna stops, taking a shaky breath that Kory can only barely hear over the phone.

She tells her where she is, and that she needs to know if there is somewhere they can keep him for now, and Donna goes into tactical mode, and she talks to her until she’s running through the door of the warehouse, wrapping Kory in a hug before she even hangs up the phone.

“I knew you didn’t go to Florida,” Donna says. “God, we were so worried.”

Kory doesn’t miss the we but she ignores it for the moment. “They are going to send more. So we should interrogate him a bit, figure out as much as we can.” She twists the ring on her finger, trying to figure out the best next steps.

Logically, she knows she should stay here in Chicago, figure out exactly what Tamaran has planned for her.

But, realistically, she’s been trying to figure out the fastest way to San Francisco since she first tied her assailant up.

Donna kicks the man, and he slumps over in the chair. “I know a place were we can keep him.” Donna breaks out into a smile, turning back to Kory.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Dick has a nice place in San Francisco. Which works out perfectly.” She pauses pulling out her phone again, and Kory is able to glimpse a terrible picture of Dick on the screen before Donna presses the phone to her ear. “Something’s happened in California.”

xXx

Donna tells him she’s found Kory and that she’s okay, but for some reason, it doesn’t sink in until she’s there, standing in his door way, hair straight but still in her signature fur coat.

And he just, stares.

Because, Kory is here, Kory is okay, Kory is standing in his door, the beginning of smile stretching across her lips.

He’s forgotten just how breath taking she is.

And suddenly, he’s forgotten how to breath.

“Oh, my god.” Donna rolls her eyes and pushes past the both of them. “Nice to see you too, Dick. I’ve dropped our friend in the sub zone. Thanks for not changing the locks.” She pats his cheek as she side steps him, and then it’s just him and Kory, still standing in the doorway, because he is still processing that she’s here. This isn’t one of his day dreams.

It had been two days since Donna called him, telling him Kory was okay and that they were coming to San Francisco, ‘friend’ included. Two days of Dick trying to come to terms with the fact that Kory was coming, that she was going to be here, that everyone was going to be together again.

Two days of Dick thinking maybe, just maybe, they could all make it out of this mess okay.

“Hi,” he says, rather eloquently. It comes out breathless. He wants to punch himself in the face.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Kory asks. She has a cut down the side of her cheek that’s halfway healed, and he wants to know who hurt her, wants to know what happened, needs to know that she is actually okay.

But instead, he steps aside, and her smile grows, and she lets her eyes travel around the room before spinning herself back to him.

“So this is where you’ve been the past couple of weeks.”

“Yeah. I’m sure the kids will take you on a tour as soon as they possibly can.” He wants to take a step toward her, but he doesn’t know what their protocol is anymore. He’s never really known, but now it feels like there’s a three month sized wall between them, and he doesn’t know how to start breaking it down.

“Hmm.” She hums, eyes still roaming before dragging her teeth over her bottom lip. “Any chance of you being the one to show me around?”

And, fuck. Kory Anders is literally two steps away from him, real, and alive, and flirting with him, and fuck he’s missed her. Dick closes the space between them in two second, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, thumb ghosting over the cut on her skin.

“Pretty sure the kids would severely injure me if I tried.”

Kory’s eyes flutter shut and wants to kiss her, wants to pull her into his room, wants to know everything about her last three months. But there’s seven other people in the house and about 18 different problems that need to be taken care of so he can’t.

He knows they only have a few moments before Rachel and Gar crash into the room. Only a few moments before everyone swarms and the he has to start explaining Rose and Dr. Light why they are all here. Only a few moments with Kory by themselves, a few moments to take in that she is alive, and she is okay, and she is here, before the peace is broken.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asks, words barely a whisper.

Her eyes shoot open, and there’s a split second of fear that he is able to catch before she blinks it away.

“Will you tell me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. Because he will. Because he finally wants to.

He wants a lot of things.

“Later. After the kids are done with you.” He can hear Gar’s footsteps now, so he presses a quick kiss to her forehead and then takes a step back, just before everyone else bursts into the room and then Rachel is in Kory’s arms and Gar is wrapping his arms around them both, and there is at least 10 different things that need to be figured out right now, but Dick feels something close to peace.

Everyone is here, and there is the smallest degree of safety in this moment, and together, all of them, will figure it out.

They’ll make a plan, and everything will be okay. Because this is their normal.

xXx

Kory wakes with the sun, and allows herself a single moment for an impulsive thought. It’s the same impulsive thought she’s had for weeks now. The one she keeps trying to banish but can’t.

She’s going to open her eyes, and be in Donna’s spare room, alone. And that’s okay, because she’s used to it by now, thinking about Dick Grayson when she shouldn’t.

Kory opens her eyes.

Dick’s arm around her waist tightens just slightly, and there’s the smallest worry line between his eyebrows that she would try to flatten if she knew it wouldn’t wake him up.

This isn’t a thought. This is real. Dick Grayson is wrapped around her like a cocoon and she’s in his shirt, and last night he talked to her, about everything and anything, and she told him what she had learned about herself.

This is real. She is here. And if Dick Grayson is going to be taking up too much time in her thoughts, then she wants to at least be able to tell him about at the end of day.

Kory studies his face until his nose scrunches up. She knows he’s awake, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet, almost like he’s afraid that he will and she will be gone.

She knows the feeling.

“Good morning,” she says, a whisper almost lost in his giant room. His eyes are still closed the the side of his lip quirks up. Kory smooths of the worry line between his eyebrows, letting her hand slip down his face until she can press the side of smile with her thumb.

“I’m going to kiss you know, Dick Grayson.”

His eyes pop open, and then she’s kissing him, and he rolling them over until he can cage her between the bed and his arms, and this, this is what she has not let herself think about. Because nothing compares to the real thing.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, lips brushing over her skin as he kisses his way down her throat.

Kory tangles her hands in his hair and sighs, pulling his lips back to hers. “I’ve missed you too.”

[blackrupee]

Oh that's a shame. I didn't realize he was one of those guys that goes awol. I assumed he was somewhat constant. Damn I wouldn't be able to resist the urge to somehow get revenge though. I hate when people fuck me over. I just don't understand why he thinks it's acceptable to lie? Like why bother lying? I do admire your sluttiness ( as you call it) bc people act like sex is such a big devotion to make! But it's not. It should be accepted as do who you want when you want. Tbc!!!

I despise working in fast food. other crew members expect me to be social with them but I also am easily irritated so that just can't happen. They don't know how to leave me alone it makes me furious. With Kristen, I can't believe she apologized?! Isn't she the one who got mad? Doing all that petty stuff made it seem like she had decided to be a bitch forever. Do you plan to forgive her? It sounds like she knos she was wrong snd you said she was insecure? Your life sounds like a movie wild man

Not gonna lie I'm so curious as to what she has to say!! You gotta share I have no life I live for other people's stories ( if you couldn't tell by now)

ye

yeah we had a semiconstant fling for a few months but its now a periodic thing shrugs. but yeah i dont forgive people and im definitely harboring a lot of malice towards him and if i ever get a chance to fuck him over i will but for now if i convince myself that im “winning” by using him then so be it. and like i dont even know the original reason why he would lie??? like if he just didnt want to chill i wouldnt have minded if he would TELL me but not knowing wtf was up was....fuckin hell. 

and see like part of me is like “hell yeah ive slept with like 25 guys” (which is an honest approximation) and another part of me is like “damn bitch what if you get something serious like hiv/aids like you cant afford medication (i understand its completely controllable but still thatd be a financial burden and i already have intense amounts of anxiety with money)” and part of me is like “lol i hope i do and die” and another part is “holy shit youre so fucking edgy shut the fuck up” and another part is “yeah bitch but i cant fucking help it im mentally ill” and another part is “thats not an excuse” and another part is “...and are you really mentally ill or are you faking it” etc etc etc. all i know is that male attention makes me feel alive and a lot of these males dont stay long so i dont get attached

and i feel that. there are a lot of people i just cannot fucking stand to work with for a multitude of reasons like their personality or their work ethic. sometimes i just want to be alone and interact with no one besides the mandatory action of handing me my orders, for example. but then there are people with whom i LOVE to work (one of whom was actually kristin lmaooo) that make it bearable.

also idk dude i was high last night and was like “?????? why am i even pissed at the first place” and today im like “????? i have a vague idea of why im pissed” but idk. ive spoken with her before about my interpersonal relationships and how i really have a 0 tolerance policy for mistakes? which sounds really bad lmao. but like. i dont forgive and forget. i remember shitty things people have done to me and even if time passes and someone stops caring about the problem i never do. and if i still get utility out of someone ill still associate with them. for example, i got into a fight with a mutual friend of ours. we’re cool now and i guess we’re friends but ill always remember the shit i had to put up with. furthermore i try not to let myself get emotionally attached to people bc i never really had strong or stable relationships growing up (turbulent family life as a child). so like if anyone came up to me and was like “i hate you and never want to talk to you again” id be like aight cool bye idc. thats just how i am?? furthermore i dont really trust anyone due to longstanding self hatred combined with paranoia. theres no reason for anyone to want to be my friend/boyfriend/fuckbuddy/whatever so im always questioning like “why are these people talking to me/what do they want from me/how soon are they willing to leave me for better people/things/etc” idk if that makes sense

so nah i wont ever forgive and forget. i might be willing to drop the dispute and continue like we had been tho. im just soooooo over it

also my lifes so boring dude. its just work and anxiety and school with some sluttiness on the side

[pankopop]

(Dis)Content Creators

Youtubers, 2014’s lasting models of Harrasment, and how the internet is suddenly a lot more left than you’d think.

(Note: pardon the messy mishmash of Unicѻde characters here and there, I’d rather not be part of the witch hunt for masturbatory mass-debαting, and I find flying under the S.E.O. radar helps that endeavor.)

Recently, Јѻntroп’s been acting the right dick. He’s never been the smartest cookie, and it’s not his paid job to be the shining example of internet public figuredom. But people are kinda reasonably pissed about his “whats wrong about locking refugees out lol” tweetstorm of late. And a lot of it, I’m sure, is a kind of disappointment. There’s a lot of people out there who look up to him, know his life story, and I guess for some reason expected more compassion from him.

To be honest, this isn’t super surprising to anyone who’s familiar with the circles of the Youtube creators. While there’s lots of crossover, and some inevitable bickering here and there, you can roughly feel out the corners of the map.

There’s a contingent of mostly fairly funny and talented animators who met on Nҽwgrѻunds and ended up on Youtube (which ended up sucking for said animators). It’s a tremendous shame that the general humor of the group turned so obsessively toward “Fҽmιnαzϊ SЈש censorship” and anti-sheeple insular rhetoric. But nonetheless, they and Јѻn ended up being quite close knit, and yeah, of course he was going to be a bit emboldened.

Јѻn has always been a bit politically green – I remember him in a podcast (might have been one of the old TGS Co-Optionαl podcasts) where he was trying to defend his claim that people shouldn’t get mad about videogame representations of women, with a woman present. It was like watching a cat fight its collar. He was a consequence free child of the 2007 internet age where “rape” and “retarded” were words to throw out for shock effect. He ended up on rҽddιt, the magical internet island of lost boys who never grow up. Women aren’t oppressed, racism is over, yadda yadda.

In turn, a symbolic partnership with Sӑrgѻп of Ѧkҟӓd, a non-face of gӑṃеrgatҽ, was nothing special. It doesn’t take much to join in the circle jerk; tweet about cultish sheeple being racist toward MEN and you’ve earned yourself a seat.

Still, how dangerous can the partnership of such a pop icon and a chin stroking self-acclaimed genius of a cock get? How will this play out?

To be honest, I think it’s been playing out since it began. It got us into this political mess, and remains the swarming gadflies of twitter we know and love today.

MECHANISMS OF THE GATE

This cybercultural partnership between pop culture and the rҽichwing should remind us about the ways in which Gӑṃеrgatҽ still affects the current political climate, specifically in online spheres. Notably, it’s interesting to see the cultural attitudes remain the same. Even in the face of finding something absolutely ridiculous to defend, the urge to take the pseudo-philosophical discѻurse to fucking prove intellectual superiority™ is apparently too delicious.

During my Bachelor, I researched that 2014 pissbaby fiasco to death. I would work it in to whatever essay I could, and for a while compulsively hoarded every available peer- reviewed article on online-shittiness-culture I could find. Something I wrote a lot about when I was filtering through gӑṃеrgatҽ’s language was not only a unified lexicon of insult, posturing, and argumentation, but a specific frameworks and ideologies of rationality.

Almost all of gӑṃеrgatҽ was hinged on insisting on two things:

-Race doesn’t exist, it’s not a thing, so stop making it a thing. If you’re talking about race, then you’re using PoC as an argumentative crutch, and surely no better than a racist. Erasure must occur, because I don’t want to have to defend my view that whiteness is normalcy.

-Gender does exist, it’s binary, and all common-sense differences between genders are rooted in biological fact. For example, women don’t play real video games because their biological drive for empathy stops them from shooting baddies.

(Queerness, and expression thereof, are often side stepped. Usually lumped into the race category - “gay people have nothing to do with it”. Sometimes lumped into the gender category, as often non-normative heteromasculinity is seen as performed.)

Regarding race, it is an argument of who belongs. Regarding gender, it is an argument of who is superior. These tenets of social structure in the world of “whoever debates wins” are still smeared across the comment sections of the world today. It’s only been two and a half years. The people who felt empowered in the gӑṃеrgatҽ movement will hold these attitudes close. 

It appears to me that the biology-backed “common-sense” ideologies regarding gender superiority remain at wild play here. It’s a language of caricatures, and the SЈש is a woman.

The ideological transposition seems to go like this:

The woman, who lacks rationality, and is more prone to emotional outbursts of empathy. is not endowed, biologically, with the clearheaded, objective rationality of men. Therefore, even their empathy is comparatively feigned and weightless, and like the difference between a three year old crying over spilt milk vs. a grown man’s grievance over the death of a loved one.

The thing about worldviews like this is that once the first egg becomes a chicken, it doesn’t take long for the chicken to lay an egg.

Where maybe at first, the SЈש was a kind of woman, but types and tokens blur. All women become likely SЈשs. Women become SЈשs when they have a point that doesn’t align with a man. Eventually, the SЈש is just the woman out of line, refusing to virtuously lick the philosopher-king’s boots and parrot their objectivities.

But this accusation would be an affront to a gӑṃеrgatҽ-minded uberṃҽinsch! Pure sexism actually! Who’s talking about gender here!? We were only talking about how SЈשs are unreasonable! YOU’RE the one being sexist.

You can trace some of that same DNA of the Discѻurse™ around the refugee crisis. As soon as you reframe/move the goalposts of a racist problem to a Nationality problem, then you cannot by definition be islamophobic, because you’re not talking about humans anymore. You’re talking geography. Even though you did just totally say something incredibly racist, it doesn’t count cuz the tweet was deleted.

I’ve seen the term “Virtue Positioning” being tossed around recently. It’s interesting to note that as the subjects for debate get bloodier and messier and death counts become necessarily attributed to it, the goobermeinsch’s rebuttal is that empathy is sidestepping the issue. Who cares if people die, the important part is I’m taking you to town in INTELLECTUAL CHESS! WHOO! (It matters not that I will only frame the debate in ways where I win).

The positioning that’s actually going on is ideological frameworks of gender being set up so that the left is female, the right is male, and therefore the right wins. It’s what fuelled gӑṃеrgatҽ in 2014, and I guess the tactic’s effective enough to keep around.

“WHATEVER-DUDE” SOLUTIONS

What do you do when confronted then? I feel it would be pointless bringing this similarity up and leaving it hanging. If there’s been two years of resisting this harassment, then there’s gotta be some methods to employ.

When you’re asked to play house-rules calvinball, you know that you’re not going to win any medals. What can debate possibly hope to accomplish right now?

“Whatever dude. Have a good life.”

We are not here to debate. We are here to donate. We are here to protest. We are here to resist.

(DISCLAIMER: I mean, for god’s sake listen to the people who have legitimate problems and call-outs. Intersectionality is not divisive, it is the all-too-frayed twine that will unite people together, and everyone resisting would do well to strengthen our bonds with allies by throwing out our fuckhead perceptions about immutable goodness of the ego.)

The march does not halt to win over a “well AAAAaactually...” Your arguments belong with the demanding of accountability. Your energy should be spent doing what you can to help those who you can help. Internet progressives, just do your thing. Be there for the oppressed, and win the day - or as many days you can.

The Right’s not winning people over right now – when you get what you want out of a scam, you don’t hang around and try to patch up friendships. The thing about supporting and defending fascism is that before long, they turn you into an outsider. It doesn’t matter who you are, if your eyebrows are a bit too thick you’ll become a muslim. Your sexual deviancy makes you dangerous. Your chronic illness makes you a leech. Could just be a wrong place, wrong time. No matter how many boots you lick, they will step on you.

Sooner or later, people will see the trouble they’re in. They’ll convert. The Right’s numbers are always borrowed. Until that point, we’re gonna look real cultish to the cult. That’s how cults work: the world’s gone to shit and you’re the only “sane” ones.

YOUR HEROES ARE LEFT

There’s at least one silver lining to this cross-section of internet personality and this general craziness: a good majority of Youtube personalities know what’s up. In the last few weeks, I’ve seen a lot of people drop the apolitical guise. It’s not that they were centrists before - talking politics was just dodgy in the industry. But there’s a healthy amount of “fuck it” right now, and I’m happy for all of those sore, long-bitten tongues. I’m glad there’s enough of a contingent of generally older, 20+ viewers and consumers and patrons to send words of support and relief that their podcast hosts aren’t ทαzi sympathizers. There’s still a wall of sludge, but skins are being quickly hardened.

I’m most happy for all the kids. All of those 15 year olds who thought they were on the culture war’s hateful winning side, to wake up one day and their twitter feed is filled with distressed, active, and empathetic people. Marching and resisting.

Although it’s certainly not the entire story, a lot of these personalities are looked up to. They are the adults who “get” videogames, who talk about Anime and comic books – they’re 2017’s equivalent to the cool record shop owner in the 70’s who introduces you to punk.

I hope this “fuckit” storm shattered a lot of assumptions, and I hope that it spurs a reconsidering of the places where the good stuff on the internet comes from. (Hint: it’s not hatred).