#expect it next week or the one after depending on how the next part goes

[jasipereo]

Man y’all don’t understand…I legit couldn’t finish this third chapter for years, but now I’m sitting down trying to keep up the momentum from finishing chapter 2 and this thing is almost done 😭 might even split it into two chapters atp

[macabr3-barbi3]

Yours, Mine, Ours

We're finishing up week two! We've got one more ultra hot story coming up from @synamartia (who also made our stunning Masterlist where you can see everything that's been written so far, including some absolute bangers from @fraugwinska @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes and @hazelfoureyes) and then we're on to week three!

Everything is moving so quickly, and y'all are in for some treats for the rest of the month! 😈

(As always, thank you to my beloved Frau for making my banners for this event- I love youuuu 💗)

Summary: In helping Charlie, some magic goes awry and Lucifer and Alastor swap bodies for a week. The usual shenanigans occur (and lead to boning) Tags: Lucifer has a vagina; body swap shenanigans

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The last thing that Lucifer had expected three days ago was getting stuck in the body of the Radio Demon thanks to his daughter’s lack of magical training. He had assured her he wasn’t upset- and he wasn’t, really- but that was before he had awoken this morning after insisting they sleep in their own, original bedrooms with a throbbing erection that he couldn’t decide if he was allowed to touch or not.

One the one hand, this was technically his body for the next couple of days still. And with it being his consciousness in here, he didn’t think, ethically, there would be anything wrong with touching.

On the other hand, Alastor would probably kill him as soon as he found out- and he would find out, Lucifer was sure of it. Also on that same hand was the knowledge that when his mind was back in his own body, he would remember what it felt like- how Alastor’s gasps sounded as he pleasured himself, the weight of his cock in his hand as he stroked it, how-

Fuck, that wasn’t helping.

There was another little part of his brain reminding him that Alastor would be respecting his body. That the Radio Demon wasn’t interested in sex, and that anything below Lucifer’s belt would likely be ignored in favor of seeing if he could use his angelic powers since they were tied to the body and not the mind. Alastor also wouldn’t be touching himself if he were in his own body.

Maybe that was the cause of the problem though. If Alastor was ignoring his body’s needs, it made sense that the persistent erection wouldn’t go away- he needed release. And in theory, Lucifer could provide that. 

He bites his lips as he contemplates, wincing when Alastor’s sharp fucking teeth pierce the sensitive skin. Just to test, he palms himself over the blanket- and Alastor’s hips buck into the faint sensation, the slight friction feeling far, far too good. He holds onto the hope that Alastor would forgive him as he slips his hands under the covers, below the waistband of the deer’s stupidly comfortable pajama bottoms.

The first touch to his cock makes Lucifer moan, and it’s Alastor’s voice that rings out when he circles his fingers around the base and strokes. It was thicker than Lucifer’s own, when he opted for that set of equipment, and filled his hand perfectly, the skin silky smooth and hot under his palm as he set a steady rhythm. He wonders if he could convince Alastor to fuck him when they’re back in their respective bodies- Lucifer could always change what he had to offer on his lower body depending on Alastor’s preference, but whichever hole the Radio Demon wanted Lucifer would be more than happy to oblige if he could have this inside of him. His grip grows slick as the cock in his hand leaks, Lucifer’s thoughts making Alastor’s body react.

He pictures Alastor doing the same thing to his body- fisting his cock or pumping fingers inside of himself depending on what manifested in response to the arousal, caught in a cycle of crying out and being more turned on by the sound of Lucifer’s voice moaning out his name. He knows it's a pointless fantasy- if Alastor was doing anything with his body, it was probably just pinching and poking and prodding to see what weak spots the King had so he could use them to his advantage down the line- but it’s an effective one. He feels Alastor’s balls drawing up tighter to his body, just on the precipice of release. He opens his mouth to moan out his own name, just to know what it sounded like in Alastor’s static filter-

“Why do you suddenly have a vagina?” The doors to his private quarters fling open, and Lucifer opens his eyes to see his body centered in the doorframe- Alastor had come, his cheeks aflame and his eyebrow creased. Was that what he looked like when he was angry? “I was minding my business this morning, just waking up, and now there’s- this,” he snaps, gesturing at Lucifer’s lower body. 

And Lucifer knows with startling clarity exactly what happened, having been in his body for millenia and having been in relatively close quarters to Alastor for almost a year.

He had caught his own scent on his sheets and Lucifer’s body reacted like it always did- like a fertile doe ready for the strong buck it had scented. Sure, it was a little embarrassing to be in a meeting with Charlie and suddenly realize his genitals had changed when Alastor walked by and wafted his scent by him, but Lucifer was used to that.

Alastor, obviously, was not.

He tries as casually as he can to remove his hand from Alastor’s dick, but of course he notices- he might not have his monocle but in Lucifer’s body he would have perfect vision, certainly enough to see the subtle shift of the covers as Lucifer released his weeping cock. “What are you- have you been doing this the whole time?” He stalks further into the room, the door slamming behind him, and Lucifer wonders if he could actually die trapped in a Sinner’s body like this.

“Hold on, Al, just- wait, what are you doing?”

Because the sight he was seeing didn’t make sense as Alastor used Lucifer’s limbs to climb atop the bed, straddling his body’s waist and grinding down.

“Do I smell like this to you all the time?” He asks incredulously. “I want to devour you.”

The words travel through Lucifer’s brain and manifest in the form of Alastor’s cock straining, hips bucking up against the wet heat he finds from his own body. “Fuck, Alastor, slow- slow down!” He panics, when Alastor snaps his fingers (of course he figured out how to use the most basic of Lucifer’s magic) and the pants on the King’s body disappear while shoving the blankets down below Alastor’s waist. Lucifer garbles out some sort of noise when his hands wrap around Alastor’s cock again, slotting up against the slick folds of Lucifer’s cunt- and fuck, he really needed to stop this or they were both gonna regret it-

He grips his hands onto the waist of the body that Alastor inhabits and forces him to still- and shit, had he always been so slight? No wonder Alastor was always making comments about his size, when one of the Radio Demons hands could easily encompass nearly his whole thigh. When their eyes meet, Lucifer can hardly belief his own face was capable of such an expression; eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, a bit of drool that started to drip from the side of his mouth. “Fucking Satan, you don’t actually want this,” he mutters. “You’re just- my body is reacting to your body and scent the way it always does, but that doesn’t-”

“Lucifer-”

“And I’m sorry! I just- it was so hard, I couldn’t help it- but I promise I won’t touch again, we can just forget about this-”

“Lucifer.”

“-and I can move out if you’re uncomfortable after Charlie fixes us, and once you’re back in your own body you won’t feel like this anymore-”

“The body I am in does not matter,” Alastor snaps, ceasing Lucifer’s static-laden babble. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think you would have woken with that between your thighs had you not insisted on sleeping in our own beds?” He shifts Lucifer’s body enough to weaken Alastor’s hands on his waist, dropping the King’s weight back onto his lower body and giving a slow roll of his hips. Lucifer drops his head into the pillow and moans, the heat of him near unbearable. “My sudden arrival was not due to anger but frustration- imagine my surprise when I’ve been touching a cock for three days and it suddenly has magically become a slick hole that I have little experience with.”

Lucifer is so startled by the filthy words that he lets go of his waist completely, giving Alastor the free reign he needs to line up properly and start slowly sinking down on his own cock using Lucifer’s pussy- he was starting to lose sense of the possessive pronouns in play if he was being honest. All that mattered was one of them was inside the other and it was apparently exactly where both of them wanted to be.

Tight, silken warmth envelopes him, and he feels the sudden weight of Alastor’s antlers growing atop his head, digging harshly into the headboard. He hadn’t fucked anyone since Lilith had left, certainly not with his pussy, so the walls that clenched around him gripped like a merciless vice, velvety soft and slick with desire. He found the sense of mind to dig Alastor’s claws into his body’s hips again, pulling him down harshly and punching a moan from his chest with the force of it.

This was how Alastor would experience it, Lucifer realized, when they were back in their own bodies. This was the sensation he would have wrapped around his cock, the body held in his hands soft and supple and pliant- if anything, Lucifer would make more noise being fucked so well. 

Alastor makes a soft, broken sound above him, Lucifer’s face contorted in frustration. “It’s not enough,” he pants, “why is it not enough? I can fucking- feel it, like a bone about to break but I can’t finish.”

He takes one of his hands, guiding his own fingers to the sensitive clit at the apex of the angel’s thighs. When Alastor takes over, brushing across the swollen bundle of nerves, the body he occupies jerks- inner walls tense around Alastor’s cock, twitching and fluttering at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. “Oh, fuck,” Alastor moans in Lucifer’s voice, and Lucifer has to agree. It made everything that much more intense as Alastor started furiously rubbing, free hands coming down to sink claws into his own body’s chest as his hips bucked wildly, chasing the sensation. The sounds in the room were filthy, spurring Lucifer into digging Al’s feet into the bedding and thrusting up to meet him. It has to be the right move, because Alastor whimpers above him, eyes flying open to meet Lucifer’s.

“Please don’t regret this,” Lucifer says, radio filter broken with feedback that Alastor can evidently still understand. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t-”

“Never,” he snarls, and Lucifer’s horns and wings spring forth, blocking what little light was coming from the room, creating the perfect darkness for the glow of the King’s eyes as Alastor stared down at him. “You have no idea how I’ve waited- how I’ve craved you- to know that my scent alone brings your body to this state is bliss,” he pants, “that I can never live without knowing again and again.” His whole body is tensing, fingers working hard between his legs before he lets out a whine, collapsing to press their mouths together as he shudders into a strong orgasm .

The rhythmic clenching around the sensitive hardness of Alastor’s cock has him cumming, sharp jolts of ecstasy causing him to spill into his own body, hot pulses of release that flood and leak from Lucifer’s messy cunt. His brain feels fuzzy, head aching from the weight of the antlers, muscles sore from vigorous movement that Alastor’s body clearly wasn’t used to. The last bit of his orgasm has his cock twitching inside the still fluttering walls, a sensation that makes Alastor shudder on top of him and moan weakly into his mouth.

It’s an odd experience, to taste the way one’s own sounds of pleasure sound. He hopes that when they’ve returned to their own bodies that Alastor will find it enjoyable as well, Lucifer’s panting breath along his tongue, lips brushing together. 

Maybe there was part of Lucifer hoping that the act would put them back into their own bodies so they could repeat it, but minutes pass and nothing changes but the slowing breath of the body that rested on top of him. He brings one of Alastor’s hands up to card through his own soft blonde hair, knowing exactly the pleasurable tingles that it would send down his spine. 

“Give me ten minutes,” Alastor says muffled into his chest, “and we can go again.”

“I think you mean give me ten minutes,” he says, though he can already feel the jump of his cock in response to Alastor’s words. “I’m the one with the dick at the moment.”

“I’m aware. And I’m also aware of my body’s refractory period.” He trails a finger down his body’s fluffy chest, circling a nipple and making Lucifer release a warbled hiss. “I think there’s quite a bit that we can teach one another before we return to our own bodies, don’t you think?” He seems to take an answer from the sight of his signature grin, bringing their mouths together once more with a contented sigh.

[russellsppttemplates]

Soon enough (Lance Stroll)

There are many different ways to start a family, and Lance and Y/N are hopefully starting their own

Note: english is not my first language. This piece is written from experiences I know (my mother's, specifically), so it is probable that there are some mistakes as I'm not a doctor. Either way, I've tried to treat this as respectfully as possible as this is very close to my heart. Am I really giddy for the follow up parts? Yes, I am!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions endometriosis, fertility issues and treatments and associated topics like blood, medicine, hospitals, needles, etc., male masturbation, pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"It's just going to be negative, Lance", you mumbled, placing the stick on top of the counter and turning to the tap to ways your hands. "Then we'll know what to look for, sweetheart", he attempted, knowing how much the subject weighed on your chest.

When you decided it was time to start thinking about building your family, you and Lance went back to Dr. Marlin like she had asked you. Given your endometriosis, she wanted to accompany you in your fertility journey, checking out all of the possibilities before you moved on to bigger situations.

Lance had been the most supportive partner, always there to cheer you on and to hold you whenever things didn't work out, "Dr. Marlin said that if this didn't work, we are moving on to the big treatments", you looked at him, "and that's what we will do if you want, whenever you feel comfortable", he kissed the side of your head after pulling you close to him, "we're in this together, Y/N".

Grabbing the test when your phone beeped, you didn't even flinch, "negative, like I said", you mumbled, your top lip trembling as you hid your face in your husband's neck. As much as you expected it, it still hurt. Like any other couple wanting to start parenthood, you wanted to remember this period of your life fondly, but you also knew you weren't any other couple. You weren't alone, and since you became more invested in learning about your condition, you found out about all the other couples who had been through the same and their happy families, remembering someone with a very similar history to yours.

"I love you, Y/N, so much. I love you and we're going to have our own family, my love", Lance whispered in your ear, "we're in this together until the end, whatever it takes", he soothed, kissing your skin and hugging you tight against him.

"Do you have any meetings today?", you asked as you pulled away a few moments later, wiping your tears on your sleeve, "I have one at the end of the day, and I'm free for the rest of the week", Lance informed, "I have to get to work for the afternoon only, my morning is free too", you sniffed.

"Then I can call Dr. Marlin to book an appointment and you can go and get ready because we are going on a walk. It's a very quiet one, I doubt we'll run into anyone, okay?", he suggested, smiling when he saw your lips curve upwards slightly, "you're the best. I love you, Lance", you kissed his lips, walking out the bathroom and into the bedroom while he made the phone call.

.

"Do you need a blood sample?", you asked the assistant on the counter, "no, today it's just an ultrasound, and after that you might have to come in for other samples, just depends on how the appointment goes today", she smiled, "Dr. Marlin will call you shortly".

Sitting next to Lance as you waited, you grabbed his hand and started playing with in fingers on top of his thigh, "are you ready to hear that my uterus is a sad sad place for a baby to grow and that not even your guys want to stay in there? We've known eacother for a good while, so I thought we'd befriended, but apparently they're either too snobby or my uterus is a very hostile place", you joked, hoping that it would shake your nerves off, "too much?", you cringed.

"That's not the weirdest thing you've said to me", your husband chuckled, "and I'll listen to anything you say as long as it makes you smile", he cupped your cheek, "besides, who knows? Maybe my guys are also picky, or slow".

Dr. Marlin welcomed you in her office not long after, greeting you and confirming the informations she had, "like we discussed before, it seems that our best approach would be treatments like IVF. For that, of you still want to go for that route, we'll need some samples so we can also rule out any questions from Lance and see where your levels are", she said, getting up, "for today, we'll do the ultrasound as this will also given us more information".

Getting up and laying down on the bed, Lance followed you, standing on your side as you lifted your shirt enough for her to squeeze the gel and move the wand around, "see here? This is your fallopian tube, and it seems the most blocked, while your uterus is actually shedding well enough", she explained, pointing to the different spots on the screen.

"And is that good or bad? I mean, given the circumstances", you questioned, "I can't tell you with absolute certainty, as everyone is different, but this is usually a good sign. It means that it's your eggs that are not travelling to the uterus, and not like you have a low count or that they don't have a good place to settle once fertilised", she smiled, "I'm prescribing you the bloodwork and the samples we need, but after that, if everything checks out, we'll wait for your period and then we'll start couting from there".

.

"It's time for the shot, sweetheart", Lance called, grabbing the supplies he needed as you sat on the sofa. Even though you were fine doing it by yourself, having Lance doing the injections when he was home helped him feel involved in the process. "You can leave that there, then I can just pick it up after you take the needle out", you noted, placing the gauze in your thigh.

Lance tapped the syringe twice to make sure it was at the right level, kneeling down in front of you, "I'm just going to pinch your tummy, is this side, right?", he confirmed, seeing you nod, "are you ready, love?", he checked over before injecting the medicine on your skin, holding the syringe steady for a little bit before pulling it out, discarding it in the medical waste bin Dr. Marlin had given you while you dealt with the burn.

"This one is burning a lot more than I expected", you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the stung softened, feeling Lance's lips on your tummy and right by your hand that was pressing the gauze down, "you're very brave, Y/N, I love you".

"I love you too, handsome", you cradled his face, rubbing his stubbly cheek before helping him store the supplies for the next injection time, "we only have four days left", you smiled, looking at the medicine vials.

"Soon enough, Y/N, soon enough", he kissed your forehead, hugging carefully to not press on your tender lower belly, "you're so amazing all I keep doing is just that, but you're taking it all in, it's your body going through the changes", he kissed your softly.

"You're the one dealing with these hormonal changes, I still can't believe I cried when your sister showed up at the table with the pie a little bit more golden that it usually is. It wasn't burnt and it tasted amazing as usual, but the sight of it not done like usual sent me in a fit of cries", you blushed. Chloe was understanding like you expected her to be, but you still couldn't shake her panicked few seconds when she saw your tears, calling her brother immediately so he could hug you and soothe you.

"It's part of the process, love, and I want to be here for as much as I'm able", he said, interrupted by the sound of your phone going off, "it's Dr. Marlin, let me put in on speaker".

The phone call couldn't have gone better, "Y/N, I've reviewed the scans and it looks really good, keep up with the rest of the treatment and next week we'll look into the retrievals", she announced.

.

"This wasn't the way we were supposed to make a baby", you mumbled, "I should be getting naked and we'd be in our bed, and we'd whisper how much we love eachother and then we'd cuddle in said bed, not with me in a procedure room and you in another, in these cold and sterile sheets", you looked up at Lance.

You were back in the clinic so the doctors could collect both samples, and while you've had the years to prepare for this, and with therapy it was something you had worked over, sometimes you were still plagued by these thoughts.

Fortunately, your husband knew just what to say, "it's not the usual way, yes, but it's filled with love nonetheless. You're putting yourself through procedures after your body had been medicated with injections, and that is love. For out little one who we will hopefully hold in our arms when the time comes, love for our family and love for me. You're going to make me a father because of this amount of love you're showing me and that we share, okay?", he smiled soothingly, kissing your forehead, "no more of those worries, okay? Besides, we'll have loads of time for you to touch me and for me to touch you", he winked, helping you turn around so he could help you with the gown's tie.

Kissing your forehead goodbye once the nurses came to take you, Lance was then pulled to a room for himself, "all of the supplies you need are there", she pointed to the sterile table, leaving him alone in the room. Masturbating in a hospital room was not something he ever thought about doing. It wasn't that you weren't there with him, because he certainly had done it many times whenever he travelled for races and you weren't there, so he figured it was the white walls, plain in a room that only had the purpose he was in there for too. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he found the photo album of pictures of you he kept for these occasions. The collection was built along the years you've dated, usually ending up on his phone whenever you both felt particularly daring and in need of the other and you weren't physically able to satisfy it. The picture he used, however, was one he had taken himself. The picture was probably three months old as he had taken in on your anniversary, your naked side profile as you looked sweetly at the camera. You hadn't done anything big to celebrate it, opting instead for staying in and spending your time between the sheets working on your shared dream of a family. And that's exactly what he was doing right now, stroking himself as he recalled the sweet noises you make that he adores so much, the way you feel around him and how your body feels in his hands, soon collecting his finish in the sterile cup.

Making sure it was sealed tight and then washing his hands, Lance fixed himself and walked out of the room, heading up to the desk and handing his sample to the nurse, "there you go", he began, seeing her store it in a cooler like box, "I'm sorry to bother, but do you have any news on my wife?", he wondered, "Y/N's procedure seems to be concluded", the nurse looked at the monitor in front of her, "they're probably just finishing up and she'll be up in her room any minute. Do you want me to walk you there?".

"I think I still remember the way, thank you though", Lance smiled, walking along the corridors until he found the room you had been in. He sat in the comfortable chair, smiling when he saw your colourful fuzzy socks waiting on your bag, remembering reading reports from other women saying that their feet were cold after the retrieval, and since you weren't a big fan of the cold, Lance made sure to pack them for you.

The noise in the corridor caught his attention as the nurse that had wheeled you to the procedure room came back, wheeling you back inside, "she's still a bit sleepy, but the procedure went well. Dr. Marlin said that, at first glance, everything is right on track", she smiled as she noticed Lance's worry fade, "we will be both here in a bit so we can discharge her, but if something happens meanwhile, there's a bell there", she pointed, excusing herself and closing the door behind her.

Turning to face you, Lance kissed your cheek as you fluttered your lashes, "hey, sleepy girl", he cooed, prompting you to fully open your eyes, "I heard you did really well in there", he admitted proudly.

"Yes, they said something about a good number of eggs, I think I might've compared myself to a chicken, so you know, good things", you giggled, looking for his hand to hold, "thank you, for all this", you kissed his knuckles, "no need to thank me, we're in this together, sweetheart".

After explaining you the signs you should look out for, the medical team discharged you and off home you went with Lance.

.

Since you got the call to book the embryo transfer day, you and Lance had been cautiously hopeful with the results, "Lance, Y/N, I'm happy to say that we have 10 embryos to work with. They have developed healthily and without any complications", Dr. Marlin cheered.

"Let's go get a baby put inside of me, hm?", you stepped out of the car, holding Lance's hand as you walked to the door. Checking in was quick and you were almost immediately welcomed into the procedure room, sitting in the bed and covering yourself as requested.

"I imagine I'm looking very sexy", you joked in a way to deal with the nerves, "you always look the sexiest to me", your husband kissed the side of your head, resting his forehead in yours, "we're finally here, my love, you've got this, we've got this", he whispered, almost terrified that of he spoke any louder he would disturb the mood.

You heard a knock on the door, Dr. Marlin and her colleague walking in wheeling a small cart, "we have your embryos here", she pointed to the environment where they had been developing. As they rearranged the room, they pushed a highchair by your side, telling Lance he could sit in there while they worked, "so, Y/N, you shouldn't feel too much pain, rather some pressure as we make the transfer", she said as she maneuvered the small catheter, her colleagues guiding the ultrasound as you looked at Lance, finding the usual calm in his brown eyes.

"That was very well placed, actually the perfect spot", Dr. Marlin said, smiling behind her mask as he removed the devices and covered you up. "It's done", she empathised, rubbing your shoulder and hugging you, "now you're just going to stay here for 10, 15 minutes or so, to make sure everything settles", she excused herself, leaving you and Lance in the room.

"We made a baby and they're inside of you", Lance choked out. Throughout this process, he had always been the strong one, the one to hold you whenever you didn't want to do the injection because it hurt too much, whenever you felt like crap from the meds and whenever you lost hope, but today he cried for the first time, bringing tears to your own, "I'm so happy, I promise these are happy tears", he chuckled, "I always say that I'm the luckiest guy because you love me, at my best and t my worst, and today you proved it to me once again. I really am the luckiest", he kissed your lips, salty tears in the mix while you waited.

"We'll see you in two weeks for the test, okay?", your OB waved goodbye after giving you two big hugs, "thank you, once more", you spoke, forever grateful for the way she led you through this whole journey.

Driving home was quiet and comfortable, your seat adjusted so you didn't have as much pressure on your abdominal area, "They really should get this holes sorted, they've been here for a while now and they're only getting worse", Lance mumbled, "I'm sorry, sweetheart", he apoligised as he slowed down the car as much as it was safe to, "it's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything", you justified, not seeing the need to be so careful.

Blushing, your husband passed all the holes, the concrete now smooth as he drove faster again, "can't give any more shakes to the little bun, you know? Making sure they stay glued to the wall and all", he said sweetly, hopefully bringing lightness to the situation as you pouted at his cuteness.

"I love you, Lance. There's no one else I'd want to do this with", you stretched your hand, landing on his thigh as his own hand travelled to your tummy, rubbing it softly and hoping that your family was growing inside of you.

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Temporary Relocation Ch. 2

Read the previous chapter here Basic premise: Reader has arrived on TF 141's base after a transfer due to a special experimental surgery and is now receiving the initial medical checkup. If you cannot handle reading about needles, blood, and/or medical procedures, I recommend you do not read this. Bold text where the medical section ends.

You flinched a little as you felt a needle being pressed into your skin, followed by a nurse murmuring, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," you grumble to the best of your ability, "just wasn't expecting bloodwork." The woman's lips pursed in silent understanding as she watched the tube fill with the crimson liquid.

"Would it offend you if I said I admire you?" Her inquiry came as the seconds ticked by.

"Why?" You almost scoffed. It felt as though she was patronizing you just because you were a fresh face. Noting your irritation, she hesitated a moment.

"You're a soldier. Despite that, you took a surgery that could've ripped it away from you. It still could."

The nurse's words served to soften your expression, but they weren't what you found to be echoing in your head. In one ear and out the other, while your mind was ashamed of the fact that you'd prioritized the financial gain.

"Yeah, well," you grunted as she dislodged the needle once the tube was full, "we've all got our reasons for things, don't we?" Her focus on the tube left you without a verbal response to your question.

Next, your ears and tail were tested. What you could currently hear, sounds you'd probably be able to hear once everything was healed, the range of motion your tail currently had and how much it hurt when touched or moved in certain ways. That was how you found just how sensitive your tail actually was. Each foreign sensation shot sensations from the base of your spine up to the top. What the hell did they do with it? No other parts of your body ever had that kind of sensitivity.

The nurse hummed as she took all of the information down on your chart, you had zero doubt it would be confidential to anyone who didn't 'need-to-know.' As she read back over her notes, her expression only changed slightly. Enough you could tell she was thinking, but not for you to tell what was good and what was bad.

"They seem to have really intertwined your tail with your spinal nerves. I'll get this back to the main lab and send it off for data collection. In the meantime, take these," she handed you a bottle that contained the smallest pills you'd ever seen, "the dosage and when to take them is on the label. It should help dull the sensations from your tail. Pharmacy only signed off on this one bottle before you arrive. There's not much, but it should get you used to how the drugs work."

You nodded as you took the bottle, settling it into your pocket.

"If you don't have any other questions or concerns, you're free to go," she stated before writing some last minute notes.

"Actually, one question," you scrunched your face as you gently poked one of your ears, "is there an estimate on how long it'll take before the soreness goes away?" Not knowing how much longer you would be off-duty was driving you insane.

A moment of silence passed before the nurse found a conclusive answer in the notes, "you should get used to how things are in a few weeks. The soreness should be completely gone about two months from now. I can't say how long it'll take for you to learn how to use your new senses, that depends on you."

You nodded curtly, "thank you," before standing up and heading for the door. "And thanks for the meds, doc," you concluded before leaving.

Absent-mindedly wandering around base afterwards sent you to the canteen. You couldn't consciously remember the last time you ate anyway. You approached the main counter, discovering the remains of the lunch platters. Your selection turned out to be an amalgamation of sorts. Not that you could complain given the limitations. However, your last minute considerations were interrupted by a gruff Scottish voice from behind.

"They hurt?" He nodded towards your ears. You smiled softly as you turned to face him, plate in hand.

You shook your head as you responded, "not as bad as they did. Get an earful from that lieutenant earlier?"

"You could say that," he muttered. The irritation in his voice was evident, and the glaring look in his eyes made it even more so.

"Sounds bad, I won't push. Guy seems to have a real hothead."

"Only if ya know how to piss him off," he chuckled, "which doesn't take much. Nice to meet you, I'm Soap. Soap MacTavish," and he held out his hand for you to shake. So you did.

"Y/n L/n," you began, "might make my field name Whiskers when the time comes." Soap laughed a little.

"L.t'll definitely have fun with that one. Ghost isn't usually a jokes guy," he told you.

"He'll absolutely hate me, then," you concluded. "Wanna go sit? My mouth is watering knowing food is a foot away from it."

MacTavish promptly turned and marched towards a table, where Gaz was already sitting. Soap settled in front of a previously lonely plate, amalgamated similarly to yours with significantly less organization. Food instantly found its way to your mouth when your bum found the table bench.

"How'd the checkup go? All good?" Gaz asked. You nodded and partnered it with a thumbs up. He gave a solid nod in response. "Can you still hear out of your human ears?" You watched his eyes flicking up to your cat ears, then back to where your human ears were. Another shake of your head, this time you swallowed your food to talk.

"Nah, they rerouted my hearing network. My sense of balance is supposed to be enhanced by my tail, too, but right now it's too sore for me to find use in that," both Soap and Gaz were just staring at your ears while you explained. You felt yourself internally shrinking under the scrutiny, your body temperature rising in a way you prayed wouldn't be visible.

"What can you hear now, then?" Soap chimes in. Your saliva felt heavy as it went down your throat the next time you swallowed, then passively rested a smile on your face in hopes of concealing the sudden jitters.

"A lot more than I could," you admitted. Your tone sounded more cautious than you wanted it to. Willing your vocal cords to steady, you continued, "the helicopter was hell before I put the headphones on. Like I could hear the electricity signals coming from all of the buttons and wires."

"Bloody loud bastards, helicopters," he scoffs, but in agreement with your own distaste. "Can't imagine what it's like to hear everything comin' from 'em, I'd cross Scotland on foot to avoid that special little hell."

"Thanks," you ensured your tone was flat and void.

"Real reassuring there, sergeant," Gaz added. Simultaneously, the three of you let out some laughs, albeit small ones. "Did they tell you how long you'd be staying here before you could go on missions?"

Memories of the nurse's words had you groaning miserably, "a few months, at least. There's still a lot of variables with this." You felt like directly mentioning the nurse's comment about how intertwined your tail was would've been a bad move. Experiments have their kinks, after all. "At least I've got company," you shrugged off your previous frustration before sending a smile to Soap, "pretty entertaining company too, it seems."

"Always gettin' into trouble doesn't mean I'm entertainment," he playfully spat back.

"I don't know MacTavish, the lieutenant seems to have it out for you. You pick his nerves too often for anyone to get bored watching it," Gaz throws in.

"See? It's two against one! For someone with soap as a field name, you sure are bad at slipping out of situations," you sent a shit-eating grin to the mohawk-donning sergeant. He scoffed but sent a smirk of his own back at you.

"Not all of 'em, you'll see when you're finally on the field with me and the team."

"I'm sure I will," you responded as you moved to throw out your empty plate. "This was a good meal and a great chat, but I need rest. It's been hours." You don't wait for approval before turning and heading for where Gaz had gestured to personal quarters earlier, but you made sure to wave and call a "catch up with you boys later," over your shoulder.

------

Defeated and harsh sighs pushed their way up your throat as you closed the door to your personal quarters. This was your room, yet it looked just as plain as the rest of the halls of the base. At least your stuff had been very kindly dropped off for you already. You made quick work of adjusting the space to be as close to your own as possible. Personal trinkets, photographs, posters, and other small decorations littered the walls and desks alike when you finished. It was nothing too much- certainly not close to what you had on your own room at home- but it was nice at the same time.

Finishing making the bed was what had you deciding to take a shower. The switches were easy enough to figure out once you entered the bathroom, and before long you were under a stream of comfortably warm water. It had been awhile since you got to properly bathe, since you were in too much pain directly after the surgery to do anything other than sponge clean. You hadn't been allowed to do that yourself, either. Your tail couldn't be disturbed nearly at all for the first two weeks, back when you were still being held at the hospital. Memories flooded you as you washed yourself up.

You hissed in pain as the nurse gently adjusted your tail here and there. Even the slightest movements shot harsh jolts up your spine, but you were sure it'd be worse if you looked over your shoulder and watched all of it happen. You did your absolute best to stay still, contrary to your body's screaming urges.

"That concludes this set of testing," she stated. Her pen scribbles were the only thing that filled the room for a moment before she continued, "I'll send the next batch of staff in now."

You snapped yourself out of it, quickly disabling the faucet and stepping out of the shower before you could remember anything else. Fatigue blanketed itself around you and burrowed into the warmth of the clothes you changed into. A yawn pried your mouth open as you settled into your bed and carefully pulled your blanket over your body. It didn't take you long to fall asleep after that.

Read the next chapter here

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 22

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | AO3

-----

Hopper arrives the next morning with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, bustling his way inside and taking the coffee that Steve offers him with a grunt of thanks.

"You sure you don't want to press charges against that asshole?" Hopper asks.

Guess he saw Steve's car, then. The party'd helped clean up the paint on the driveway, but the tailight's still busted.

"Not yet. Might change my mind, depending on how today goes," Steve says.

It's surreal, watching Chief Hopper - former Chief Hopper - sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, drinking coffee. Eddie hasn't seen him since the pictures that circulated after Starcourt, and the guy looks… well. Hopper'd always been rough around the edges, but now he looks like he's just barely coming out of being in pretty rough shape.

He catches Eddie looking, and his eyes narrow for a moment before his gaze softens.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, kid," Hopper says gruffly.

Eddie gives a little shrug. "I'm not."

Steve's head whips around to stare at him, holding his breath like he's waiting for something, and - oh.

"Not a lie, Stevie," he says, offering him a little smile.

"Yeah, I can see that," Steve grumbles. "Just wondering if you're the one who's had a few too many blows to the head now."

Hopper grimaces.

"I'm not saying I'm happy about being a suspected serial killer or nearly dying in the Upside Down, but look, this was going on under my nose this whole time. I'd rather be in the know than oblivious."

"Is it too much to ask for just one of you kids to not be eager to throw yourselves into this?" Hopper asks, but it's clearly the kind of question that doesn't need an answer.

Naturally, Eddie gives him one anyway.

"That's what happens when you give a party like us a real campaign to be a part of," he says, all wide grins and easy bravado and complete disregard for his own nightmares or exactly how many times he was convinced he was going to die.

Hopper looks at him like he's speaking French, then looks back at Steve.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He plays the same game the kids do. He runs their little club now."

"Great," Hopper groans, and Robin gives a little giggle snort.

There's a knock on the door, and even though they're expecting his uncle, Eddie has to fight the urge to duck down and hide.

He wonders when that's going to go away, if it ever will.

But sure enough, Steve comes back with Uncle Wayne in tow, who does a double take at seeing Hopper.

"Jesus Christ, Jim," his uncle says.

"Never thought you'd see my ugly mug again, huh?" Hopper asks with a little grin.

"It has been a lot quieter around with your occasional midnight calls," Uncle Wayne returns, taking it in stride.

Hopper snorts. "Bringing this one back to get him out of trouble's a far cry from what we've got now."

They turn to look at Eddie, and he flushes.

"Yeah, thank you, we're all aware I'm in a lot deeper than some illicit substance charges," he mutters. "Can we talk about what we're going to do to get me out of it?"

Hopper drains the rest of his coffee. "You and I are walking into the station together."

"Wait," Steve says, followed immediately by Robin asking, "What?"

"Are you guys ready for that?" Eddie adds.

Hopper snorts. "Ready to what, come back from the dead? Is anyone ready for that? Look, Murray says his contacts are as ready now as they're going to be in a few weeks, and I'm not waiting longer than that."

Eddie can hear the disdain dripping off the word contacts, and it makes him wonder once again who exactly this Murray guy is.

"If you walk in there, they're going to care a whole lot more about that than about Eddie," Steve says.

Hopper lifts his empty cup at him in a parody of a cheers. "That's the idea. They want a story, we give them a story."

"So, uh. What is our story, exactly?" Robin asks.

"I got injured really badly in the fire at Starcourt, and it wasn't until the government agents were doing clean up that I got found. I've been in a coma since then. I come back into town, and who do I find but Eddie Munson hiding out in my old cabin in the woods. I get him to tell me what happened, and convince him to turn himself in," Hopper says.

"And what am I supposed to say happened?" Eddie asks.

"Joyce says the truth, as much as possible. Henry Creel attacked you and Chrissy, and you barely made it out. You were hiding from both Creel and Jason Carver's little mob while Creel kept killing. You stumbled on this crew investigating, Creel attacked, and you and Steve fought him off right before the earthquake hit. That's what you told them at the hospital, isn't it?"

"Something like that, yeah," Steve says. "I don't think I said who it was, but I can't really remember. I wasn't exactly in top shape."

"Then Powell knows that much already. Callahan can hardly find the nose on his face, but Powell's probably been putting together some of the pieces. Eddie ran from the hospital when he got worried that Carver would find him there, and he's been hiding ever since," Hopper finishes.

"That… that could work, yeah," Eddie admits.

"And as long as you're vague, none of it will show up as a lie, Eds," Steve agrees.

Hopper fixes him with a sour look. "You are going in there to file a report about the damage to your property, and that's only because I know you won't stay home. You don't have to press charges, but you're putting that report on the record, and then you're sitting your ass down in that waiting room. Don't even think about coming back with me and Munson unless I call you, understand?"

Steve's expression has steadily been growing pissier, and now he just glares at Hopper. "Really, you're trying to make me stay on the bench now?"

"Someone has to, apparently!" Hopper retorts.

"If you think I'm not going to be right there with my soulmate-" Steve starts.

"If you think I'm letting you-" Hopper says over him.

"You can't treat me like I'm a kid!" Steve insists.

"I can if you're acting like one!" Hopper shouts.

"Jim!" Uncle Wayne cuts in sharply.

Hopper turns his glare onto him, but Uncle Wayne just stares right back at him, unimpressed. There's a stand off for a moment - Eddie looks between Steve and Robin, to find Steve deflating a little and Robin's expression etched in confusion.

After a moment, Hopper cuts his eyes away, back towards Steve. "Come with me for a minute," he says gruffly, stomping over to the other side of the room.

Steve tosses a conflicted look at Robin and Eddie, but goes with him, looking confused.

Uncle Wayne watches them for a moment, then, seemingly satisfied, ruffles Eddie's hair and says, "Coffee in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, uh, mugs in the cabinet above the sink," Eddie says, a little thrown.

Robin drops down onto the couch, and Eddie plops next to her, both of them just watching the quiet, terse conversation Steve and Hopper are having.

"I didn't know Steve and Hopper were that close," Eddie mutters.

Or, well - he knows what he assumed when he heard Steve talking about Hopper's adopted daughter, that it was his parents who were cozy with the chief of police, but clearly he was wrong.

Robin leans over, elbows propped up on her knees. "Steve said Hopper used to come by and check on him sometimes, in between things, but I'm not sure they were really, like, close?"

Eddie's brow furrows. "Then what's with the…" He gestures at Hopper awkwardly clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Robin grimaces a little. "Steve kind of made Joyce Byers cry when they got back."

"What? How?" And why the hell would that endear Steve to Hopper?

"He tried to apologize for not having a handle on things here." Robin rests her chin in her hand. "Said he knew they were counting on him, and he was sorry he let them down."

Of course he did. Eddie closes his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Steve."

Robin makes a little disgruntled sound that he's going to assume is agreement.

"We all made it out, though," Eddie says. "How is this time worse than the others?"

There's a thoughtful hum. "The gates have always been closed, before. I mean, kind of seems like they always keep coming back anyway, but at least before it felt like maybe this time it could really be it, it could be the end. We don't have that, now."

Now they know Vecna is still out there, biding his time. It's hard to imagine anything else, for Eddie, but if the others had actually thought it was over, had a bit of a reprieve - yeah, he can see how this would hit harder.

"And Steve is used to being the one who gets hit the hardest," Eddie says slowly.

But not this time. This time, he and Max got hurt, too.

"Mrs. Byers told Steve and Nancy that she knew she was leaving the kids in good hands when she left," Robin says. "So I think it made her realize how much pressure she put on them, and now her and Hopper feel guilty about it. Plus Hopper found out about the whole Steve being tortured last year thing."

Eddie manages not to wince, but only because it's Robin saying it. He bites his lip, weighing how much he wants Robin's opinion on this against talking about Steve's nightmares behind his back, but - it's Robin.

"I don't want him to have to be questioned with me," he says, all in a rush. "He says it'd be fine, but I'm worried it'll be too much like - that."

Robin's knee starts jiggling, and he leans against it to steady her.

"If their plan works, he won't have to," she says.

"But what if it doesn't? Do you really think he's just going to be fine?"

For a moment, he's not sure she's going to answer, but then she whispers, "No."

Shit, he knew it.

"Can't we do something?" he asks, a little desperate. "It's not worth it, Robin."

He pretends he doesn't know that sentence would be just as true if he'd said I instead of it.

He pretends even harder that she can't hear it anyway.

Robin watches him, something wary and considering in her eyes. She isn't distant, but she's just a touch more closed off than he's gotten used to.

It throws him for a moment before he realizes that Steve must have told her about how their conversation went last night. About how he broke her soulmate's heart, and here he is now acting like he has any right to try to protect it, like she and him are still a team when it comes to keeping Steve safe.

He almost pulls back, has a stammered withdrawal on the tip of his tongue, when her shoulder presses against his.

"Steve thinks it is," she says simply, like that's enough.

"Robin," he starts, but he doesn't know what else to say to that.

She's shaking her head like she's cutting him off anyway, though, so maybe it doesn't matter.

"I don't understand it," she says bluntly. "You want him, and he wants you, and frankly I think you need to get over Steve having two soulmates. But Steve says I'm being unreasonable, and I recognize that he may have a point given our current circumstances."

Eddie's temper flares. "That's easy for you to say," he snaps, only barely remembering to keep his voice down. "You have another soulmate out there, too. You don't know-"

He cuts off, and her eyes flash.

"What, Eddie? What don't I know?" she hisses.

"How it feels to know someone is the only one for you, but you're not the only one for them!" he hisses back. "Platonic, romantic, he's the only soulmate I've got, and I'm not-"

He cuts off again. It's never been a lie when he thought to himself that he loves the part of Steve that is Robin, or that he loves Robin, or that he wants both of them in his life, or even that he likes that Steve has another soulmate and that it's Robin.

But when he tries to tell himself he doesn't care that Steve has two soulmates and he has one, or that it doesn't affect him at all -

That part is a lie.

Their circumstances, as Robin put it, have meant that he's gotten in deep with them very quickly, that it's forced him to rapidly be okay with a scenario he never imagined, but it also means he hasn't had any time to really come to terms with it.

"I'm trying, okay?" he says. "I only have so much brain space, and it's been a little occupied with not dying and dodging murder charges."

She still looks a little puffed up at him, and for a moment he has the absurd thought of the two of them like a pair of cats, hissing and spitting at each other, and that - he shrinks in on himself, just a little, and she deflates.

"Don't do that," she grumbles. "Make yourself all small and sad. I'm not Steve, you can't sway me with that."

It kind of seems like he can, but he takes the tentative peace instead of teasing her about it.

"Thank you," he says instead.

Robin narrows her eyes at him. "For what?"

His brain shorts out for a moment.

"Uh," he says intelligently. "Fighting nice with me?"

She doesn't soften, exactly, but she does look a little sad.

"I don't - know how to do this," he admits. "I've never - okay, I've never a lot of things, but this." He gestures at him and Steve, and then him and her, and then him and her and Steve. "It means a lot that it's not screaming matches or burning bridges."

She blows out a huff of air. "Fine. You've got a reprieve, Munson, figure your shit out or I'm coming back for you. Now shut up, and let's keep you out of jail and Steve from getting handcuffs slapped on him."

–

Hopper drives him to the police station in silence.

Well, mostly silence. There's terrible music playing over the radio, and Hopper had initiated some stilted conversation going over their plan again, but after that?

Zilch.

Fortunately, it isn't a terribly long drive.

When they get there, though, Hopper shuts off the engine but doesn't get out yet.

Eddie manages to resist the urge to sit on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting.

"You didn't come all this way just to actually arrest me, right?" he jokes.

Or he tries to joke, but he's pretty sure it comes out a little nervous.

"What? No, come on," Hopper grumbles. "Look, I just want to make sure you know that you're walking out of there, all right? We go in together, we're leaving together."

"Why?" Eddie blurts out.

Hopper looks incredulously at him.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Eddie clarifies. "You guys used to bust me all the time, and I know you went lenient on me, but-"

"Munson," Hopper cuts off with a growl. "I'm not doing this for you. We're doing this because you didn't kill anyone, and you're stuck in this now. So you should shut up and accept it."

Eddie considers if it's worth pushing his luck.

Hopper apparently correctly interprets the look on his face, because rolls his eyes and shoves the door open, storming out and leaving Eddie scrambling to undo his seatbelt and follow him.

His uncle's truck is already there, and so is Steve's BMW, smashed tail light and all.

He lingers at the door, just briefly, trying to talk himself up - but then Hopper grabs the back of his shirt collar and yanks him inside.

Eddie's heart is pounding, and he automatically scans the room - sees his uncle talking to Flo, sees Steve leaning back in a chair with a folder in front of him, feels it calm his nerves just a little.

"Heard you lot were looking for the Munson kid," Hopper announces.

The station goes silent.

Eddie raises his hands up. "Well, officers, looks like you finally caught this outlaw."

Somewhat predictably, chaos erupts.

Callahan is struggling to bolt up and pull his gun at the same time, shouting, "On the ground, now!"

Flo is yelling, "His hands are up you idiot, don't you dare draw that weapon in here!"

Steve is scrambling to his feet, looking like he's going to bodily shove himself between Callahan and Eddie.

Hopper gets there first, though, stepping half in front of Eddie with a sigh.

"Powell?" he calls.

"Yeah, Chief?" Powell responds instinctively.

Hopper bares his teeth in something that might be a grin, nodding at him. "Not anymore. How about we talk in your office?"

"Seems best to me," Chief Powell agrees, then shouts, "Hey hey! All of you get back to work, I'm handling this."

Powell leads them back into the office, shutting the door behind them. Eddie glances back before he does, and can see absolutely no one getting back to work.

Eddie drops into one of the chairs, ready for more dramatics, but Powell isn't even looking at him.

Rude. How is he supposed to cover his nerves now?

"We thought you were dead, Jim," Powell says quietly.

"So did I, for a while," Hopper replies.

"What happened?" Powell asks.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at him. "You want the whole truth?"

Which is not at all what they agreed on, and Eddie sits up in alarm, but Hopper waves a hand at him.

"This have anything to do with Hawkins Lab again?" Powell asks tiredly.

Hopper looks at him pointedly.

Powell grimaces, sitting in the chair behind the desk. "Bare minimum, Hopper, I'm talking as few details as possible."

"You know Kline was into some shady shit. Turns out it was foreign shady shit. The Russians got real pissed off when they found out I was a part of blowing up their little copycat Hawkins Lab under the mall. I've been their guest up until a few weeks ago."

"Shit." Powell scrubs a hand over his face, looking at Hopper with obvious concern. "Jim-"

"It's done." Hopper pulls an envelope out of the inside of his jacket and tosses it on the desk. "What's important now is these murders."

"Let me guess." Powell says, nudging the envelope towards himself like it might blow up. "More Hawkins lab?"

"One of its former employees," Hopper says. "Henry Creel."

Powell looks up. "As in the Creel murders? The kid whose father killed their whole family?"

"Whole family but him," Hopper says. "He ended up working in the lab, until it shut down. Twisted little shit like that, no where to get out his sick little urges?"

"We got ourselves a serial killer," Powell says.

Hopper taps the envelope. "Employee record's all in there."

Powell rubs at his jaw, then finally looks at Eddie. "How'd you get involved?"

Eddie slouches down. "He wanted Chrissy. I didn't - I couldn't-"

"Wrong place, wrong time," Hopper cuts in. "Munson barely got out of there alive. He's been hiding this whole time."

"I knew what it looked like, okay?" Eddie snaps. "Carver and his crew were gunning after me. I tried to talk to him, to tell him I didn't do it, but he wouldn't stop. Said he was going to make sure I got what I deserved. It's why I left the hospital."

Powell leans forward a little. "How did you end up in the hospital?"

Eddie swallows. "Some of my friends were out in the woods where I was hiding, they found me. But Creel found us, too. He went after Max. Harrington and I tried to stop him, but-"

He shrugs, and lifts up his shirt to flash his bandages and healing injuries, then drops it down.

"Found him hiding out in my cabin when I got back," Hopper says dryly. "Munson's soulmate is ready to prove he's telling the truth, Powell. You really want to put two kids through that?"

Eddie jerks up, glaring at Hopper in betrayal - he thought they were both pretty on the same page about not involving Steve in this - but Powell just grimaces.

"Do I want to tell Lillian Harrington that her son waived his soulmate rights and we questioned him without a lawyer? Hell no."

Eddie gapes at him.

Powell fixes him with a look. "Steve Harrington carried you into that hospital, despite his injuries being so bad he collapsed right after. He was adamant about not pressing charges against Jason Carver, and now he's out there dithering about filing a report while you're telling me there's a soulmate waiting in the wings to swoop in? I wasn't born yesterday."

Eddie puffs himself up a little, ready to insist that Steve had nothing to do with this - as soon as he can figure out how to say it without lying - but Powell just waves a hand at him, almost exactly the same way Hopper'd done just a few minutes ago.

"I told Steve, you're not our top suspect anymore. We just wanted to ask you some questions."

Eddie shifts his weight. "And here I was getting used to being Hawkins Most Wanted."

Hopper groans. "Cut that shit out, kid."

Eddie looks back and forth between them. "So that - that's it? I can go?"

"I would suggest you don't leave town, but yes, you're not under arrest," Powell says, finally opening the envelope and looking through it. "Not a bad idea if you both make a statement I can give to the press, though."

Hopper hums. "How soon can they release it?"

Powell snorts. "Story like this? We're looking at six o'clock news tonight, front page tomorrow morning."

Hopper looks at him. "Kid."

Eddie fidgets with his wrist brace. He wants to ask if his uncle can come back - he wants to ask if Steve can come in, too, but he feels even more guilty about that, and he doesn't want to risk it even if Powell did say they wouldn't be questioning him.

So he sits up a little straighter and nods. "Yeah. I can do that."

–

When they're done, Hopper escorts him out of the station with one hand on his back, Uncle Wayne and Steve flanking him.

He can't help the choked laugh that bubbles up - he feels like a rockstar, getting ushered away from paparazzi by his security team.

"You should get out of here and lay low," Hopper says outside the station. "Press should be here soon. I'll stay, answer a few questions."

He heads back into the station, leaving Eddie outside with Uncle Wayne and Steve.

There's no one else out there, but the skin on the back of his neck prickles.

It's the longest he's stood outside in the middle of town in weeks.

Steve scrubs a hand over his jaw. "I'm gonna stay with Hopper," he says.

I don't think he should have to do it alone, Eddie hears, and he can't help but give a little snort at his soulmate's soft heart.

Like Eddie himself isn't just as bad.

"Here," Steve says, holding something out.

Eddie automatically reaches out to take it, and a key is pressed into his hand.

"Everyone's probably going to want to come over," he says. "You guys can let yourselves back in. Eds, I think there's lasagna in the freezer if you want to heat it up?"

"Yeah, it was there when I got the bacon out this morning," Eddie agrees, purposefully not looking at Uncle Wayne.

He doesn't want to see what his uncle's face is doing about him and Steve discussing what's in their freezer.

Steve's freezer, shit.

"You don't have to give me your key, man, Robin or someone'll let us in," Eddie says.

Steve's expression falls, just a little, but then his chin tilts back up. "No," he says softly. "That's yours. You can - I want you to stay. You don't have to, since you're not a fugitive, but I want you to."

Eddie's face heats up so fast he feels almost dizzy.

It feels stupid, knowing Steve, but somehow he hadn't planned on Steve wanting him to stay, too.

He risks sneaking a look at his uncle, who's looking back at him with his eyebrows raised and a little smirk.

"Course I'll stay," Eddie manages to get out. "At least until you get tired of me."

Steve brightens, then rolls his eyes. "Not going to happen," he replies, then seems to remember that Uncle Wayne is standing right there, because he turns to him. "You'd be welcome to stay, of course. I mean, Dustin kind of takes over one of the guest rooms whenever he can, but we have a second one."

A second one that no one's using, because Eddie's been sleeping with Steve, and now he's pretty sure his face couldn't get any redder.

He hopes that his uncle doesn't pick up the implications that Steve clearly isn't aware he's laying down, but unfortunately, Eddie can see Uncle Wayne's little smirk grow.

Still, he doesn't say anything about it.

"Thank you," his uncle says gruffly. "But I'm good at the hotel."

Steve heads back inside after Hopper, and Eddie follows his uncle to his truck.

"Not a word, old man," Eddie grumbles.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Uncle Wayne replies.

That doesn't stop him from laughing at him on the drive back, though.

Sure enough, Robin and Dustin are already there, and it's not long before everyone else shows up.

Including Joyce Byers, who hugs him long and tight and makes him have to excuse himself to go get the lasagna out of the freezer so he doesn't burst into tears.

Hopper and Steve both end up live on the six o'clock news. Chief Powell leads the press conference, and Hopper begrudgingly answers a handful of questions. He gives the coma story, talks about working with a private investigator friend to find out what happened during the time he was missing, reports that he has no current plans to retake the mantle of Chief of Police.

Hawkins has a fine one in Chief Powell, apparently, and Hopper wants to be with his family for now.

Chief Powell gives a brief update on the murder case, reporting that Eddie is no longer considered a suspect, and they have new evidence that points to Henry Creel, including several witnesses to the attacks.

Steve steps in only briefly to identify himself as one of them, stating that he was attacked by Henry Creel as well and can positively identify him. When asked how he survived, he shrugs and says he helped his friends fight him off, that it wasn't the first time they've all been in a dangerous situation.

The story ends with a picture of Eddie himself, the reporter stating again that no charges have been filed against him, and that -

That's it.

Eddie almost doesn't know what to do with himself.

The next few days are weird.

He still stays inside, most of the time, but he does go out a couple of times. With his uncle to get dinner, with Steve to the auto store to get a new tail light, with Hopper to sign a couple of more things at the station. Just enough to ease back into it, to remind the town that fuck you, he's still here.

Andy Johnson and Eric Carson stop by and apologize.

To Steve, which makes him all pissy, but Eddie thinks is frankly hilarious.

They promise they left right after they finished talking to Steve and Robin that night, and they had no idea that Jason was going to come back and mess with his car. They're not going to have anything to do with him until he gets his head back on straight.

Privately, he's not convinced Jason ever had his head on straight, but he doesn't do more than waggle his eyebrows significantly at Steve from where Andy and Eric can't see him.

Besides that, things are quiet.

Even though Eddie was kind of expecting something - there's no sign of Jason.

Up next: Eddie gets more orders to sort his shit out, so okay fine he guesses he has to

-----

Part 23

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[buckleybltch]

Do you think we’ll get some kind of hint about the chance of Tommy being back or is too soon? What is your speculation for Buck this week?

i honestly genuinely don’t know, but I have two trains of thought:

1. IF (very, very big if) Tim has had it planned from the beginning for BuckTommy to be following the romcom route and there is a planned reconciliation, then it could go either way next ep. Considering we haven’t even heard about Christopher and that’s meant to be a big plot line, I’m not expecting the show to be showing us more BuckTommy so soon, even if it’s a simple mention of Tommy in some obscure context. I simply don’t think the episodes are long enough for that. In an ideal world, sure, Buck might make another mention of Tommy just to keep the plot going and in viewers minds, but I think it’s unlikely. Should there be a planned reconciliation, I don’t think it will come till 8x10 at the earliest because the midseason finale and the spring premier should (in theory) be a two parter focused on an emergency with (most likely) no space for large character storylines outside the main plot.

2. I don’t really think Tim has it all planned out that far. They’ve wrapped filming on 8x09 but for all we know, not much beyond that has been written or even conceptualised. Tim has always been the “see where it goes” person, I think he likes to go with the flow rather than follow a strict plot he’s set himself, he likes to see where the story takes him, so part of me believes he hasn’t thought far enough in advance to know what’s going to happen. So, again, it could go either way.

For the most part, I don’t see any large BuckTommy mentions possibly coming till 8x10 or after, with the exception of Buck possibly mentioning Tommy in passing in 8x08 or 8x09, but this depends on if their relationship has been planned out beyond the breakup. I have plenty of thoughts already about Tommy’s text bubble being included in 8x07 and what it means, but if there is no future for their relationship, then there’s no reason to have a Tommy mention in the next two episodes. That being said, it doesn’t mean there’s no future if he isn’t mentioned, it just depends on what’s planned for them. Even if he doesn’t get mentioned, the door is still open for him to come back.

IF (another very big if) there is a Tommy mention in either 8x08 or 8x09 then I think that’s a good sign- usually we only get one mention of Buck’s exes in the episodes following a breakup, and that’s to tell Eddie that they broke up (or some variation- see 7x01 and 6x01 with Natalia and Taylor). Usually the exes are done and gone (with the exception of Abby, but she was also a main. so). However, it’s not a bad sign if we don’t. Not every episode is about Buck and what he’s going through; Denny got hit by a car in 8x06 and we didn’t hear anything about it in 8x07- many plots just go into the background.

I genuinely think Tim only has vague ideas of what he wants to happen and then he just sees where the story goes and where it takes him. We’ve already had two BuckTommy heavy episodes (8x05 and 8x06) so I dont see another one coming for a while either way. There’s other storylines that need wrapping up. Eddie needs to resolve the Christopher situation, Bobby and Athena need to build their house… These have been going on since season seven and have yet to be resolved, and I’m honestly disappointed that the Christopher plot has been on the back burner for so long.

If Tommy does come back, it’s going to take longer than we’d like because of all the other plots the show has to work through. A lot of plots go on the back burner with the intent to continue them, but other things take priority, so they drag on, leaving the viewers a bit like “???” (much like the Christopher plot line- wdym he’s been in Texas for six months and counting). I think and hope it’s a very real possibility that Tommy will return, but I also think we overestimate how much thought goes into the plot lines. It would be perfect if we were right and this is a long romcom plot and we’re just in the third act breakup, but I don’t know if I believe that’s how it’s being written. Might be a fluke, might be intentional.

The episodes are only so long and there’s so many characters and plots to work through. Buck’s had his spotlight episodes, now it’s time to move on to the other characters. They can only include so much in each episode, and we know that scenes get cut, so it won’t shock me if there’s no mention of Tommy for this reason. At the same time, I honestly don’t know if it’s been planned out this far and this show isn’t the best at foreshadowing, so even if a reconciliation is planned I don’t know if we’ll see much of it. The upcoming episodes aren’t about Buck so I’m not expecting his plot to continue in the spotlight right now. Truthfully, I’m not expecting Buck to get much screen time at all in the next eps if the pattern continues- the focus will be on someone else.

In summary, I will be very shocked if we do see Tommy in the next two eps. I think it’s 50/50 on if Buck mentions Tommy. If there’s a reconciliation, I don’t know if it’s already been planned or if Tim is still seeing where the story takes him, and I don’t think it’ll be till later in 8b if it happens.

Of course, I could be horrifically wrong and we’ve all been conned, and they’ve already planned, written, or filmed a reconciliation, but I think it’s highly unlikely. I don’t think the plot is going to continue till mid 8b, if it continues at all. I’m keeping a very open mind about all of this.

We can all hope for things to happen, such as Tommy returning and BuckTommy reconciling, but what we can’t do is expect them. I would love it if they get back together, even if it takes till mid 8b, but I do not expect it to happen. The show will take the course it wants to take and we might be let down- that’s the risk in watching TV instead of creating your own content. As long as Buck is alive, whatever plots his character goes through, I will be happy. I would be happier if Buck and Tommy were together, but for me? I win either way. I just want the characters to be happy and live.

Hopefully this is all coherent and makes sense :)

[minnielvrr]

maybe you could do one when seungmin still has his braces on and is supposed to get them off but when he goes to the dentist they tell him he has to have it on for longer and he gets upset and his members try to cheer him up in different ways and then they eventually tickle him or like Changbin or Chan corner him in his room and tickle him tell he admits that his smile is cute and will stop covering it to

Thank you for the request!! 🤗💖🩷💞 So I fused this with another idea I had in mind, I hope that's okay🩷

I love this idea so much cuz Seungmin was simply adorable with braces and I'll never understand anyone who disagrees 🥰🥺

Braces

Lee: Seungmin Lers: Jeongin, Felix, Chan, Minho Word Count: 3k!!

A/N: Sorry anon, ik this took some time. This is a little plot heavy🤭Hope you enjoy ~~🤗🩷

A part of Seungmin expected it when his dentist told him that he’d have to keep his braces in for a few more weeks. Their hectic schedules had forced him to push back a number of appointments and that seemed to have taken its toll.

He sighed for the umpteenth time after returning to the dorm, staring balefully at his reflection on his phone. It was as though he couldn’t escape this hell. He hated how his smile looked with them on, even though many stays and his bandmates had made it a point to remind him otherwise.

The hate comments he got threw any and all compliments to the wind and he’d recently been avoiding even looking at himself in the mirror. It was just too much. As he lay on his bed, absentmindedly fiddling with the device in his hands, Jeongin and Felix knocked and entered.

They were armed with handfuls of snacks and sweets and all of the foods the puppy had mentioned he was craving all week. The two dumped it on the bed, climbing on to cuddle the puppy. “Is everything okay hyung?” Innie asked quietly, face nuzzled into Minnie’s shoulder. The puppy hummed, wrapping his arms around the two cuties.

“Want a snack, Minnie?” The chick offered him a packet of gummy worms, dangling one right in his face with a goofy grin. Seungmin accepted it with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, chewing quietly. Well, that was a bust. The pup looked lost in thought, a frown creasing his handsome features.

Felix who was hugging him like a koala, leaned in to whisper in the pup’s ear. “A buff birdy told me you were upset cause the doc said you’ll have to wait to get your braces removed.” Jeongin gasped. ”Is that true hyungie? But you look so cute like this!”

Seungmin sighed again, killing Changbin would have to wait for later. He had whined to his hyung the entire ride back to the dorm and Bin had snitched. “Minnie? Do you hate your smile?” The sudden question had Seungmin staring blankly at Felix. “Why do you think that Lix?” He asked, deliberately trying to ignore the pang in his heart.

The blonde fished his phone out of his pocket, eventually turning the screen towards the puppy. The two carefully watched his expression souring when the video played. It was a compilation of all the moments where Seungmin would find some way to cover the lower half of his face using plushies, his hands or sweater paws.

Felix’s eyes were starting to get teary. How had they missed it for so long? Seungmin hastily patted his head, trying to come up with an excuse to convince the older that ‘it wasn't so bad’.

“It's not like that guys. I just- it just happened. It's not like- what stays are saying is true after all…” He trailed off in a small voice. "Those people are not stays hyung!" Jeongin said fiercely, gently cupping Seungmin's face. Felix almost cried then, but deciding to save the waterworks for later he yelled, “Chan hyung! Minho hyung!” Seungmin jumped in place at the sheer volume, eyes snapping to Lixie's in alarm.

In the next moment, the puppy found himself completely immobile. Jeongin was holding onto his wrists as if his life depended on it, while Felix leveraged his entire body weight to keep Seungmin pinned beneath him.

He shook his head, trying to free his hands and push the other off him to escape. He knew he wouldn't be able to run once Chan came in. With renewed strength, he ripped his hands free from Innie, mumbling apologies to the younger as he focused on Felix. Minnie had just managed to wrestle a very clingy chick off him, bolting through the door, running straight into the leader with a curious kitten right behind him.

“Shit!” He cursed silently, fighting the kangaroo, only to end up thrown over his shoulder in mere seconds, Minho slapping his butt as punishment.

Chan laid him down on the bed, keeping a tight grip around Seungmin’s waist as he and Minho watched the video on Felix’s phone. He understood the problem immediately.

Minho was already taking off Minnie’s socks, always ready for a nice, long wrecking. He sighed exasperatedly. “It's true hyung, you guys can just be honest with me. I know my smile doesn’t look as nice as everyone else’s.” He sounded so defeated, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the admission.

Chan’s expression was stormy, eyes narrowed and lips in a tight line. “I see. So that’s how you’ve seen yourself this whole time. I guess we’ll just have to convince you really well then hm.” His voice was deep and a little angry.

The puppy seemed to have taken that anger the wrong way, however, suddenly bursting into tears, face twisting as he sobbed. The four looked at him in surprise and Chan quickly gathered the sobbing boy into his arms and held him tight. “Hey, hey, hey. Baby I’m not mad at you. I promise I’m not, love. I’m mad at the people who put all that nonsense in your pretty head.”

They stayed like that a while, Felix leaving the room for a little and coming back with a small pouch in his hand. Minho grinned wide when he saw it, cracking his knuckles. “Hyung why don’t we show Seungminie how beautiful his smile looks?” Chan smirked back at him over Minnie’s shoulder, gently laying him back down on the bed and moving the pup’s hands to lay above his head.

Now, Seungmin was smart. He had known exactly what the four were planning, but unfortunately for him, they were much, much stronger. His hands were soon bound to the headboard by an eager Felix, any struggles and protests useless. His t-shirt was pushed up and Minho straddled his thighs. Grabbing a bottle of oil from Felix’s pouch he poured a generous amount right into Seungmin’s naval.

Chan just sat back and watched for now, grinning at the pup when he gave him his best puppy eyes. The leader shook his head firmly at him. If that was really the way Seungmin had seen himself this entire time, then they needed to show him that it wasn’t true. It was heartbreaking to see one of their maknaes being so insecure about such a beautiful part of themselves.

“Ugh this is so stupid.” He rolled his eyes at the scoffs it earned him. “Let me go!”

“Did you think we were just playing around here baby?” Minho asked quietly. “This isn’t a joke love. Don’t worry, though, you’ll love your smile soon enough.”

The puppy bit his lips, trying his best to muffle his sounds when the mischievous kitten dipped his pinky into his belly button, then spread the oil all over his exposed tummy with his nails, making it tickle so much! Felix and Jeongin sat on either side of his head, their sly grins promising nothing good. The maknae got ahold of his elbows, pressing them down on the bed so that the puppy was helpless to Lixie’s plan.

As Innie held his hands, he rubbed soothing circles on the inner side of Minnie's forearm. Even that felt ticklish to the sensitive pup and he tried wiggling away, much to the amusement of the fox. “What’s wrong Seungmin hyung? Does even this tickle you?” Seungmin’s flustered expression had him surprised. “Does this even count as tickling? I’m barely touching you!”

“Shut up! Thihis isn’t fahahair!! Ir’s fohour against one!” “Aww babes, all is fair in love and war. And we love you sooo much, so that means we get to tickle you just as much!” Came Lixie’s sassy answer, his fingers starting to circle around the puppy’s underarms.

When the actual torment began, Seungmin tried his hardest to slide down the bed but the restraints and Jeongin’s hands held him securely. All his struggles seemed to do was make his shirt ride up higher, exposing more skin that Minho happily took advantage of. The oil had the kitten’s fingers skating over the swells and sinks of the younger’s sensitive torso.

“Shihihihit! Ahahahahahah.” He tried to take it at first, squirming lightly and simply letting the slow, scratchy fingers reduce him into childish giggles.

But the longer it drew on for, the more sensitive he felt and he wiggled weakly, his body to having lost all strength, pleas falling along freely through his melodious laughter. “Hehehehe hyu-hyuhung, Minho hyung plehehease chanhange chahahhange spahohots!! It tihihickles sohoho bahahad!!”

Minho took pity on him and let up on Minnie's belly, keeping in mind to revisit that spot in a bit. A hand ghosted over his now bare waist, Seungmin's breath hitching in anticipation. “Hehehehehehe nohohoo,” he pleaded sweetly, eyes forming little crescents with how wide his smile was.

“Hehehe yehes!” Minho mocked, spreading the oil around before pressing the pads of his fingers into the soft skin. The puppy’s body jolted, back arching only to come crashing down when the evil kitten vibrated his fingers, laughing diabolically. Witho

At Chan’s suggestion, they paused for a break. Despite having just started, Seungmin seemed to need some time to adjust. The leader waited till his breath steadied, then brought his hands up to hover over the puppy. He air tickled him for a while, teasing the poor lee when he flinched and yelped and shrieked even though Chan hadn’t laid a finger on him. Then he dived in. Just him as the others rested their hands. The leader was relentless, changing spots so fast Seungmin’s tickle-fried brain couldn’t keep up.

The puppy desperately kicked out his legs, accidentally tangling them in the blankets and making finding himself even more immobile. Jeongin snickered at him, reaching over to rain pokes at any bit of his hyung that he could reach. “Channie hyung! Chahahannihihie hyhuhung…”

“Oh, it’s Channie hyung now, is it?” The leader teased, amusedly.

Then Felix joined in, tickling his tummy as he collected some oil, dipping a wriggling finger into his navel and swirling around until he was satisfied with the pup’s reaction, then he would smooth the oil over his pits and slowly scratch at the skin. “Lihihix, Lihihihix please ohoho my GAHAHAD!”

And Seungmin wasn’t sure if it was the oil or the fact that he could barely budge or both but it tickled a hundred times worse, bringing him to want to surrender but he held back. His armpits were usually a bad spot but it felt much worse now when Innie kept him immobile, no matter how much he struggled.

Minnie’s eyes squeezed shut from how much it tickled, uncontrollable giggles slipping easily from his lips, braces in full visibility. No matter which way he twisted or how hard he tugged at his bound hands, he was completely and truly helpless.

They slowed down, allowing the puppy to breathe through his soft airy laughter. Eventually, they paused to give the puppy a break, removing the restraints on his hands, giggling and pulling him back when he tried to crawl away.

“Nuh uh, you aren’t going anywhere till we’re done with you pup.” Chan patted him on the head. “Yeah, we still have part 2 to complete after all!” Everyone looked at Minho in surprise.

“What’s part 2 hyung?” Jeongin asked curiously. “We’re going to have Seungminie, here see just how pretty his smile is and then he’ll finally admit that his smile is the prettiest in the world! Right Minnie?” He turned towards a dumbfounded pup, “You’ll be good and say it for us, right?”

At the lack of response, Minho sent a quick scribble to Minnie’s side. “W-what? No it’s not, hyung!” A round of sighs filled the space. “Get him!” And then it was chaos once more. But now poor Seungmin was weakened from the previous torture.

For the finale, his hands were yanked behind him by Innie and his body was maneuvered to sit facing the tall mirror that sat by the side of his bed, his feet dangling off the side of the bed and back resting on Innie’s chest.

He stared at his wrecked appearance. His hair was a complete mess, clothes ruffled and his face was so red. He looked away with a shuddering breath. The half-smile he’d had when Innie had restrained him fell right off his face.

But then Felix’s fingers wormed their way into his ribs and he was cackling, trying to lean away but the maknae had a death grip on him. He could only within the space of the mirror. The pup caught fleeting glances at the bright smile on his face. He looked happy!

“Hehehehehe ihihit tihihickles~” It made him feel warm inside that his bandmates were so worried about him and that they were adamant enough to be firm in this. They knew Seungmin always pretended to hate the affection. He was truly grateful to have them in his life.

Then Chan and Minho joined and every thought Seungmin had had in his head vanished. There was a devious smile playing on Chan’s lips. The three lers watched as he sat on the floor and caught Seungmin’s flailing legs.

The puppy was still too incapacitated to notice, laughing and shrieking his little head off as the others kept up their attacks. Then the fourth pair of hands joined in and he went ballistic. Blunt nails dragged over his bare soles, courtesy of Minho, scribbling over his arches and scratching at the balls of his feet. “FAHAHAHAHAHAHA…” He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, laughter quickly cutting off.

With the way Jeongin held him, Seungmin was forced to watch himself laughing his head off as the trio absolutely wrecked him. Finally unable to look at the braces that seemed to glare at him through his reflection, he did the only thing he could.

Cackling and squirming, he turned his face to the side but immediately felt gentle hands holding his chin and tilting his head in the direction of the mirror again. “Uh uh, this isn’t gonna stop until you really look at yourself and admit the truth.”

“Youhuhu guhuhuys SUCK!!” The puppy was insanely flustered. It had been a while since he’s really looked at his face without any makeup on, his bangs shading his eyes and cheeks pink in embarrassment. but the puppy (not so) secretly loved the attention.

His face burned, hair disheveled, tear tracks shining over red cheeks as he writhed in their hold and begged. His smile was so wide, braces in full view and anyone could see how absolutely precious the sight was. And Seungmin couldn’t think of anything to say. For the first time in forever his mind was silent and his voice was loud. He laughed and laughed and laughed so joyously.

“Say it Seungminnie~ Unless you want this to go on?” Minho taunted him, a maniacal smile playing on his lips.

Seungmin hesitated, not wanting to admit such a thing but the longer he stalled, the more unbearable everything felt. And when Felix plunged his small index finger into his navel, Seungmin gave in. “Okahahay okahay, STHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHA. PLEASE.”

Jeongin released Seungmin’s hands, the pup’s arms clamping to his sides immediately. Innie started tickling his shoulders and collarbones, dragging longish nails up and down his back and watching as the puppy threw his head back and squirmed, the sweetest of giggles spilling from his lips like honey. His wide smile showed of his braces and everyone in the room couldn’t help but coo at the adorable sight.

“Ihihihinie ihihihit soho bahahahahahad!!” “Aww, is hyungie too ticklish for this?”

Their fingers maneuvered expertly to have him in tears. His limbs felt like jelly, and despite not being pinned any longer, he could still do nothing. There was no strength behind his hands as they pushed and pulled at the hands running all over his body. “HEHEHEHEHE...”

“Do you still hate your smile? Do you? Hm, do you?” Minho kept asking him, partly to annoy the puppy. Minnie shook his head, crying out, “No! No, I don’t, I dohoHOHON’T AHAHAHAHAHA…” “Then say it, admit that your smile is the prettiest in the whole world.”

Fingers skittered up his legs and all his resolve crumbled. “What about riiiiiight here?” Minho asked, fingers squeezing Minnie's thighs now. “NOAHAHAHAHAHAHAA.” Seungmin's entire body jolted and with a strangled yelp, he dissolved further into helpless laughter. It's was bad. It was bad. It was SO BAD!!

It was all too much, the tickles driving every stray thought from his mind and finally the puppy gave in, “Okay OKAHAHAHAY MY SMILE IS THE PREHIHITTIEST, EHEHENAHOUGH, AHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA.” His words turned incoherent, Seungmin now left howling in laughter, feeling like he was truly going insane.

It quickly went silent when Chan moved to plant a few parting raspberries to his sides before letting up. The rest following suit before they actually killed their cute puppy, giggling at the mess the boy was.

“I hate you guhuys, you’re so mean! Seungmin whined, scratching over the tingly spots all over his body. “Aww you don’t mean that, didn’t our sweet puppy have fun too?” Chan chirped in a baby voice, moving to nuzzle fondly at the pup’s belly, only to pull away with a laugh when the puppy yelped and scrambled away. “I’m not gonna tickle you again…for now.” He assured the red-faced boy. They gave him some water and Felix went to run a warm bath for him to relax in. It was pretty late after all.

While the tired boy enjoyed his bath, the four collected all the scattered snacks off of the floor and arranged his bed. They chose a movie and waited for the puppy to come out. As soon as the pup was out, the two oldest members wrapped Seungmin up in a cozy blanket burrito, Innie carding his hands soothingly through his hair.

Seungmin kicked out in annoyance when they started rocking him like a baby. A warning poke to his sides, however, had him surrendering to the aftercare. They pampered the puppy, eating the snacks and laughing and chattering on as the movie played in the background.

And they were rest assured that the next time Seungmin went for an appointment, he would feel confident about his beautiful smile, braces or not.

I'm starting to think I should write more stories where Seungmin just sits back and takes it...honestly that would be more in character for him 🥰💞

Please let me know if there are any mistakes, I didn't have a chance to proofread this well🥺😣

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Courtship Deception - Part 5: Hope

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

I’m posting the next chapter tonight because it depends a lot on this one to make sense lol I need everyone’s memories fresh

Warnings: none

Words: 695

Rowan’s POV

“YOU SAID WHAT?” Fenrys screeched in Rowan’s kitchen, a bruschetta halfway into his mouth.

He shrugged. “I said no. I’ve known her for a week, Fen.”

His friend put his food back on the plate, eyebrows raised at him. “You don’t think she’s marriageable?”

“She’s very marriageable,” Rowan defended himself, two hands up in surrender. It was curious how protective Fenrys was of Aelin, so he asked, “Do you think she’s marriageable?”

“Very much, yes.”

Interesting. “Do you wish you were one of her suitors, Fen?”

He snorted. “Fuck, no. I mean, she’s great, but I’m not in love with her or anything like that.”

“My point exactly.”

Yes, Rowan would love to get to know her better and see where it goes, but he’s not marrying Aelin after knowing her for a week. Especially not after finally fleeing from his royal duties.

“Bullshit.” Fenrys had a shit-eating grin on. “You’re half in love with her already.”

Lies. Rowan was approximately one-fourth in love with her. Half in love was too much for a week. Aelin was incredible, and she definitely fucked him like he expected his future wife to do, but it was too much too soon.

He wanted to get to know her better, wait until the thought of not having her by his side was absolutely unbearable; then, he could see himself popping the question. Not in a storage closet, and out of a sweeter sort of desperation.

Rowan liked her—way too much. It was even safe to say that he was smitten, as much as he hated this word. But apart from a title he barely had, Rhoe also wanted an amount of money invested in Gala Airlines that Rowan definitely didn’t have.

He wasn’t a proper suitor, he didn’t feel ready to marry her so soon, but if he let this go, he’d lose her—it’d be torture to fall in love with someone else’s wife.

After objectively explaining his thoughts on the matter to Fenrys, the man sighed as if he carried the world on his shoulders.

“Fucking Mala, do I have to do everything around here?!”

Rowan tilted his head, trying to understand his friend’s distress. “What—“

Fenrys held up a hand to shut him up, halfway out the kitchen already. “Just leave it with me.”

˜˜

Fenrys’ POV

The next day, Fenrys got to work to a full desk of poorly-wrapped gifts.

He called his co-worker instantly. “Seriously, Lor?”

Lorcan grunted, already knowing what this is about. “Not my job, Pup.”

He groaned, getting to work before work even started. Every single one of Aelin’s packages were to be checked before sent to her, but would it kill Lorcan to re-wrap the gifts nicely? You don’t send a half-closed Louboutin shoebox because you won’t bother to fit the shoes back in nicely, for Mala’s sake.

Fenrys works like a dog day and night, and does everyone ever recognize it? Absolutely not. His coworkers thought he had it easy because he let Aelin do things she wasn’t supposed to. As if. Guarding her regularly was hard, but imagine trying to protect a heiress gone rogue.

While he worked on the gifts, Fenrys did a little inspection to check which ones she’d like, and which ones would give her the ick. He removed the cards from the few ones that would certainly be her favorites.

Brimmed with designer bags, he managed the stairs to Aelin’s room, but had to knock on the door with his feet. “A package awaits your reception, Your Highness!”

When Aelin opened the door, her smile faltered as she notices the gifts—or who they were from. She opened one by one before asking, “The ones without the name tag?”

He grinned. “You’ll have to guess, Princess.”

From the way her eyes lit up, Fenrys made a mental note to slap Rowan later. He was penniless, yes, but he needed to up his game asap.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “I won’t be available for brunch today, but I’m sure Lorcan will love to gossip over macarons with you,” he joked.

“Oh.” Aelin frowned. “What’re you up to?”

“Just something I need to fix.”

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[moonshine-nightlight]

2024 Writing - Plans

similar to last year, i wanted to post a little look forward at my plans for writing this year are. the necessary disclaimer: this is 100% high level, optimistic, ideal situation and subject to change but i still like thinking about it and posting for anyone who's interested. see this post for last years!

so, i like separating things out it mini goals/sections so see below:

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: with DSM self-published under my belt, I'd like to focus on the NWWD publishing journey next! The main obstacles/costs are time and money. Hiring an editor and a cover artist are the pricey-est part of the process but my own edit (first to convert everything from 2nd POV to 3rd POV and then another high-level edit/revise once i've got it in the right POV) will take the most time and needs to be done before i hand it over to an editor. Then after the editor takes their time (and NWWD is much longer than DSM), and finally i need to process all of their edits as well. And i need to do all of this while i do my day job lol.

i've already converted the first 11 chapters to 3rd POV (i hav some IRL friends/betas who only read that version, so if u feel like the tumblr version took a lot of time lol). the timing of being able to publish this year will all end up depending on how quickly i can do all that and kick off the part of the process that depends on outside parties. Even if i manage to self-publish in this year, i don't expect it to come out until lik December and even that's ideal, super best case scenario.

Long Stories: I want to outline both A Perfectly Ordinary Research Position and Shadow Diplomacy and then pick one to be the new long story on here. I do what i call a chapter outline and a scene outline, which is confusing to not!me because the scene = a chapter on here. i should probably rename that process lol. (NWWD was 11 'chapters' and 35 'scenes' for reference).

once i pick a project, i just hope to post as many chapters as i can. Since this will be new, long, and likely just building steam, i actually think it'll be my lower priority after the Short Stories and NWWD publishing, but we'll see. i'd like to start putting that up in June, according to my tentative 2024 schedule.

Short Stories: Since i didn't get as many of these done in 2023 and they've been haunting my brain longer, i want to for sure get some of these shorter stories done. learning from last years overestimation lol, i plan to post 3 short stories: Courtship Confusion, Feral, and finish Free Piano: Haunted, in that order. i'm excited about all these stories and will let me cover 3 different types of pairings (although technically all are Reader) which is fun. All have been outlined and have parts and pieces written. I wish Feral and FPH could both happen in the fall but the timing just doesnt work out so summers gonna b a little spooky lol.

The schedule i worked out makes it so all this will be possible, but also basically has no breaks in sunday postings after my haitus which is beyond optimistic but i lik to start overly confident lol

Hiatus: this is also your reminder that my work has a specific Busy Season which honestly started already (lucky me) and i will b beyond busy Jan-March at a minimum. i hav more projects than ever with my promotion, a lot to learn, and a lot to juggle so minimum 6 day work weeks will be the name of the game - but hopefully all goes well and i'll get a nice bonus i can feed directly to my editors lol

anyway, that's where i'm at right now and I'm looking forward to all the exciting writing and publishing to come in 2024!

Feel free to send in any asks about upcoming/current stories!

Thanks again for all your support in 2023 and Happy New Year!

[purecommemasolitude]

Curtis gang and the ocean: a series of thoughts

Aka I went into the ocean today and thought about the outsiders

If you thought normal roughhousing was bad, get ready for roughhousing: water edition

Everyone becomes a menace but Soda & Steve especially almost drown each other a few times

Two-Bit and Dally compete to see who can drink the most seawater without getting sick. This ends when Two-Bit accidentally chokes on a seashell or some such small item (Dally considers this a victory for him, Two-Bit absolutely does not but the seashell experience was too harrowing to challenge him to a rematch)

Johnny loves the ocean, literally every part of it. Oklahoma’s landlocked so in the unrealistic universe where they all get to the coast to have a beach day it’s in another state, meaning he’s with his buddies far away from any (many) hypothetical tormentors, and it’s just an environment he really likes, plus the novelty factor (that man does not travel or camp)

So much so that every other member resolves separately to try and get him to the ocean or at least similar places more often

Ponyboy is lowkey unsettled by the size and general vibe of the ocean (not the beach they’re at but he starts thinking about shipwrecks and the swirling depths etc etc) but will Not admit it

He will spend hours in a shallow area or on the beach sitting staring at the breaking waves though. It starts off as morbid fascination then once he gets used to the ocean and is more at ease he starts really enjoying the sight and wishes he lived closer to it

Darry stays where he can see Soda & Pony but his real goal for the day is mastering ocean swimming so he goes out a bit further than everyone else (Two-Bit also goes out there for a bit to “swim” (swim a little, harass Darry a lot) after the choking)

He knew it would be different from the Y but it’s harder than he expects and what was going to be a brief excursion before going back to everyone else turns into a most of the day-long mission

He ends up getting the hang of it eventually, and enjoys it so much that Soda also resolves to try and get him down more often even though he knows it probably won’t happen

Both him & Johnny are just a lot more carefree that day. Honestly Dally too

Soda finds a ledge that’s somewhat high up and jumps into the water repeatedly for fun. Think cannonball, belly flop, etc.

They play a game of beach volleyball (really just elaborate hot potato), an initiative spearheaded by Steve and Two-Bit upon seeing Ponyboy sitting by himself for a while (he was watching the ocean and having a fine time, but they wouldn’t understand how he could find it a good time even if he told them and he’s also fine doing shenanigans with everyone else so he joins willingly)

They have an underwater breath-holding competition. Stealing from someone else’s beach HCs that Johnny wins (unfortunately I no longer remember who)

Steve & Soda race, eventually Darry joins (& wins but only barely because while he has been practicing it also means he’s now tired)

Not a single one of these competitions or races started in any kind of organized manner. Someone makes a bragging statement which gets contested and before you know it Two-Bit is hacking up a lung

Half of them get water up their nose at some point or another. It especially keeps happening to Dally and it infuriates him every time

Speaking of infuriating Dally, he is decidedly Not a fan of how hard it is to get rid of sand. A week later he’s still having grains fall from the shirt he wore that day

Now getting into stuff that may be more inaccurate depending on time period factors that I don’t know enough about

Darry, Soda, and Johnny put on sunscreen willingly. Darry and Soda make Ponyboy put it on unwillingly

The rest of them don’t (Two-Bit puts on a little but it’s very haphazardly applied) and pay for it the next day

(Darry pretends the reason he’s so careful about sunscreen is that he has common sense but really it’s because one of his first days roofing he didn’t put it on and deeply regretted it for the next week or so)

After all is said and done, someone (Two-Bit) forgets/doesn’t want to wash his swimwear and hang it up so he keeps it balled up in a corner or on a table until, a week later, it is actively growing mould

[shai-manahan]

Hollowed Minds Progress Update 5/08/23

Hi! I know I failed at making a progress update last month, so first of all, apologies for that! Things have just been busy tbh and life has been too stressful that at some points I just couldn't write. It's why I've been a bit inactive here as well, and why I've been barely answering the asks I've been receiving.

I cannot report yet how many words I've written for the update so far because I haven't really taken a look at it myself, but I will do so at the end of the month if there's still no confirmed schedule by then. My eye health has just been very consistent at making my life harder as well until recently, and here's hoping I'll at least be able to function properly for a whole month🤞

Some things that will be in the next update:

For Chapter 2's Part 2:

Everything still goes as planned, except now both routes are expected to be fast-paced and action-oriented, though one is still more intense than the other.

This will be a massive one, not because of the word count but because of the variations that will play out. There won't be much issues in arranging the transitions to Chapter 3, so there's at least that, but your choices will matter a lot. So you might have to be careful with them.

One of the routes gets Alonzo actively involved, but please be assured that this doesn't mean you have to romance them. I actually encourage you all to check out both routes once they come because you'll gain more discoveries that way. 👀

Alonzo's route will be so memeworthy, I have to admit. Please try it.

There's an info dump in Chapter 2's Part 1 that I'm not really a fan of, so I'll be moving some of those to this part instead if needed.

For the overall IF:

Alex will now have a set skin tone if a lighter one is chosen for the Ripper. I will discuss this in detail soon, but I just wanted to emphasize that Alex and Ripper's mother are canonically PoC.

You will have options for your Ripper to wear contacts or glasses (or neither ofc).

You'll be able to bring a weapon with you in Chapter 2 depending on your choices so far.

You might remember a section of Chapter 1 where you can choose what your Ripper had been doing for the duration of the five months. I might reduce it to a few, just so I could have them properly recognized in the story.

There will be a couple of changes in the character descriptions in the game's stats page, with plans to make them shorter, too, for easier readability.

I will make sure you'll have saves at the end of this. So please don't be surprised if there'll be more page breaks in the future, as well as more choices (that are still as meaningful.)

In connection to above, I also plan to make the in-game descriptions snappier and easier to read while still maintaining the quality they should have. Your feedback will be very important for this, and this also applies to the beta testers (sorry I've been so silent. I swear I'll get back to you all soon lmao)

Not really too related here, but I also plan to be more consistent with my updates in the future. It's just that my irl schedule is still a huge mess, and it's very hard to be consistent when that happens.

Just a last piece of my mind. Some anons have been very aggressive with harassment the past few months, and I really have no interest for more drama right now. So if you have issues, if you think you can back your own words, send them through a DM or at least turn off anon so we could have a proper conversation.

It's honestly tiring. Being an Asian in this community can already be so tiring, so I am begging people to be mature and responsible with their words. After all, I've repeatedly said that you can always come to me with your concerns or whatever you have against me. As long as we can actually talk about it.

Anyway, that's all, and I hope the week will be good for everyone :) I have a few more things to post on Patreon tomorrow, so if you're a current patron, do look forward to that!

[hanalulugguk]

Sugar Rush Ride I

Pairings: Han Jisung x fem oc

genre: fluff, non-idol AU

Warnings: none.

Word count: 3.9 k

bold is korean

(Slightly revisited!)

this was a dream i had a few weeks ago that i’ve been think about since and made it into a series of one shots. was so excited to write n post it i didn’t even plan it out so hopefully i won’t change anything.

jisungie library assistant part 1/?

Enjoy <3

Prev < current > Next

Tossing her pen over the scattered stacks of paper on the table, lyra leaned back in her seat, back pressing against the hard wood of the chair she had been sitting on for hours as she lets out a huff of frustration. Her eyes drift to the clock on her open laptop, 10:27pm , she’s been here since 3pm. Arriving at the busy hours of the library, when the bustle of passing students spending time here to pass their breaks or when people would pass by after work in hopes of finding a new book or finding a quiet place to read, and remaining well into the late hours of the night when there would be a maximum of 10 people spread all across the vast space of the local library.

This was her typical routine, being in her first year of achieving a master’s degree, lyra quickly found herself in a similar routine to when she was in college. Spending the early afternoon in class then spending the rest of her day at the library, studying. Being in the first few months, one wouldn’t expect to be this behind, but apparently the daily 2 hour class was enough to pile up onto itself and create more work, research and extra work to catch up. But that is to be expected, she’s just meant to endure it and push through, especially since a master’s in psychology was her idea. 

Opting to take a quick break before she finishes the last task of night to head home, she picks herself up, slipping her headphones off her head and standing from her chair with a great deal of effort, similar to that of a mother of 4 children with a husband to take care of, she take her wallet before pushing her chair in, pile of messy work left to be dealt with later as she heads to the big library doors. Lyra’s favourite thing about the library, aside from everything which is why she spends close to all her time there, is the cafeteria divided from the main common area, the library, on the 3rd floor. 

For a library cafeteria, it sure was wondrous, there was always fresh pastries and food in the early hours of the day, the afternoon and sometimes late into the night, depending on how busy it is there. Aside from the pastries and coffee, shockingly good coffee too, the cafeteria provided a really delicious and filling menu, one that people who don’t even come to the library come to visit. With how often lyra goes to the library, she is already familiar with all the staff, no matter their shift, she has at some point come across them or has even befriended them from her college days.

Making her way into the elevator and pressing on the button to the 3rd floor, she pulls out her phone to check for any messages, turning off the do not disturb option. After quickly reading over them, the elevator dings, letting her know that she has arrived at the 3rd floor. As soon as the metal doors part open and the soft voice of Taylor swift reaches lyra’s ears, she steps out with a slight furrow to her brows. Usually, from early morning till late in the afternoon at least, the music playing in the 3rd floor is soft lofi, or quick jazz music, both of which are a funny soundtrack to a late breakfast or early dinner, but nonetheless, they made a little more sense than taylor swift, this late in the night.

As she makes her way past the entrance, Lyra is met with the empty cafeteria, the sound of clattering utensils and plates heard from the back kitchen, aside from the one figure in view behind the cash register. At the sound of lyra’s footsteps the man’s head lifts from his fix on his foot to offer her a small smile. “I was wondering when you’ll come by,”

“Hi axel,” lyra greets softly, leaning on the counter, axel mirroring her so they were face to face, breaths almost mingling. “Hey little dove, how’s studying?” he asks with a light pat to her head. She drops her head forward with a small grunt making axel chuckle. “I think i’m gonna go insane before I cure any kids,” she saunters making him shake his head, “no you won’t. You’re the best future child psychologist of our time,” he defends making her look up with raised brows, “i sense sarcasm.” he shakes his head again with a laugh before pushing himself off the counter to stand up straight.

“What can i get you?” he asks moving to the sandwich stall where all the ingredients and toppings were still left out. “Anything is fine, I just need to get some food in me so my stomach isn’t louder than my music.” lyra responds, going to watch axel put her sandwich together from behind the glass barrier. He slips on a pair of clear gloves before pulling out some sandwich bread, “speaking of music, is this your doing?” she asks pointing her finger up at the invisible music flowing between them, still loud and clear inside the cafeteria, “if it’s past 9pm and it’s not the weeknd or j balvin then yes, it’s me.” axel responds not looking up from the sandwich he was assembling. “Did you get dumped?” lyra asks, eyeing him as he adds extra jalapenos into her sandwich, just how she likes it.

“Is taylor swift for people who get dumped?” he asks taking a quick glance at the girl on the opposite side of the glass. “I am choosing not to elaborate further considering how my only meal for the next couple of hours is with your reach.” axel chuckles as he shakes his head, “don’t worry i won’t poison you,” he assures, making her jokingly let out a loud breath of relief.

 “I like jonah’s taste better though,” she says after a moment of silence, axel drops the onions he hand in hand back into their container as he leans on the glass, “why don’t you let jonah make your sandwich?”

“I’ll stare directly in the sun but never in the mirror,” lyra sings along to anti hero playing through the speakers making axel laugh as he goes back to adding the onions on top as a last touch then wrapping her sandwich. “I think you’ll like it, i tried it yesterday and had it again for lunch, it’s my current favourite.” he says handing it to her above the glass. Axel is always using his free food privilege at the cafeteria during his shift to try out new combinations with the sandwiches, switching out different spices and trying new dishes in the cafeteria kitchen. Sharing every successful one with lyra when she comes by.

 She unwraps the first part of the sandwich as she takes a generous bite, axel watches her full cheeks and her concentrated face in amusement and anticipation, watching her slowly chew, savouring every emulsion of flavour that she tastes. As soon as she swallows she looks over at her friend with a dreamy look in her eyes, “you’ve truly outdone yourself, again.” she makes sure to add before taking another bite. He smiles, “glad you like it, don’t get bored of it too fast, i won’t be trying anything new for a while i really like this one.” he points making her shake her head, “i could never get bored of eating anything you make.” axel rolls his eyes watching her eat, content smile on her face. 

“How much is it?” she asks pulling her wallet out of her back pocket, “it’s on the house.” lyra raises her brows with a scowl, “is that pity?” she asks sarcastically making axel shake his head, “that’s ‘i’ll give you a free sandwich, you’ll bring me cheesecake when you make some’. No pity.”

Lyra extends out her hand for a handshake, axel placing his hand in hers “deal.” they both give a firm handshake. She looks over at the display watch above the cashier as she lets out a small gasp at the time, 10:55. “I need to go finish something really quick before i pack up and leave.” axel looks up at the clock and nods, waving her off, “i need to pack up and help jonah in the kitchen too. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes you will, say hello to jonah for me. And thank you for the sandwich.” she waves as she walks backwards, “no thank you’s just finish it.” axel calls back as she turns around to leave, “consider it devoured.” she calls back, not bothering to turn around as she makes her way back to the library. By the time she’s in and out of the elevator and has made her way back to the library entrance she only has less than half the sandwich left, she wraps it up before she enters, opting to finish the rest on her way home since food isn’t allowed in the library.

When she makes her way inside, lyra notices that everyone else at the library has already packed up and left, the only occupied table in the big library is the one right at the centre right in front of the victorian history section, the one that is home to her scattered paper, laptop and bag. She makes her way over, placing the food in her bag before she picks up her pen and opens her computer again. After about 10 minutes of pure silence, her choosing not to put her headphone back on feeling weary being the only one in the library, the sound of shuffling feet is heard next to her as she looks over at the far right to see a man at the furthest bookshelf from where she sat. the man was wearing a simple oversized white shirt tucked into a pair of beige pants with a black leather belt through the loops of his pants. He had slighty long blonde hair. He stood stoically, putting some books in his hand away. Lyra furrows her brows, not remembering seeing him before with any of the other staff, matter of fact there hadn’t been anyone on the night shift aside from sally, the lovely old librarian, for the past 4 months. She can’t recall either if he was one of the few people who were at the library aside from her working.

As she stares a little at the man, he turns around, eyes fixed to the two other book in his hand as he looks over the titles, now that he is towards her, lyra can see that his blonde hair is relatively longer at the front, his bangs resting on top of the frames of his black rimmed glasses that rested high on his nose bridge. Lyra shifts a little in her seat, turning back to her work, she’s only able to work for a few minutes before she feels too uneasy at the sound of feet pattering outside her line of vision. As she was about to pack up, she hears the pattering grow louder as he makes his way towards her table but walks past her to stand in front of the victorian history shelves. He stands for a few moments, looking between the books as he holds up the last book in his hand, taking a good look at it. Lyra furrows her brows at the strange man before pushing her chair back to get up. As the sound of the chair echoes in the empty library, the man turns around to find the source of the sound. His eyes land on lyra as she stands the table barely a few feet away from him, he gives her a quick shy smile before he turns back around to face the shelves. She notices a slight fidget in his stance as he continuously looks from the book to the shelves. She waves it off and packs up her papers into her file and stacks them on her notebook, when she puts her laptop away into it’s case, the notebook and file follows before she zips it up. Picking the stray items on the desk to put into her bag, the pen, her lip balm, wallet, the earrings that were too heavy in her ears so she took them off and tossed them aside, and her headphones. She slings her bag over her shoulder and cradles the laptop case in her arms, she takes one quick look to make sure she got everything before stepping aside to push the chair back into place under the table before turning to leave.

She takes her typical route home, quick 10 minute walk from the library to the bus stop, wait 10 minutes for the bus to arrive, takes the bus to the closest stop near her apartment, and then the 5 minute walk from the bus stop to her apartment. Lyra lived in a small humble, studio apartment. It was a yearly lease that she was very content with, the apartment was perfect for her.

When you walk in there’s a tiny hallway, as soon as you’re out on your right is the tiny kitchen with the basic needed appliances, stove, fridge, microwave and a sink. On the left is the medium sized bathroom, and right ahead is a small wall that stretches out about halfway across the width of the room where a small wooden desk was pressed up against, her bed lay behind the wall, out of view of the door and anyone who comes in. Opposite the bed was a closet with all of her clothes and shoes, all strategically placed to fit without being crowded. Above the bed was another level, a metal ladder leading up to it where a small lounge area lay. It wasn’t originally there but upon pondering over how to make the apartment feel spacious without crowding things over top of each other to fit a couch and chairs for when people come over. On the second, small, level was a few pairs of chairs on one side whilst the other side had a couch. The narrow floor to ceiling window letting in the midnight sky and light from the lampposts in the street. Hanging planets and pots littered the small apartment adding some colour to the fully white walls and interior along with some wooden furniture. 

She set her things on her desk, pulling out her sandwich as she makes her way to the window to close the curtain, she manoeuvres in the dark, munching on the sandwich in hand as she makes her way to the kitchen to heat up some water, in the meantime she eats the last of her sandwich and changes into her pyjamas and proceeds to the bathroom to wash her face before she gets too lazy to do so. By the time she’s pulling her laptop and papers out the kettle starts whistling letting her know that water is done. She makes her way over to it, adds a tea packet to her mug before pouring some water and taking the mug to her desk with her. 

By 1:40, eyes drowsy, tea long gone and mug placed aside, neck aching and eyes burning from the only light in the room being right in her face, she’s done with her task. She crawls into bed and plugs her phone into the charger before she’s swallowed by sleep. 

---

At exactly 11pm jisung makes his way past the building entrance and into the library, he places his bag on the main desk that is used when borrowing books. He takes a quick look around noticing the library to be practically empty, except for a woman who is emersed in her work, not noticing the new presence. Opting to get the job done with rather than wasting the little time left in his shift any longer, jisung goes around to pick up the books left behind by their previous users. Wondering how hard could it possibly be for people to return the books where they got them, it also doesn’t help that jisung still doesn’t know where every genre is and where to put most books. 

Once he had a stack of about 9  books placed on one table, he grabs a few in hand and goes around placing the ones he knows where to put them, when he has 3 left he feels a little stuck. The one at the top is an autobiography, so he walks over with all 3 in hand towards the bookshelves closest to the door and places it where it alphabetically should be. Then he holds the last two in his hand, turning away from the shelves as he stares at them. ‘David copperfield’ and ‘a brief history of life in victorian britain’. Isn’t david copperfield fiction? Should it go in fiction?

After a few seconds of contemplating he opts to check the system on the computer, that’s what sally suggests he does if he ever gets stuck. God bless her for being so patient on his first day every time he came to her with a new book he didn’t know where to place, she would guide him to every bookshelf. She did so for every one of the 30 books he placed that day, until. She showed him to use the computer to look up the books, making him thank her profusely and even almost hug her as she smiled at the younger man. 

He  leans forward, one hand holding him up as he uses the other to type the book titles. When he’s done he knows he should place david copperfield in the fictional novel section and the other book in victorian history, but where are these?

Jisung picks up the two books and slowly walks around, skimming over every section title, hyper aware of how loud his boots sound in the empty library. Wondering, is the sound too loud for her? Is it bothering her whilst she works? At his wondering he takes a quick glance in her direction to see her twirling her pen between her fingers, eyes fixed on the work in front of her. In his peripheral vision jisung noticed the title of the bookshelf in front of her desk, he looks up to read it properly. Victorian history. He pushes his glasses that have slid down, a little further up his nose bridge as he slowly makes his way to it.

He takes a quick glance as he passes by the woman’s table, trying to catch a look at what she’s doing but doesn’t understand anything so he just makes his way past her. Once in front of the shelf he reaches to place the book at the beginning but notices the books aren’t in alphabetical order, more so scattered. He looks at the book then looks back at the shelf trying to catch a pattern, too focused where the loud sound of wood pushing against the floor catches him off guard making him abruptly turn around, meeting eyes with the woman who now stood at the table she was occupying. When he does his eyes flutter quickly, mouth open just the slightest bit as his eyebrows raise a little, he stares at her for a second, one that felt like it lasted longer than it did, before he breaks out of it, flashing her a quick smile before he turns his back to her. Why did he do that? That was so lame. 

Jisung is drowned by his anxious thoughts at the few second interaction that can’t even be labelled as an interaction. He mindlessly fiddles with the books in his hand as he ponders, Did he really stare for too long? Has he possibly seen anyone this beautiful before? 

The sound of the chair scrapping the floor breaks him out of his thoughts but this time he fights the urge to turn around, he hears the sound of her feet drift further away before they're out of earshot. When he no longer hears them, he turns around to look at the empty table where the only previous company once was, then to the door where she left. Jisung stands there for a second, trying to think up what he could remember of her face. She was very beautiful, her features were so sharp, skin so bright and aura so strong he almost felt it engulf him, her eyes were soft though. So soft he almost melted where he stood as he looked into them. He’s heard of people so enticing they lure you in, their gaze so sharp they cage you, but he can’t recall being able to say that about anyone he’s met before.

Mind in a daze, jisung turns back to the shelf, shoving the book the first place his hand could reach. His arms swing by his side as he looks around for the fictional novel section to place the last book. Once he does he makes his way back to the front. 

On his way, his eyes linger at the table where the woman was when he passes. He sighs as he takes a seat at the main desk chair, beginning his last task of the night, checking the borrowed and returned list and updating the manual one and making note of tomorrow’s to be returned list. By the time he’s done it’s 1 am, and he’s been yawning for 30 minutes straight. He closes up the computer, turns off the light when he’s at the entrance with his bag in hand. As he bids farewell to the security guard at the gates he pulls out his phone as he halts a cab to go home. 

Once home he notices the lights are on, a light murmer coming from his roommate’s room. He makes his way over  and knocks gently, a soft 'come in’ is heard on the other side urging jisung to open the door. Chan is seated at his desk, body turned around to look at the door as jisung leans in, “i’m home.” 

“Welcome, did you eat?” chan asks taking his headphones off fully, “yeah i ate before i went to work, did you?” chan nods gently, dark circles under his eyes illuminated  by the desk light he had on.

“Hey if i went to work a little late do you think they’ll cut the day out or just the time?” jisung asks, chan looks to be think about it before he asks, “when did you go and when are you supposed to go?”

“11. I’m supposed to be there 6.” jisung answers sheepishly scratching his neck, “yeah consider it a free day i doubt they’ll pay you.” chan answers with a chuckle making jisung groan. “Why were you late?” 

“I forgot i was switched to the night shift, i only remembered when i was on my way home,” jisung sighs, chan looking at him sympathetically, knowing the younger has been having a difficult time recently, it was showing in his work, he just doesn’t know why. And he didn’t wish to pry, he knows jisung to talk when he wants to, when he’s comfortable enough to share. “I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

“Night,” chan’s voice makes it out before jisung closes the door and heads to his room. He gets straight into bed not bothering to change, being up since 6 having already taken him out, especially with him needing to be up at 6 again meaning he barely has 5 hours to sleep. For almost an hour he struggles to find sleep,mind clouded with thoughts of anything but sleep, overthinking coming easy to him at the late hours of the night. Some of these thoughts are of the woman at the library. What is she like? What does her voice sound like? What does her smile look like? Is she easy to make laugh? Is she funny? Would she find jisung funny? What does her laugh sound like? 

Before he’s able to ponder further he’s already snoring.

[a-painful-ordeal]

4. Endless Lists of Don't do That Again.

CW: implications/references to non-con/sexual assault. References to burning. References to slavery. Botched escape attempt. Beating with a belt. Fear of non-con. Non-consensual stripping.

“Just keep your head down, alright?” Was the last thing Trygve told Evan before showing him to the kitchens. And that was exactly what Evan intended to do. At least until he got the opportunity to run.

Over the next week, he’s given a variety of jobs, though by far the worst one is turning the spit that meat is cooked on. The hours on end of turning the meat on the heavy iron spit makes his back and neck ache; the proximity to the fire leaves him with blisters on his hands but worst of all, the smell makes his hip scream and nausea seep into his throat.

The kitchen itself is huge with at least 20 other people all scrambling to get things done. At first, he expected that at least a few of the kitchen people would be here voluntarily, but the stone-faced guard at the door, and the silence, other than hushed whispers attempting to coordinate jobs, suggested otherwise.

Evan’s job gives him a good view of the kitchen, and the repetitive nature allows him to make notes. When the guards changed. How can careful they are. At what stage they seem to get tired and distracted. Where the spare food ends up.

The guards seemed to change as the preparation for a meal ended. The kitchen itself had only a few small windows for natural light, and very few of them were allowed to leave their place in the kitchen outside of latrine breaks. Most of the staff also tended to sleep in the kitchen rather than elsewhere. This meant that the meals were the best attempt at keeping track of the hours that passed. So, the guards were likely changing every 3 or 4 hours.

The guards' distractibility seemed to alter depending on who was there. Some didn’t leave their posts at all, whilst one, slightly greasy-looking man seemed to take a liking to one of the maids, choosing to spend parts of his shift escorting her out of the room for a while.

Evan can only guess what was happening from the twitchy fear on her face before she was called away, and the blank expressions after she’d been brought back. The other kitchen staff seems to cover her absence seamlessly, and with her return small, discreet hand squeezes are exchanged. Evan meanwhile finds himself imagining several different ways it could be possible to ram a knife through the back of the fucker’s throat. It’s a surprise no one had even tried it yet.

Over the week, Evan uses his proximity to large amounts of food, to slip extra off plates. He stashes it in a small corner near where he sleeps. However, for anything that looks particularly perishable, Evan makes the quick decision to eat immediately. He needs to put on some weight if he’s planning on lasting any time without food. Evan has spent years watching how M works. How she uses her large dress to conceal what she’s taken. Evan is clumsier than her and a large shirt isn’t quite as good, but he seems to make it work.

***

The week passes, during which he hears whispers of a large celebration that is being held. The work on the day is more hectic than normal, and Evan feels his bones and joints hate him. The day goes on and food preparation dies down, and the kitchen seems to slump collectively.

Evan finally has a moment to breathe as the fire dies down and the pan scrubbing subsides. His knuckles had blistered from the heat and then been scrubbed raw in the dishwater. He moves across the room to a small pan of cool water that he uses to soak his bloody, painful hands.

That’s when he notices it. The guard is gone. The man had been here most of the time, but he had been sloshing back a couple of glasses of wine towards the end and now… there was no one else there. They were probably all at the feast… and…. Oh. A small surge of adrenaline bubbles into excitement. He, however, forces himself to stay calm as a half-drafted escape plan begins to be cobbled together. He lets it simmer whilst he covers up the second wind of energy that he’s experiencing by shifting his expression to one of exhaustion.

He moves his way slowly through the kitchen towards where he’d been collapsing most days to sleep, unnoticed by most of the exhausted people. As he passes, he picks up a silver plate, like the sort that they had been using today to serve food on.

He quietly and fluidly takes out some of the food he’d been quietly stashing and lays it neatly on the plate. Now the trick came down to confidence. Confidence that he was where he was meant to be. How confidently and precisely could he navigate his way through the building?

He weaves his way through the kitchen, keeping his head down. He can be certain the people here are too tired to care. And he doubts they’d hand him in. Not really. The guards were who he had to be wary of.

He exits the kitchen, scanning left and right before choosing the right corridor. Where he’d first entered had been heavily guarded. So, he may have better luck going in the opposite direction.

He threads his way through the corridors. Trying to prevent himself from speeding up as adrenaline pounds through him. There’s a momentary pause as the corridor bleeds into huge, grandiose halls. It’s more glamour and money than Evan had ever really seen in one place. Even compared to when he still lived with his grandparents.

The walls are decorated with expensive portraits and are lit by large candelabras Music and chatter echo from where the feast is going on. Right. He stops blinking in awe and wills himself to relax and think. Best to avoid that route then. He changes direction and begins moving through the halls and away from the large dining room.

Evan manages to get a good distance away from the party. He follows to where

the doors should be logically. Away from kitchens and dining rooms. Somewhere near a staircase. Rounding a corner his eyes fall to two large doors.

The entrance.

That’s when he hears footsteps and laughter. His breath hitches. But he forces himself to push through. Keep calm. Keep steady. Keep walking. He wills himself to remember that if he looks like he belongs. It’s no one will notice.

The steps get closer and closer, he steps to one side to let them pass respectfully. Heart thumping away in his chest. Praying they couldn’t read minds.

Two guards, clearly a little too drunk approach and begin to pass him.

Evan exhales as they keep walking and begins to move towards the doors.

The steps stop.

Keep walking.

“Hey… the feast’s this way.” A guard calls over. His voice slurs slightly from the alcohol.

Evan keeps walking. Slow. Steady. He’s doing a job. There is a reason he’s going this way. He has a purpose.

“Hey! Didn’t you hear me?” the guard calls at him.

Evan stops. His heart is in his throat. There are two choices. Run or pretend. Play along and certainly get caught out… or…. The door is so close. He has a head start… it could be so easy. Pretend or…

He breaks into a sprint. Food scatters to the floor. He finds himself gripping the plate tightly as he does.

It takes a second for the alcohol-addled guards to process what’s happening.

Evan reaches the door and goes to wrench it open, as two large men barrel towards him shouting. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The door opens and as quick as a street cat, he’s out the door. His feet pounding against the cobblestone.

Despite the alcohol, the guards close the distance with ease. Hands lunge to grab at him.

Evan takes the opportunity and frisbees the plate off in a wild direction. His only weapon clangs as it cuts into the brow of one of the guards. “Fuck!” spits the now very, pissed-off guard, rapidly blinking, trying to keep the blood from dripping into his eyes.

Evan digs his toes into the stone path as he bolts for the gate. A huge weight body slams into him. He hits the ground with a crunch as the full body weight of a man is on top of him. All Evan can do is put his hands out to stop smacking his head into the cobblestone.

“Look! He tried to make a run!” The guard on top of Evan proudly declares, gripping the boy’s hair and yanking it to one side. “You thought you could try and get away, did you?” The smell of liquor on his lips is strong.

Evan struggles. Trying to shift the weight off him, the guard moves so his knee is in the small of Evan’s back, and he kneels over the top of him. His hand remains in Evan’s hair, gripping it painfully and forcing the boy’s head to the floor. “I wonder what sort of reward we’ll get for this.” The tone is low, and sickly.

Evan’s mouth goes dry and his mind flashes blank as fear creeps its way through his body. No. Gods no.

A kick to the ribs pulls him out of it making him gasp. “Fucking prick” the guard with the cut brow snarls. He slams two more into the boy’s chest.

“Excuse me!” Evan’s hair is released, as the man pinning him down sits up to look at his colleagues.

“That little shit just cut me. You can save-” he gestures wildly “-Whatever this is, till later! Right now. He’s mine.”

There’s a long, elongated sigh from above. “Fine.” Evan feels his hands being pinned but the pressure from his back is gone for a moment, only to be replaced by the feeling of hands at his waistband.

The fear is back. Colder than ever. He goes to kick but feels a shoe pressing his legs down. He attempts to crane his head around but all he can see is the dark evening sky.

His breeches are dragged down and there is a small jangle of a belt being unbuckled.

Evan goes still, the fear makes him sick and-

There’s an audible crack as the belt contacts the bare skin on his lower back and upper thighs. Red-hot pain shoots into the back of his throat. The leather stings uncomfortably and the shock causes his lungs to rake in more air.

There's another strike and another, layering themselves on top of one another. Burning and stingy, aching and throbbing. The leather cuts through his skin, ripping jagged, bloody lines into the boy’s pale lower back. The impact of the leather tears into him in a pain that leaches its way through his body and into his throat.

Evan feels the desperate urge to cry but as each strike drives air from his lungs, he finds that he can’t.

After what feels like hours, there’s a pause. Some sounds of shuffling. Before two, very weighty strikes come down. The guardsman is clearly putting his whole shoulder into it as he does. A large chunk of metal scours bruises into his flesh, as the belt buckle is brought down on the boy’s body.

Finally, after an eternity. It stops. Evan lies there. Panting, pain ringing out through him, and tears begin to well in the back of his throat. The pain throbs in the gentle breeze, but the humiliation feels worse. The heat of being held down and beaten like a petulant child, and the fear of what else they could do, rises in his cheeks as he swallows back tears.

He is pulled to his feet, hands pinned behind his back to stop him from running.

“Good. That’s a lot better.” Bloody brow seems more relaxed. “Take him to Lord Maynard then? I’m sure he’d want to know about this little escape attempt.”

Evan’s captor sneers “Oh so you get to do what you want with him and not me?”

“Yes. Because getting in trouble with the lord is not my priority tonight. Come on. And let him pull up his fucking trousers. I don’t want anyone to think I’m that drunk. Even if you are.”

Evan quickly pulls his waistband back. The fear is back. Like hell does he want to see this lord… But he has very little choice as he is marched back into the manor and into the loud feast room.

The room is lit by blazing torches, food that Evan had been working with a few hours’ prior litters the table, mostly still intact due to the quantities.

On entering, some of the chatter dies down. A rather large man, at the head of the table, makes his way down “What is the meaning of this?” his voice demands the attention of the room.

The bloody brow takes a step forward whilst the other guard, forces Evan to his knees, by kicking in the back of his legs. “We found this boy trying to run.”

The Lord paces slowly towards Evan, looking him over as he approaches. “This is the new one, is it not Sir Ademar?”

The hulking knight who had bought him looks up and sighs very slowly “Yes, my lord. It is.”

Lord Maynard approaches before finally stopping in front of Evan. He hums slightly, as Evan glares back in defiance.

Sir Ademar looks to his lord “He was stationed in the kitchens, my Lord.”

Maynard looks at Evan a bit longer before smiling. “Have him reassigned to me.” His gaze pierces through Evan’s very being before he looks to the guards “Take him to my chambers. And remember to lock the doors.”

The guards nod as Evan is pulled to his feet.

“Of course, My Lord.” Sir Ademar nods before gesturing to the half-orc, Trygve, to pour his wine. Trygve begins to pour, but for a moment he locks eyes with Evan. A look of frustration, sympathy, and pity. The message is clear. I told you to keep your head down.

-------

AN: And now we can move to needlessly tormenting my boy! :D Shout if you spot a typo or want adding to the tag list!!!!

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@sunshiline-writes @kixngiggles @pumpkin-spice-whump

[erikahammerschmidt]

So here's a my hot take about "social anxiety," and "being afraid to ask others for help."

After years and years of personal growth, I still get people treating my "aversion to asking for things" as some internal problem with my brain.

But let me tell you one thing.

You might be able to conquer any nagging sense that you "don't deserve" help from others. Then you might go on to vanquish any exaggerated idea of how much harm or trouble or inconvenience your request would cause someone else. And after that, you could totally wipe out any excess of anxiety about how angry someone else might be at you for asking.

But all this WILL NOT CHANGE the fact that:

Other people have lives of their own

Your requests usually are not (and should not be!) another person's first priority

People cannot be expected to have perfect memories and keep your request in their minds all the time

And therefore, if you have any ability to do a thing for yourself-- even something far outside both your skillset and your responsibilities-- even if it's very difficult to do on your own-- it's still very often MUCH EASIER than trying to get another person to do it for you.

Example:

I mention a project I want to do. I think I can do it with just a saw and hammer and nails that I already have. But my roommate, who has more woodworking equipment and more experience than me, says he'll help.

I say thanks, and ask him when. He says "well, I can't today, maybe Saturday?" So I wait til Saturday. At which point he's forgotten and planned something else, so he can't that day. Is Wednesday afternoon okay?

Sure (I put notes all over the apartment to make sure he doesn't forget this time). And he doesn't forget-- but he has to cancel anyway because the dog unexpectedly has to go to the vet that day. We reschedule for Friday. We get started on the project… at which point he suddenly concludes that we actually need a part that we don't have right now, and he'll have to buy it. That'll take a few days at least, so we have to reschedule again.

And now his schedule's busier than he thought, and he doesn't know when's the next time he'll be available. He says he'll let me know when. But weeks and weeks go by, and he doesn't. If I remind him, either he'll reassure me that he promised to tell me if he has any free time, and he's still gonna let me know when, I just have to be patient… OR he'll apologize for forgetting, and reassure me that he'll remember to tell me NEXT time he has a free afternoon.

Maybe a couple times he does message me, with less than an hour to spare, to give me a heads up that he's free now. But of course, on such short notice, I myself can't always arrange to be free-- and if he does this enough times and gets a "no" from me each time, he'll start feeling it's no longer worth trying and he'll stop.

At this point, my entire self wishes that I'd just done the project on my own, with my own inferior skills and whatever equipment I could scrounge up myself. It wouldn't be as good, maybe. But even if I had to try a few times to make it passably okay, then at least I would have learned something-- and in any case, it would be DONE now. I wouldn't be sitting here waiting, dependent on someone who does not have my project anywhere NEAR the top of his priorities.

Same goes for asking for something back that someone's borrowed from me. (Assuming my time is worth minimum wage, it's usually cheaper just to buy a new one.)

Same goes for asking my boss for an accommodation that would really help but I can sorta get by without. (I've seen coworkers having to remind management repeatedly about accommodations they get. It's almost a whole second job.)

Same goes for the colored pencils I just ordered while staying at my mom's house, upon which she reminded me that I really should have asked her first, because there are "tons" of art supplies in the house already. (Sure-- but how soon can you be available to look for them? And once looking, how quickly could you find them? And if they aren't quite what I was looking for, but you "feel certain" that the thing I was looking for "is also around here somewhere," then how many days should I give you to remember where it is? And how many times during those days should I check in with you, just to see if you actually still remember my request and are actually still trying to find it?)

In my experience, more often than not, asking another person for something (no matter how well-meaning they are) will put them in a position of oblivious, incompetently wielded power over me, long before they even begin to grant my request.

And in my experience, more often than not, that is a fate to be avoided if at all possible-- by any means-- up to and including doing things for myself that I "shouldn't have to do."

And no amount of therapy and self-help on my own brain is gonna change that.

[pandasmagorica]

First watch: Last Twilight episode 6: the kisses and the just in time eavesdrops

I haven't been moved to write much about Last Twilight. Part of this I attribute to my being scrambled by trying to watch too many series a week at a time at once. Part of this is, although I love this series, I'm kind of letting it wash over me rather than trying to analyze it.

But after watching all the kissing that happened in episode 6, I'm moved to write about that. Also that there was way too much coincidental eavesdropping for my taste. Deets (and spoilers) after the jump.

Okay, big spoiler: we were expecting August to be a competitor for Day's affection. In episode 5, he was grabbing hold of Day's hand. But then, he stood Day up for a dinner date and eventually showed up just in time to hear Day declare to Mohk Day's attraction to August. (Eavesdrop #1). August looks at Mohk and shakes his head "no."

This puts Mohk in a dilemma: does he out August's presence to Day, who can't see August or not. Mohk goes with staying silent.

August kissing Day

But the very next day August shows up at Day's with a story about having collapsed and injured his wrist and needing to go to the hospital. I rewound and confirmed that when August showed up the night before, he did have the wrist support, so it was feasibly a true story. (Well, this is all fiction, of course, but within the fiction it was likely true.) But August takes Day out running and has Mohk arrange to see that Day gets to a surprise birthday party. And at the end of the party, August plants a big kiss on Day, which Mohk arrives just in time to see (Eavesdrop #2, a visual eavesdrop).

Like I said, too many chance overhearing/seeings.

Actor kissing meta

So, time to go into a meta discussion of stage kissing. Here we have an actor, Ohm Thipakorn, doing a stage kiss of a character, August, doing what is in essence a stage kiss. So Ohm has to act the character August doing what an actor would do to be able to kiss another actor.

Generally, by the time we see a kiss, actors have rehearsed how they're going to kiss, probably multiple times, so that they can give a convincing performance in the absence of actual attraction. Ohm would have rehearsed this kiss with Sea, but August has not rehearsed this kiss with Day, so I would have expected the kiss to be more awkward. But that depends on how comfortable August was with the deception.

If it was intended to be a deception. Maybe August really was trying to stir up an attraction for Day. Or maybe August has had enough experience with kissing that this is just one more kiss for him and no big deal.

Day kissing August

So Day kisses August back. Intently. This is too much for August, and August separates. Mohk confronts August and August confesses (not in the QL sense) that he can only think of Day as a friend. As if Day isn't standing right there. As Day said in an earlier episode, Day's blind, not deaf.

Mhok and Day retreat from the restaurant, and Mhok takes Day to a rooftop. (Hi Khun Aof!)

Mhok kissing Day

And on that roof Mhok kisses Day. I'd call this kiss dubcon. Day can't see the kiss coming, can't hear the kiss, hasn't invited it.

I don't expect perfect behavior on the part of characters. I like portrayal of complex and flawed individuals. We already know Mhok can act on impulse.

I do expect dubcon and noncon behavior in series to have dramatic consequences of some sort, and we get that. Day is already coming out of the evening feeling pitied, something that he's made clear from the first episode that he can't stand, and the very thing that resulted in Day's insistence that Mohk be his caretaker was that Mohk didn't pity him.

But now with this kiss, Day is questioning his trust that Mhok doesn't pity him. He asks Mhok "Do you pity me?"

There is no safe answer for Mohk to give. We know Mohk was jealous of August. We saw that. Day can't see, so has no idea.

Mohk's not going to say "yes," because he doesn't pity Day.

But if he says "no," it's going to be hard for Day to trust that the answer is true, not after all that's happened today.

Mhok and Day kissing

So Mhok gives the only unambiguous answer he believes he can give. He kisses Day again, more intently. And Day takes this as the genuine interest we as audience members believe it to be and not as pity, and kisses back.

So, one episode later than the kiss in Bad Buddy, with six more episodes to go.

[paper--moons]

Regressor!Shane Headcanons

(with cg!Marnie)

Sometimes we find coping mechanisms that work without really having to seek them out, though sometimes we stumble a bit before we do and maybe even have to purposely try to find them. And Shane definitely stumbled—more like he tripped, really—for quite some time. He hadn't even realized how bad his addiction and dependency on alcohol had gotten until the new farmer in town found him drunk at the cliff. Not that he remembers too much from that night, although he comes to the next day with a killer hangover and an appointment with a therapist in Zuzu City. He considers not going, believing that nothing they say or do will wind up helping—after all, nothing he's tried has worked and that's what got him to this point. But apparently Harvey had to pull some strings to get him the appointment so quickly, and his aunt practically forces him into her old pick-up truck to drive him there herself. So he humors them both, not wanting to seem ungrateful and too tired to fight it anymore. One appointment and he'll be done; one appointment and he can go back to the cliff to finish what he started. His last therapist couldn't help him much, and he expects the same song and dance here—only to be surprised, shocked even, when Harvey's old friend seems to get it, get him. She doesn't try to force him to talk, or blatantly analyze him and goad him into responses she thinks are the problem; this therapist actually treats him like a person and not a lost cause. By the end of the first session, he thinks it might be worth coming back.

And come back he does. It takes a few sessions before he feels comfortable enough talking about the situation—why he is here as an emergency case, according to Harvey—and what happened at the cliff. Shane recounts that night the best he can, repeating the same sentiment to his therapist that is one of the few things he remembers telling the farmer: "I'm too small and stupid to take control of my life". The way his therapist starts making a few notes goes passed his notice as he trails off, muttering that it probably won't happen again so he doesn't know why he's even here. When he's said his piece it seems his therapist has decided something, has latched on to the fact that he's expressed he thinks he's too small. Unsurprisingly, they explore those thoughts and feelings for the rest of his time, and by his next appointment she has a suggestion for him: age regression. Carefully explaining that it doesn't make him stupid or a failure, and that feeling small can actually be really good for him. And that she wants him to try leaning into being small instead of drinking the next time he starts feeling lost in his head. It's a lot to take in, but she gives Shane a few pamphlets and tells him that's his homework for the next two weeks. Just to try it at least once and see what happens. He's flipping through the pamphlets on the way back to the truck, catching sight of Marnie and Jas waiting for him; he tried telling her that he can catch the bus, but she insisted on taking him every time and even made excuses of them taking Jas to an ice-cream parlor while they were in Zuzu. When they have the family-sized sundae brought to the table he notices for the first time how his aunt not only tucks a napkin into Jas' shirt, but also reaches over to gently tuck one into his as well—something she's always done, but for once something that he realizes is her showing she cares about him.

The pamphlets sit in his back pocket heavily the entire way home, the same heaviness resting at the back of his mind. Would it help? His therapist seemed to think so. But it seemed so...stupid. As if drinking his troubles away wasn't. At least this wouldn't burn his wallet—he could try this. Over the next few days Shane finds himself getting lost in thought whenever he's picking up Jas' room (the cleaning routine being another suggestion that's part of his ongoing homework), dolls being held for far longer than necessary before he remembers to put them in her toybox. After one such time he finds himself crawling around Marnie's attic, knowing she hangs on to everything and, lo and behold, finds the toybox that used to belong to him. Because of course she kept it, covered in dust as it is. It opens with a creak, and a small part of him thinks he'll get caught—but that doesn't stop him from pulling out his childhood bear and hugging it close. The stuffing smells a little musty like the wood of the toybox it was stored in, but underlying that is the familiar smell that brings to mind safer nights when he was allowed to feel scared and tuck himself up to his aunt's side for comfort. Shane doesn't realize he's crying, only clutches the toy and doesn't try to box away his feelings for once. Telling his teddy that he's so sorry (and for what, he doesn't even know, in the moment he only knows that he is), that he won't do it again.

Shane doesn't get caught in the attic, and though that all-encompassing small feeling only lasted for about a half-hour he still takes Baby Bear (because that's his name, Shane remembers!) out of the toybox and down to his room where he rests on his bed, carefully hidden under his pillows until it's bedtime. Because by bedtime he lets himself take out the toy again and snuggle with it, finds that when the urge to cry comes back that he's soothing himself by pressing a thumb into his mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world and not a habit he had given up by the time he was five (or maybe eight, if he was being honest). And by the time morning comes he feels okay. Lighter, even. And most notably there's no pounding in his head or pain behind his eyes. Maybe this whole regression thing could work after all. Although he had thought his...regression age? was that the term? would be older. When he brings all of this up with his therapist she seems genuinely happy and supportive, something that makes the small space being carved out in the back of his mind swell with something akin to a sweet softness. Like cotton candy. But she says the cotton candy is a good thing and not to worry about it, and to keep doing what he's doing whenever he finds it helpful. He winds up leaving the session teetering on the edge of regression, much more eager and excited to go get ice-cream than he usually would be. It's been a long time since he was excited over something so trivial. But the ice-cream is sweet, and Shane doesn't even get mad when his aunt wants to wipe away the sticky trail at the corner of his mouth.

Slowly but surely more of his childhood toys find their way out of the toybox and into his room until eventually the chest itself has to be brought down from the attic and tucked away safely in his closet instead. It's an interesting process of learning how to play again, but once he loses himself in it he starts to have a lot of fun. Finding joy in the simple act of playing starts to bleed over into his big time as well, when the little things gradually start to make him feel something close to happy again. Not to mention it provides him with some much needed routine—after his shift at JojaMart he comes home for dinner, and after helping with the washing up he retreats to his room for some small time. However after a particularly rough day that new routine is abandoned and he goes straight to his room, wanting nothing more than to forget things for awhile, to be little. Which inevitably leads to a concerned Marnie walking in on Shane, who is the middle of a tea party with some of his toys. It takes some time before he notices that she's there, and when he does he certainly doesn't expect the soft look on her face. For the first time in years he actually calls her mama, whines and hiccups that it isn't what it looks like...but all of that is pushed aside as she comes to sit on the bed next to him, and ask if Baby Bear needs his graham crackers and cheese for the tea party. Because of course his aunt remembers the snacks he always said were for his teddy. And all he can do is nod, blushing as she brushes away his embarrassed tears and kisses the crown of his head before leaving. Shane doesn't know why she played along, but he does find himself pushing the pamphlets about age regression that he did have shoved in the back of his dresser drawer underneath her door later that night.

Crumpled as they are, Marnie reads through the pamphlets. She had a general idea about what was going on, though she didn't have the correct terminology to put with it—in the moment all she knew was that her nephew was happy and smiling while he was playing so innocently, so it must be a good thing. And judging from the pamphlets, it's something his therapist recommended too. The fact that he had slipped up and called her mama—something he hadn't done since he was very, very young before someone had corrected him—only added to her pre-existing want to be there for him, just as she had been the first time. If he would allow it, of course. Shane knew a talk was coming even before he gave her the pamphlets; Marnie had always stressed the importance of talking things over, especially if feelings were involved. And Shane had shown plenty of feelings, way more than he has been since returning home a few months ago. The talk is about as awkward as anticipated, but Shane tries to remain open and not shut her out out of fear of rejection. Though he gets the exact opposite. Marnie tells him that if regression is something that helps him, then she will support him in any way that he's comfortable with—including acting as his cg. She's already done it once, and she's more than willing to do it again. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, if he needs to be her little butterbean for awhile then that's more than okay! And as the awkwardness and embarrassment fade from Shane's mind, he realizes that he would like that a lot, actually.

It's a whole lot easier to let Marnie in on his regression than he imagined it would be. The process of letting her in is gradual, as is building up the courage to leave his room when he's feeling small. But Marnie is patient and goes at the pace Shane sets, never forcing him out of his comfort zone but always providing encouragement wherever she can. Perhaps somewhat expectedly, once Shane gets accustomed to having someone around while he is regressed they both slot back into old habits. Habits like her teaching him about the farm animals and how to care for them, especially the sheep since they only had chickens and cows when he was a kid. Although they form a few new habits too! Like how she brings him a sippy cup of warm vanilla milk to take his antidepressants and insomnia medicine with at bedtime, or how (depending on the day of the week and if he's feeling small) she'll help him with his t-shot, carefully placing a band-aid patterned with farm animals over the spot where the needle pricked his thigh (his favorite, naturally, being the ones with little chickens on them). Some things might have changed, but for a little while at least Shane can take comfort in knowing that her care for him hasn't.