#fic: TIVOS

[museaway]

for @tomatocages, who trick or treated via DM! ty for visiting! you receive this mug cake scene from an unfinished sheith WIP

untitled

VLD / sheith (referenced). scene from the sequel to the incomprehensible vastness of space. in it, Shiro & Hunk are talking in the ship's kitchen. it references Shiro's past trauma from the original fic involving fear of healing pods

There wasn’t much to do besides wait for the ship to arrive. His bayard and uniform were clean, and training before a mission would only mean going into the situation exhausted, which wasn’t productive from a physical or mental perspective. It was best to do what Lance said. Shiro headed to the kitchen hoping there might be something left over.

The prepared food, though technically nutritious, couldn’t provide the satisfaction of biting into char-grilled ribeye or a big damn bowl of guacamole. Hunk tried his best to recreate the flavors from back home, but apart from those first few meals after Keith had broken him out of Galra captivity, when anything would’ve tasted better than the crap they force-fed the fighters, the last meal Shiro had truly enjoyed had been a pizza Keith had brought over before Shiro left Earth.

Shiro took his time, walking through the corridors at a leisurely pace. He’d had plenty of time to explore when he’d first come on board, since he hadn’t been a member of the crew and it was often days that Keith was away. In the time between becoming team leader and Zarkon falling ill, all he’d done in these corridors was run.

The kitchen lights were spilling into the corridor. Someone was humming. Shiro knocked twice before he entered, poking his head through the open doorway. 

“With you in a second,” Hunk said. 

He was standing next to the ship’s equivalent of a microwave and looking at his watch. He nodded every second. After six nods, he stopped the cooking cycle and took out a container. The room filled with the scent of chocolate.

“What are you making?” Shiro said.

“Mug cake. You want one?”

“What’s a mug cake?”

“It’s a cake in a mug. For times you want cake, but not a whole cake. It’s actually more like a brownie. And these cylinders were the closest thing I could find to a mug on the ship. Want me to make you one?”

“Uh, sure.”

Hunk handed him the one he’d just taken out. “Eat that while it’s hot,” he said, turning back to the counter and beginning to prep another. “These beans taste almost like chocolate. I wonder if they could be related.”

“You should ask Matt to do a DNA test.” Shiro took his first bite, almost too hot to eat. It scalded his tongue, but the chocolate flavor was so strong and authentic, his eyes watered. 

“How is it?” Hunk asked.

“Amazing.” 

Hunk grinned and put the second cake in to cook, keeping his eyes on his watch. “Hey, Shiro...that stuff Allura was saying earlier. You know we all trust you, right?”

Shiro took another bite and rolled it around in his mouth to cool it before swallowing. “I didn’t know she felt that way about Keith. What was it like when they worked together?”

“They’ve never been especially close, but it got a lot worse when Keith found out he was half Galran. I would think that’s still the reason, except Lotor’s Galran too—and Zarkon’s son. I mean, of the two of them, I can tell you which one I don’t trust. And...done!” 

Hunk took out the steaming cake and stood next to Shiro to eat, leaning one elbow on the counter. 

“What don’t you trust about him?” Shiro said.

“I can’t put my finger on it exactly,” Hunk said through a mouthful of cake. “He’s too good of a guy, you know? Always says the right things, has connections right where we need them, plus—have you looked at him? He’s pretty handsome. If we’re being honest, he’s probably the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Are you...?” Shiro said, raising one eyebrow.

“Nah,” Hunk said, catching his meaning. “I just have eyes. Though come to think of it, Keith’s not bad looking either. Maybe I have a thing for Galra. Hey, what are you gonna do if he grows another couple feet?”

It was possible, given Krolia’s size. Keith’s dad had died years before Shiro met Keith, but he’d seen a few pictures. Tex (his firehouse nickname, according to Keith—Shiro didn’t know his real one) must’ve been around Shiro’s height. He tried to imagine what Keith would look like with a few more inches and a thicker build. Shiro had never been into guys who were bigger than he was. He’d had Adam by thirty pounds even though they were about the same height. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone taller than me,” he said. 

“Oh, oh...I just got a mental image of that.”

Shiro laughed. “So what are you planning to do once this is all over?”

“Over like... we’ve passed the torch?” Hunk thought about it for a moment. “I want to go see my family. After that, I don’t know. I really thought I wanted to be part of the Garrison, but now I’m wondering if that’s the right path for me. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro said. 

“I guess it’ll depend on what Keith’s doing, huh.”

“I think he’s going to stay with the Blade,” Shiro said.

“Wow.” Hunk took another bite. “I couldn’t believe how different he looks. He’s really changed. The old Keith would have blown up in that meeting. You think it’s his mom’s influence?”

“Maybe.” Shiro finished the last bite of cake and put the container and spoon in the dishwasher. Since he couldn’t survive on snacks, he dispensed a cup of prepared food.

“If you’re still hungry, I can make you something else,” Hunk offered.

“This is fine. Make me that cake again sometime, will you?”

“I’ll teach you. Then you can make it for Keith.” Hunk scraped the last of his from his cylinder. “I don’t want to brag, but this was really good.”

“Have you ever thought of cooking professionally?”

“I’m worried that might take the fun out of it, you know?”

Shiro had to think about that for a moment. He’d spent his early twenties obsessed with accomplishing as much as possible before his body betrayed him. Splitting his time between physical training and logging as many flight hours as allowed by regulation, he’d put aside hobbies. The only activity he could have considered stress relief with sex, and even then it hadn’t been fun by the end. 

At least that had changed with Keith, although they’d only been together a handful of times. That might explain the intensity. Shiro had yet to be in bed with Keith and want to be anywhere else. He longed for those weeks when he’d been recovering and they spent all of their time together. They’d probably never be like that again, except for long weekends if they could both manage to take one. He sighed.

“You look tired,” Hunk said. 

Shiro blinked. They’d just left Olkarion. He’d caught up on a week of sleep and had plenty of fresh air and sunlight, but all the fresh air in the universe couldn’t heal his genes.

“If you need to use a healing pod...” Hunk continued. “I know Matt goes with you. Totally cool if you’re not comfortable with me, but just putting it out there. If you want me to come with you, it’s no problem.”

It had been over a week since his last cycle. Shiro ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you to have to see me like that.”

Hunk laughed. “Everyone on this team has seen me puke multiple times. I think you’re the only one I haven’t thrown up on.”

“If you really wouldn’t mind, a quick cycle’s not a bad idea.”

“Sure.” Hunk grinned. “Let me just grab a snack.”

“What was the cake?”

“Appetizer.”

Hunk ate a vegetable Shiro couldn’t pronounce as they walked to the medical bay. “Do I have to do anything while you’re in there?” he said.

“It’s pretty rare that it happens, but if it looks like I’m in distress, press the red button.”

“Claustrophobia?”

“Sort of.”

“But you’re okay in the Lions?” Hunk asked. 

Shiro really hadn’t spoken about his time in captivity with anyone but Keith. Even Matt only knew a few details.

“The healing pods are similar to ones they threw us into when I was still fighting,” he said. “They didn’t open from the inside and sometimes they forgot about you.”

“Sounds horrifying,” Hunk said.

“It’s in the past. I just wanted to be honest about what the problem is. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it between us. Pidge is still young, and I don’t want her knowing about that.”

“I won’t say a thing,” Hunk said, and when he smiled, it was less the smile of an admiring kid and more of a friend’s. 

He settled into Matt’s pillow nest while Shiro changed. Hunk was right. In spite of the sleep and good food lately, there were shadows under his eyes when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

“Oh,” Hunk moaned from the other room. “This is so comfortable. Shiro, I’m coming with you every time.”

He said Shiro looked better after the cycle had completed. If Shiro dreamed, he didn’t remember it. There was still half a day before they reached their destination. Sleep it was. Hunk walked Shiro back to his room. 

“I’m fine,” Shiro assured him. “It’s only when I’m in the pod.”

“I don’t need Keith mad at me because I didn’t take good care of you.”

Hunk clapped him on the shoulder and went into his own room. 

Shiro lay in the dark for a long time, but his mind wouldn’t rest. He tapped his watch to bring up Keith’s contact information. He was out of range. Shiro opened a new message anyway, at a loss for what to say. He typed miss you but erased it. He didn’t need to make Keith feel worse than he already did being apart. 

In the end, what he sent was, Hunk’s going to teach me to bake.

[wootzietoozee]

HEY TIVO FANS GET YOUR FOOD

[pierrelucdisaster]

@kreiderrider the effect you have on me fr

don’t you ever read a piece of fanfiction so good you just

[arealphrooblem]

A Favor for a Favor Part 3

Part 2 here Part one here

CW for the fic overall: kissing/fade to black off screen sex, mentions of non-consensual drugging, non-graphic wound care, off screen murder mention

Synopsis:

When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.

The Past

After breakfast, at which he inhaled three bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch  in the time it took her to savor one, the boy crashed on the couch again. He refused to reveal his name or his age or any other personal details. She struggled to get even his clothing sizes so she could raid her father’s closet. The only thing she can tell on her own is that he was of east Asian descent and he was older than her. But not by much. 

Once their truce was finalized, a strange awkwardness settled over them.  In many ways he was a guest and the etiquette rules her mother hardwired into her pressured her to offer him food and drink and entertainment. The first two were accomplished easily enough, but then the rest of the weekend stretched out before her and she had no idea how to entertain someone like him. 

She was deeply grateful for how long he slept so she could figure it out. By the time he stirred again, she had pulled up the TiVo menu and hooked up the Game Cube from her room. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked as he slowly sat up with a wince. 

“Like shit,” he said. She had left a bottle of Tylenol on the table with a bottle of water and he immediately reached for both. 

“Do you play video games?” she asked tentatively. “I have Mario Kart and Mortal Kombat?”

He grimaced. “No. I’ve never played video games.” 

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve never played a video game? Not any? How is that possible?”

The boy threw her a deeply disgusted, judgemental look. “The cost of one game could feed me for almost a month. Don’t even get me started on what the console costs or a TV. Not to mention how easy and popular all three of those things are to steal and resell. Having one in your home is like painting a target on your back.”

Roxanne could feel the hot flush travel from her cheeks to her ears. 

“Right,” she mumbled, wishing she could slap herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to -- to upset you.”

The hint of a smirk tugged at his mouth. “You don’t know any poor people, do you?”

“I -- what? You think I’m rich?”

He gestured around the living room. “You live in a brownstone.”

“We inherited it from my grandparents!” she protested, feeling oddly defensive.

“Your parents are conferencing in France. What were their jobs again?”

“A defense attorney and a forensic . . .analyst,” she mumbled, realization dawning on her. 

He barked out that sharp, bitter laugh again. “A lawyer and a scientist. I rest my case.”

“It’s not like I’m in a penthouse suite on 5th avenue,” she said, but the battle was lost. She had no real defense.

“So you’re not obscenely wealthy. That doesn’t make you poor. If I had any money to bet with, you’ve never had to pick between food and electricity. You’ve never had to super glue the soles back on your shoes, and you’ve never taken a cold shower in the dark.”

“ . . .no I haven’t,” she admitted softly. 

Shame squatted in her chest. Her mother represented the poor and desperate more often than not. For every one slimy scum bag she dealt with, there were five people driven to desperate measures and she did the best she could for them. She made sure Roxanne knew how often the system was stacked against people. 

But Roxanne’s parents also kept her away from it. She grew up cocooned in their protection, thinking her life was perfectly average. 

Apparently it was not so average. 

She ended up taking him into her father’s library to teach him chess. Her dad taught her years ago in hopes that she might compete like he did as a kid. But though she didn’t suck at chess, tournaments and their ultra strict rules sucked all the fun out of it. 

The boy, on the other hand, loved it immediately. At first she kept feeling that weird pressure in her head as he pretended to mull over his next move. 

“You’re not trying to cheat, are you?” she had asked sternly. 

He just smirked at her over the chessboard. But the pressure stopped and after a few games he began to beat her -- first by a narrow margin, and then soundly. It was embarrassing. Thank God her dad wasn’t here to witness it. 

“You know, if you won’t tell me your name, I’ll have to make one up for you,” she said on their latest match. 

He ignored her and continued to ponder his opening move. 

“I’m thinking . . Bob?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch. She’d have to try harder.  

“No. That’s too boring. What about . . .Harold?

“If you’re trying to trick me up, it’s not going to work,” he murmured. 

“I would never try to cheat -- unlike some people,” she said primly. “What about Cornelius? It makes you sound like a wizard.”

He moved his rook. “You are not calling me Cornelius.”

“Fun sucker.” Another ridiculous name struck her.  Oh! Jehoshaphat! That’s a name you don't hear very often.”

That superpower glare came back to play. “I change my mind -- I’ll be a wizard.”

She grinned at him as she took his rook. “So what all can you do with your mind, wizard boy?”

He gave her a cautious look. “What can you do, speed demon?”

“I can run a mile in three seconds.” 

She couldn’t help but brag -- it killed her every day to keep this secret, with no one to share it with. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at her with new respect. 

“What is it like? What does the world look like? Is it blurry?”

His hand fell away from the chess board, game forgotten. All his focus narrowed to her.  Even without the pressure of his mind trying to butt against hers, it felt intense. 

“It's like . . . someone pushed pause on a movie. Everything is still except for me. But only when I’m moving. When I stop, the world starts back up again.”

“You could do so much with that.” 

The raw, unfiltered longing in his voice sent a spike of deep discomfort in her. She could only imagine how that ability might look to someone living on the streets, someone preyed upon and powerless. She used it for fun, for silly pranks, because she had nothing to worry about. 

“I’m not very good at it,” she said lamely, as if this could make up for it. “It takes a lot of concentration and I’m shit at that even with my meds. What’s it like for you?” 

“You want me to explain what a person’s mind is like? I’m not sure I can.”

She pouted. “Please? Please? Don’t be boring -- I shared mine!”

He held her stare, completely unmoved, until she sighed and looked away. 

“Fine,” she huffed. “Keep your secrets, Gandalf.”

“Is that another Wizard name you pulled out of your ass?” he asked. 

She gaped at him. “Are you serious? Have you never seen Lord of the Rings?”

His blank stare was all the answer she needed. 

“Do you want to fix that?”

The Present

Home meant pulling into the underground parking garage of a towering stone apartment complex in SoHo. It had a doorman and a private elevator. It had lush carpet and beautiful dark wood paneling and a carved mahogany ceiling. 

It made her parent’s brownstone look like an off-road motel. 

She knew over the years that John had accumulated some serious wealth -- sometimes legitimately, most of the time not. But this was positively obscene. 

The front hall opened up into a spacious living room with cream colored furniture paired with dark wood. Windows lined the entire south wall. He led her to the couch, gesturing for her to sit, before padding over to the nearby kitchen. 

The couch enveloped her like a cloud. The apartment sat on the top floor -- the road noise of the city reduced to almost nothing. In the sudden quiet, it didn’t matter if the sense of security was false. Roxanne’s adrenaline finally ran out. Her entire body began to shake, causing the pain from her earlier injuries to flare back to life. Her head throbbed in time with her roaring heartbeat. 

Roxanne didn’t win every fight. Her powers had limitations just like anyone else. She’d been in a scrape or two over her time. 

But nothing like this. Never before could she not have the option of running away. 

“Roxanne.” 

Her name sounded small and far away. She kept her eyes squeezed tight, trying to sort out her erratic breathing. 

This was a panic attack. 

“Roxanne.” John’s voice came firmer and with a gentle shake of her shoulders. 

She didn’t want to face him yet. 

Roxanne.

His voice whispered in her head, quiet but unavoidable. Un-ignorable. 

Her eyes snapped open. “What?” she demanded, but her voice came out like a little squeak.  

“Take this and drink this.”

He held out a glass of water, two white pills sitting in his other hand. 

She shrank back against the couch. “What is that?”

“Water,” he said with an eye roll. “And Ibuprofen 800s. I’m not going to poison you,” he added. “It seems someone else beat me to it.”

Even if it was poison, it wasn’t like the situation could get any worse. Roxanne took the pills and slowly drained the entire glass. Water sloshed over the sides of her mouth because her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

She wiped it off with her sleeve, feeling like a child, before placing her hand back on the couch. Too late she realized she had smeared blood from her bleeding lip onto the pristine cream fabric beneath her. 

“Oh shit,” she said, jumping up and then wincing as pain lanced across her ribs. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

John pushed her back down with firm but gentle hands on her shoulders. 

“It’s alright. You can bleed on this white couch. I’m coming back with a first aid kit. Don’t move.”

If she still had her powers, Roxane would have blurred to his bathroom and stuck his toothbrush in his toilet and swirled it around a good bit before returning to her exact position. Just out of spite. Out of pure stubborn pigheadedness against the thought that he could just order her around. 

Now the thought of moving at all made her feel sick. The desire for spite paled against the comfort of the marshmallow couch. (Maybe if she didn't move, she could pretend she didn’t lose anything.)

John returned shortly after with a steel box and a damp, warm washcloth. He perched himself on the coffee table, the first aid kit next to him, and cradled her face in his hands. With unbearable tenderness, he wiped away the blood from under her nose and lower lip. He found a cut on her scalp and wiped away the blood that dripped onto the shell of her  ear. He cleaned her scraped knuckles. 

The strange intimacy of such a gentle, methodical touch made her stomach swoop dizzingly. She didn’t expect this level of care. Or any care really. She could have done all this herself in the bathroom. 

“I’m feeling a bit of deja vu,” she murmured. 

“I wasn’t cognizant for whatever care you gave me,” he responded, setting the washcloth on the open lid of the kit. “So you will have to inform me of what it entailed.”

“I definitely wasn’t this calm. Or gentle.”

“I imagine you were moments away from completely freaking out. Like you are now.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“You can’t stop shaking.” He held up her trembling hand as proof. 

She glared at him.

You can’t hide from me any longer, Roxanne his voice breathed in her mind. She shivered. It felt like the deepest intimacy, having his presence in her own head. Being naked wouldn’t make her feel this exposed.

“Speaking of being naked,” he said with a hint of a smirk, “I’m going to draw you a bath. Take as long as you like; the water stays heated. When you are finished, I will bandage what I can and give you one of the spare bedrooms.”

“You’re very bossy,” she said, fighting the flush spreading on her cheeks. She’s going to have to start filtering her thoughts. 

“Of course I am. You’re in my territory now.”

The Past

Roxanne fielded the nightly check in call from her parents right after dinner, hiding in her own room just in case Cornelius made any random unexplained noises. He inhaled two cartons of sesame chicken by himself. 

Like he hadn’t eaten in a while. 

That night he had slept in the spare bedroom across the hall. She heard the click of the lock the moment he shut the door. It was a little insulting -- did he think she was going to mess with him in his sleep? But then she reminded herself that this was a stranger’s house to him. 

And boy did he have some major trust issues. 

She did not sleep well that night, listening to every creak and groan and faint siren from the city. Sometime around two the desperate need to pee roused her from the bed and she found Cornelius standing in the living room like a ghost, gazing out one of the windows. 

“Can’t sleep  either?” she asked. 

“No,” he said softly. “I keep . . .expecting someone to show up.”

“If anybody did, I’d have them tied up in the dumpster in ten seconds flat. No one is going after you while I’m here.”

He snorted at that. “You’re fast -- you’re not invincible. Have you ever even been in a fight before?”

“ . . .No. But I don’t plan on fighting anyone,” she added, crossing her arms. “There are other ways to take care of a threat.”

“You only think that because you’ve never been threatened.”

She couldn’t really argue with his experience, whatever that was, and she didn’t want to. It started to irritate her, his insistence that she was a naive little girl living in a bubble world. Her parents, both working in the criminal justice field, never sheltered her from the truth of the world, even if she didn’t have to experience it directly. 

“You want to play some chess?” she asked instead.  

They played more rounds than she could keep track of, until the birds chirped and his hand shook her shoulder, telling her to go to bed.

The Present

The bathtub practically needed a step ladder just to get in. They had to pass through his bedroom  to get to it and he had to gently push her forward to the bathroom because she wouldn’t stop staring, compiling the color of the walls (dark green) or the types of pillow cases (silk) as if that would reveal anything about him. 

“I will leave you to it,” he said in the doorway. “Try not to linger in the bedroom on your way out.”

“If you have any embarrassing baby pictures, now would be the time to hide them,” she sang. 

“If only so you wouldn’t steal them,” he retorted as he shut the door. 

Steam wafted up from the water. A pile of fresh clothes sat on the sink counter. Roxanne didn’t even bother locking the door before immediately and painstakingly shedding her clothes. Everything ached, even after the pain relievers. When she finally sank down into the water, she almost cried from the relief. 

“I am never leaving this tub,” she whispered to herself. “I live here now.”

She nestled back against the padded head rest, pressed the jets on low, and basked. 

Cornelius had come a long, long way from the scrappy kid she had dragged off the street.  When he first disappeared, she used to dash around the area she found him in, searching for him. She had no game plan in mind if she ever did find him. But the thought of him going back into the world that made him so jaded and paranoid broke her heart. She just needed to see him, to know he made it out somehow. 

After four years of radio silence, Roxanne saw him again on the news, for winning a big chess competition in a huge upset against an established champion. And maybe he had won on his own merit -- he soundly beat her several times -- but she had no doubt that he cheated. For a hot second she debated exposing him but she had no proof and well --He that was a lot of prize money for someone who had nothing. He needed it more. 

Now armed with a name -- John Park -- she followed his career. He lost just often enough to lose suspicion, but usually had an epic come back that netted him a lot of money. 

After a while she got too busy to keep track of him. She finally came clean to her parents, got registered, graduated with a criminology degree and ended up joining the Agency of Powered Heroes. She stayed small time -- her powers worked better for investigative work and rescue rather than full on offensive fights. She got a cover job working as a cameraman/crew person for a daily political talk show. 

She never forgot Cornelius. He prickled the back of her mind like an itch. All the hints and half-formed pieces of his life she could put together painted a dark picture in the city’s underbelly. A predatory, fucked up picture. And while her co-workers fought major villains, she decided to spend her nights looking into a rising gang slowly taking over the poorest neighborhoods in the city. The type of gang that preyed on kids exactly like Cornelius.

Usually whenever a member of the APH stepped in, whatever loyalty that drove the alleged criminals would crumple like wet cardboard. They’d sell out their own grandmother in order to avoid trouble. Also, the Agency could provide protection against retaliation in a way no other law enforcement could. 

But these guys. . . .nothing made them talk. Not threats, not bribery, not promises. A billion dollar winning lottery ticket wouldn’t open their mouths. The only thing she got out of them, consistently, was that the shadowy figure running this gang knew everything about everybody. Things no one else could possibly know. And when he sniffed disloyalty, his retribution was swift and brutal. No one could trick him or lie to him and no one wanted to cross him. 

It sounded uncomfortably, disturbingly familiar. Her gut knew exactly who ran this gang, but she had no proof. Despite her best efforts, he stayed firmly in the shadows. Other people took the fall for him and he stayed a ghost. She lost hope of ever seeing him again. 

And then he ran for fucking mayor.

Part 4 here

[gemsandr0ses]

I HAVE DIGITALDOODLEBONES FANCHILDREN

ima go from youngest to oldest

for those that don’t know wtf a doodile is, it’s what Oodle’s species is

Extra Funfacts:

Tivo showed her and her twin brother how to change the color of their screens, she was a teal-ish blue when she was born

She loves playing with princesses, princes, kings, queens, knights, fairies, etc.

Besides her brother, she only has one friend at kindergarten, her name is Mini Golf Ball

She has ADHD

Extra Funfacts:

He tends to communicate either through writing on paper or using his typing app.

Like Drawing Tablet, Tivo showed him how to change the color of his screen, and he was a green color when he was born

Despite being non-verbal, he’s pretty popular in his kindergarten class.

He’s autistic

Extra Funfacts:

He really likes cooking and baking, and helps Bone and Tivo with cooking

He plays with his younger siblings a lot, mainly dressing up for Tablet’s tea parties.

Loves to tease Oodle about being taller than him

has said “i will bite you” to at least ten of his classmates

he’s autistic

Extra Funfacts:

She has synthesia, and associates her little siblings with cotton candy, which is her favorite treat.

She’s really good at making things out of paper and tape, and has made several gifts for her family

Wants to be a traveling magician when she’s an adult

She was an older OC I made last year that I revamped.

Okay now have silly drawings I made

(might make a fic based on these)

Btw:

Bone is referred to by either mama or papa, Tivo is known as nopa (gender neutral version of mama/papa), and Oodle is called papa.

gonna go write fluff brb—

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous; continuing from this post)

“Hey, Noir? Where do you keep your shortening?” The Doctor walked out of the kitchen, a cross look on his face.

Noir Corne, watching TV with his casual mask on, leaned his head back over the couch’s arm. “My what?”

“Shortening,” he repeated. “It’s like butter, but not butter. I need it for the pie crust.”

“Hmm...I don’t think I have any. Do you want me to go get some?”

The Doctor glanced back at the counter. “Would you? I don’t want to mess with your off time.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that.” Noir got to his feet and put on his shoes. “Besides, this is an investment; a couple more bucks for one of your treats is always a good move.”

“Aww. Thanks.” As his boyfriend passed him to go to the store, he caught his arm.

He smirked as he slid his mask off. “I didn’t forget.”

“Mmhmm.” After a suspicious subvocal, the Doctor kissed him and smiled. “Thanks for letting me borrow your kitchen.”

“Thanks for putting it to use. What am I looking for?”

He let Noir go to pull out his phone. “I’ll send you a picture. You’re going to Closure’s, right?”

“Yeah.” He watched the Doctor’s search results populate. “Ooooh, that stuff. Okay, I know where it is. What brand?”

“I forget the name. Red package, green label.”

Noir kissed his cheek. “Got it. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Fantastic.” The Doctor watched him leave before sighing. “I hate to see him go, but I love to watch him leave...Hey, wait a minute, wasn’t that his-”

“Forgot to switch masks,” a familiar voice declared as Noir Corne walked to his mask rack and hung up his original.

He laughed. “I’m starting to recognize them now.”

“I was wondering when you’d start catching on.” Noir shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, red package, green label. I’m really leaving this time.”

“Thanks, babe. Hey, actually, could you get some vanilla ice cream while you’re there?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Alright, let’s try this again.”

“Bye!” The Doctor waved him off, still chuckling. After realizing he couldn’t really do anything until he had the shortening, though, he wandered into the kitchen. ‘It’s going to be a little bit before he gets back...How does he know which mask to wear for what?’

‘That’s his on-duty mask, the one he says he likes the most, and there’s the one he was wearing before. ‘Casual’ my foot - that’s got to be one of the most detailed of the bunch. There’s his sleep mask that hooks up to his breathalyzer, his gas mask, his feast mask which I guess he’ll be wearing to the reception if...if things go that far, and- what the fuck is that one for.’

There was a cow skull staring into his soul. ‘I...I’ll ask when he gets back.’

Some time later, Noir Corne came back. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Awesome! I kind of got stuck, since I need to make the crust before anything else.” The Doctor hugged him, took the bags, and went back into the kitchen to get to work. “By the way, what’s the cow skull mask for?”

“Huh? Oh, the ritual mask? I wear it when I go to Far Eastern ceremonies and festivals. Used to be worn during sacrifices, but I haven’t been to one of those in a while.”

He stopped to look out from around the kitchen wall. “‘In a while?’”

“We did them when we executed people who got the death penalty. Good fun after the whole ritualistic murder part.” Noir slid his mask up when he saw the Doctor’s distraught face, revealing a sly smirk. “I’ve never been to a sacrifice, Doc. We haven’t done them in the Far East since before I was born.”

“You really had me going, there...So it’s ceremonial?”

He shrugged. “Whenever I go do something Far Eastern specifically, like when Yato and I play ko-sen, I’ll wear it. It reminds me of home and my family.”

“Huh.” The Doctor went back to the pie crust for a while, but when he was done and it was baking, he walked back out. “Which one would you wear to a wedding?”

“That depends on who’s getting married.”

He leaned against the wall. “Hypothetically, ours.”

“Ours?” Noir looked at his wall. “Depends on how we do the ceremony. If you don’t want to see me wearing the skull, then my formal mask.”

“That was quick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve thought about it.”

“You...You’ve thought about that?” The Doctor smiled. “Huh. Maybe someday I’ll take you up on that.”

“Someday. Wanna sit down while the crust bakes?” Noir slapped the cushion next to him.

He nodded and slid across the couch next to him. “What are we watching?”

“The True Heiress. It’s that drama I told you about.” That elicited nothing but a disappointed stare. “Come on, you said you’d watch the show if you could start from episode 1, and I managed to catch it at the very beginning.”

“Wait, how long have...You’ve been staring at a still screen for three and a half hours to watch this show with me?”

Noir’s face was unreadable beneath his mask. “Yeah?”

“You are an absolute fool,” he smiled, lifting the mask to kiss him, “and I love you for it. Alright, do your worst.”

“I promise you, it’s good.” As he pressed play, he slid an arm around the Doctor and pulled him closer, smiling to himself at the tacit ‘yes’ from his fiance-to-be he’d gotten earlier...

[an-sceal]

Guys. Please. For the love of little pumpkins.

If you're writing a fic set in say, 1986.

-The Princess Bride didn't even come out until 1987, and was not "a classic" in 1986.

-In 1986 VCRs were still... Okay. Remember when TiVo existed, and your first few friends got it and then, maybe 3-4 years later, a larger group of people had it, but still not everyone, and DEFINITELY not your friends who were scraping by? That was VCRs in 1986. They were a luxury, not a ubiquitous household item. You could rent them from the video place, and people usually did for a weekend treat or a special occasion.

-A majourity of people didn't have cable tv.

-DVDs weren't even invented until 1995.

-CDs existed, but I don't think I even SAW a CD in person until at least 1989. CD sales surpassed vinyl LPs in 1988, and overtook cassette tapes in 1989, but older vehicles didn't have CD players in them. (And the first CD players in cars skipped like crazy every time you hit a bump.) But in any case, unlikely that anyone without means had a CD player in 1986, and definitely not in a car several years or decades old.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[sorrelchestnut]

i just read your dean and lisa supernatural fic from ten years ago and it was literally so incredible thank you for writing that. do you have any reflections on it, so many years later, or is spn no longer something that interests you?

Super belated reply because I’m bad at communication:

Oh man, I’m so glad you enjoyed!  It’s been wild for me to see comments and kudos rolling in for a story I wrote ten years ago that didn’t exactly make a big splash at the time, I’m assuming it got recced somewhere...?  But either way, what a delightful turn!

I gotta be honest, I stopped caring about Supernatural a long time ago.  I felt pretty strongly that the end of season five should have been the ending, as it was intended to be, but I cautiously gave season six a try and... I didn’t hate it or anything, I just didn’t care.  I had the episodes piling up on my Tivo and found myself just watching friggin’ Criminal Minds reruns instead, which was kind of a sign, y’know?  Deleted the episodes, deleted the subscription, and never looked back.

But I’m still really proud of having written that, even if I disengaged from the fandom shortly thereafter.  I think there was a period I was really focused on reclaiming female narratives in the stories I was trying to tell, even if I didn’t entire grasp that’s what I was doing.  (My Mary Morstan-centric movie!Holmes fic was from roughly this same period, for context.)  Lisa was very much that Supernatural thing of a woman-shaped plot device rather than a character in her own right, and it was so satisfying to take that back and give her a life of her own.  It’s really great to find that that still resonates with people, all these years later!

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I'm looking for a short fic that takes place right after the first cannon breakup. Kurt and Blaine share a dropbox online, and Kurt sees what Blaine is watching right after they breakup. If I remember right he watched a lot of Mulan and maybe some superhero stuff.

I can’t find a find a fic like this. Dropbox is an on-line file sharing site. It doesn’t give you to see what others are watching (at least that is my understanding). I tried to find a fic with them using TiVo or Netflix without success.

Readers, is you now this fic, please let us know. - HKVoyage

~~~~~

ETA:  Thank you @readyrex!

Reflection by @likearumchocolatesouffle

Blaine keeps using their shared file server after the break up, and Kurt can see everything he downloads and uploads.

[museaway]

Trick or treat! 👻

friend, hello! I know VLD isn't your fandom anymore, but you are receiving this scene that I'm very fond of from an unfinished sequel.

untitled

Excerpt from the sequel to the incomprehensible vastness of space. This draft is 23k and largely written, but I lost steam and burned out on the ship. I think about finishing it sometimes, but the day has never come. In TIVOS, Shiro remained as a gladiator and worked as a spy for the Blade. Keith eventually rescued him. The following scene is a conversation between Shiro and a Galran who turns out to be related to someone he knows. This is from a first draft so please excuse any quirks. VLD / sheith (referenced). 1,080 words

Seven of the eight Galra in the hold were refusing food and water. The only one that had accepted was the same one who had answered Shiro’s question about how many of them were left. Six were asleep. One, the man with the scar, sat facing the door of his cell with his arms crossed, eyes forward and determined but not focused on anything.

He was the one Shiro had come to see. He was sure he’d met him before. He’d encountered hundreds of Galra in his time in the pits—handlers, medics, others fighters like him. Could he have been part of Sendak’s circle?

The Galran wouldn’t even look at him as he approached the cell.  

“What do they call you?” Shiro asked, not expecting an answer. 

The Galran only stiffened his posture. Shiro sighed. 

“You know, where I come from, people say thanks when you save their life.”

“It was my desire to die.”

“Would you have let one of your own save you?”

The Galran took a deep breath. “You fought in the pits? Which facility?”

“I don’t know the name of the first one. The second was the arena planet. Did I meet you at one of Sendak’s parties?”

“I have never set foot on that planet.” 

There was bitterness in his words, but his disdain seemed to be more for the sport itself than for Shiro. He’d never heard of Galra who disapproved of arena fighting. Of course, what he knew of the culture came from avid fans. People who attended the matches. But it made sense that there would be people who found the sport barbaric. Maybe this Galran had lost a family member to the pits. Maybe he’d been forced to fight once himself. He’d never asked, but Shiro had always suspected that was how Jumi had lost her leg. 

At the recollection of her name, he did a double-take and looked at the Galran’s face more carefully. Although his features were rougher, a blending of genetics, Shiro thought he could see some of her in him. 

“Your mother,” he said. “What was her name?”

The Galran laughed humorlessly. “Since you are asking that, I assume you already know.”

“You’re her son?”

“Was.” The Galran looked up. “I was her son before she betrayed the empire. She was discovered working with a group of traitors. They were stealing ship parts that belonged to the Empire, with the intention of selling them on the black market. She agreed to provide information in order to spare our lives. I was fourteen. We lived as outcasts. She fought to put food on the table. But she was alive because she had betrayed not only the Empire but the people she had worked with. She was dishonorable. As soon as I had an opportunity to enlist, I joined the army.”

“I’m sure she did what she had to in order to protect you,” Shiro said.

“Did you know she was an operative for the Blade of Marmora?”

With Jumi already dead, Shiro figured there wasn’t any harm in confirming it. “Yes.”

“I learned that after her death. She’d been recruited by them before I was born. The rest had been a front to protect them.” He closed his eyes. “Such loyalty.”

Shiro wasn’t sure what he should say. The Galran’s words didn’t match his expression. Although his posture was rigid and he spoke bitterly, his face was a child’s longing for his mother.

“Jumi talked about you,” Shiro said and the Galran flinched. 

“She was ashamed of me.”

“That’s not the impression I got. She missed you. She wanted to see you again after the war.”

“You were close with her?”

Shiro crossed his arms and smiled lightly. “Close probably isn’t the right word. She took care of me. She’s the reason I got out of there.”

“What a waste of a life,” said the Galran. “She spent it in the pits like a commoner.”

“She was pretty accomplished with biotech. Made a lot of modifications to this arm.” 

He held it out. The Galran gave it a cursory look, trying not to seem impressed, although his eyes gave him away. He must not have known that about her. Twice, he cleared his throat before continuing. 

“How did she die?”

“I’m not sure,” Shiro said. “One day she just stopped coming.”

The Galran nodded and inclined his head. “Sendak was not kind to traitors.”

Sendak had not been kind at all. Shiro could still feel the searing liquor at the back of his throat, hear the low rumble of his laughter. He shuddered at the memory of that crooked smile backlit by the light from his arm.

“The Blade of Marmora doesn’t support putting Lotor on the throne,” Shiro said. That wasn’t information he should be sharing with outsiders but he felt it was something this Galran needed to hear. The Galran looked up suddenly. 

“How do you know this?”

“We work with them,” Shiro said. “Listen. We’re on course for Central Command right now. There’s no guarantee Zarkon will ever retake the throne. We are about to hand you over to Lotor unless you can give me a reason not to.”

The Galran’s eyes widened. “You would let us go?”

Shiro lowered his voice. “I could hand you over to the Blade instead. My partner’s one of their leaders. I can call him right now.”

“The human?”

“That’s right. His mom’s also a member. She probably knew your mother.”

“What’s her name?”

“Krolia,” Shiro said. 

The Galran squinted like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to you once we turn you over to Lotor,” Shiro said. “But the Blade won’t harm you. You might not have the same end goal, but right now you’re working toward the same thing.”

After a few seconds, the Galra said, “What about my team?”

“You can all leave together.” 

“Your Princess would allow it?”

“I’ll speak with her,” Shiro said. “The Blade will probably insist because you’re a legacy.”

Almost a minute passed. Eventually, the Galran took a deep breath. “I request you contact the Blade.”

Shiro nodded. “Sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“Brin.”

“Excuse me?” Shiro said.

“My name.” Brin didn’t smile, but his eyes didn’t hold as much malice. Shiro walked out of the hold and tapped his watch.

“Allura, I just spoke with one of the Galrans in captivity. There’s been a change of plans.”

[stonerbughead]

maria watches friday night lights (#4)

season 2, pt 2!! (2x08-2x15)

ugh Matt is really having his Being A Stupid Teenage Boy season huh?

-lol love a good naked dude being chased scene — in this case, Smash on his recruiting trip being chased around by a potential future teammate. Classic.

(it’s kinda cute that Matt came to pick him up tho)

- the latest in season 2 being off the fucking rails: really? Riggins’ new digs include a meth lab on wheels??

-Landry confessing to murdering someone and then having his sheriff dad drag him out of the station to go home is the whitest shit EVER. Like, Landry is literally *trying* to be punished and they just won’t punish his white, cop-kid ass. ‘Murica. (I mean don’t get me wrong: it WAS self defense against someone literally stalking and trying to rape Tyra, but the point still stands that if Landry was a black kid he’d have been tried as an adult and convicted no doubt)

-YESSSSS a MySpace shoutout! we love to see it

“I hate you” - Santiago (and also me) @ Buddy Garrity

-omg Coach Taylor noticing that things aren’t good at home for Riggins and taking him in, my heart!

-Wow in just one scene Riggins charmed baby Grace, warned Tami’s sister not to shame women for eating a lot (“it can lead to anorexia, especially in girls”) and then offered to go out to the store to get baby formula in the pouring rain. What a man.

-and yes, Shelly, you fully grown woman, it IS a bad idea to lust after a TEENAGE BOY

-wow Riggins protecting Julie from the SUPER DRAMATIC TORNADO that made me laugh. Do we get to have a Riggins-Julie friendship??? bc I’d be down. We need more friendships.

-Thank you, Tami, saying “EW” to her sister watching Riggins work out! Someone has sense to know a fully grown woman shouldn’t be lusting after a teenager! Julie can lust if she wants tho, that’s age appropriate.

-DYING at Landry being aghast that Tyra’s never heard of West Side Story.

-oh god, Lyla — it is totally fair to assume your mom would tell your dad she’s getting remarried, especially if she knew you’d be seeing him — so I’m sorry you’re the one who accidentally set off whatever nonsense Buddy is gonna pull now that he knows his ex wife is “marrying that treehugger.”

“Who’s that?” “Some douchebag named Chip. who names their kid Chip anyway?” Same, Tyra, same.

-Landry, one of my biggest pet peeves is asking someone out while they’re on the clock. Like, come on! let Tyra work, boy.

-Jesus Christ it’s like everywhere Julie looks, she has to see Matt making out with someone. That’s rough.

-and oop Matt you busted bc Julie actually knows who Carlotta is!

-once a cheater, always a cheater, Buddy. And yes to Pam for being like “nah bye I’m happy now, it is over.” You treated her like garbage so here we are, sir!

-hilarious that Landry is the one who ends up throwing the first punch that gets the post-tornado, school-crossover tensions to finally boil over

-I like that they show both the fall formal and the party where everyone who didn’t go to the formal is. Nice.

-Aw poor Julie got drunk af to deal with all her feelings. This really is the season where they have Julie and Matt being sixteen year olds in the most painful ways. So maybe it’s good they’re not together during this tho I’m still looking forward to when the tide turns their way again.

-anyway, Tim is a good friend for getting the creep who thought he was “one beer away from getting laid” off of Julie.

-And....in true Texas dad fashion, Eric Taylor misinterprets everything! Noooo. We can’t have nice things.

-This Noelle-Smash partnership is definitely an interesting pairing. Two very ambitious football people courting all these recruiters while Smash’s mom side eyes them in the corner? Hilarious.

-omg not this Oklahoma tech recruiter harassing smash’s mom in the grocery store! GTFO here! Give her some fucking personal space. They really do such a good job of showing as much of the toxic shit about football culture as the inspiring, big moments.

-Aw and I love that Tami tried to help Mama Smash get the guy to go away. It’s such a familiar scene, women helping each other get a dude harassing them away. And then they have a heart to heart in the parking lot? Love that.

-omg what a throwback that Shelly TAPED OVER Eric’s football game to tape a NEW EPISODE of The Office! Love it. “Y’all should get a TiVo.”

-omg watching Tami and Eric work out arguments is so beautiful, they communicate very well! We stan a good marriage.

-wow seeing the other coach from tornado school lose his shit publicly after he knocked down Riggins was uh....wild???? This is the second time he put his hands on Riggins!

-awww Eric actually coming to apologize to riggins for overreacting about Julie when he hears the real story??? Love it.

-Weevil from Veronica Mars shows up as a friend of Santiago’s? Of course.

-WOW and Logan from Gilmore girls as a Christian radio host...tracks.

“Is that your way of telling her you like her?” Jason making a surprisingly astute observation about Tim. (And Lyla.)

-yo why would you invite your daughter’s boyfriend’s family over for dinner just to say they shouldn’t date? (And bc it’s an interracial relationship.) Southern culture is wild to me lol

-wow the racist coach from last season is now off spouting his mouth about how “no wife of mine would be working with a kid at home.” I love that Eric calls him out as sounding stupid and ignorant — you better!

-hearing that Lyla burned her cheerleading uniform is one of the most badass things she’s done so far tbh along with that dealership destruction

-off the rails update: 2x12 was toooo much!! Like, Jesus between Smash’s sister getting harassed at the movie theater by the racists who hate on smash and Noelle...and this plotline with Santiago and his old friends trashing Buddy’s place...it’s like, can we breathe.

-I could not be more excited for Carlotta to leave and another teenage boy with adult woman relationship to end.

-wow can’t believe the plotline where Riggins stole $3000 from a drug dealer isn’t ending well for him. And now Smash is getting arrested bc of those racist guys from the movie theater episode? One recap I read said that too many of this season’s plots feel contrived and I think that sums it up.

-is there any character who HASN’T worked at Buddy Garrity’s dealership at this point?!

-and yikes at all the other salespeople being mad that a salesperson in a wheelchair was hired...y’all mad ugly and ableist for that

-Tyra and Landry are....confusing

-Wait Logan from GG is an actual preacher and not just a Christian radio host? CREEPY. And he kissed Lyla? A lot to unpack there.

-lol Tim trying to woo Lyla is kinda funny to watch simply bc Tim is clearly so confounded by rejection

-I love how much space they give for Smash’s sister’s pain in the Noelle-Smash theater incident. A lesser show wouldn’t have centered her as much.

-is it mean of me to say Jason is boring AF most of the time

-yeah this dreads girl is seemingly way more compatible with Landry than Tyra yikes! Like she made him a power metal mix cd???

-wow this Smash storyline where mouthing off to the press is what gets him suspended....really checks out bc teenage boys are dumb

-I love Tami as a volleyball coach and getting to see another sport! Also as someone who’s been on a losing team I know that feeling of finally winning a game!!! Go Dillon volleyball!!! (Am I maybe currently writing a Bughead fic based on my underdog field hockey experiences? ;) yes yes I am)

-Oh shit now Saracen’s at the nihilistic Nothing Matters phase of teenage angst. Right on schedule!

-lol these two short haired blondes (white dreads Jean and Tyra) being in a love triangle with Landry is wild

-Omg jean just said, “are you a friend or are you competition?” She is not playing!

-I love Riggins dragging Saracen to practice

“I don’t want you to become at an at-risk youth” -Landry teasing Saracen while also sincerely caring about him is some of the best friendship banter on this show. The accuracy 😂

-It seems like Julie gets a lot of hate? But I think I have such a soft spot for Julie bc I was a bitchy teenager with undiagnosed mental health disorders and I just wish so much #growth for her! Also I really do miss her and Saracen’s relationship, I’m so excited I’m almost at S3 where it seems like it’s happening again?

-LOL this guy at the dmv is the first person in Dillon to be like, “no I hate football.” That tracks.

-wow Saracen is getting driven to the hospital to make sure his grandma is okay by the sex worker who was just giving him a lap dance. Amazing.

-also I hope grandma is okay!

-okay Tyra throwing her hat in the ring for Landry at the last minute? Idk I think Jean deserves the win but there’s no way it’ll happen bc she’s a guest actor?!

-awww Saracen’s abandonment issues coming out whiles he in the tub after being sobered up by Eric Taylor. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” 😭 and “your daughter left me for a better guy” - will take that crumb — first mention of Julie out of Saracen’s mouth in a minute

-hey, Landry, my friend: flirting with a girl (Jean) to get her outside then dumping her immediately is kind of a wild bait and switch. But I get it, he’s been in love with Tyra for a long time and Tyra IS right — they had a very fucked up start to their relationship so it makes sense she needed a minute to process her ~feelings~. however I definitely identified closer to a jean in my high school experience L O L (minus the unacceptable white dreads)

-these Julie and Tami driving scenes are painfully accurate, btw. Love them.

-wow the scene of Smash hyping everyone up, the adrenaline/energy of the team cheering with helmets and a classic “clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose” - then the whole team running out onto the field and leaving an empty locker room with just Smash breaking down into tears....#art

-alright y’all I’m gearing up for the last episode of S2! Thanks to @lockitin for reminding me this is the writers’ strike season — I was in eighth grade then and remember being pissedddd about the shortened fourth season of “the office” — so I’m fully prepared for the abruptness to come.

-I love when they parallel showing the white church and the black church

-and Tim going to church just to see Lyla makes me laugh

-ooooof Jason you cannot put on this waitress you had a one night stand with the fact that this could be your only chance to have a baby!!! Omg this poor woman who just pointed out she, too, is NINETEEN.

-wait so is Riggins doing a sports show on a Christian radio station? What?

“I think you’re really hot. Your long hair reminds me of Jesus” -Christian girls being horny for Riggins LOL

-awww Saracen being like “okay Landry you’re gonna impress Tyra right now” before that football play was a cute friendship moment for those two

-aww I love how this Smash storyline is turning out with Coach Deeks whose had his eye on him for six years my heart 😭

-also unclear to me whether Logan Huntzberger the Preacher is a fully grown adult dating a high school senior?? Biggest teen drama pet peeve once again! Stop this!

-Tami is my heroine for just leaving Eric at the restaurant fighting with her ex. “see you at home, honey!”

-I’m sorry, is Jason gonna like actually convince this girl to have a baby with her one night stand at 19??? Oh lol wait THAT ended up being the cliffhanger of the whole season? Fucking hilarious.

well I made it through season 2!!! Super psyched for Season 3, Jay has been hyping me up for it. See y’all next time! (I’ll try to post more for season 3 bc this accidentally got long af.)

[drkineildwicks]

Watching the episode “Lie Detector”....

Okay we’re back with my thoughts on Lie Detector!

First off yeah of course that was Fred IT WAS KENTUCKY KAIJU

And Chris, my dude

I added the soy latte gag from Sonic the Hedgehog to at least ONE of my BH6 fics because I love that gag but holy habaneros that is EXACTLY Chris and Amara’s dynamic holy bleep.

And from what I’ve read about the name Amara the gold thing is another big gag

Because hey?  You know the company Sycorax?  Turns out that’s the name of a witch from Shakespeare’s The Tempest--you know the play Orso Knox was quoting in Season One?

So love the foreshadowing there, even if it goes over everyone’s heads and I only figured it out from a completely unrelated search

And when I did find it I started screaming at my computer

Now I don’t feel so bad about my own research and making everything on the nose but in other languages and with obscure versions of the word

Two truths and a lie--these kids have been on Tumblr

Speaking of Tumblr the big twist hinted at in this episode I already know because like a dunce I didn’t avoid the BH6 tags oh well I keep trying

So the whole lie detector thing with Baymax actually ends up playing out like the episode “Fibber” from Lilo and Stitch: The Series

Gogo with her blunt truth approach

Now see, me, personally, I would have told Fred he looked like he was getting ready to play golf--IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN A LIE

Ugh Mr. Sparkle

Love that even monsterfied High Voltage can’t stand the dude either

Does ANYONE like this guy?  Like even his own mother?

Also I’m firmly of the opinion that Chris is a genetically engineered boy-toy I mean we learned that in Muira-Horror but still

I also think these two have that Yzma/Kronk relation

Chris please don’t wrestle a bear

Also EW

Wait

NO GET YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF BESSIE

Also Aunt Cass ew

Real talk when Hiro brought that dish to school I was legit expecting Fred to rock up and love it

And Hiro WHY YOU MAKE ME SQUIRM YOU’RE A BOY GENIUS WHY DID YOU BE SO OBVIOUS TAILING LIV AMARA

Baymax pulling a fast one on Bear-Bessie was awesome though

And the fact that Granville has a “No Baymax” sign in her class

And pulling that fast one on snooty-boy Sydney

Also HOLY CRUD

Also Liv have you learned nothing from Jeremy Irons you could have totally done it like Die Hard With A Vengeance

Oh wait that was more Obake’s speed

I MISS OBAKE *sob*

Also the way Disney aired this and TiVo taped this ticks me off because the very end runs into the next half-hour slot and the TiVo only tapes from the start of the half-hour block to the end

CURSE YOU DISNEY

[volturialice]

Spork Haven chapter 16: Isabella fucking Swann, liar extraordinaire

welcome to spork haven, where I spork the EL James fic you’ve never heard of

previous chapter | next chapter | contents

previously on Spork Haven:

actor!Edward wrote some fucking laments on his guitar! He tried to snoop around in hotel maid!Bella’s business and had a run-in with Johnny Law! Casual misogyny abounded! He saw Bella on a store TV and ran inside!

if you thought the reappearance of Bella might make Edward less of an asshole, you’re absolutely wrong! picture this: this the poor underpaid retail worker is minding his damn business behind the register of the Electrical Goods Shop when some bitchass british celebrity has the audacity to bust in and demand to know whether he’s Tivo-ing the news. young Mr. Electrical Goods is quite understandably confused, so Edward reacts like this:

eventually, The News (feat. Bella) is rewound and played, and at last, we learn Bella’s secret!

it turns out she’s the star witness in the NYC trial of “the Volturi Brothers”

the Volturi Brothers murdered an undercover cop, “Beth Masen” (stop killing edward’s mom 2k08) who was investigating their sex trafficking ring, and Bella witnessed the crime

the murder happened “behind Juilliard” (remember, Bella was a Juilliard student, presumably getting her BFA in Naked Cello)

Bella has been held in protective custody by US marshals for the last 7 months

in other words, I fucking called it

the news said Fuck That, Who Gives A Fuck About Safety or Confidentiality and revealed Bella’s full name:

...Swann?

listen..;; far be it from me to tell anyone how to write their fanfiction, but one thing you should probably do is spell the protagonist’s name right. just a handy tip

anyway, luckily for Edward he has a day off tomorrow, so he decides to head straight to the airport and hop a flight to NYC to confront Bella.

now, if an author possessed of basic competence and a single brain cell were writing this story, we would get a time skip right about here, to the part where Edward arrives in New York and finds Bella.

but lest we forget, this is EL James!

in other words, we get to read one thousand+ wholeass words about Edward arriving at the airport, booking a flight, bitching about his fans, calling Bella nasty names, and sipping vodka in first class. boyfriend of the fucking year rofl

here’s how it plays out. Mike drives Ed to the airport, where Edward is preparing to make his “own fucking travel arrangements” for the first time ever. Edward is nervous about being recognized and potentially shot because

and you know what? for the first time in sixteen chapters, he’s not wrong.

but the only person to approach him for a photo is a sweet, polite tween girl, whose blushing reminds him of Bella. oh, except he has to tell us that in the in the following way:

ah, the romance! he also stumbles over Bella’s real name:

he then proceeds to flirt with the airline employee

whose name is Esme, just like his mom

and she gets him on a first class flight to New York. once on the plane, he calls Eric to order him to book him a hotel etc in NYC

make your own fucking travel arrangements, apparently. while sipping vodka, Ed picks up the New York Times

he tells us that he’s very angry at Bella, in case we couldn’t pick up on all the subtleties erika’s been peppering in throughout this chapter.

once in New York, he meets 

in case we forgot what a champion of women’s rights he is. the chapter ends as he falls asleep in his hotel, nervous about seeing Bella tomorrow.

lol what a fool. the real mystery isn’t anything to do with Bella, it’s why this absolutely pointless chapter exists at all

best “fucks”

“running like fuck”

“a fucking news program”

“completely fucking thrown” (esme the airline worker)

“shaking like a fucking leaf” (airline!esme again)

“practically fucking swoons” (still airline!esme)

“getting fucking huskier” (airline!esme’s voice)

“big fucking news”

“dreadful fucking scam”

“star fucking witness” (bella)

“usual fucking stuff”

“a six hour fucking flight”

“one of the shirts I fucking wear”

“fucking New York”

“New fucking York”

next chapter: fucking wasps at a bank holiday picnic

[zephfair]

Okay, okay but if you don't know what the show is about this episode sounds like a bad porno with Leo using his "wiles" and Riario offering Nico “temptations.”

[gemsandr0ses]

ok for context, tivo and oodle tried to confront the spore person and got their asses whooped and bone ended up saving them

i might write a fic about this lol—

[nurseydexunsolved]

My first ever nurseydex fic! Please go on ao3 and leave comments and reblog & all that jazz, I’ll love you forever. Also! If you have a prompt you desperately want someone to fill, just send it my way! Okay enjoy :)

//

William Poindexter was wheeling someone, but for the life of them, no one in the haus could get him to confess who.

Nursey noticed it first, entirely on accident. Dex had walked into the kitchen, shoulders at least two inches lower than they usually were, expression calm, and when Nursey knocked over his water, Dex just laughed and said, "Don't worry, I'll clean it up."

Nursey stared at him, shocked. The shock had to be the reason he said something as stupid as what he said next: "Whoa, bro, who took the stick out of your ass? You're acting... weird."

Unfortunately for Dex, Ransom, Holster, AND Shitty were all in the kitchen (preparing for the kegster that night) when Nursey said this, and the way they all immediately stopped their conversation and zeroed in on him was truly frightening. Dex barely had time to give Nurse the stink eye before he was being devoured by their well-meaning but invasive friends. Nursey wanted to join in on the chirping, but he realized he was feeling a little bit sick to his stomach, so he escaped upstairs.

Despite this, or maybe because of it, Nursey was the first person Dex told.

A couple days later he still hadn't cracked, to the endless irritation of Ransom's spreadsheets. They were hanging out in the library with Chow, but when Chris went to the snack shack downstairs, Dex tapped Nursey's foot with his.

"Hey," he said, which made Nurse's heart start thumping a little bit harder, because what could he possibly have to say that Chowder couldn't hear? And Dex's expression didn't help. He looked... nervous. And a bit vulnerable, like he was made of glass, which of course was never a good combination with Derek's clumsy ass.

"Yeah?" he said, trying to be delicate.

"I kind of have a question."

"What's it about?"

"Well, it's about... poetry," he said, looking anywhere but Nursey's eyes."Poetry? Bro, have you been holding out on me?? Do you need me to critique your couplets? I'll do it, I promise, there is nothing I want more than to read poetry written by Mr. Grumpy—"

"Shut up," Dex laughed, the tension eased a little bit. "No, it's not my poetry. It was written... well. It's kind of, um, about me. And I want you to tell me if it's good."

Nursey's heart plunged into a cold lake. "Oh, for real? Well, I mean, there isn't really such a thing as bad poetry, you know. I'm not elitist about that sort of thing." The look on Dex's face told him that was the wrong answer. "But, I mean, I'll take a look. Do you have it with you?"

Dex wordlessly handed it over, and Derek read.

 "I've never been very religious I believe in entropy and science, experiments and evidence, gravity and stars But then I look and I swear, there is something in the glow of your golden eyes and well that is an unexplained phenomena if I've ever seen one And perhaps you were always meant to disprove my hypothesis Because I swear I found Virgo in the constellations on your collarbones And there must be a gravity around you because I feel it like a tug on my sternum when you leave And if there is a God, he must be a sadist Because I am sure he made you and thought, "Here is a smile they will start wars for.""

 There was a lot going through Derek Nurse's head.

First, his English major brain started critiquing it: too short, not a very smooth flow, some odd sentence structures.

Then he thought, God, who could describe Dex in cliches. Gravity? Constellations? I would have said—

Then he stopped himself. And started to panic. And realized this person was really in love with Dex, because duh. They weren't wrong about the smile.

He glanced down and saw he'd been gripping the page tight enough to crinkle, and smoothed it onto the table.

"So?" Dex said, searching Nursey's face almost desperately. "Is it good? Do—do you like it?"

Nurse almost laughed at that. Was it good? Yeah, maybe. Did he like it?

Fuck no.

He focused on the first question.

"Um, well, I really liked the way she tied the subject to her questioning religion and science, almost making him a messiah-like figure, and the continuity of that metaphor—"

"Nurse. This isn't workshop. I asked you if you liked it."

Derek tried to imagine that he'd been presented this piece in workshop, and not by his d-partner, who was currently giving him the most unbearably eager expression. Nursey couldn't imagine why his opinion mattered to Dex, but he glared down at the paper and said, "Yeah, overall, I liked it."

Dex stared at him for another really long moment, and Nursey didn't know what to do with his hands, and then Dex grabbed the paper and shuffled it around.

"So. I mean, not to pry, but obviously—"

"His name's Evan," Dex said. "I met him at that Sunday kegster, the day party. He told me he wanted me to 'look' at his poem, but it's obviously about me, and I don't know. He's really nice and cute and it's just." Dex sighed, avoiding Nurse's eyes. "It's nice to know someone looks at me like that. That someone could, in any fucking universe, describe my eyes as 'unexplainable phenomena.' But I didn't know if it was just bullshit or what, so I wanted to show it to—to you."

Dex finally looked him in the eye again, and—oh. Nursey had been so fucking stupid, he was so mad he hadn't thought of writing poetry about Dex's eyes first. They were so raw, so expressive. He was a tad dumbstuck, until he managed to sputter out, "Well, do you—do you like him too?"

"I think I could," he said, like it was a confession. He looked away, toward the window, and Nursey really wished he was a photographer in that moment, so he could capture that look. "I really think I could."

//

In the end, Evan gave himself away.

Dex and Nursey were sitting alone at the kitchen table, with Bitty humming happily at the counter, when Derek saw it.

Before he could help himself, he whispered to his phone, "Oh, you know not what you do."

This earned him a very confused look from Dex. He simply handed over his phone, watching Dex's eyes bug out, as he raced to unlock his own phone and delete the incriminating evidence.

It was too late. They heard the loud, "Dude!" followed by Holster's booming "DUDE!!!" before Dex had even pulled up instagram. Ransom was on insta almost as much as Bitty was on twitter.

Dex's fate was sealed.

"Ummmmm DEX?" came Holster's voice down the stairs before he thundered into the kitchen. "Who is this HOTTIE commenting WINKY FACE EMOJIS on your selfies??"

"It's not a selfie—"

"Actually Holtz, I believe the comment in question was, 'looking good dex,' then the winky face emoji."

"Oh, of course, how could I be so foolish."

"Did y'all already send the screenshot to the gc?" Bitty asked, looking down at his continuously vibrating phone. "Oh, give Dex a break, will ya?"

"Yeah, I would love to, Bitty," Rans said, grinning at his phone with what could only be called malicious glee, "but it turns out Dex's new boo-thang has been posting delightful candids of our boy here along with captions written in—wait for it—free verse poetry."

"How the fuck did you find--? He's on private!" Dex objected, the confusion momentarily distracting him from hiding his very red face.

"Dude, this kid can write," Holster said. "Are you sure he's not only dating you for an excuse to write autumnal prose?"

"YES!" Rans yelled. "The poetry drew her in! Lardo joined the flaming!"

"GOD," Dex groaned, muffled into his sleeves since he was facedown on the table. "LET ME DIE HERE.”

"Now, of course we all support you and your sexuality, but in the interest of equal opportunity chirping—"

"SHUT UP HOLSTER!"

//

The real problem began when Nursey went to his poetry writing seminar on Wednesday, because now he knew what Evan looked like. He’d put a face to the poem, and discovered the proof confirming Evan’s sadist theory that God was personally TiVo-ing Derek’s Actual Life and laughing his ass off, because Evan?

Evan was in Derek’s poetry writing seminar.

Even better, when the prof counted them off into groups for mini-workshop sessions, Evan was in his group.

Guess which poem he brought to workshop?

Derek would have been the first to admit that he maybe didn’t handle the situation as maturely as possible. He had a reputation in their class of being opinionated, but even he knew as the words were coming out of his mouth that he was going overboard. He talked about this metaphor not hitting just right, that line maybe wasn’t totally accurate? (After all, he did know who the poem was about. He could judge accuracy.) By the end of class, he had practically rewritten the whole thing for him, but to his credit, Evan took the whole thing like a champ, taking notes on everything Derek said.

“By the way, are you married to the whole second-person thing?” Derek said, hating the words even as they came out of his own mouth.

“Um, well, I kind of conceptualized it as a literal love letter. Like, I wanted to evoke the feeling in the reader of like, the person who I love is pouring out their soul to me in an ode, and all that’s missing is some cursive and a postage stamp in the corner,” he said.

“That’s a really cool idea,” Derek gritted out, mostly because he meant it. “Is that why it’s so vague?” he asked, because maybe there was hope. Maybe he really just wanted Dex to read his poem.

“What?” Evan replied, looking surprised.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have any particular details in it: this could be about anyone. Did you do that intentionally so the reader could envision it being addressed to them?” And, honestly. His prying was getting a little pathetically obvious now.

“Oh. Um, I guess you’re right, but that wasn’t intentional. Actually, it is about a really specific person. Ha, guess it’s just the closeted queer kid in me, avoiding any obvious markers of gender or whatever. You’re totally right, I’ll work on that.”

Derek sunk back into his seat, real guilt settling on his chest as their groupmates sent Evan sympathetic looks.

It would have been much easier to hate Evan if Derek didn’t like him so much.

//

He didn’t mean to write the poem.

Honest. It just spilled out of his fingers, typed into a shame-note on his phone, not even titled.

Well, until the third draft. Then he titled the note, “Freckles.” And then he had to transfer it to google docs, where all his poetry went, just to be safe.

And somehow, some way, Derek ended up in the library printing out 20 copies for his entire workshop to read.

It wasn’t that he hated himself; nor even that he was convinced that it was that great of a poem. The whole “having feelings for Dex” thing was too confusing and intense and new for him to be able to be objective at all. It was just, he’d procrastinated the hell out of the assignment, since he'd had two essays due the same week and thought, “It’s a poetry prompt. I have notebooks stuffed with poetry. I’m sure I have something.”

Except, then it was the night before Wednesday, and he realized he didn’t have anything that fit the prompt.

Well. Except one poem.

Which was how he printed out and handed his own ode to Dex right into his boyfriend’s fucking arms.

Oh yeah, because that was a thing.

A couple weeks ago, half the team had “accidentally” run into Dex and Evan on a date, where Dex had introduced Evan as his boyfriend and Evan had tried to chat with Nursey about their seminar and Nursey had excused himself to the bathroom, to quiet his shaking hands.

Since then, whenever Dex went to kegsters and the bars and even a house party at one of Rans's Weird Sciencey Friends's place, Evan was with him. Which like. If you didn't know they were together, you probably wouldn't even guess it. Nursey had never seen them kiss, and the most PDA he'd spotted was Dex dragging Evan out of a kegster by his hand. Technically. But the thing was, Dex was so...different when he was with Evan. Evan made him laugh, like belly laugh, all the time. Dex was constantly smiling or laughing or joking whenever Evan was in the room, and Nursey really just could not deal. If he'd thought he had it bad before, that was literally a joke compared to the sight of Dex animatedly telling a funny story, swinging his arms everywhere, barely able to finish for laughing so hard.

The problem was that he wasn't telling the story to Nursey.

All this, maybe, possibly, Nursey could handle. He could move on. If Dex hadn't walked into their room looking extremely distraught less than a week ago.

Well. Extremely distraught on Dex looked like mildly perturbed on most other people but Nursey could read Dex pretty well at this point.

"Dex?" he said, "Are you alright?"

He expected a brush-off, like every other time Nursey inquired after his emotional state. What he got was, "I don't know."

Nurse swiveled away from his laptop, full attention to Dex. "What's up?"

Dex gave a frustrated huff. "It's just...ugh. It's gonna sound shitty."

Nursey raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Dex huffed again. "Okay. But I might not say it right. Um, so Evan has some... mental health issues. Which is fine! That isn't the problem. I like all of who he is, not just... ugh. The problem is... I don't think he's really... dealing with it?"

Nursey kept his face impassive. Dex knew about Nursey's mental health struggles as well, and yet he chose to come to him for this. He would withhold judgement until Dex said what he had to say.

"Like he... he makes me happy, and he makes me laugh, and he makes me feel good about myself. But he puts himself down all the time. And I don't think he's fishing for compliments or reassurance or anything, but it feels like, if I don't reassure him every time, I'm just feeding into it and reaffirming those thoughts and making everything worse. And that's like, a lot of pressure? And he has some really concerning symptoms. Like, he'll just casually drop that he had a panic attack in class or that he dissociated for hours this morning and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I can't, I am so not qualified for that. So I'll be like, 'maybe you should see a therapist or get a diagnosis or like...talk to someone'? And he'll just be like 'I probably should' and then do nothing. And I try to tell him nothing will change or get better if he doesn't do anything, and I'm just starting to feel like if I don't make his mental health a priority then no one will, and because I care about him, I want to see him, I don't know, be okay. But that means taking it all on, and I just, I don't, I've been monologuing about this for long enough and please help."

Nursey nodded, face still carefully composed. He'd been in a similar situation with a cousin, and told Dex he was on the right track and had to take care of himself first, and to talk to Evan about it first, and if after that he couldn't prove he was making an effort to improve his health then Dex should end the relationship. All in all, Nurse was quite proud with his maturity in handling the situation, and could sleep well knowing he gave Dex the advice he would give anyone.

Except.

Knowing this was so detrimental to Nursey's dumbass feelings-for-Dex heart balloon, which expanded with shallow, selfish hope with the knowledge that Dex wasn't totally happy and that Evan had, like, at least one flaw.

It was the stupid balloon that had made him write the poem in the first place. He just had to let some of the air out before it popped. How could he have known it would end up like this?

He reread the poem nervously while class was winding down, tuning out the prof's droning about atmosphere.

 i bet you heard that your freckles were constellations, stars scattered across shoulders but i have never heard something so wrong stars are dead things, explosions of heat and gas, and what we see are the remnants of light, hanging on only to the echo but your skin is a living masterpiece a splattered miracle of pigment and sundrops and pointilism you might be the water droplets that bead up on the car ride home, as i watch two drops race each other to avoid looking at your hair or your eyes or your freckled fists on the wheel, because i know if i look i will do something stupid like fall in love— but it's too late. i didn't see it coming because i always thought it would be gradual, but all it takes is for me to see the fireworks of freckles on your sternum, permanently burned onto your skin like the imprint of the sun on the back of my eyes and it explodes in my chest, this thing that i let happen so no, dear, you are not like the constellations so fickle, disappearing every morning, hiding behind the clouds your freckles are like freckles because i have tried and tried, but i cannot for the life of me think of a more beautiful word

 An elbow in his side jolted him back to class. It was Evan's.

"Can't wait to read your poem!" he said.

"Haha, thanks," he said.

Haha, fuck, he thought.

//

"Nurse. I read your poem."

Nursey's eyes tracked slowly up from his reading to the puppy-dog eyed boy in front of him. Evan. Shit.

"I can explain," he said.

Evan slid into the booth next to him at Annie's. "I need your advice."

Nursey repeated Evan's word in his brain once, and then twice, and then a third time, really breaking down each word, and he was still confused. "What?"

"With Dex. I have eyes. You obviously really care about him. Like, you're in love with him, I mean. And maybe that makes me stupid for asking you, but I don't really have anyone else I know who'll hear what I have to say and have Dex's best interests at heart, and so I'm trusting you to be honest with me, because I don't really think I'm capable of being honest with myself right now."

"I'm sorry, are you asking me for relationship advice?" The words left his own mouth but they still didn't make sense.

"Kind of. It's just. Has Dex told you anything about me?"

He knew what Evan was asking. "He told me you had some mental health issues, yeah. And that it's been... well. A support system can't be one person."

Evan nodded, like this was what he had been wanting to hear, which only succeeded in confusing Nursey more.

"Yes. Exactly. So. I wanted to ask someone who actually knew Dex about it, because I don't think he's being honest with me. I mean, I think he's trying to hide his feelings because he's afraid it will like, break me, or make me feel worse, or whatever. I guess my question is... am I hurting him?"

And, fuck. All of Nursey's irrational dislike of Evan flew out the window when he heard that soft little question, Evan's voice almost too raw to bear.

Which was why Nursey knew he was being honest when he whispered, "Yes." He rushed on to amend, "Well, it's not actually your mental illness, whatever that is, Dex never specified. It's that Dex feels like the responsibility for your mental well-being is entirely on his shoulders, which is not healthy for anyone to feel, ever. He really cares about you, Evan. But from what I gather, you're putting a lot of weight on him. You need to have someone else besides Dex: your family, other friends, maybe a therapist. Okay, no, as someone with bipolar, you actually should definitely have a therapist. But it's gonna take a while, dude. And until then... yeah. You are hurting him."

The fucking look in his eyes, man. "I need him," he said.

"I know," Nursey replied. "Which is probably why you have to let him go."

Evan sighed, a release of understanding, of learning something you already knew. "Thank you. I just needed someone to say it out loud to me." He looked down at his hands, picking the skin off the side of the nail. "Um. Do you know how... where would I find a good therapist? Do you think?"

//

Things after that were harder. But also better.

Dex was devastated, he was. But Nursey could also see the relief in the set of his shoulders. That Evan would be okay, or he was on his way to being okay, and it wasn't Dex's job to fix him. Or anyone's job but Evan's, honestly. Nursey had almost forgotten the whole ode to Dex thing.

Almost.

Until Dex burst into their room, paper in hand, yelling, "Hey, Nurse? What the fuck is this?"

Nursey froze at his desk. He didn't have to look. He could feel the words on the paper in the room with them, haunting him. Why did he have to be so melo-fucking-dramatic all the time?

"What's what?" he said instead of all that, swiveling around calmly, thinking maybe if he acted chill his blood pressure would be fooled and decrease.

(Or maybe it would increase just enough that he could have a heart attack and be in the ER and not this room?)

"Nursey. Please don't insult my intelligence."

He risked a glance up to Dex's face, which didn't look mad or embarrassed or any of the emotions Nursey would immediately associate with an unwanted love confession.

"Look, you were never supposed to see it, okay—"

Dex let out a laugh, one of those laughs when there's some sort of emotion in you and you don't really know where to put it and it just bursts out into a laugh. Nursey thought of volcanoes and pillow fights and popped balloons. His fingers itched for a pencil.

"Oh, so you were just gonna let me be ignorant forever? You were really never gonna tell me this is how you feel?"

"I—" Nursey watched Dex's face, but he really couldn't reconcile Dex's tone with his words with his face. They were all criss-crossed, like Dex's eyelashes when he woke up from a nap.

His hand actually made it all the way to the pen on his desk, screaming to write it all down, before he forced it to return back to his lap just to fiddle with. It wasn't his fault Dex looked so beautiful like this. So alive.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

This was clearly not the right thing, because he saw the irritation settle into Dex's face, like tinder on a campfire, before he closed his eyes, leaning back, and breathing in deep.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come in here picking a fight. I want you to be honest with me. Please."

"I—" Three seconds ago, he'd been composing poetry, prose, metaphors about his feelings. And yet somehow in this moment, he couldn't think of one single thing to say.

"I'm obsessed with you," he blurted. "It's kind of embarrassing, actually. I think about you literally all the time. And I always write what I'm thinking about. So I wrote that."

Dex shook his head, his lips turned up faintly in disbelief, like he was laughing at a joke no one had told yet. "I'm sorry, when did you write this?"

"Um...like... a month ago? I think? Maybe."

Dex's eyes closed, like he was having trouble with the math. Dex was really excellent at math.

"So you're telling me you've liked me about as long as I've been with Evan."

Nursey mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "maybe."

"What about his poem?"

Nurse blinked. "What about it?"

This time Dex really did laugh. It sounded a bit delirious. "When I showed you his poem! Did you really think I wanted your opinion on his prose?"

Nursey said nothing, but the look on his face probably betrayed that yes, that was what he'd thought.

"For someone who can write such brilliant shit—" he waved the paper around, "—you really are dense sometimes. I was giving you a chance! To say something, to stop me, I don't know. But then you said you liked it, so I thought, 'well, that settles it, he's not into me. Time to move on.' And then I did. And then you have the audacity to write this motherfucking—"

Dex looked like he was edging into full on rant mode, so Derek stood up quickly and interrupted with, "Hey Dex?"

Dex hit the brakes, looking up at Nursey like he very much wanted to finish. "What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

And, man. Dex was so beautiful like this, arms askew in the middle of the point he'd been making, hair mussed, face confused, like his words had stopped but his brain was veering off course. He kind of looked like a mess. Derek's heart swelled.

"Okay," he said.

Derek rushed in, worried if he waited any longer Dex would keep talking.

He didn't.

Dex's hands found Nurse's waist, paper still in hand, gripping at his back and grabbing him, pulling him closer. Nursey framed his hands around Dex's face, dragging him into the kiss. One of his hands gripped at the back of Dex's neck, sliding up over his short hair, like he'd wanted to do for months.

His mouth was so warm, just like the rest of him, but more, somehow. Nursey opened his mouth, sucking on Dex's lip. Dex's hand reflexively squeezed Nursey's waist. Before he could get too cocky about that, Dex caught Nursey's bottom lip in his teeth, scraping slow over it, sending chills down his scalp over his whole body.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dex said, pulling away, kinda, in the sense that his mouth was no longer attached to Nursey's, but he was still pretty entwined all up in Derek. He leaned his head down to catch his breath, his panting blowing over Derek's neck, giving Derek the mental image of Dex kissing him there, which, fuck—

"I was gonna say something," Dex said, eyes still looking kind of scrambled.

"Mm-hmm," Derek hummed, leaning in close again. One of Dex's hands left Nursey's waist and brushed his own lips, and yeah, Nursey knew the feeling. His mouth was literally humming, floating away from the rest of him.

"I can't remember," Dex said, grinning, already leaning back into Derek.

"That's okay," Derek murmured against Dex's pulse, which he could actually feel thrumming rapidly against his lips. "We have time."

And he kissed and kissed and kissed him, until there wasn't a single freckle left untouched.