#he also has like zero filter - whatever pops into his head just comes out his mouth

[molar-bear-sims]

...so she met up with the club's founder as soon as she got back from work. after all, she needed some friends who didn't have scales!

[full-of-mercy]

Wolfwood rumbles a sound of quiet protest that he'll probably deny later as Meryl peels herself away to tend to the lights and whatever else she has in store. While he paws at her back as she retreats, he makes no effort to seize hold of her again.

There's a Meryl-shaped warm spot fading on the sofa beside him, and so he does what he does best.

One of the things he does best, anyway…making a nuisance of himself.

Up, up, he stretches his arms, arching his spine off of the upholstery, rocking his hips and extending his legs out until his toes bump the underside of the coffee table. A deep inhale, and he tenses, popping the space between his shoulders and at his lower back in order, like a zipper parting. Huff-groan, he wiggles in place and sinks deeper into the cushions, dropping his head against the backrest to watch the goings-on with a lazy half-lidded interest.

It's nice.

Quiet time. Peaceful time. They spent so long on the road, driving endlessly. It was a scant few months and it feels like a lifetime, longer still since…

Since.

And there she returns, sinking against his flank again. The early evening city light filters through the blinds and curtains above and below, spearing gaps through the overall warm darkness, and Meryl navigated her way through the apartment effectively blind. Nicholas notices because he is in a position to notice.

He is also in a position to drape his arm back over her shoulders, letting his hand come to rest just above her hip.

"Hm?"

Does it hurt? He squints and chuckles low, leaning closer…closer. If he imparts a squish, he has absolutely zero compunction for it. She can take a bit of his weight.

"Bit like wormsound out in the middle of nowhere, I guess. Radio static maybe. High pitch, little clicky, louder on the street side. S'gone now." Not as loud as the halls of Julai, he doesn't say. A soft sniff, and he angles to set his cheek on top of her head, looking for all the world like he's poised to just flop over on top of her. He doesn't. Not yet.

She might feel the cut of his grin as the mischief crosses his mind, though.

It is not hard to imagine what could, and would, be done to those she cared about most if she continued in her investigations or even wrote that article. The lengths some would go to to protect their name and their work, defending it against those who would judge them.

Meryl had seen it first-hand when Conrad explained himself and what he dedicated his life to. Those bloodstains were smeared across the operating table and throughout the room, and Meryl would occasionally find herself picturing them with total clarity as if she was still standing there.

The feel of his arm wrapped around her as she is pressed further into his side breaks her out of these thoughts. Meryl releases a soft shuddering breath, like she has just emerged from a nightmare and leans more into him. 

Quiet moments such as these are few and far in between. She does not remember, in recent memory, ever taking the time to just sit down and listen to the sounds of the people and the environment around her. If it had not been about meeting deadlines and working on projects, it was about preparing for the job she had worked hard to obtain, always putting the work before all else.

Her senses are not as strong or acute as his are, but she can still make out the muffled sounds of people in the hall before they go back inside; a door slamming—either on purpose or by accident; the din of sounds outside because it is too warm to keep the windows closed and the aircon she’s got is working overtime in keeping the place cool.

His explanation has her furrowing her brow ever so slightly, though she doesn’t move to look up at him. Not yet, at least.

She remembers the harsh lights in her tiny bathroom and pulls herself away from Wolfwood, as much as she laments the loss of being pressed against his side, but she’s gone just long enough to turn off any lights and unplug anything thinking it might help. It might not, and maybe it’s just silly, but when she gets to the window, she spares only a glance outside before she pulls the cord and lets the blinds fall.

Meryl hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary—not that she would know what to look for—but once the blinds are drawn, she returns to him, settling against his side once more and pulling his arm over her.

“Did—does it hurt?” She looks up at him now, which forces her to shift a little, though she remains close. 

A beat passes. “...what did you hear? What did it sound like?”

[i-need-air]

Truthful mess.

Summary: Truth quirk shenanigans. HCs type with Bakugou, Kirishima, Shouto and Shinsou.

Note: Still don't know how to add "Read more" on phone, still need to make a masterlist. At least I have coffee. [I’M DOING BOTH RN, BE PROUD;;;LOOKATTHEReADMORE] Ty for reading! ♥

Bakugou Katsuki:

× well, shit

× he fucked up real bad and now he had to pay for it

× noticed something was wrong when he thanked Kirishima for saving his life instead of giving him the usual snappy attitude

× made the redhead promise to keep the secret or he'll kill him

× seriously kill and incinerate his body and was 100% serious about it

× Bakugou tried his hardest to keep his mouth shut and everything went okay until you just existed in the same room at him

× he'd just get the fuck out because all he wanted to tell you was how good you looked in whatever you were wearing or how beautiful your face was when kissed by the rays of sunshine and he was so confused

× he literally wanted to word vomit all of that

× thankfully the police arresting the mf that did this to him informed Katsuki about the effects of the quirk itself

× approximately 3 days of spilling truths

× he could handle that

× easy

× but not really; the less he talked the more he needed to spill out his mind

× he'd still snap at people, they were just dumb and he voiced that but

× well, hello there, [y/n]

× he prays you don't waltz around him

× life can be a bitch though

× it happened while training, Cementos made an area for each of you to improve your quirks and guess what? you're placed just by his side

× you just waved at him and he ignored you

× asshole much; until you kick-dropped and broke a big piece of cement in half

× "Fuck, that was so sexy..."

× your head turned slowly towards Bakugou because that was his voice, definitely, no doubt

× but it was raspy and low and it did some things to your, ehem, lowers and holy shit

× Bakugou looked like a deer caught in the highlights; he was full "step on me" mode and????????

× instantly turned the other way and yes, he is blushing

× he just couldn't hold it in, man

× so you're confused, blushing, Kirishima is near-by shook as fuck because he's ✨ realizing things ✨ since of course he's now Bakugou's self-proclaimed guard dog

× and Bakugou is back at ignoring you, his friend and the world

× you decide to keep an eye on him because that was not normal and oh my god why is that voice still affecting you? did he seriously say that??

× meanwhile you catch him looking at you from the corner of your eyes

× boy is staring real bad

× so you just go his way

× he panics as you approach him and blows shit up

× "Don't fucking come closer!" you freeze because what the hell? you thought you were getting along? yeah he's been snappy recently but it's Bakugou, he has mood-swings

× but not like this? at least with you?

× also what he said before just gave you hope??

× so you decide Fuck it all and get closer, noticing how Kirishima also approaches, looking like a bodyguard

× you raise your eyebrow because Excuse you?

× "[L/N], you should leave him be for now–"

× "Get out of my way or I'll break you, Kirishima."

× so you're having a staring match with the red-head, almost nose to nose when legit a growl shakes you to the core

× "[Y/N]'s mine, Shitty Hair, back down." he said between his teeth, his palms sparkling, quirk ready

× so his friend backs up, hands raised in defeat but a knowing grin on his face

× even in full shock you expected him to ignore you again but he just stomps towards you angrily, teeth greeted

× "You have a thing for him, hmm? You like Kirishima?" he was glaring at you, breathing heavily but suddenly locked his eyes in your lips

× and while he's throwing this fit or whatever it was, all the class kinda stopped whatever they were doing to see what's going on

× but Cementos ain't having any of that so parts you guys with a cement wall and orders you to keep training

× Bakugou was never more thankful because holy shit what was about to happen?

× you're full mind-blown, remembering his words again and again not even focusing on training; you decide to talk with his dumb ass to clarify what he said and wAs he jealous? i mean he literally said you're his so—... HE FUCKING SAID YOU'RE HIS????

× after that he went back to his grumpy old man form, you don't talk again until days later, although you did try to approach him again, many times, because YOU'RE HIS????????

× it's when he finally realizes the quirk is wearing off and he's relieved because it got to a point where he couldn't sleep

× so when you confront him in the common room the next morning he shrugs it off with a "I thought I'd accidentally confess that I love you and that would've been a problem."

× he freezes

× you freeze

× he wanted to call you a dumbass and move on until he figures his shit up but...

× that's when he realizes the effect of the quirk was dying off in waves

× save him from the mortification and confess too, please?

Kirishima Eijirou:

× he's normally a truthful guy

× but not like this, man, not like this

× Fatgum saved his ass but it was too late since he already got hit by a quirk, although none knew what it was about, so his mentor was having a full Panic moment

× later on he was informed about it's nature and was confused because nothing changed?

× he still compliments people, he's still his old self and is actually so happy that's the case

× thinks he's manly because he's honest about his feelings

× although he forgot about a tiny little detail

× his big fat crush on you

× like he'd blush when you came around, almost stuttered when responding to you, would try harder when you were around because pretty please, notice him, shows off more, all the I-need-YOUR-attention bag

× because he's smooth but in a Kirishima way, you know?

× felt he had zero (0) game [so not manly of him]

× will hands down not avoid you; thinks it's lame to run away from this

× who would've thought this was the best thing that could've happened to him?

× still had his boyish charm, cute smiles, blushes

× but now we add the honest "You look amazing today. Well, more than usual." with a wink because if he can't stop himself, at least he'll make it work big time

× and oh, shit that's doing stuff to your poor heart because his compliments are all over the roof? wth is going on?

× everyone knew about his feelings for you but now they really knew

× literally takes him half a day to spill all out

× he did try to clear his mind of those feelings in class because that would be so awkward and weird; he spent so much time daydreaming how to confess before and doing it there was definitely not the plan, but something more personal and meaningful

× when Kiri saw you in the common room though, alone and minding your own business, a grin broke on his face and had hearts in his eyes

× Bakugou had to hear a lot of shit about you, tho just rolled his eyes; "whatever, shitty hair."

× because you're so flawlessly beautiful and you're not even trying

× your head snaps up at him, blushing

× OOP–did he just blurt that out?

× so he's laughing awkwardly because not like this, man

× but goes with it because We die like men here 😤

× cue word vomit about how great you are and this quirk hit him and god you're amazing and it's not a lie because remember when you first met at UA? well he thought you were an angel and when you smiled at him? perfection and your blushing face is adorable and needs to see it everyday and ok this quirk needs to stop–

× meanwhile

× [Y/N].exe has stopped working

× legit tho, he won't shut the hell up and it's adorable

× all day he's been super smooth about his compliments to you and now he's the sweetest mess ever

× and you only notice yourself smiling when he points it out and says it's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his entire life

× and even if that almost makes you 404 again you laugh and walk towards him

× which he follows and steps closer to you too

× smiling

× so he calms down when you're not freaking out about what he's spilling and goes back to being cha-cha-real-smooth again

× "I want to be able to call you mine"

Todoroki Shouto:

× another guy that doesn't really notice it at first

× he got hit by this weird blue-purple dust while on patrol with his dad

× and Endeavor went feral on this low-life villain deciding to attack suddenly

× low and behold, seems the guy wasn't a villain, just a civilian that sneezed and activated his quirk by accident

× quirk that landed on Shouto here

× which just stared confused because what?

× explanations happen, Endeavor is looking down at Shouto expecting something anytime now

× but Icy-Hot here just shrugs it off because it's okay, it's just 3 or 4 days

× funny thing is his dad asked him questions and realized pretty quick that Shouto has been really honest with him until now, which bummed him because Endeavor Is Trying™

× Todoroki Shouto was confident that nothing would go wrong so he forgets about it basically

× two days pass; class time happens

× is so fucking casual about it but it's so hilariously confusing

× he was honest before but he was quiet in general, that's why his honesty came in small dosages

× now he has no filter and won't shut up, he has this absolute need to share his thoughts

× my boy has opinions about everything

× but especially about [Y/N]

× oh yeah, he definitely tells you how that color enhances your natural beauty or how you're really smart

× is so casual and nonchalant, shooks everyone, leaves you full confusion mode while he just smiles and leaves

× legit doesn't realize it

× he complimented you before, that's the thing, but now he's really intensifying it but without changing the tone and execution and it's just a mess

× example:

× goes from "You changed your hairstyle. It looks nice." to "The way you style your hair now makes your eyes pop out more. I love it."

× lowkey proclaims his love about you; it's so obvious it hurts; you have to take it like a champ, man

× it takes Tsu to actually ask what's going on, in the first hour of class

× [even Aizawa is listening, pretending to sleep]

× explains why he's acting like this; "I got hit accidentally by a quirk that makes me speak only the truth."

× everyone just goes crazy while you're piecing stuff together in deep thought

× "Who do you think is the strongest in the class?"

× "Aizawa."

× lowkey a little shit

× "Between the students."

× "Me."

× big time a little shit

× it's until Mina asks who he likes that all hell breaks loose

× Shouto just turns to look at you, blinks and says your name

× just as everyone goes mental after a moment of silence, the bell rings signaling the next class, to which Aizawa [the mature man he is, acting as if this wasn't the best tea-spill he's gonna have at lunch with the other teachers 💅] wakes up, silences everyone and continues class

× every pair of eyes are on you all class

× Shouto is having an existencial crisis because he's actually realizing himself that he likes you

× a lot

× hands down he thought about how great you are, wondered deep in though at night why his heart beat so fast when you smiled at him, how come he got jealous???? when you'd pair with someone else to study or train... the boy didn't even know it was jealousy until now

× as in now he knew he wanted to hold your hand, have more inside jokes between you two, kiss you, marry you, wait what—

× you on the other hand are hyperventilating because Shouto likes you

× and you like him back and oH my god, wHAT just happened????

× lunch break comes, nobody moved from their seats while Todoroki just walks by, stares at you, slight blush on his face

× "I'd like to speak alone with you. About my feelings. Towards you. I like you."

× nice alone chat, Shouto 👏 👏 👏 👏 👏

× legit nobody is breathing, not making a single noise, waiting for your reaction

× so through stutters and all, you have to grab him by his wrist and get the hell out, the attention being too much

× before you reach a quiet place to talk he just stares at your hand

× "I like it when you touch me. Your hand is warm and it makes my skin tingle–"

× so you're a blushing mess when you let go of his wrist fastly

× "Do you not like me back?" [insert kicked puppy face]

× [insert you telling him that you do, but all the attention in class was killing you]

× "Good. Now hold my hand properly."

× that day Shouto learned that being bold with you was the perfect way to get the sweetest reactions out of you

× it's called teasing and Todoroki Shouto will never stop

Hitoshi Shinsou:

× Shinsou had a Reputation™, ok?

× Calm, cool, collected, that's Hitoshi Shinsou

× so how come Monoma did him so dirty?

× it seems the blond borrowed a quirk from someone he knew and fled to school to just bring Hell on Earth

× but the only person he managed to throw the quirk at was at Shinsou

× it wasn't even intended for him, but for Bakugou to embarrass him

× so here he was, Mister Tired-of-this-fucking-world now having another reason to be done with everything

× the boy wasn't dumb

× made a strategy just as Monoma was apologizing for the mistake

× somehow the blond took a liking on him and even if he was now part of class 2-A, Monoma proclaimed he was a 2-B at heart; moving on...

× 3 to 5 days of not talking lies

× great, amazing, marvelous, incredible, fantastic

× Rule #1: Avoid [Y/N] at all costs

× which would prove rather difficult since you're part of the same group he was in

× and you were starting to be really good friends

× something he loved/hated because yes, he wants your friendship but he also wants much more

× so when you came to class, would you look at that! Shinsou is sleeping!

× when you went to lunch with the squad? he fled the scene, not opening his mouth

× asked to borrow a pen in class? didn't even look into your eyes as he just gave you one

× after 3 days of this you were starting to get annoyed

× and Midoriya was writing shit down in that notebook of his mumbling stuff every single time Hitoshi bailed

× what you didn't know is that the whole Dekusquad caught on to Shinsou's shenanigans and demanded answers

× well, Ochaco did and she instantly got them because she's terrifying when serious

× so Izuku is in deep fascination with the quirk, Iida is stiff as fuck and Uraraka has this really creepy I-know-something-you-don't smile on her face; Shouto was existing there too, minding his business 🍵

× you really tried to grab a hold of Shinsou but he wasn't even answering your texts

× time to make a game-plan

× and the easiest way to understand what's going on was through Deku and that suspicious notebook of his

× it wasn't even that hard to get it because you got the perfect opportunity basically thrown in your lap

× he was mumbling your name as he was writing down

× you literally demanded to see what he's writing about involving you

× the boy went full panic but before he could manage to escape the situation, the guy that's been avoiding you grabs you by your forearm and tugs you in the hallway

× there he was, purple messy head you wanted to smack, looking all uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck

× "Ok, listen, I have something to tell you and I want you to know through me, not through that notebook" he sighed, eyes avoiding you

× and while you're hurt and exhausted he just mumbles "Who knows what type of embarrassing stuff he wrote there..."

× hold up, he blushing?

× so while you're processing that he explains

× "Been hit by a quirk..." yada-yada, this and that

× "Ok, but why have you been avoiding me of all people?" you just go hard on him for a little bit, not hiding that you're hurting "Do you not trust me?"

× he's caught off guard

× "Because I love you and I'm scared you'll never look at me the same."

× longest silence of his life

× he never felt the need to fill a silent moment more than now

× so he mumbles

× oh, yah, he just blurts it all out while looking everywhere but you

× "I mean you deserve better than a guy with a quirk like this. I didn't want to make things uncomfortable between us so I thought avoiding you was the best, just so we can continue being friends and–"

× he's a fucking mess and it hurts you that he's saying stuff like that because holy shit you love this sleepy idiot?

× of course you kiss him to silence his rant

× and when you separate from it and start to reassure him he's just a m a z i n g, how dare he say stuff like that and how dare he avoid you for so long; now it's his time to kiss you back slowly and sweetly

× cue instant, lazy smile

× "You're adorable..."

[gwaciechang]

I Don't Wanna Go Home (1/15?)

So, this is probably going to be my most ambitious project ever. I'm going to do a fusion of the video gave Subnautica Below Zero, with the characters from Cloverfield Paradox. You don't have to have played Below Zero first, although it would certainly help. Also, as someone who has played the game, I tried my best to explain everything, which is why the first few chapters are going to be really slow, and why everyone talks so much. I also made a change to the canon of the first Subnautica: instead of Riley curing Kharaa, it was the precursors.

So, a few more things before we start this chapter. I hate "y/n l/n" stuff, so I just call the pov character Ling Tam. I don't think anybody actually uses that name in the story, but that might change, and in any case, you're free to replace her name with any name you like. Also, reader is in a relationship with Mundy at the start of the story, although that, obviously, won't last because it's endgame reader/Schmidt. Okay, that's everything, enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

@hope-to-hell @vicanth @feralrunaway @october505 @potentialproblem01

"Hey, Monk, you told me to come get you if that weird signal showed up ag-" you stop when you see the vehicle technician on the radio.

"When are you going to send me some more art? There's still a patch of bare wall here that could use some color and a touch of genius!" Monk says, probably to his kids, as he waves you away. You close the door as silently as you can, and not a second too soon, because Mundy opens the habitat door and stomps his way inside with a box. Behind him, you can see the prawn suit, with several other boxes still tied to its massive arms. There's an inquisitive face popping out of the water that you decide not to tell him about. Why shouldn't the creatures have a little fun?

"Another day, another slight by the winged furies," Mundy grumbles.

"Another interference alert?" you ask, trying to lay the sympathy on thick before you inevitably burst into laughter.

"As usual," the xenobiologist sighs theatrically. "Also as usual, I went out to see what the problem was. And, of course, it was-"

"Frozen stalagmites of feathered bird excrement," the two of you say together.

"I fear the career impact of saying this officially-"

"If you can even call what you have a career," you interrupt, getting yourself a faceful of dirty towel.

Besides throwing the thing you're really hoping he hadn't just used to wipe up bird shit in your face, your boyfriend continues as if you'd never spoken. "I could swear they're targeting me personally. The week I was out with a flu, I came back to find the tower spotless. Monk laughed at me when I asked him how he'd cleaned it. Silly me!"

"As if Monk would ever clean anything," you agree. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing left for me to try but quitting. But I know that's what the birds want me to do," he shakes his fist at the sky as he walks back outside to retrieve the final box.

You turn back to the screen and wonder about the signal again. It's been appearing on and off for days, ever since you got the radio tower up and running, and what would a repeat call be besides a distress signal?

"Ah jeez, these sea monkeys are going to get me in trouble," the box in Mundy's hands is scratched through in places. "This is the third shipment that those buggers have gotten their weird little hands into! Now we're running low on flares and I'm going to have to search nearby nests for stolen cargo," he sighs as he drops a mangled box on the top of his cluttered workstation. It makes a bang that would have disturbed Monk, if he weren't on the radio, or Schmidt, if he were a normal person who came back from work at normal hours. As it is, there's just you to look at him, a welcome break from potential distress signals and what they might mean.

"Just put some of your drawings on the tower, they'll be too scared to go near it!"

"Ha ha," Mundy says sarcastically, before going outside to park the prawn-

"Oh, for fuck's sake! It’s fucking gone!"

You and Monk, still on the radio, step outside, but sure enough, the prawn suit has disappeared without a trace, as far as you can tell.

"I'm still trying, quietly--I don't want any more trouble--to figure out where I went wrong. I was sure Tam had picked up a distress signal!" Monk bends down to peer at the tracks. "I was right on top of it. And then it just," he gets to the edge of the glacier, stands up, and shakes his head, "it just stopped. What if one of the precursors is still down there? And how could a hivemind alien race so advanced that they singlehandedly ended a galaxy wide pandemic leave someone behind? I'll probably be home before I ever get to find out, and it will fall to some future researcher to come and find out, I guess, I hope," he waves the two of you back into the habitat and closes the door. "But that means I'll get to be with you little rascals." His voice fades and disappears.

"So, game tonight?" you ask, hoping to erase the distress off Mundy’s face.

"That'd be nice," he says with a weak smile, just before Jensen slams her door open.

"Mundy, inside!" barks the overseer of operations.

Mundy sighs and drags his feet as he walks into Jensen's office. No sooner has she closed the door with a snap than you and Monk have your heads pressed against the door.

"Mundy, I'm not blaming you, but what do you mean, 'it's gone?' Where did it go? You had trouble retrieving the drop pod and decided to jettison the prawn suit?"

"I didn't jettison the prawn suit! I left it outside to put the supply drop away, went back for it, and it was just gone! Someone must have stolen it."

"Who? Who else do you think is on this planet besides the five of us?"

"It could be a creature ate it. I didn't lose it, that's for sure. I'm careful with my vehicles!"

You can practically hear Jensen’s eyeroll as she continues, "I'm sure you are, but you have to admit, there have been a lot of 'accidents' involving our very expensive vehicles."

"You want to follow me on a few runs tomorrow? See what it's like? Conditions are way harsher than anything I ever imagined. You can't really understand it from inside your office!"

Monk winces, and you know there's a matching pained expression on your face. Talking back to Jensen is a terrible idea, but Mundy's sealed his fate, and now all that's left is to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"That won't be necessary," Jensen says with syrupy calm. "Thank you for your time. I'll write it up as an accident."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mundy's voice is shaky. Jensen doesn't respond, so the vehicle technician’s deliberately loud footsteps approach the door, prompting you and the precursor researcher you're spying with to run like your asses are on fire back to your stations.

"I think it'd be best if Researcher Tam takes over your duties with the leviathan tomorrow," Jensen says, loudly enough for you to hear, even through the door.

Now it's your turn to wince. Mundy gives you a small smile as he walks past, and then Jensen's in your line of sight, hands on her hips.

"I believe I told you to go somewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," you drop everything to put your thermal suit on, and pour a final cup of sweet, sweet dirty bean water in your thermos. There's no cappuccino machine allowed in the cave, lest it somehow thaw out the entire frozen leviathan Mundy, and now you, are studying. Or maybe it was just Schmidt being anal about his robots, you wouldn't put it past the guy whose lips are basically permanently attached to Jensen's ass.

On the bright side, they're also attached to a guy who knows what he's doing, and is thorough in explaining what Mundy does when he's here. Still, it's barely five minutes in when the silence gets to you.

"I love and hate exploring these tunnels," you start to babble, not expecting Schmidt to respond. "Yeah, they're marvels to the power of the ice worms. I mean, the amount of ice they are able to cut through in seconds, it would take us at least a couple days. Their tunneling mechanism is ruthlessly efficient. Alterra could only dream of having this sort of mining capability, and yeah, the ice worms uncover mineral rich pockets as they tunnel. But going beneath the surface is so risky, I mean, we've lost so many already, and I don't understand why we have to stay in this particular area of the glacier. I can't wait to get off this hellhole, or ice hole? Whatever."

You can hardly believe it, but you hear a clear snort coming from Schmidt’s workstation. You fill your flasks with a wide smile on your face, which doesn’t fade even when you make your way back across the tunnel to see his with its usual pinched, sour expression.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?" you wave the thermos at him. "It might help you get the taste of Alterra boot leather out of your mouth," you say in a singsong voice.

"How much sugar and cream is in that?" Schmidt wrinkles his nose. "No thank you."

You decide to let that roll off your back and chuckle a little. "I guess my proclivities toward having coffee with my sugar is well known, huh? Just like how I should know better than to invite you to game night with me and the other researchers, again?"

Is snow blindness affecting your vision, or did Schmidt just smile?

"You should know better," he says in a soft voice, and then he takes out another set of small, sterile flasks, and hands them to you. "Get some samples from the skull, too, use the elevator."

"Thanks!" you grab the flasks, only to drop them the second you put your hand on the elevator lift button, because that's a fucking rotten peeper hanging off the edge.

Schmidt snaps his gloves off and cleans it up, which is nice of him, even if the things he says while he does it aren’t very nice. "Mundy," he practically spits, "always leaving food around. At least the nutrient blocks and the filtered water don't spoil."

"Well, the man likes to munch on things," you try to lighten the mood. "Are you telling me you don’t leave snacks around your workstation?" Schmidt opens his mouth, but you interrupt. "Don't tell me, you have a timer telling you when to go to the fabricator to make food and eat?"

He closes his mouth and turns a little red.

Holy shit, you were right? That's the saddest thing you've ever heard. "Okay, you know what, you are definitely playing Alien Intruders with us tonight, because I'm going to cook. Real food, too, none of that fabricated stuff."

"Oh, I am?" Schmidt raises an eyebrow.

"Yep! And I'm going to make my favorite dish, just for you, you'll love it! Roasted Chinese potato with shredded marblemelon and salt."

That was definitely a snort, maybe even a laugh, and it carries you through the rest of the day.

[wtf-yoongi]

“Let me play you what I have.”

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | yoongi asks for your help with a song

genre/warnings | you’re both musicians (even though you don’t work in the music industry) so musician fluff i guess?

words | 1,648

note | i’m not even kidding at this point i think i’m in love with yoongi and i’ve never been more serious in the entirety of my life

“Mine was never this glamorous,” you joke as you stare into the high ceilings of the ground floor of the building. “This place is gigantic.”

“Well, it is fancy and over the top,” Yoongi agrees and shrugs as if he’s 100% indifferent to it all. “But this is just to impress visitors.”

You look around, trying to take in as much as you can while you follow Yoongi to the elevator area. Everything seems to be made of either glass or marble – well, the best glass and marble money can buy. The attention to detail is remarkable and you can’t help but agree with Yoongi: this is a little bit over the top.

“I thought you had seen this the last time you were here.” He looks at you now, taking turns between staring at your face and your hands. You can’t do it here where the walls are made of glass even if he’s wearing a cap and a mask, but you know his fingers are twitching.

“Not really,” you correct him and shake your head lightly. “First time I was here was before the tour. You gave me a ride and we took the elevator straight from the garage.”

“Oh…” Yoongi nods. He remembers now. “I should have showed you the place that day, sorry. We were in a rush.”

There’s a soft sound, signaling one of the elevators has finally arrived. Yoongi impatiently taps his right foot on the ground like he just wants the doors to open faster. You know he’s a little apprehensive from the moment he calls you to come around earlier, but you didn’t think you’d find him like this. 

You just want to calm him down somehow.

As soon as you’re safe inside the elevator with the doors closed, you extend your hand to him and his fingers stop fidgeting immediately to take yours. “You didn’t have to come greet me downstairs,” you comment casually, but there’s gratitude in your eyes.

“I know, I wanted to,” he says, taking his mask off and putting it in his pocket with his free hand. “And I needed to get out of the studio a little bit.”

“Something wrong?”

“Just a song that won’t come together, the usual,” he mocks and smiles to the ground. “This one is going to be stubborn, I just know it. I’ve been playing with this idea for days now and I don’t think I have a full verse yet.”

Yoongi’s voice is tired and passionate at the same time. Even if he’s complaining about it, you know he likes this sort of struggle to accomplish something he’s happy and satisfied with – the reward may be as grand as the effort. He’s always hoping for that. Artists are always hoping for that, you know it all too well.

“I was actually hoping you’d help me, if you don’t mind.”

He brings it up quietly and casually, but when you turn your face to him he’s not looking directly at you, deciding to keep his stare into the ground. He isn’t exactly comfortable with that idea and doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he’s happy to try.

You’ve talked about doing something together, working on lyrics or melodies or whatever came to mind, but never put much thought into it. Like that old group of friends who keep on saying you should meet sometime, but never actually do. You’re not mad if it never happens, somethings aren’t supposed to happen anyway.

Yoongi finally raises his head after he doesn’t hear it from you for a while, eyes expecting a positive reply so he doesn’t have to pretend that never happened somehow. Inside his mind, he’s already thinking about ways he can make it less awkward.

“That’s why you asked me to come?” You ask in a curious tone. 

“Well, yeah,” Yoongi laughs lightly and presses his left hand to the back of his neck, scratching it a bit in a nervous habit. “It’s ok if you don’t want to, though. It’d be good to just hang around and do nothing as well, I’m just waiting for some papers I have to sign and we can go somewhere if you want. It’s probably good to give the song some time as well, since…”

“We can try something, yeah,” you interrupt before he runs out of air. “I’m a little rusty, though, I don’t really know if I’ll be able to help with anything.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi shakes his head and his hand follows. “I want you to listen and give me your opinion, that’s already enough for me. And I highly doubt it.”

You don’t have time to question him what the last part is about. As if on queue, you arrive on the 21st floor and it’s really not as fancy as the lobby, just like you remember, but you can see someone was still thoughtful enough to add fresh flowers to the vase in the corner. The people in charge of running the building are not sleeping on the job.

Yoongi is silently dragging you around the corridors and you can see the directions on the wall, but not for long enough to make any sense of them. A dozen more steps and you both stop in front of a door, Yoongi quickly tapping the keyboard on the right. There’s a beep before it opens.

He reaches inside to turn on the lights, but ultimately lets you in first. The room looks just like the last time, simple and straightforward in furniture and color, but not in music equipment. You can see he upgraded the digital piano to one that looked more like a real one, but still plugged to the wall. Maybe it makes him feel better knowing it’s a little similar to the real deal?

“New piano?”

“Yeah,” he assents, closing the door behind him. “These keys feel a little better, you know?”

Yes, you know. You can always tell when the keys just feel better under your fingertips. Playing becomes easier, practicing technique feels less like a pain. You nod.

“Let me play you what I have.”

You sit on the couch in one corner while Yoongi sits on his own chair, moving his magic mouse to light up the screen in front of him. You can see there are many layers on top of one another, but definitely not as many as you would expect coming from him. 

You’ve seen him working from home well past midnight, shirt half dressed with headphones on, keeping quiet so he doesn’t notice you behind him. Making music is intricate, but Yoongi likes it even worse, adding one thing on top of the other, filter after filter, until it feels like it’s too much and he can finally recognize what is standing out in a bad way. Then he mutes and saves the ones he likes for another time.

He makes some quick adjustments before pressing the spacebar, turning slightly so he can see your reaction. The beat you hear is nothing out of the ordinary – it’s a 4/4 time signature major key song, exactly how most happy pop ones go.

However, in true Yoongi style, there’s something else to it. The bass line tricks your head into some sort of rhythm and, despite having the poppiest of beats, you can hear an acoustic guitar streaming in the very background, almost unnoticeable. More bars pass and you can now hear a piano playing some sort of arpeggio – simple, but effective. It grows into what you feel is a chorus and then Yoongi is hitting the spacebar again.

“That’s all I have,” he confesses and shrugs, looking at you from under his eyelashes and trying to figure out your puzzled expression.

“It’s good, I like it,” you start and he’s soon looking at you incredulously, waiting for the real response. “Yeah, it needs work, but you made it sound like you had nothing.”

You’re both chuckling softly now and Yoongi lets his body fall into the chair completely, covering his face with his hands.

“Tell me what I have to do!” He begs with a muffled voice. “I hate this song already.”

All of a sudden, you feel like you should have done this earlier. His busy schedule kind of gets in the way all the time, but not really all the time. You wish any of you had enough courage to bring this up earlier, to stop being that group of friends that say things with no real weight to them. 

Musicians are sometimes overprotective of their work or scared to stick their noses into somebody else’s, but Yoongi falls into his normal self too fast – too comfortable, no sign of nervousness anymore. He’s not scared to show you his unfinished and imperfect work. It feels like you’ve been doing this for ages.

“I told you I’m a bit rusty, I…”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he interrupts with a smile, letting his hands show his face again. “You’re a classically trained pianist, 15-plus years of music classes under your belt, three years of being a trainee with top marks in songwriting. You can’t say you’re rusty when I hear you playing my piano at home. You’re not. At all,” he emphasizes as you continue to laugh at his reaction.

“Yeah, but I have almost zero experience in music production. And I also gave up being an idol so…” You try to argue, but he’s not having any of it.

“I bet you my new piano you have at least 13 ideas for this, I just feel like you do.”

There’s a smirk on his face now you can’t resist.

“Where are the lyrics you wrote for this?” You ask and Yoongi soon hands you a notepad with many lines scribbled on the first page. “Can you hand me that pen?”

Read more ›› masterlist

[katrinawritesthings]

jonghyun / key; tops can’t sext; PG-13

“Oh my fucking god,” Key mutters. He does not fucking believe. “What the fuck else was I supposed to send you?”

“Something with at least a modicum of effort,” Jonghyun says.

Jonghyun delicately pushes his phone a millimeter to the right, trying to lean in front of it so he can see the screen without leaning in front of the camera so that he blocks it. It's finally at a good angle, he thinks; he's got it stacked up on top of several books and the box that his newest scented candle came in to give it a couple inches of extra height on top of his dresser. It's looking down at the edge of his bed, not so steeply that it can see the frame, but not so shallowly that it can see the mess of all of his pillows and blankets that he shoved up to the front. Just perfect enough for a nice area for him to sit in very pretty and adorable. 

He smiles, proud of himself. He sits down so he can pull his cute black thigh highs up around his thighs , fixing them up nice and pretty. He fixes his hair in the camera next, pushing and playing with his bangs until they look perfect, then pops his lips a few times and grabs his lip gloss to add a little bit. They need to be perfect and glittery and glossy. 

Then he stands up just so he can shimmy in his sweater dress and pull it down to cling around his thighs and then gently tug it up to just barely cover his ass. He makes sure to make it look casual, rumpled but not messy, lazy but not sloppy. he sits back down, then wiggles and struggles into the position he wants: on his side, back and booty facing the camera, legs curled up just slightly, dick very cutely visible behind his thighs, upper body propped up on 1 elbow, his other hand tucking his fingers into the hem of his sweater teasingly, a bitten smile sent over his shoulder.

He squints at his phone. That's a pretty good shot, he thinks. Maybe be a little closer to the edge. He takes a moment to mentally figure out how he's going to get exactly back into this position in 10 seconds, then takes a deep breath and gets up again. 

 With one knee still on the bed, he reaches over and taps the shutter button on his phone. Then he scrambles to get back into position, making sure he's in the right spot, his dress is perfectly imperfect, his hair doesn't get mussed, his pose is precise, his expression is exactly what he wanted it to be. He barely has a second to spare before the picture takes.

He gives it a few seconds after, just to make sure, before he sits back up at the edge of the bed and grabs his phone to look at it. When he does, he frowns. The lighting is a little weird. He puts his phone back, then gets up and opens just his blackout curtains, leaving the fancy decorative set of curtains that go over them still closed. Just to let in a little more natural light.

He takes the picture again, and then again because he didn't make it in time and it was a little blurry, and then bites his lip, grabs his cute puppy ear headband from his closet, puts that on, reapplies his lip gloss, and takes another picture.

 That one Jonghyun is happy with. He smiles down at it, zooming in to look at his perfect hair and glittery lips, then zooming out and cropping it to fit better in the frame and adding a cute heart filled filter on top. Once it's perfect, he rolls onto his stomach to type out his sext. He kicks his feet in the air as he writes a couple of nice little paragraphs that detail how exactly he wants to be rawed, makes sure to end with a suggestion and a leading question and several pink emojis.

Finally he's satisfied, and after checking his spelling and grammar a couple of times, sends it and the picture to Key. 

15 seconds after the message sends, he gets a reply.

It's a dick pic. It's Key’s dick, pulled out of his boxers, flopped onto his thigh. In the background Jonghyun can see his legs sprawled out over his couch, the entire mess of jackets and hats and bags at the opposite end, one of his socks half falling off. There's also a stray pube sitting on the sliver of skin between Key’s shirt hem and boxers.

The message that comes with it is, “Super cute what are you going to do with this puppy boy ; )”

Jonghyun sees red for a second.

 ~

Key thumbs through his phone lazily, checking his Instagram notifications while he waits for a reply text from Jonghyun. It's been at least 20 minutes; he's probably busy or something since he's not replying straight away like usual. A little rude, if you ask Key, to start up sexting when you're not even ready to commit to it, but whatever. He's not complaining. He's just chilling with his phone and his half chub, waiting patiently.

Rattling from his back door makes him startle and drop his phone. Who the fuck. He's going through his mental list of who he's given a spare house key to when he hears the door open and a voice call out through the house.

“Hey dickhead, it's me,” the voice says, and that's Jonghyun. Key relaxes, and then frowns, confused, as Jonghyun appears at the doorway to his living room, putting his sunglasses up on his head and smiling bright.

“Did you text me you were coming over and I didn't see it?” Key asks, picking up his phone again. If that's what happened then that would make Jonghyun’s silence for the past 20 minutes makes sense.

“Mmm, no,” Jonghyun hums. “I read your last message and I just. Had to come over and tell you how it made me feel!” he chirps, bright as the moon at night, sharp teeth biting into a glossy pink lip. He walks over to stand behind the couch and smile down at Key. Key takes a second to process this, and then smirks himself, running his fingers through his hair and raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” he asks. If he'd known that Jonghyun was so easy to please, maybe he would sext him more often. “Why don't you tell--”

Before he can even finish that sentence, Jonghyun makes a sudden, intense movement. He slaps one hand on the back of the couch, crouches down, and then, before Key even understands what's going on, the couch is moving. It's lifting, turning, tilting over, and then he's rolling, and then the floor is coming up very very close very very fast, and then he's screaming, and then he's in pain.

Mostly in his dick, which was still out, and which just made very close nuzzly friends with the carpet, and which now feels like it's on fire a little bit. 

Key grunts into the carpet, disoriented. “What the absolute fuck,“ he thinks. 

“What the absolute fuck,” he says out loud. 

“Do you know how long it took me to send you that text?”

“What?” Key repeats. He pushes himself up on his forearm and pushes his hair out of his face, squinting up at Jonghyun.

Jonghyun has set the couch back down and he's leaning up on the back of it, elbows on the cushions and hands crossed at the wrists. He's also smirking, the asshole, down at Key like he's proud of himself. He's changed out of his cute sweater dress, too, exchanging it for one of his sleeveless black band T-shirts. 

“Like 25 minutes,” he says accusingly. He points one very loud finger at Key, his mouth turning into a sharp frown. “It took me like 25 minutes to get all dressed up and get a perfect angle and take that picture and write all of that shit,” he snaps. “Fuck you and your five-second dick pic.” 

“Oh my fucking god,” Key mutters. He does not fucking believe. “What the fuck else was I supposed to send you?”

“Something with at least a modicum of effort,” Jonghyun says. Key grunts under his breath, shaking his head as he pushes himself up to his knees. What the fuck. Getting one hand on the seat of the couch, he pushes himself to his feet, puts his dick away, and then flops back down onto the cushions in time to see Jonghyun hopping over the back. He lands in the space next to Key and immediately leans into his side, getting himself comfortable with Key as a pillow. Key scowls at him. 

He opens his mouth to say something very grumbly and scathing, but before he can, he notices that all of his clothes that were on the end of the couch are now all over the floor. Instead, he tsks loudly and tries to get up and gesture at all of them. Jonghyun pushes him right back down and snuggles even closer to him, smiling his brattiest. 

“Maybe if you cleaned your house every once in awhile and weren't a shitty top then they wouldn't be there,” he says. Like this is Key’s fault.

“I am not a shitty top,” Key says. Jonghyun just raises his eyebrows at him and then very pointedly rolls his eyes over to his phone. Or, wait-- “That's my phone,” Key exclaims, reaching for it. Quick as lightning, Jonghyun grabs his wrist, and then his other wrist when he tries a second time. Key struggles while Jonghyun effortlessly transfers both of his wrists to one hand and then picks up his phone again. ”You're too buff,” he mutters.

“Thank you so very much for buying me coffee,” Jonghyun smiles. And sure enough, Key sits and watches and whines helplessly as Jonghyun orders himself a latte using Key’s account. “What do you want?” he asks, easily making Key poke himself with his own fingers. Key glares at him, then sighs and says, “There's a button to just get my regular.”

“Ooh, neat,” Jonghyun chirps, finding it and poking it. He finishes the order, then tosses Key’s phone into his lap and gives him back his wrists. “Every time you send me an awful zero effort sext back to something I clearly spent time on I'm going to come over here and steal your phone and buy myself a coffee,” he threatens."If you don't have time then just don't send anything back."

“Fuck you,” Key snaps. At the same time, while Jonghyun turns and snuggles him and grabs the remote to turn on his TV, he pulls open the internet and looks up how to take a better dick pic.

[blu-eh]

quaranteens

[AO3]

Or: a day in the life of the quarantined high school spider-kid.

Cindy Moon thinks she knows weird. 

New York has always been a little strange on its own—there’s a reason it’s so well known despite the general vastness that is the entirety of America. Still, the rise of superheroes and supervillains when she was a little girl had been a punch in the face. Aliens had been more of a straight-up knockout at the time. The Avengers formed and, yeah, that has been somewhat of a wild ride because now there is always something happening in New York. Still, those somethings are usually handled by at least one of the wayward superheroes who now live in the city she calls home. 

Until they weren’t. Like half the population of the universe, she just up and died for about five years before they were suddenly resurrected and thrown into a world that they didn’t really belong to anymore. If aliens were a knock-out, she's not quite sure how she'd describe the previous months of absolute anarchy. 

It’s alright, though, because eventually everything calmed down and life is back to its normal amount of weird. Social media is currently bopping because she (like half the population) had missed five years’ worth of memes and are desperate to learn. Even now, eight months later, she still hasn’t caught up totally. She still goes to school in the morning. She says hello to the friends that were blipped with her (and says goodbye to the ones that weren't). There are other happier things, too, like that time she caught Spider-Man on the rooftop singing some offbeat pop song. He spent the better part of an hour desperately trying to get her to delete the shaky video she took while trying not to laugh. 

(She posted it anyway. It had almost half a million views by the time the week was over.)  

So, yeah, Cindy is pretty confident she knows weird. 

You can imagine her reaction when the quarantine started. 

No one is quite sure what caused it, exactly. Cindy had spent late nights on google like any other reasonable person trying to find an answer for why all of New York and most of the east coast has to be locked up in their homes for the foreseeable future. There no certified answer, really, but Cindy can pretty safely assume it’s probably something supervillain-related. That, or it’s aliens again. 

(She really, really hopes it’s not aliens.) 

The reason doesn’t change the outcome. Work and schools close. No one is allowed to leave their homes or apartments. Teachers spend exactly a week setting up online classes, and Cindy very much enjoys that break, before she’s forced to attend first-period chemistry at exactly seven-thirty in the morning online. If that isn’t enough to certify a horrifying start to her day, then the mandatory ‘video cameras on at all times’ rule certainly would. 

But that’s all fine. It’s whatever. Video cameras on at seven-thirty for online classes might really suck, but there are some exciting things about it too. Mainly, Cindy can now confirm her theory about how Suzan hasn’t outgrown her middle school horse girl phase given the number of horse pictures still hanging up on her furthest wall. Or there’s that fact that Flash’s apartment is always strangely empty and startlingly clean despite being so absurdly big and nice. Or that Abe’s bunsen burner collection next to his bed makes him a nerd with a capital N. 

So, it’s not all bad. She’s known her classmates (or, at least, she's known half of her classmates) since they were all young, but even she has never really interacted with them in a situation like this. Being stuck in quarantine with everyone else lets her see just a little bit closer into everyone’s lives.

This all leads back to the most crucial point—Cindy Moon knows weird. And Peter Parker? Yeah, Peter Parker is weird. 

Peter’s life is no mystery to most of Midtown School of Science and Technology. Especially not to Cindy, who’s known him since they were both toddlers in the same preschool. He’s not exactly subtle in any way, either. She knows about how he lives with his aunt in Queens, and, subsequently, his uncle’s untimely and incredibly devastating death. She knows how he’s a nerd that likes school, how he wears science pun t-shirts every other day, and how he’s just about as close to a teacher’s pet as you can get while being the school’s greatest genius slacker. 

She also knows that he mysteriously got jacked their freshman year of high school, and no one could ever explain why. Something happened, then, because he quit a lot of their shared activities. Robotics club had been the first causality, but it doesn't stop there. He started getting into furious whispered conversations with Ned more frequently in the hallways when they both thought no one was there. He started skipping decathlon practice not long after, which was perhaps the most startling given how dedicated he had been to decathlon previously. Sometimes he comes in with a limp or sloppily done makeup to cover up a bruise, only for it to disappear the next day. Cindy is also pretty certain she isn’t making up the time, right before the blip, that Peter had seemingly disappeared off a moving bus right as the aliens started attacking. 

Peter Park is weird. This isn’t new. 

However, what really ties this all together is that Cindy might not know everything about Peter Parker, but even she’s fairly convinced his little apartment in Queens is not supposed to look like a log cabin disguised as a mansion. Yet, every morning when she logs onto Zoom for their shared seven-thirty chemistry class, Cindy can definitely make out the beautiful finishes of a massive kitchen with beautifully crafted wood cabinets and a stunning view of the lake through the kitchen window. If Cindy’s paying attention enough, sometimes she catches the blurry image of a toddler running around at seemingly random intervals. 

Flash is convinced he’s using a background filter to make himself seem cooler. Cindy is not so sure. 

It takes another week of Zoom University, but the reality of the situation comes crashing down in perhaps the most spectacular fashion. Cindy’s seen a lot of soap operas and medical dramas recently, but absolutely nothing compares to the glorious spectacle that is Peter Parker’s life. 

Like most of this weird form of a quarantine adventure, it starts in the regular seven-thirty AM Zoom chemistry class. There’s nothing specifically remarkable about this chemistry period—the most interesting thing so far is how fast the majority of the class had forgone any sense of getting ready in the morning. Even Brad Davis, who has been trying to impress MJ for the better part of the year, did nothing more than roll over and turn on his camera when asked. Cindy herself barely makes it to her desk in her PJs in time for class to start. It’s only MJ, who somehow manages to get up at the ass crack of dawn every morning and still manages to look perfect in time for class, and Peter, who’s still sitting in that picaresque kitchen, that even try to look like they’re ready for the day. 

Mr. Cobbwell commented on it the first couple of days to get them a little more motivated to be presentable. Now, even he looks like he’s barely holding it all together. It’s truly remarkable how a single Zoom class can expose man's fallacies in such a blatant and brutal manner.  

So life continues on. The first part of the class is normal—Cindy's not quite sure what they're learning about but she'll probably figure it out by the time the second test rolls around. Then the toddler runs behind Peter Parker’s screen.

That in itself isn’t wholly unusual. Cindy’s not quite sure where Peter is, exactly, but the toddler isn’t anything she hasn’t seen before. In fact, the toddler has made quite a few (adorable) appearances over the last two weeks. The most notable one being the time she ran screaming behind Peter while Peter had been asking a question and Peter never once batted an eye. 

This time, it’s the man that comes running in after her that gives Cindy pause. He scoops her up and says something that Cindy can’t hear due to the mandatory mute rule that Mr. Cobbwell had imposed on them last week after someone’s parents got into a screaming match (swearing and all) halfway through the lecture. He holds her on his hip, kisses her forehead, and almost immediately zeroes in on Peter's computer screen. 

This man isn’t someone Cindy recognizes right away despite the ringing familiarity in her head. She squints, trying to figure out where she’s seen this man and his toddler before and why Peter is in this man’s house and/or why this man is in Peter’s house. 

The man turns around to face the camera—arm full of toddler and everything—and Cindy finally makes out the fashionable goatee, oil-stained t-shirt, and actual arc reactor in his chest before she makes the connection and bites one her tongue to keep from shouting in surprise. 

No way. 

She’s not the only one who’s noticed, either. Mr. Cobbwell (bless his soul) is still droning on about moles or something equally unimportant. The rest of the class, though? Yeah, the rest of the class has noticed if the wide-eyed looks and subtle glances in the direction of Peter’s screen are anything to go by. The tension on the Zoom call is almost palpable. 

Peter himself remains blissfully unaware of the entire situation. Cindy wants to scream.  

Absolutely no fucking way. 

The man—Cindy doesn’t want to call him who she thinks he really is because it makes absolutely no sense for that man to be in Peter Parker’s home—doesn’t stay for very long. He ends up wandering out of the camera’s sight not thirty seconds later—she’s not quite sure, but she thinks he might’ve winked before he left too. More than half the class has definitely taken a screenshot by this point. Herself included in this list. 

It’s almost agonizing, having to sit in her uncomfortable desk chair and not say a word. It’s not like she can unmute herself and start what will definitely be the wildest Zoom class fight of the twenty-first century. Mr. Cobbwell probably wouldn’t appreciate her interrupting his stoichiometry equations, the mystery of the Tony Stark lookalike or not.   

She doesn’t have to wait for long, though. Whatever stars are smiling down upon her, Mr. Cobbwell ends up being forced to take an emergency phone call. Cindy bides her time until the exact moment that Mr. Cobbwell had muted himself and walked away off-screen before she furiously unmutes herself. 

“Peter fucking Parker,” she says. Peter’s head snaps up so fast that it almost looks inhuman. “Did Tony Stark just waltz in and pick up his child in the background of your Zoom call?” 

Peter freezes. Wide-eyed, with ‘guilty’ written on his forehead in 72, bold, Times New Roman font. It takes a solid thirty seconds before he can put himself together enough to click the unmute button. 

“I—no?” Peter says. His voice is startlingly high pitched, and his expression is nothing short of horrified. 

Damn, if that isn’t anything but a confession. 

There’s a voice in the background that’s too garbled to make out, but Peter quickly mutes himself and turns his camera off despite the mandatory camera-on rule that had been in place for the entirety of the founding of Zoom university. Two messages come through the Zoom chat before Cindy has the chance to wrap her head around the entire transpired interaction.

[Peter Parker]:  Sorry, Mr. Cobbwell. My mic and video aren’t working. 

[Peter Parker]:  I think I have a bad connection.

Cindy’s not the only one who finds this bullshit if the look on Flash’s face, in particular, is anything to go by. The rest of the class simply watches this entire interaction with wide eyes. Considering this is the most interesting thing to happen to most of them in the last two weeks, Cindy can’t really bring it in herself to blame them. 

“Peter,” Cindy says, loudly. “Just because you muted yourself doesn’t mean you can’t hear me. What the hell was that?” 

There’s no answer. Not even a chat message comes through. 

Cindy’s about to rip into him again, peanut gallery and all, when Mr. Cobbwell decides to make the most inopportune appearance in the history of teachers walking into classrooms at bad times. Truthfully, this one would go right up there on the top of a compilation of worst teacher entries. 

“What happened to Peter?” Mr. Cobbwell says. He reads the messages in the class Zoom chat. “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Peter, let me know if you need any help or continue having trouble before the next class.”

[Peter Parker]:  I will. Thanks! 

Cindy doesn’t get the chance to wring more answers out of Peter before the class period ends. He’s the first one to leave, lack of camera appearance and all. Cindy logs into her next class confused, and frustrated, and oddly excited all at once. 

                                                            ---

The next morning, Cindy is the first person to log onto the Zoom call for first-period chemistry. 

She’s not the only one who has this idea. By the time seven am rolls around—a full thirty minutes before class is even set to begin—over half the class is in the Zoom call. It’s no secret that Peter liked to join Zoom calls early, and everyone’s more than a little curious after the events of yesterday morning. 

Like clockwork, Peter joins with his camera working at exactly seven-fifteen. He takes one look at the almost-full meeting, does a double take, and scrambles for something on his computer.  

Cindy narrows her eyes. “Peter, if you leave this Zoom call, I’ll have MJ eject you from the decathlon team.”

“MJ wouldn’t do that,” Peter says but he doesn’t sound so sure.  

“That all depends on how convincing her argument is,” MJ says. Her camera isn’t even on. 

The look Peter gives her is so full of betrayal that Cindy almost wonders why he isn’t on the acting team. 

(Then she remembers that Peter has commitment issues on a good day and, well, acting has never really been his thing. He can’t even lie with a straight face, and considering most of what comes out of his mouth this day and age is a lie, it's probably for the best that the idea is never considered again.) 

“Why are we even here? It’s a background,” Flash insists. “He just coded it or something for attention.” 

“Flash, shut up,” Suzan says. 

“Yeah, okay, Flash. Why are you even here if you think it’s a background?” Cindy shoots right back, full of adrenaline from the Tony Stark-shaped mystery that’s being hung above all of their heads. 

“No, no, no. Flash is right,” Peter says immediately. “It’s a background. I had Ned help me code it and everything.”

Ned’s in the meeting, but his camera is off, and his mic is muted. Cindy gives Ned a moment to speak up and confirm but there’s not even a twitch. Cindy turns her pointed look back to Peter. 

“I said,” Peter says louder. He subtly glances in the direction of the list of names currently in the meeting, “That I coded that background with Ned!” 

Ned doesn’t come on to confirm or deny. If the look Peter is sending the Zoom call is any indication, he knows that there will be no help from that corner of the room. Either Ned is watching this all go down with popcorn in his hand like the rest of the class, or Ned is AWOL and won’t be returning in time to save his best friend from getting his ass absolutely grilled. 

“Right,” Cindy says dryly. “Peter, you are the worst liar in this entire class.” 

“It’s a coded background,” Peter insists. “That’s all it is. It’s a coded background.” 

                                                         --- 

 It’s not a coded background. 

Peter doesn’t log on early the next day. In fact, he logs on a full five minutes late and gets a snide remark from Mr. Cobbwell for his efforts. His camera is on, at least, and Cindy knows he sees her glare if his paling face is anything to go by. 

I will find out, she mouths at him. 

She’s pretty sure he doesn’t understand the exact words she said, but her vibes are not hard to guess. He gives her a wide-eyed stare and shakes his head in defiance. 

Well. No one can say that Cindy never liked a challenge. 

This time, though, she doesn’t even have to wait until the end of the class period to get more information. Peter does that all for her. 

Peter’s unmuted. He had just finished giving Mr. Cobbwell a (correct) answer to the latest chemistry question when there is a thunk sound from his side of the line. Peter glances up, seeing something that isn’t in the camera’s line of sight, and his expression drops so fast that Cindy’s not convinced he’s seen a ghost. 

“Who is that?” a voice says. It sounds strikingly familiar. “Peter, are you chatting with your school friends?” 

“No,” Peter whispers in poorly disguised horror. 

“Well, well, well,” the voice says and, oh god, it’s so familiar. “What do we have here?”

Peter lunges for his computer. He turns off his camera and mutes himself before Cindy can even think of a proper response. There’s silence in the Zoom call. Even Mr. Cobbwell can’t find it in himself to reign in the class and break the absolute grappling stillness that is currently holding the entire first-period chemistry class. 

It’s all of thirty seconds before Peter’s camera flicks back on. This time, he isn’t alone. 

Cindy might have thought about it, and she’s reasonably convinced that she’s right about the entire situation, but truthfully nothing could prepare her for the emotional whiplash upon seeing The Anthony Edward Stark pulling up a chair at the beautifully carved wooden table and plopping in a seat directly next to a red-faced Peter Parker. Tony Stark takes it all in—the leftover Zoom chats from those kids that don’t want to unmute themselves to ask a question, the half-finished equations written on Mr. Cobbwell’s shared screen, and the twenty-something high school kids staring at him with a combination of confusion and awe. 

“Good morning to Peter’s class and friends,” The Tony Stark says. Peter’s face seems to get redder and redder. “What a wonderful day to continue the education of the youths.” 

Ned turns on his camera and unmutes his mic. “Hi, Mr. Stark, sir! 

“Hi, Ted,” Mr. Stark says. “Good to see you again.” 

“OhmygodMr.Starkalmostknowsmyname—"

Peter buries his head and lets out the world's most pathetic whining noise. 

“I—,” Mr. Cobbwell stutters out. “Mr. Stark, what are you doing…here?” 

It’s a very eloquent way of asking why the hell are you in the house of one of my students? Cindy has to give him props for not being a stuttering mess. She’s not quite sure she could form actual words currently, even if she tries. 

“I love disrupting important conversations,” Mr. Stark says. Cindy’s pretty convinced that he’s purposefully playing ignorant. “And I was curious to see what Peter here was doing at so early in the morning. So, what’s on the lesson plan today?” 

“Well,” Mr. Cobbwell says. What’s he going to do, tell the Tony Stark to leave? No sane person would even try. “Today, we are working on balancing equations.” 

“Basic stoichiometry,” Mr. Stark says. He’s ignoring Peter very obviously pushing on his shoulder. “I would say I’m rather adept at that, right, Peter?”

“Not really,” Peter says. 

The Zoom chat starts blowing up. No one wants to verbally get in the middle of what is possibly the most interesting thing to ever happen to them. This is including the time where half the population died for five years. 

[Abe Brown]: can someone PLEASE explain whats going on

[Zach Cooper]: honestly dude if any of us knew i think we would tell you

 “Right,” Mr. Stark says. He stands up and lets himself be pushed a little further away by Peter. “I have to do other things right now—very important work things that pertain to the safety of the universe and whatnot—"

“Mr. Stark, you’re retired,” Peter says. 

“And you’re in class,” Mr. Stark says. “But feel free to send me an email if you ever want a guest lecturer. Well, send Peter an email and I’ll respond through that. Probably.”

[Betty Brant]: does this mean peter was telling the truth about the internship? 

[Sally Avril]: whos gonna tell flash

[Flash Thompson]: shut up. i can read

[Sue Lorman]: what are your current feeling, flash?

[Sue Lorman]: ….flash you there?

[Sue Lorman]: you know we can see you camera on right

[Sue Lorman]: ope he turned if off lmao

Mr. Cobbwell gaps, unable to come up with a proper response. Peter’s looking somewhere off-camera with desperation bleeding into his expression. 

“Mrs. Potts,” Peter says. His voice pitched upwards, almost as if he were whining to Pepper Potts, which of course, Cindy thought of as ridiculous. After all, common sense dictates that no one would ever whine to the Pepper Potts.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” a voice says off-screen and, yeah, Cindy has seen enough of the #1 woman CEO’s interviews to be able to recognize her voice. “But you and I both know that it was only a matter of time before he made an appearance.” 

Peter puts his head back in his hands and looks like the picture perfect definition of someone how has tried to fight with the logic of the universe and lost spectacularly. Ms. Potts steps into the view of the camera for the firt time, just as beautiful and as striking as every interview Cindy has managed to get her grubby hands on. 

“Tony,” Ms. Potts says. “Why don’t you go get Morgan some breakfast?” 

It’s not a suggestion. Mr. Stark doesn’t take it as a suggestion either. He gets up so quickly that it’s almost like he had never been there to begin with. 

“I’ll sort this out,” Ms. Potts tells Peter. Then, to the rest of the class, “I’m incredibly sorry for my husband’s disruption. I’ll make sure he doesn’t interrupt further so you can finish your class.” 

Class had ended almost ten minutes ago and almost everyone will be late for next period, but no one tells her this. 

She leaves them after that—Peter still hasn’t removed his head from his hands, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to join the world of the living any time soon. Cindy takes this as the perfect opportunity to maybe-finally figure out the mystery that is Peter Parker and Tony Stark. 

(Because as much as she loves being right—and, oh man, this is definitely going on her resume under ‘amateur detective'—this entire situation only leads to more questions than it does answers. Mainly how the fuck does Peter Parker even know Tony Stark? Why is he spending quarantine in that house? How does someone like Peter Parker even get there in the first place?) 

[Cindy Moon]: alright which of you has peter’s contact info because We Need To Chat

[Peter Parker]: we really don’t

[Ned Leeds]: i have it

[Peter Parker]: ned.

[Peter Parker]: ned don’t you dare

[Sue Lorman]: guys this is the class zoom chat

[Sue Lorman]: everyone can see these messages

She almost forgets Mr. Cobbwell is still in the meeting, so you can imagine her surprise when she looks up to see him reading the Zoom chat. 

“I think,” Mr. Cobbwell says. “That we will end the lesson there for today.” 

[Cindy Moon]: sweet

[Cindy Moon]:  hmu if you want to be added to this new

[Cindy Moon]:  hmmmm

[Cindy Moon]:  lets call it a study group that im making

Half the class joins within fifteen minutes of Cindy making it. She’s never been so proud in her life. 

                                                       --- 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: oh no

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station 

[Cindy Moon]: no you dont

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: please dont do this to me

[Cindy Moon]: you brought this upon yourself 

[Michelle Jones]: spill, parker

[Peter Parker]: mj you literally already know

[Michelle Jones]: i mean, yeah, but i really like watching you squirm

[Peter Parker]: why are you and i friends again

[Michelle Jones]: i don’t know, loser. why are we?

[Ned Leeds]: because peter thinks youre really cool

[Peter Parker]: ned i love you but i am actually going to toss you into the hudson river one of these days

[Ned Leeds]: :(

[Flash Thompson]: this is literally disgusting 

[Michelle Jones]: Then Leave

[Peter Parker]: you know for a sec i completely forgot about this entire chat

[Peter Parker]: so im just gonna,,,,

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: bro.

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: PETER

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

[Abe Brown]: honestly i don’t know why i expected anything different

                                                        --- 

The next day, Cindy is yet again the first person in the Zoom meeting. Yet again, Peter doesn’t show up until some five minutes or so after the 'tardy' bell rings. 

Unfortunately for Peter, Mr. Cobbwell is also running late that day so he gets the full brunt of a curious class of twenty or so students who accidentally saw Iron Man on a Zoom call and not once got an answer as to why. Only about a third have their cameras turned on, likely because it’s seven-thirty in the morning and no one actually wants to be here but curiously is a dangerous thing. However, very, very few are muted. It’s as if they’re predicting the argument that is undoubtedly going to take place and are just waiting to jump in like the hungry pack of drama-feeding sharks that they all are. 

Peter takes all of ten seconds to notice the silent tension. He yet again freezes on the spot. “…Where is Mr. Cobbwell?”

“He’s late,” Suzan says. “Like you are.”

“Oh, great. Uh, I guess I'll be taking my leave—"

“—Oh, no, Peter. You are going to sit your little white boy butt down and explain why Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are in your house,” Cindy pauses and then, “Or are you in their house? Do you even own a house? This is confusing.”

“Why would I own a house?” Peter says because of course that’s the part he gets fixated on. “I live right in the middle of Queens.”

“Well, obviously not right now,” Abe Brown says. 

Peter bites his lip and goes silent. Cindy wishes they had class in person so she could wring the answers from him personally. 

“Peter,” she says slowly. “The quicker we get an explanation, the quicker we stop harassing you.”

“You could just stop harassing me to begin with and forget about it,” Peter offers helpfully. Some of the class boos. Peter ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. 

“That's not happening and you know it.” 

“I—ugh, fine,” Peter says. He doesn’t meet their eyes and instead chooses to fiddle with his notebooks in front of him. Cindy knows this is a lie before it even comes out of his mouth. “I’m, uh, I’m here for my internship?”

It comes out more of a question than an actual answer. He still doesn’t meet their eyes. Cindy sends him a look that’s so unimpressed that she can see the exact moment that Peter’s eyes flicker towards the 'leave Zoom meeting' button. 

“Peter,” she says. “Stark Industries is currently shut down, like the rest of New York, because we are in quarantine. Also, internships don’t usually constitute internees going to their mentor's houses to attend online school. So if you are going to lie, at least make it believable.”

Peter gives her a look of utter horror and turns off his camera. 

“Peter!” she hollers. “You can’t run forever! I know you can still hear me!”

“I knew it,” Suzan Yang says, quietly. There’s something like muffled laugher that comes from MJ’s computer. 

Peter is saved by some ungodly force of nature because Mr. Cobbwell takes that exact moment to log into the meeting. Cindy puts on her perfected look of an innocent high schooler and greets her chemistry teacher at ass o’clock in the morning just as she does every day. 

(If she sends a particularly vicious look towards the black square labeled 'Peter Parker' at the top of the screen, well, no one can really blame her.)

Peter never once turns his camera back on. 

                                                           --- 

[Jason Ionello]: anyone want to take bets on why peter parker knows tony stark or

[Flash Thompson]: i still say its fake

[Betty Brant]: flash the only one youre fooling is yourself

[Betty Brant]: peter did say he had an internship 

[Cindy Moon]: weve already debunked the internship theory

[Betty Brant]: hm. damn i got nothing then

[Suzan Yang]: i have a theory

[Cindy Moon]: you have said your theory many times in person and i honestly don’t want to think about it at all, ever, so im going to say debunked 

[Suzan Yang]: your loss then

[Zach Cooper]: five bucks on the secret love child theory

[Brad Davis]: bet

[Kenneth Lim]: theres no waayyyy lmao could u even imagine

[Sue Lorman]: no, no kenneth shut up i want to hear more about this theory

[Zach Cooper]: its really quite simple and im sure you can understand it if you read the name ‘secret lovechild theory’ 

[Michelle Jones]: im screenshotting these to send to peter

[Cindy Moon]: oh right peter said you already knew the reason

[Cindy Moon]: mj spill challenge 

[Michelle Jones]: no thanks its more fun watching you guys guess

[Cindy Moon]: hm alright i guess we need an answer from the source 

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Cindy Moon]: confirm or deny above theory 

[Peter Parker]: oh my god

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

[Abe Brown]: yet again i am not quite sure why i expected something different

                                                         --- 

Perhaps the most surprising outcome of the entire clusterfuck of a situation is that they do get something out of it. Of course, it’s not from Peter because Peter is like a steel trap and everything he says only leads to more questions and no answers. Cindy has been trying this for almost a week now. She knows how this goes. 

She isn’t expecting to log on for first-period chemistry like always, only to see The Tony Stark already on the meeting. 

She’s not early this time—she stopped that some three days ago when Peter made it incredibly clear that he wouldn’t show up early anymore either. Instead of wasting thirty minutes of precious sleep, Cindy decides to put her drive towards more obtainable goals like trying to get out of bed instead of trying to grill a person who doesn’t even show up half the time. 

Mr. Cobbwell is already on too. He seems ecstatic for incredibly obvious reasons. Not many teachers can say that they had Tony Stark guest lecture, after all, even if it is just through Zoom. 

He’s got a little label with 'Tony Stark' and everything. Cindy doesn’t know why she’s surprised that the previous CEO and Iron Man does, in fact, have a Zoom account. 

“—I’m sure the student will enjoy whatever you have planned,” Mr. Cobbwell is saying. He checks the timer and startles. “Oh! We’re about ready to start. We’re missing a couple students, I think, so we might have a few that log on late, but you can start whenever you’re ready, Mr. Stark.” 

Mr. Stark looks at his screen intensely. Then, he stands up from his kitchen table (the same one that Peter has been sitting at. Go figure) and says, “Hold on just a moment.” 

Mr. Stark wanders off-camera just as there’s a crash in the background. 

“Peter, you’re supposed to be in class,” Mr. Stark says. It’s muffled, almost impossible to understand, but Cindy’s listening in so intensely that she’s determined to understand every word. “C’mon, kid, Pepper is going to kill me if you skip.”

“I’m not skipping! I’m just—I’m sick! I’m so sick, Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice comes through. It’s even more muffled than Mr. Stark’s is. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I can make class today. I’m gonna throw up or something. I’ll just be going back up to my room—"

There’s a sigh. Mr. Stark wanders back into camera view and addresses Mr. Cobbwell and the entire class, “Yeah, I’m going to need another moment. Teenagers and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Cobbwell rushes to assure. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Stark says. He turns off his camera and mutes his microphone. 

It doesn’t take long—Cindy’s not counting the time despite being incredibly invested. However, Peter does log on almost five minutes after the bell should’ve sounded looking distinctly not-sick and incredibly disgruntled. He shoots someone off-screen a look just as Mr. Stark turns his own account’s camera and microphone back on. 

“Now then,” Mr. Stark says. “How about we start this lovely little lesson? High school chemistry is one of my favorite subjects, after all." 

(Cindy can’t be certain because Peter’s muted, but she’s pretty sure that he gives a little groan when he buries his face in his hands and looks like death personally came to pick him up.) 

The lecture starts. Unfortunately for Cindy and the rest of the class, chemistry isn’t suddenly exciting even when you have a superhero to teach it. It’s still seven-thirty in the morning, they’re still playing the part of innocent Zoom University students, and chemistry itself just really sucks, if she’s completely honest. 

Time passes. The class is about to end. Cindy does manage to learn something even if that something is the fact Peter is not below a couple backhanded comments directed at The Tony Stark. She can’t hear them very well because Peter’s mic is muted but, y’know, Tony Stark is sitting right next to him and his mic definitely isn’t muted so she gets to hear a couple of gems with the rest of the class. That alone makes this entire thing worth it.  

“I would appreciate it if you would all keep this on the down low,” Mr. Stark says right after he had finished his guest lecture on the applications of modern chemistry. It’s possibly the most excited Cindy has seen Peter all week. “PR and all that. I’m sure Pepper could explain more if you wanted her to.” 

“Mr. Cobbwell, are we done?” Peter says suddenly. “I have another class to get to and I’m sure Mr. Stark is really incredibly busy—”

“I do have a toddler now,” Mr. Stark says with a nod. “And an ungrateful teenager, apparently.” 

Peter very distinctly ignores that. “—I’m not sure I’ll have enough time to make it to my next class if I don’t leave now. So can I please leave?” 

Mr. Cobbwell gives him a look but Peter doesn’t back down. Eventually, he says, “Alright. Everyone say thank you to Mr. Stark for so generously spending his morning being here with us—”

A couple students unmute just to say “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” while even more post thank yous in the chat. Mr. Stark gives them an award winning Iron Man smile and, yeah, he definitely just gave them finger guns as well. Cindy’s not quite sure if that makes him cooler or not, honestly. 

“—And with that, class dismissed,” Mr. Cobbwell finishes. 

Peter is the first one to leave the meeting. 

                                                          ---

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: cindy its almost 3am

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

Cindy Moon has added Peter Parker to Explanation Station

[Peter Parker]: It Is Almost Three In The Morning 

[Cindy Moon]: throw us a bone, peter

[Cindy Moon]: peter???

[Cindy Moon]: peter you there???

[Peter Parker]: listen. 

[Peter Parker]: yes, okay, i know mr stark

[Peter Parker]: and he promised to stay out of my calls originally so No One Else Would Know This but you all saw how well that went

[Kenneth Lim]: guys its three am

[Sue Lorman]: no shut up peters about to let something slip something i can feel it

[Jason Ionello]: oh my god why is my phone going off at 3am

[Zach Cooper]: everyone shut up let peter type!!!!

[Peter Parker]: you guys are really invested in this huh

[Zach Cooper]: dude u know The Tony Stark

[Peter Parker]: i guess that’s fair

[Peter Parker]: mr stark heard that he was caught on video the other day and. well. 

[Peter Parker]: he decided to make it worse

[Sue Lorman]: you mean better

[Peter Parker]: no i definitely mean worse

[Peter Parker]: im pretty sure hes making you sign NDAs though

[Cindy Moon]: hes making us do what

[Sue Lorman]: what

[Jason Ionello]: oh damn

[Zach Cooper]: can someone tell me what an NDA is

[Peter Parker]: i mean. he’ll pay for your college

[Cindy Moon]: nm my lips are sealed 

[Jason Ionello]: same

[Betty Brant]: yeah u know what. thats fair

[Peter Parker]: ok! cool now that’s all sorted out 

[Peter Parker]: uhhhhhhhhhhh

Peter Parker has left Explanation Station

                                                    --- 

Just a day later, a mysterious envelope shows up at her door with a return address already stamped. Cindy wishes she could say she’s surprised at the bolded 'Non-Disclosure Agreement' stamped at that top but, really, that would be a lie. 

She does end up reading through the entire thing, mostly because she has a big fat tendency to run her mouth and doesn’t really want to get sued by a man who could buy a team of lawyers just to have them over for breakfast. Seeing the very eloquently written ‘if you keep your mouth shut, we’ll pay for your entire college and graduate program if you want’ clause is very nice to read. 

She signs it without hesitation. 

Mr. Stark doesn’t really make many more appearances after that, mostly because quarantine comes to an end and they’re all back in normal school by the end of the month. When she sees Peter Parker in person for the first time, surrounded by both MJ and Ned, they only meet eyes for a second before Peter is hurriedly packing up his backs and heading to his next class. 

They don’t say anything about what happened during those quarantine weeks. In fact, no one does. 

Cindy doesn’t really ever get an answer as to why Peter Parker is at Tony Stark’s house, of all places. She doesn’t ever really get an answer to why Peter Parker knows Tony Stark in the first place. There are theories, of course, but there had been theories long before The Reveal happened and there will be theories long after. It’s just yet another thing to add to the mystery that is Peter Parker. 

However, with the prospect of a fully paid college tuition and the many hours of engineering and business tutoring from Mr. Tony Stark and Mrs. Pepper Potts themselves, she finds that she doesn’t quite mind letting sleeping dogs lie. And, yeah, Cindy Moon is pretty sure she knows what weird looks like now. 

[blacksunscorpio]

Scorp you're a genius! So relatable and I love how you don't judge others or anyone who comes to you for help. Keep it up! I just had to ask since I see that you make pop culture references to make analogies with astrology. You've mentioned GoT a few times and im a huge fan! Can you do a quick post on Game of Thrones characters and their potential zodiac signs? I'd love to hear your input! Thank you so much!!

Game of Thrones Characters & Their Zodiac Signs

Aries

Khal Drogo- Impulsive. Warlike. Bloodthirsty. Alpha. Conqueror. Hardcore athlete [did you see him on that horse?] Extremely sexual. Forceful. When he first meets Daenerys, he forces himself on her. Afterward, however, he is the first to go to war if he feels the people around him have been disrespected.

Aerys Targaryen- Impulsive, sadistic. Boastful. imperial. He would be the Emperor [reversed] in Tarot, lol. Not as good with being a tactician as he ought to have been. Cruel. Rage problems. The need to be the first and the best. Fire and blood, anyone?

Taurus

Maergery Tyrell - Classy, wealthy, sexy, laid-back, frank but with an air of elegance. Highgardeners have a love for the finer things in life. A love of fine wines and foods. Beautiful clothing and aesthetics. RICH RICH. Get on their bad side and they will take their time finding a way to subvert your authority.

Robert Baratheon- Love of luxury, bullheaded, strong, takes no shit. Fixed in his opinions of others, highkey jealous. In his youth, he enjoyed the gifts of Venus: Charm, wealth coming from the noble house of Baratheon, widely considered handsome by almost all in the 7 kingdoms. 

Gemini

Tyrion Lannister- Silver-tongued. HIGHKEY intelligent. Social. Charming. Great sense of humor. A freak [in the sheets]. Chatty. Always finds his way out of a sticky situation. Finds a way to use his intel to bolster diplomacy between his family and the families who hate them.

Little Finger- Cunning, quick-witted, works behind the scenes, manipulative, a  snake, jack of all trades. Top dog in the social circles of the 7 Kingdoms. There wasn’t a person who didn’t know of him and his... reputation. He singlehandedly, through his Machiavellian tactics, caused the events of Game of Thrones to unfold. 

Cancer  

Cersei Lannister- Protective, moody, caring [to her kids], motherly, cantankerous, jealous. A savage. People don’t give Cancer’s the credit they deserve in terms of what they’re capable of. Cersei is a prime example of the type of person who can show unrivaled levels of devotion to the one’s they love. “No one matters but us.” She can be cruel because she lets her emotions rule her actions. When her safety is threatened, she makes sure no one else feels safe either. She loves with a ferocity only rivaled by...

Catelyn Stark- Another mother who would die [quite literally] for her children. Fierce, Protective. Doting. JEALOUS. Let’s not forget how she treated Jon all because she believed Ned’s lie about him being a bastard. Followed her son into battle. Damn near lost her hands fighting off Bran’s would-be assassin. 

Leo

Jaime Lannister- Proud. Handsome. Princely. Funny. We seem him go from underdeveloped Leo [arrogant, selfish, bully, prideful, snob, loyal to no one but himself] to developed [Kind, helpful, warm, honest]. Fought bears for his friends. Skilled and proud fighter even without the use of both his hands. Unfortunately, his loyalty caused him to stay loyal to his twin towards the end, but such is the nature of a Leo. They’re hard-pressed to abandon those they truly care for.

Brienne of Tarth- LOYAL. Proud. Devoted. A bit of a flare for drama especially brandishing her sword. Brienne is the definition of Leonine traits. Hard to miss. Devoted to those who show her kindness, i.e Renly, Catelyn, Jaime, Sansa, etc. Always at the front lines in war screaming “STAND YOUR GROUND”. Unrivaled levels of bravery and courage. Not to be fucked with. A true Queen.

Virgo

Samwell Tarley- Intelligent. Scholarly. Methodical. Always with his nose in a book. Unproblematic king. Caught the things everyone else missed, especially when he was an apprentice in Old Towne. Figured out how to cure Jorah Mormont’s affliction on his OWN without any formal training. Genius.

Lord Varys- Remember, Virgo is also ruled by Mercury who is the most cunning of the planetary rulers. Varys always had a spy to collect intel on everyone. A tactician. Never lost his temper. Always had the scoop but didn’t partake in gossip for gossip's sake. Not afraid to be critical or tell those “in charge” his opinion. We can see this specifically when he critiques Aerys, Daenerys, and Robert. 

Libra

Davos Seaworth- a skilled diplomat. Davos is always seen seeking balance and fairness in the situations he finds himself in. The minute you see this man in a scene you know he’s going to give a moving speech and get someone out fo a sticky situation. He convinced the Iron Bank to support Stannis. Convinced Daenerys to entertain Jon Snow when they traveled to Dragonstone. Always breaking up a fight. He is in full support of law and order, especially when he called for Melisandre’s head after discovering her part in Shireen’s death [RIP.]

Rhaegar Targaryen- Had a love of music. Harmony. Balance. He brought two families together [Stark and Targaryen]. He was also blessed by Venus in my opinion because he was said to be extremely handsome. A fabulous singer. A fighter yes, but a lover first. Very good with diplomacy but not the best with defending himself against his cousin sign, Taurus [Robert Baratheon].

Scorpio

Daenerys Targaryen- Many see her as an Aries but I have to respectfully disagree. Daenerys is a Scorpio in my opinion. Remember, Scorpio is honorary fire. She was literally “reborn from the ashes”. A Phoenix, Scorpio’s final form. She went from a silent and meek girl to a skilled and commanding Empress. Unlike Arians, she did not jump headfirst into battle. It took many arrows in her dragons, many slights to her ego, copious council from her advisors, dozens of her loved ones lost for her to go nuclear. Like her father, she hungered for power, a very Scorpionic trait. However she, unlike her father, listened to reason [Jorah, Tyrion, and Barristan Selmy]. She had a long fuse until she didn’t, and then that’s when she rained fire and blood on everyone in King’s Landing. She was skilled at retribution and was unapologetic with it *cough* the Tarleys *cough*.. Unlike Arians who pop off at the drop of a hat, she gave her enemies fair warning if/when they crossed her.

Arya Stark- You already know what it is with this one. Arya is pretty much death [Pluto], personified. Stealthy. A tactician. VENGEFUL. I think we all fist-pumped when she served Filch Walder Frey his sons in that pie. Never forgets a slight. Keeps a list of people who’ve wronged her [All Scorpios can probably relate]. You never see her coming. She is “no-one”. She is the assassin that slips through the back. She may seem calm at first but trust that she has been planning your downfall for a while. LOYAL. The definition of a Scorpio.

Melisandre- Dark. Mysterious. Unafraid of the occult. So much of her life is unknown and I’m sure that’s how she preferred it. Even her Lord of light was mysterious. Strong supernatural abilities and highkey psychic. Knew immediately how many “eyes” Arya would “close.” Had ties to the underworld which is demonstrated with her ability to resurrect the dead. Came through at the clutch in the last battle wielding fire [Mars] with her witchcraft. It’s no secret that Scorpios are some of the most skilled in sorcery.

Sagittarius

Missandei- Exotic. From Naath which is an island just above the mysterious continent of Sothoryos. A world traveler. Lucky enough to escape slavery [until the end]. Jupiter's influence is here in my opinion because she is so kind and friendly. Also a polyglot and gifted with the ability to speak 19 languages. Her fire is seen at the end of the series when she tells her best friend “Dracarys”-- meaning “fire” in High Valyrian. She isn’t afraid to call wrath down on others.

Olenna Tyrell- Loud, unapologetically blunt, zero-filter, feisty. Olenna to me is the definition of Sagittarius. Always speaks her mind. Clap back queen. Will call you out. Was also quite promiscuous in her younger years. Very charismatic and extremely likable despite her penchant for saying whatever was on her mind.

Capricorn

Tywin Lannister- I can’t see the patriarch of the most notorious family in Westeros being anything other than a Capricorn. Methodical. Structured. Business-minded. Karmic [A "Lannister always repays his debts"] Cold. Cruel. Unfeeling. Like Saturn, he is the father figure. Basically ran the 7 Kingdoms for Aerys, [which was probably why the latter was so salty towards him.] Always has a plan. The man you want in charge if we’re strictly talking about law and order. Vindictive [had the mountain kill Elia because Rhaegar rejected Cersei.] He’s the ultimate son-of-a-bitch.

Jon Snow- Brooding hero that he is, Bae Jon Snow is without a doubt a Capricorn in my eyes. Duty-bound. Serious. A leader in his own right. Could also be cold and unfeeling in terms of distributing karmic justice. Lest we forget the “fetch-me-a-block” situation with Janos Slynt. In addition, the moment he was resurrected he took vengeance against the black brothers who betrayed him. Saturn, Like Pluto, is all about karmic justice. The beating he put on Ramsey after The Battle of the Bastards was one thousand percent a karmic beating. A proper lover as well, according to Ygritte, Jon also knew how to handle himself in the bedroom, a trait very akin to Capricorns.

Aquarius

Bran Stark- I thought about making Bran a Pisces, but then I changed my mind. Remember Uranus rules sudden insights and hardcore psychic receptivity. It also rules sudden and unexpected catastrophes or surprises/ sudden breaks. Bran suffered a literal “tower” moment at the beginning of the series which resulted in his psychic powers developing. Once he became the three-eyed raven, he became very detached from the world.

Grey Worm- Aquarius is also androgynous. Grey Worm is a eunuch. He is always down to fight for a cause though, specifically his queen’s. Cares about others, specifically Missandei, and was seen towards the latter season speaking up for the Unsullied against the slavers. Fierce combatant but also very detached. His job is his job.

Pisces

Jaqen H’ghar- Much like Neptune, Pisces’ ruler Jaqen has a mysterious and illusive personality. He wears “many faces”. Skilled at illusion and very very intuitive. Has a soft side though which is clearly seen with how he treats Arya. Hardly ever flies off the handle. Calm. Cool. Collected.

Hodor- Sweet and gentle giant, Hodor is a Pisces to me. Affected by psychic trauma, it’s revealed why “Hodor” is the only thing he can say. Calm. A bit of a baby. Caring. Easily adaptable [think of all the terrain he carried Bran through]

Eddard Stark- I don't care what anyone says, Ned stark to me represents the most developed form of a Pisces. Like the Hanged-Man in Tarot that represents sacrifice and which Neptune Rules, he willingly sacrificed his reputation as honorable for his sister, Lyanna. He later sacrifices himself for his children when he died at Joffrey’s [little bitch] command. He is wise. Though appears cold, he is actually a well of feeling and caring. Unfortunately, he also suffered from the naivety of Neptunian influence which is why he wasn’t very skilled at the Game of Thrones, which calls for more tactical ruthlessness. Pisceans however also have the rage of Poseidon flowing through their veins [which people like to forget]. This was displayed when he pinned Petyr Baelish to the Wall in King’s Landing for daring to dishonor Cat by inviting her into a Brothel. RIP, King Stark.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

disney’s ‘the hunchback of notre dame’, early 2000s kid nostalgia, and other midnight musings

“What the fuck, Stina? I thought this was a blog for book reviews!” you say.

“Books, amongst other things. Hence the -ish suffix,” I say. “And all my mediocre ‘reviews’ are hit-or-miss in terms of engagement, so I’m pretty much free to post whatever the fuck I want.”

I toss my head. My hair whacks me in the face.

The first time I watched Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame was been circa 2006, in the ‘movie room’ of my preschool, huddled around a CRT TV with the rest of my five-year-old classmates. Not much about the film particularly stood out to me at the age.

Fast-forward fifteen years later; I’m cooped up in quarantine, hundreds of thousands of miles away from that first viewing. I’m living my best life, rejoicing in my introverted tendencies and having a laugh at the expense of all the suffering extroverts. I haven’t moved from my bed all day, except for the bare necessities, and I’m bingeing YouTube videos. All is well.

I discovered Lindsay Ellis’s channel quite recently- embarrassingly enough, through her videos on Omegaverse and the whole Addison Cain fiasco. I stumbled down the rabbit-hole of her channel, and here I am, a few dozen videos later, and I find her one on this film.

Which, of course, led me to want to re-watch the film, with the eyes and mind (supposedly) of an adult. And it went far beyond and above my expectations.

The film is dark, much darker than the average Disney film of today- not just thematically, but the graphics too. Except for the first parts with the Festival of Fools and the last scene, the rest seems to have a dark filter put over it all. Obviously, given its themes (I’m pulling these out of my arse; I’m a STEM major and I have zero to no knowledge about film) of freedom and equality, acceptance of those different from us, corruption and lust- all that good shit, in other words- you can’t exactly have sunshine and rainbows. But it’s such a stark contrast from what I’ve been accustomed to from Disney; Frozen has Hans about to decapitate Elsa, but the background remains bright and light; Simba sobbing next to Mufasa’s body in The Lion King is heart-wrenching, but a few scenes later, we have an anthropomorphic meerkat-boar duo singing about eating bugs and farting and all that classy stuff, so it’s not as traumatizing.

The themes are a lot more on-the-nose than a lot of other kids’ movies (forgive me if I err, I am aged and forgetful)- cue la Esmeralda saying, “What do they have against people who are different, anyway?”- you get what’s essentially the same ‘accept others regardless of their differences’, ‘prejudice is bad’ morals from, say, Zootopia, but having given the main characters fursuits makes it less obvious than in this movie.

(Or maybe I’m just a dumbass. I have no elaborate notes for this; I’m high on sugar and deprived of sleep so I might be spewing bullshit.)

Admittedly, the resolution is a bit… unrealistic. The citizens of Paris = sheep, essentially; they go from throwing fruit in Quasimodo’s face because the guards started it, to helping defeat them. Maybe there’s something about mob mentality in there, but I find it hard to believe that people who showed up to watch Esmeralda burn to death were suddenly totally cool with not getting what they didn’t pay for. But then again, this is a Disney movie, and you can’t make kids too cynical too early on. Let them have their innocence and ‘people will be with the heroes in times of peril because humanity is inherently good!’ before they realize that humanity kinda fuckin’ sucks.

The characters are some of the most human from those I’ve seen in Disney (other honorable mentions: the main characters of The Emperor’s New Groove, Moana, Tangled, Anna from Frozen). Quasimodo’s the main character (lol DUH, will I ever say anything not obvious?), and he’s so lovable, but not without flaws- he’s biased against gypsies in the beginning because Frollo’s the literal scum of the earth. To borrow from the K-pop fans’ dictionary: UwU he’s so pure!

Esmeralda sparks a bit of controversy because she’s another POC leading lady from a Disney film of the 90’s (a list including Jasmine, and, sigh- Pocahontas) who’s markedly more sexualized than the white Disney princesses. It’s not something I particularly noticed nor cared about until I saw it being brought up- I mean, the woman shows a bit of cleavage and then dances for a couple of seconds- but. I’m just putting that out there.

She’s an empowering heroine without having to belt in in your face (not me making a dig at Naomi Scott’s Jasmine from the Aladdin live action film), and I also love how her role in taking down the Big Bad doesn’t have to do with her ‘power of seduction’ (the scene in the animated Aladdin film where Jasmine kissed Jafar truly traumatized me as a kid).

Phoebus is… well, he exists. Kind of a Regulus Black archetype, but not exactly. The guy on the bad side who turns good and all is forgiven. Well, at least it’s not the ‘her love made him a better man’ trope. And he is a good guy. Even if he did spend a considerable amount of his adult years on the side of the bad guys.

Systemic oppression? Nah, it’s one or two corrupt baddies. But again, it’s a Disney film, we need everything to work out for the good guys in the end.

Let’s get the gargoyles out of the way. To reference Lindsay Ellis’s video (she’s a lot smarter than I am and breaks this down better than I ever could): yes, the comedy’s oft ill-timed and inappropriate… for an adult audience. And the primary demographic of Disney films, especially princess ones (obviously Esmeralda isn’t a princess, nor does she marry into royalty, nor is she included in the group of princesses in the dumpster fire that is Ralph Breaks the Internet, but I had a book imaginatively titled ‘Disney Princess Stories’ as a kid that included Esmeralda’s story alongside Belle’s and Ariel’s, so I’m calling her a princess), are kids. And kids love fart jokes.

Additionally, I have a theory-that-is-not-really-a-theory-but-a-pretty-obvious-thing-that-happens that the gargoyles are figments of Quasimodo’s imagination, and the, at times crass and ridiculous things they say are just the voices in Quasimodo’s head (THIS IS OBVIOUS, STINA, YOU HAVEN’T STUMBLED ACROSS A STARTLING NEW REVELATION); maybe what he imagines normal townspeople to act like.

And then we have Judge Judy Chrissy Teigen Frollo. This dude is the embodiment of pure evil. He’s bigoted and rapey and abusive and one of Disney’s most successful villains- even better than Mother Gothel, who previously held the crown. It’s rare that a villain genuinely terrifies me, especially a cartoon one. Frollo, unlike your typical fairytale antagonist who wants power/fame/fortune/to overthrow Olympus, is far more sinister; driven from deep-rooted hatred instead of plain greed. He’s so much closer to people in positions of power and authority even in the modern world, and that element of reality makes him so much better as an antagonist instead of a literal sheep who hates carnivores (seriously, Disney, enough with the twist villains- they’re not working out).

Also, Hellfire slaps. In fact, the entire soundtrack does.

Speaking about Hellfire, I love the contrast between that and Heaven’s Light; how Esmeralda is viewed by Frollo (an object to possess, “Destroy Esmeralda, and let her taste the fires of hell; or else, let her be mine and mine alone”) as opposed to Quasimodo (someone with free will, “I dare to dream that she might even care for me”).

Another argument brought up, and admittedly one I had as a child was, ‘but if the whole point of the movie is acceptance and love as opposed to lust, why didn’t Quasimodo get the girl?’ Which, years later, I realize is an extremely misogynistic way to look at it. As Princess Jasmine said four years before The Hunchback was released, she is not a prize to be won. Quasimodo is Frollo’s antithesis; he lets Esmeralda choose, and she chose Phoebus. And Quasimodo accepted that, because he is good and kind and sweet and loving. Severus Snape, take note.

On a sidenote, I’m always kind of caught out of left field when the plot in films moves really fast- I’m really not a movie-watching type; I prefer to read, and books usually indicate how much time passes from one main plot point to another, and there are little slice-of-life, filler parts that tie in to character development and moving the plot forward, but at a snail’s pace. So, whenever I’m watching a movie and it’s one important event after another, I usually haven’t had enough of a refractory period to process it.

Let’s pretend that I segued smoothly into the next part of this (already tedious and long drawn out) review.

The Hunchback is the darkest film I’ve ever seen come out from Disney. Re-watching it as an adult made me pause every so often and wonder why the hell I wasn’t traumatized by it as a kid. I mean, the whole movie kicks off with Frollo about to throw an infant down a well. And then there’s that horrifying shot of the stone renditions of the Israelite kings on the church walls. Frollo falls to his death into fire. I mean, good riddance, but still. I guess it’s because the kids’ shows of today are awfully censored and polished so kids don’t have nightmares forevermore.

Update: tried to watch The Hunchback of Notre Dame 2. Exited just as fast as I clicked on it. Disney sequels really ain’t shit (yes, I’m looking at you, Frozen 2).

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Catch Me Off My Guard

Dani forgets her lipstick, and ends up learning something new about Malcolm. Post 1x05. Ao3

She forgets her lipstick at his house.

Dani’s not sure how she does it, but she assumes it something to do with sleeping on the counter and dealing with a highly drugged Malcom Bright.

And honestly, if it were any other lipstick, she would have already forgotten about it. But it’s not any other lipstick. It’s her favorite lipstick. Her favorite lipstick that is no longer sold anywhere, that she had bought as many as she could when she heard it was being retired. It was the last tube of her favorite lipstick, and she had been an idiot and decided to wear it out that night because she hadn’t been out in ages. Even if it was for work, and a very stupid idea in the first place.

She had looked literally everywhere else for it, but she remembered seeing it in her bag on the subway to Bright’s, which meant she probably lost it as his place.

Which is why she was here, standing outside his building on a freezing Saturday morning, because she couldn’t bring herself to text him about it, and apparently just showing up at his apartment made more sense in her mind.

If she hadn’t already rang his doorbell, she would already be walking back home. But she had, so she was here, hands stuffed in her pockets, hoping he was actually home so he could let her inside before she got frostbite.

“Hello?” His voice crackles out of the speaker just as she’s about to turn around, and her stomach plummets to the floor. She should have never left her apartment today.

“Bright, it’s Dani.”

“Oh! Hey, come on up!”

The door buzzes, and then she’s inside the blissfully warm hallway, and Malcolm’s head pops out from the top of the stairs, and this is a bad idea, she thinks. They are work friends, people who see each other in the office and sometimes at home when he needs someone to take him there, but it’s a Saturday, and this has nothing to do with work.

She should have just texted him.

“Hi!” His hair flops into his eyes, but he’s smiling at her like nobody’s business, and a weird feeling settles in her chest.

“Hey,” She says, making her way up the steps, taking in how the hall looks different in the early morning sunlight. The colors are different, and she can see the pictures on the wall, and then way too soon she’s turning the corner and almost running straight into him where he’s waiting for her at the door.

Saturday morning Malcolm is different from any other Malcolm she’s met before. His hair is soft and falling in his face, not arranged in the way she’s used to it.

He’s also wearing sweatpants. And a faded Harvard sweatshirt, and it's almost too much for her to handle.

She shrugs off her jacket and he takes it from her before she can hang it up herself, so she busies herself with unzipping her boots so she can leave them at the door, not wanting to track the gross half-snow-half-mud slush through his apartment.

“I don’t mean to barge in, but I think I forgot something here the time I was over.”

“What did you forget?”

She pauses to say hi to Sunshine before making her way inside. “My lipsti-“

Dani freezes, her eyes falling onto Malcolm standing in the middle of the room. His entire kitchen is covered in pastries. Desserts of all sorts sprinkle every available counter, and the oven timer is slowly counting down to whatever is next.

“Lipstick?” He asks, casually as he’s pulling on a pair of oven mitts, like the scene in front of her in completely normal.

“Yeah.” Dani stops at the edge of the counter and tries to count the amount of different food in front of her but she can’t. She’s pretty sure there’s more dessert than weapons on his weapons wall, and it’s making her question everything she’s ever know about Malcom Bright. “Wait, sorry, I didn’t know you baked.”

“Oh,” his cheeks flush pink, and Dani likes the sight of that way too much. “Yeah, I’m what some people might call a stress baker.” He offers her a plate of cookies, and she’s so confused that she takes one.

“I thought you couldn’t eat most foods.”

“Can’t.”

“Then what-“

“Edrissa like brownies,” he says, pointing to the corner full of brownies and cookies. “Ains likes fruit pies and tarts, Gil loves breads, J.T. like donuts, my mom likes cupcakes, and I occasionally can get through a whole slice of crumble.” He opens the oven and glances inside, frowning at whatever is still baking. “Everything else ends up in the break room at work.”

“So you’re the reason the break room has been incredibly popular the last few weeks?”

He shrugs as he closes the over door, pulling out one of the fanciest toothpick holders she’s ever seen.“What about you? I haven’t figured out your favorite dessert yet.”

Dani settles herself into the chair she unfortunately slept in a few weeks ago, right in front of an apple crumble. “I’m known to like a bunch of different things.”

“Good to know.” He flashes her a smile and then moves to wrapping up one of the pies with tin foil. “So, you were saying you lost your lipstick?”

“Yes!” She pushes herself off the chair, because she is not supposed to be getting comfortable here. “I have looked everywhere else for it, and this is the only place I can think I left it.”

“It might be in the bathroom cabin-“ the timer goes off and he glances between her and the oven and his ridiculous fancy tooth picks, and she can tell he’s going to choose the currently unknown pastry, so she nods, and starts making her to the bathroom.

“I’m not sure though. My mother sends her cleaner over here because she doesn’t think I can take care of myself and most of the time, I end up not knowing where anything is.”

Dani opens the cabinet, and it’s surprisingly bare, considering the rest of his bathroom is a full of things. Surprisingly bare, except for a perfectly sized tube of lipstick. Her lipstick. A sigh of relief falls from her mouth, and its a little ridiculous how happy she is have found it, but she has her lipstick and now she can stop feeling weird about coming over to Malcolm’s apartment on a random Saturday morning.

“Found it!” she says, when she comes back into the kitchen, and she’s about to go and get her boots and be out of his hair when she sees he’s placed a cup of tea in on the counter for her. He’s resting on the other side, his own cup of tea and plate of still steaming lemon bars cooling in the space between them.

And she knows she should leave. She got what she came for, and staying would that turn this trip into something else. But she’s curious. She has questions. She puts the lipstick in her pocket and drops herself into the world’s most uncomfortable sleeping chair, and grabs a lemon bar.

“So, where did you learn how to bake?”

“Technically, my mother.”

Dani can’t stop her face being surprised, and he laughs at that, and it makes that stupid dumb feeling in her chest grow a bit more.

“See, you’ve met my mother.” He takes a sip of his tea and plates her a bar. “She would never cook or do anything when we kids. Or now, for that matter. We always had staff for that. But on Christmas, she would always make this apple crumble, and Ainsley and I would sit in the kitchen with her. It was the only time she would ever talk about her family.” Malcolm shrugs and cuts piece of his bar. “And then when everything happened with my dad, she would start making them all the time. It became the only time I didn’t feel like the world was falling apart around us.”

He pauses for a moment, the weight of his words just hanging between them, and Dani doesn’t know what to do say. “Bright I-“

“But mother only cooked crumble, and only for a few months, so then I started sitting in with our cook when she would bake. And then whenever I was over at Gil’s house, I would ask Jackie to teach me everything. So I have a rather rounded baking education.”

“Crumble’s your comfort food?”

Malcolm blinks. “Hmm?”

“You’re comfort food. When you were high you wanted to make crumble. And I made you grilled cheese, because that’s my comfort food.” Dani tucks her hair behind her ears and grabs a bit of the lemon bar. “My mom would make us grilled cheese whenever we had a bad day, and it’s like the only meal I can make without fucking up.”

“From what I remember, it was a pretty fantastic grilled cheese.”

She stuffs the lemon bar in her mouth to shut herself up, but it’s a mistake. She wasn’t really expected anything much, but she can’t help the moan that escapes from mouth.

Malcolm laughs into his tea, and Dani can only nod and try to not stuff the rest of the dessert in her mouth.

“That’s not fair. How can you be so good at this?”

Malcolm’s smile grows. “I’ve been stressed since I was 8 years old. Lot’s of practice.”

Dani grabs another bite so she doesn’t have to say anything right away. There’s a lot about Malcolm Bright that she doesn’t know yet. And there’s a lot about her that he doesn’t know. But she does know that this conversation could be about a lot more than baking, but she needs to know if she’s prepared for that.

They are sort of friends. She remembers his face when he asked her if they were really friends, and how it fell when she said no, because she’s not good at friends. She’s not good at the trusting people and letting people in, and she has zero filter which gets on people’s nerves, and she’s been through a lot. A lot that can scare people away and a lot that has, so she guards herself.

But he looked so crushed when she said they weren’t friends. And against all odds, she likes him. He’s one of the few people she’s met who has been through even more than her, who knows what it’s like to scare people away. They haven’t know each other for long, but for some reason, she knows she trusts him. Which is pretty big for her.

“You know, if you ever need someone to talk to about whatever’s stressing you out, I’m always down for a lemon bar. Or a blueberry muffin,” she grabs her cup of tea, the scent of earl grey greeting her as she pulls it closer. “Or just a cup of tea, with a friend.”

Malcolm ducks his head and tries to hide his smile, but he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. His face is an open book of possibilities. That’s something she knows about him. She wouldn’t mind getting to know more.

“Thanks, Dani. And speaking of thanks, I want to take you out to dinner, to properly say thank you for taken care of me. Twice now,” he says.

She stuffs another piece of lemon bar in her mouth instead of answering.

Dinner outside of sharing a hotdog on stake out is more than just coworker things. Dinner on a Saturday is so much more than just coworker things.

A part of her feels like it could even be a more than friends thing. That part of her also kind of likes the idea of it being a more than friends thing.

“It’s not even 11:30 yet,” she says, because it’s the first rational thing that comes to her mind. She should have waiting for the first smart thing to come to her mind.

Malcolm nods, like what she said was an actual response, folding his hands together so he can place his head on them.

“What about brunch then? I know a great coffee place that has one of the most impressive tea walls I have ever seen.”

She should say no. She should have left as soon as she had her lipstick, but she’s still here, sitting at his counter on a freezing cold Saturday morning.

“You don’t have to take me out to thank me,” she says, trying one last time.

Malcolm’s face brightens. “But I want too.”

And it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t, but it makes her heart jump in her chest. It make her cheeks heat up, and she tries to squash the smile from erupting on her face, but all it does it make her entire face scrunch up like she’s some 16 year old with a crush on a boy who just told he he thought she was pretty.

But maybe that’s what she is. A 25 year old with a crush on a boy who she trusts more than she should. A boy that smiles at her and has even less of a filter than she does, a boy who is currently watching her like whatever she says next going to determine the fate of the universe.

“Okay, I could be down for some more tea.”

“Great!” Malcolm’s up in the next instant, and then he’s holding out her jacket for her once she’s finished zipping up her boots, and when she turns, he’s close to her. As close as they where when he was high and wanted to dance with her.

Close enough that she can feel his breath wash over her skin he breathes out.

Close enough, that the part of her brain that she’s allowing to have a crush on him is now thinking about kissing him.

But she doesn’t. She’s not good at friends, and she’s definitely not very good at relationships, and the last thing she wants to do is mess up whatever fragile thing they have between them right now.

She she takes a step back. Tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. Turns to the mirror in the hall while Malcom pulls on his jacket, and grabs her lipstick from her pocket before smoothing it over her lips.

“It’s a good lipstick,” Malcolm says, as he finishes zippering his coat. Dani raises an eyebrow at him as he pulls on his gloves. “I understand why you came back for it.” He offers her his elbow, and it’s so very upper class New York of him that the only she can do is roll her eyes and take his arm.

When she gets into work on Monday, there’s a blueberry muffin sitting on her desk.

And if a warm feeling settles in her chest at the sight of it, then that’s her problem to worry about later.

Right now, she has a muffin to eat.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Wayhaven Week: Day 4

For the @otomefandomevents Wayhaven Week 2020.

Prompt: Tranquil Pairing: Adam du Mortain/Aubrey Miller Warnings: none Word Count: 2,786 Summary: Sometimes facing fears means tying on pointe shoes. Note: I’ve been listening to this playlist practically nonstop while writing this. I also have zero knowledge of dance, so this is mostly me doing the Internet Researcher mode and I apologize for any term I may have gotten wrong.

“This is so stupid,” Aubrey hissed, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror that spanned from one side of the wall to the other.  Bright afternoon sun filtered in through the windows overhead and the playlist of piano music, while a bit tinny through her phone’s speaker, was a tune she was used to.

Aubrey knew for a fact that the majority of Unit Bravo was out of the Warehouse, Morgan being the only one who gave her a brief greeting as she came through. She hadn’t really looked at the bag Aubrey had slung over her shoulder aside from a short curious glance. Even so, it was enough to make it feel like Aubrey had stored a ton of bricks inside instead of the few lightweight items she knew were in there.

She was grateful it was only Morgan hanging around. While she loved the enthusiasm that Farah had for most things, especially bits of her personal past, Aubrey didn’t think she could handle a barrage of questions right now.  She was also grateful that all Morgan did was give her a lazy head to toe look-see when she bumped into her again in the hallway leading from her room and the training room. The tiny half-smile at the short, fluttery skirt and pastel blue knit wrap top Aubrey wore over a grey tank top and black leggings and the brief have fun in there told Aubrey that she wouldn’t be disturbed as she did...whatever she thought she was going to do.

“Come on, Aubs,” she grumbled, sitting on the floor and digging through her bag. Without looking, she found the roll of tape and even though it had been years, taped up her toes as easily as if her last practice was the other day instead of over four years ago. After putting on a pair of lambswool toe pads, her pointe shoes went on just as easily and she exhaled, going into a series of warm up stretches she still did every morning to keep herself limber.

It wasn’t until she was back on her feet and facing the barre that she faltered again. Her eyes went to her phone and she had a brief thought to call up her former dance partner for a pep talk, but then talked herself out of it when she realized that Tony would still be in practice for the production he was gearing up to perform. “This doesn’t have to be scary.” Her hands trembled on the barre. She frowned and pulled her shoulders back, glaring at her reflection as she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “This shouldn’t be scary. No expectations, just do some basic steps. You can do a beginner class, you’ve taught students half your age how to do the same things before. Now stop overthinking and show me what you’ve got.”

Taking one last deep breath, Aubrey rolled up onto her toes, pushed over her toe box for a good stretch, rolled down through demi pointe, and laughed.

--

Adam walked through the Warehouse and tried not to feel aggravated at the sight of the detective’s car parked outside.  Aggravated wasn’t quite the right word for how he was feeling, but he didn’t know how else to describe the way he felt out of sorts that she hadn’t called him to let him know that she was planning on dropping in on her day off. If she had, he would have…

I would have done what? he thought, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring as he sank into an easy chair in the living room. There had been something between them only a few days ago and he flexed his hand. If he focused enough on the memory of watching fireworks at the carnival, he could all but feel her hand still in his.

“That’s an awful grouchy look for someone who knows Aubs is home,” Morgan told him, perching her hip on the windowsill before she slid the window open enough to let a breeze in.

“She isn’t home,” he countered. “She’s somewhere here.”

Morgan scoffed and tapped out a cigarette. “Okay, sure.” Sparking up, she exhaled a plume of smoke. “To save you time, she’s in the training room. Said something about wanting to get some practice in.”

That got his attention. “By herself? You know she’s not the best at combat, you could have offered to help.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think she needed my help.” Smoke seeped from her lips as she turned towards the open window. Nate would be pissed if she smoked up the living room too much.  “Why don’t you go check in on her progress?”

Morgan didn’t have to look to know that Adam had already left. Shaking her head, she smirked and took another drag.

Adam hadn’t even gotten a few feet away from the training room’s doors when the sound of music hit him, the pop song familiar from Farah constantly blaring the tune from her bedroom at volumes loud enough to make the windows vibrate. Yet instead of being irritating, this version was both softened by being played on the piano and at a volume low enough that it was more than likely only barely audible to human hearing. His steps faltered as he listened to the rapid beating of Aubrey’s heart and the occasional hard slap of feet against the floor. Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly made his way to the door, opening it but not entering. Part of his reasoning was that he wanted to see how long it would take for the detective to be aware of his presence, but the other was because he wanted to observe her progress without her going tense or stopping only because she thought he was judging her progress and finding it lacking. She had the basics of combat covered due to her police training that he found satisfactory, but there was always a fear clawing at his gut that her training wouldn’t be enough to help her while facing more supernatural foes.

It was something that they were both going to have to work on, she to improve her skills and he to actually let her without worrying so much.

What he found Aubrey doing was definitely not practicing fighting stances.  Adam stared transfixed as he watched her glide across the floor with a grace that he had only caught glimpses of in her everyday movements.  Aubrey was definitely unaware of his presence as she rose fully onto her toes and performed a series of small steps before going into a pirouette and then making multiple turns around the room at a speed that should have made a human dizzy, but Adam only saw a look of utter peace and serenity on her face that made his chest constrict at the emotion she elicited from him.

She was beautiful.  It was something he was well aware of, but seeing her dancing - something he knew she had loved and something that had pained her to leave behind - made it all the more obvious. Her arms moved to balance her as she rose again on one foot, her other leg lifting up and almost impossibly high near her head before she moved again, dropping her leg to extend it in front of her and folding herself over it in one fluid motion.  She stayed like that for a moment and Adam was sure she would move into another dance position, but she suddenly folded in on herself and sat on the floor, her arms coming up to circle her knees as she let out a loud sob.

He was at her side before he even registered moving.  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her left foot, hands going to her shoulders in concern. The ribbons of her shoes hid most of the silvery pale surgical scars he’d only glimpsed the few times he’d seen her barefoot, but nothing looked amiss.

Aubrey jumped, jerking up to look at him. “Adam?”

“You’re crying.” He couldn’t help but reach out and brush a tear away from her cheek, his breath catching when she tipped her head towards his hand.

“Oh.” Her hands went up to wipe at her face and she gave a little laugh. “I’m not hurt, at least I don’t think so.”  He watched her flex her foot before she nodded in affirmation that everything was fine. 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

She blushed and leaned back on her hands. “You know that before I joined the police force that I was a dancer.  Becoming a ballerina was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be since I was six.  I spent twenty years dancing and after hurting myself and leaving, everything has felt...off, like something was missing in my life.  The instructor at the dance studio down the road’s given me an open invitation to perform at any of her programs, but I keep telling her that I’m retired. I haven’t danced since, partly because I was afraid of hurting my foot again, but mostly because I was afraid.”

He sat down next to her. “Afraid of what?”

She bit her lip. “That I wouldn’t be able to do steps I used to be able to practically do in my sleep. That no matter how much warming up I’d done that I wouldn’t be able to dance without pain. That the part of myself I had put so much of my effort into had truly died and the hole in my chest I’ve felt ever since would never go away.”  She laughed again, a trait that Adam had since realized was a nervous tell. “I told you I needed a lesson in self-assuredness.”

He let out a brief huff of laughter before sobering. “And now? Did you find the answers to your fears?” 

“I did.  I was so used to dancing at a certain pace and quantity that when the doctors told me that I’d hurt myself even more permanently if I kept it up, so my answer was to stop completely.” She tightened her arms around her knees. “My all or nothing thinking did more damage than risking the occasional recital or program here in Wayhaven making me miss my former schedule ever did.”

Anxiety suddenly latched its teeth into his chest. “Does this space displease you then?”

She jerked upright. “Displease me?  Adam, this…” she glanced around at what she could only describe as a miniature dance studio. Whoever had built it could have shuffled her to a corner of the training room, but she had been given an equal amount of space as any of the other equipment that dotted the area. “This is wonderful.”

He let out the breath he had been holding.  “Good. When your mother told us about your previous profession, I had hoped to give the architects enough direction to…” He stopped himself, heat dotting his face when he realized what he had said.

“You did this? For me?”

He frowned and tried to brush off the more serious implications his statement had brought up. “Even if you hadn’t utilized the space, an area for flexibility and agility practice would have…”  Whatever he was going to say next was knocked away when Aubrey launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her cheek settling in the curve of his neck.  She leaned back enough to look him in the eye.  “I’ve felt so lost for so long, but this...this was me coming home.”

Adam reached up and brushed his fingers over her chin. “You’re crying again.”

“Happy tears, I promise.”

He should have moved away, but it felt right to bring his arms around her and hold her close, sighing as she hugged him again. “Happy or not, I don’t like being the cause of your tears.  I shall try to not do anything to make you cry.”

She laughed, her breath warm against his throat. “Good luck. You should know by now that I tear up at the drop of a hat.” She paused. “You thinking of me as an equal part of Unit Bravo even back then really means a lot to me. I mean it, Adam.”

He rested his chin on the crown of her head and gave in to a little self-indulgence by pulling her in closer. “You’re welcome, Aubrey.” Reluctantly, he pulled away and got up. “Though I should probably apologize: Farah’s going to insist you teach her everything you know.”

Aubrey grinned and held her hands up so Adam could pull her to her feet.  “I’m ready. I’ll have her in a leotard before she knows it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Her grin grew. “And maybe I just might have you doing some lifts before you know it too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

There was a beat where they were silent. Aubrey broke it by rocking back on her heels. “You know, this was just supposed to be a test to see if I could still dance, but I think I’m going to keep it up.  Would you mind if I came by more often to practice?”

Adam tilted his head. “Why would I mind? Like you said, this is your home.” He gave her a fond smile. “Besides, it wouldn’t be unpleasant to see you here more often. Your natural agility and speed could come in handy to offset your combat prowess.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat at the way he looked at her, his eyes soft in the afternoon light. “Maybe once I knock all the rust off, I can give a mini-recital,” she joked.

“I’d like that.” Adam cleared his throat. “We’d like that. But in order for you to do so, you need time to practice. I’ll leave you to it.”

Aubrey watched as he left the training room and closed the door behind him.  She couldn’t stop from rushing over to where her phone was to scroll through some more music. Where she had sort of butchered the flow of an actual class before to test if she could simply do the moves again, now she centered herself and began to practice in earnest. The years away had left her with muscles that still remembered how to move in the correct steps, even if being out of practice meant it took a little more effort to get into them. Even so, every plie and tendu made something dormant inside her unfurl and wake up, as if someone had opened a window to let a fresh breeze in.

Just outside the training room, Adam leaned against the wall and listened for a brief moment before heading down the hallway.  “You knew she wasn’t training,” he said as he found Morgan in the kitchen.

“Never said she was,” she replied, not looking up from the apple she was slicing.  “Besides, for her, I think that still counts as training. She needed that, you know.”

“So long as she doesn’t injure herself again.”

The scoff and rolled eyes were something Adam had grown used to. “She’s a grown woman, I think she knows what her body’s limits without you hovering.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though maybe she’d want you to hover, if you know what I mean.”

He scowled. “What are you doing?”

She gave him as innocent of a look as Morgan was capable of doing. “Nothing, Adam. Just making a snack.”

He looked down at the plate of sliced apples and cheese. “You hate cheese.”

“Didn’t say it was for me.  Don’t know what sort of calories she’s burning, but…” she shrugged. “She’ll be hungry when she finishes in there.”

He dropped his defensive posture. “So you can be nice,” he teased.

“Fuck off, Adam,” she sneered, throwing the plate into the fridge. “She’s my…” She trailed off and shrugged.

“You can call her your friend. It won’t hurt.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ha ha. That’s real rich, coming from you.  But yeah. You’re supposed to do nice things for friends.”

Adam watched as she sauntered off. Leaning against the kitchen island, he grabbed an apple from the bowl Nate had put out earlier. Taking a bite, he frowned as he went over both the moment that he had with Aubrey and the conversation he just had with Morgan.

Maybe she’s right, he thought, pushing away from the island. He opened the fridge to make sure that there was a bottle of water set next to Morgan’s snack offering for Aubrey to find. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to admit certain things.

[pastelninjaimagines]

This is so many letters but: A B D E G K M X Z for Obito please?✌️🥺✌️

Obito

Ahhhhh the og husband, yaassss

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Obito will follow you around like a goddamn lost puppy. Whatever you wanna do, whatever your hobbies are, you can count on him to wanna do them with you and try new stuff out. He’s adventurous so trying new things together is something he immensely enjoys. He really does like exploring new places, so if you like traveling than you’re a match made in heaven.

For a more modern au, he would loveeee to go on cross-country road trips. Just spend a couple weeks and see what there is to explore. Also amusement parks are an absolute must. Would also like something more low key like going to see a movie on a rainy day. And can you say board games? Bc this man is the king of board games. Watch him crushing it at monopoly out there

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Ok so he loves literally everything about you. There’s nothing he doesn’t admire. Literally. Your personality, your looks. He loves it all and worships you like the god/goddess you are. A few things he admires specifically is your kindness and compassion. The fact that you overlook his flaws, both physically and personality-wise, and how accepting of him you are, literally blows his mind all the time. Sometimes he has to pinch himself to make sure that he’s not dreaming you up. Your compassion for him and for others is incredible to him and so endearing that it makes him love you more. As for a physical trait that he loves, it’s definitely your soft smile and kind eyes. Just the way you look at him sends butterflies in his stomach and makes him as giddily nervous as a schoolboy. You’re his precious sunshine and he wants to protect your beautiful smile. 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

All this man wants is a peaceful, happy future with the love of his life DEAR GOD PLS GIVE THIS TO HIM he just wants to be happy!!! Like his top-tier fantasy is the two of you living in a decently sized house, away from others (but not too distant) living comfortably, maybe with a kid or two running around. Top-tier stuff fam, he’s gushy and pretty simple with his wants

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

So, he’s sort of a switch when it comes to relationship dominance. He likes his way and can be incredibly head-strong (an Uchiha gene), but he also wants to make you happy and often puts your happiness above his own. Sometimes these two opposing feelings conflict and he can feel a bit muddled, but he really does try to make everything an equal partnership. 

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Ok, Obito is beyond grateful for you. You brought softness and love back into his life. You taught him what it is to feel happiness again. Like, you were a gift he didn’t think he deserved. He fuckng loves you. He knows he’s beyond lucky to keep you around and he’s very aware of the color you brought to his dull, dreary existence. YOU ARE HIS TREASURE and he tells you literally all the time how blessed he feels that your paths collided. Trust me, he’ll never shut up about it. You’re very aware he’s grateful for having you. 

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

At first he had 0 (zero) idea what he was doing with kissing. Like homeboy was as inexperienced as you could possibly get. However, he’s a quick study. He picked up what was goin on. After feeling his way through the motions, he’s a damn good kisser. He just has a way of making your head swoon with just a simple kiss. Also neck kisses. He’s a fine connoisseur of neck kisses. Knows how to give em, and loveesss receiving them. Also if you kiss him on the nose, he’ll die of happiness. 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

this right here kinda depends on whether we’re talking about canon Obito, or post-canon au Obito where he somehow lived lmao bc those two answers are wildly different. If we’re talking strictly canon Obito, no he has no desire to get married whatsoever. He’s sort of living in this quasi-reality state, and while he loves you, he hates tradition and thinks of marriage as pointless

Now AU post-canon Obito, hell yeah he wants to marry you! You put up with him? You love him? He’s putting a ring on you asap! 

He plans this whole elaborate plan to propose to you that may or may not go completely awry. He imagines the moonlight filtering down, him leading you down a secluded that ends in the areas he set up to pop the question decorated ahead of time with glittering lights and an exorbitant amount of your favorite flowers. Now of course he couldn’t predict the weather. He was already nervous as hell, hands shaking, a cold sweat down his back. And just as he’s about to lead you to the flowery oasis he spent hours decorating, it begins to pour buckets of rain like heaven decided to let out a second flood. You’re both all dressed up, soaking wet within a minute, however you’re already at the spot, he’s got the ring in his pocket. He thinks to himself, fuck it, and gets down on one knee anyway. A little rain won’t stop him from asking you to share the rest of your lives together

Marriage with Obito is pretty blissful. Sure you’re both kinda outcasts (bc of his past and all) but you’re incredibly happy. His mission in life is to make you as happy as possible. And that’s what he does. He’s incredibly kind, pretty goofy and always keeps you entertained with his antics that normally go not-as-planned. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

After you two have officially established your relationship, he becomes incredibly affectionate, most to the point where he’s borderline clingy. He was touched starved as all hell before you came along. Once he gets a little taste of affection he’ll be clinging to you when you guys are alone like a sloth clings to a tree. You’ll have to pry him off of you. It’s honestly pretty cute. Pls give him head massages it’s his literal favorite thing while you guys are cuddling together. He also really loves pulling you onto his lap and showering you with kisses. Just pls give him affection he deserves it. 

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’s painfully canon how far Obito is willing to go for the one he loves. Will he start a world war for you? Yes. Will he consider ending the universe for you? Double yes. but in all seriousness, Obito loves you. He doesn’t wanna lose the best and brightest thing in his life. He would literally do anything for you and your safety. Because you’re his whole world and he wants to protect his sunshine.

[anistarrose]

Ford in Amphibia - Chapter 2

Summary: Ford is subjected to mild bullying, and the gang decides to hunt an endangered species but makes an unexpected new friend along the way.

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375102/chapters/47328493

The Beginning

This chapter references a few more episodes of Amphibia than the last one, but doesn’t spoil any overarching plot details past the first episode, so it should be possible to read even if you’re not caught up. This is starting to look like it’ll eventually wind up as four-chapter fic, so stay tuned for more!

***

Ford sat on the couch next to Anne, watching intently as she flicked through albums of photos on her phone.

“Here’s my cat, Domino — oh, and here she is again, in my parents’ kitchen! What a little troublemaker!”

“She’s quite precious,” Ford agreed. “You say you have music on this device too?”

“Of course!” Anne answered. “I’ve got all the best tunes — stuff to dance to, stuff you can sing along with, stuff to listen to as you think about how far you are from home and regret your life choices —”

“Do you have anything by Eurythmics? Or Talking Heads?”

Anne stared at Ford blankly.

“Or do you prefer classical? The Planets by Holst, maybe?”

“Uh, I’ve got All Star by Smash Mouth —”

“Mention that song again and you’re dead to me,” Ford growled.

There was an awkward pause, and then Ford sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be surprised that we appreciate different aspects of human culture. You’re young, and I… left my dimension a very long time ago.”

“That’s, um — that’s too bad,” Anne stammered, not really knowing what to say. “Uh… do you want to keep looking at pictures?” she finally asked.

Ford didn’t say no, so she opened a new album. “Here’s some of me and Sprig, and of some wildlife we saw the other day — oh, and here’s where I tried to teach Sprig how to use the camera! You can tell because it’s all blurry and —”

“Wait!” Ford interrupted. “Go back! To the one with the caterpillar — er, the cat-erpillar, rather!”

“This one?” Anne pulled up a picture of a black, orange, and red cat-erpillar glimpsed from across a meadow.

“That’s it! See the flame pattern, and those prominent tufts on the neck? That’s the endangered Sunburst Mountain Cat-erpillar!”

“Whoa, are you like a conservation expert?” Sprig asked, springing onto the couch. “Do you need to capture it and get it to breed with others of its kind to save the species?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Ford told them. “I need a sample of its chrysalis for my own use — and ideally I won’t seriously harm any specimens, but you never know!”

Noticing Anne and Sprig’s mildly horrified looks, he went on: “Let me explain. For years now, I’ve planning a mission to a very dangerous dimension, of which the atmosphere is contaminated with just about every pollutant imaginable. There will be zero margin for error on this mission, but if I inhale too many of those pollutants, they’ll almost certainly hamper my performance. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been searching for a solution…”

He pulled a carefully rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket, and spread it out in his lap to reveal a detailed scientific drawing of the cat-erpillar and its cocoon, along with a sketch of a mountain with wisps of smoke emanating from the peak.

“Every generation of the Sunburst Mountain Cat-erpillar pupates near volcanic vents, and as a result, they’ve evolved so that their chrysalides absorb and break down a wide variety of toxins. I learned of their existence shortly after coming to your world, and I’ve been trying to track one down ever since in the hope that harvesting some of that chrysalis material would help me design an air filter to get around that pollution problem — but unfortunately, the location of Sunburst Mountain has been lost to time, since those vents are dormant most of the year. The whole time I’ve been here in the valley, I’ve just been stumbling around blindly without glimpsing hide nor hair of any of the right cat-erpillar species.”

He flipped his paper over, and pulled out a pen. “The period of vent activity should only last another week or two this year, and at this rate I’m probably going to miss it — but if you could tell me where you saw that specimen the other day, then I’d have my best lead yet!”

“Cool!” Sprig exclaimed, at the same time that Anne spoke up:

“I gotta admit, tracking down a lost volcano sounds like loads of fun, but… cat-erpillars are a lot more dangerous than they look. Sprig can tell you about the Domino Two incident — did not end well for anyone, except maybe Domino Two herself.”

“Oh, I know how to handle myself, don’t worry! I’ve conquered many foes more deadly than a mere —”

They were interrupted by a yelp as Hop Pop jumped straight up, slamming into the ceiling.

“Darn it, Ford, I know you mean us no harm, but every time I walk by here I think there’s an owl perched on our couch and my heart skips a beat!” He rubbed his head, and began collecting the books he’d dropped.

Sprig snapped his fingers. “That’s it, an owl! I knew he reminded me of something predatory!”

“What?” Ford scowled. “I do not look like an owl!”

“Uh, except you kinda do!” Polly chimed in, bouncing into the living room behind Hop Pop. “There’s your big wide eyes, and the way your eyebrows jump up and your head whirls right around whenever you hear something behind you — oh, and the way your cloak billows behind you like giant wings!”

“You’ve got to be joking! I —”

“Such a majestic and terrifying creature!” Polly went on, tugging on Ford’s cloak. “You are the swift and deadly hunter I wish to emulate! Will you teach me your ways?”

Ford’s mouth opened and then closed, at a loss for words, but Anne cut in.

“Hey, that’s enough. Owls are supposed to be wise, remember? Ford set his face on fire less than five minutes after we met him. I think that instantly disqualifies him from owl resemblance.”

Ford just shook his head as Anne and Hop Pop cackled.

“And did you see how he slept on the couch last night?” Sprig added. “His face was buried in a whole stack of pillows and his feet were practically out the window! No majestic old owl would sleep like that!”

“I still want to see him in action, though,” Polly declared. “What do you hunt, old man? Tell me so that I may watch you and learn your ways of stealth and dismemberment!”

“I’m not planning to dismember any endangered species if I can avoid it,” Ford corrected her. “But you’re welcome to come with me anyways. The more eyes who know this area, the better!”

“Ooh, can we take Bessie?” Sprig asked. “Anne can drive us!”

Hop Pop’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. I’ve got errands to run, and I’m not sure how I feel about letting you all run off without a chaperone…”

Ford stifled a laugh. “Hopediah, I’ve earned degrees in everything from cryptobiology to quantum physics — I’m basically the best chaperone these kids could hope for. Think of it as an educational outing!”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? That’s fine, then — just be sure to be back before nightfall!”

“Woo-hoo!” Anne cheered. “Time for an adventure with the weird hobo scientist from outer space that we adopted!”

“Adventure! Adventure! Adventure!” Sprig and Polly chanted. Anne joined in almost immediately, and after a moment, Ford did too.

***

“Okay, I think this is where we saw it,” Anne announced as Bessie the snail slowed to a halt at the edge of a clearing. The meadow was dotted with patches of mud, and seemed devoid of any life besides a lone chickfly that squawked and flew off as the gang dismounted.

“It looks… swampier than last time,” Sprig mused. “Did it rain over here or something?”

Ford knelt down in front of one of the patches of exposed mud, removing his glove to run a finger along the edge. “If anything, it looks like a creature tore up the grass at the surface while hunting here, revealing the damp earth underneath.”

“But these claw markings are huge! Whatever made them must be bigger than me!” Anne shuddered. “Ford, do you know why everything is so giant here?”

“Not for sure, but I can certainly speculate!” Ford’s face lit up. “For one thing, my preliminary scans have shown that there’s more oxygen in the atmosphere of this dimension than there is in the environment either you or I would’ve came from, which paleontology suggests may allow for life to grow larger.”

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Anne muttered, but Sprig bounded over to Ford’s side, eyes wide.

“Wow, really? If you and Anne keep breathing our air, will you get bigger too?”

“Not necessarily due to the oxygen concentrations,” Ford told him, “but that’s not the only difference between our dimensions! Gravity is slightly weaker here too, which most importantly means that it’ll be easier for the skeletons of megafauna to support their body mass, but also could cause Anne and I to pick up a few extra millimeters when our spinal columns expand. The effect should be subtle, but less weight pressing our vertebrae together means we’ll stand a little taller.”

“You’re not a majestic owlish hunter after all,” Polly groaned. “You’re just a nerd.”

“He’s a brave adventurer and he knows all about everything!” Sprig told her. “I want to be just like him when I grow up!”

“Two nerds,” Polly grumbled.

“Hey, guys?” Anne poked Sprig in the shoulder with a stick. “There’s something coming this way, and it’s kinda… on fire?”

“Where?” Ford leapt to his feet. “Is it a cat-erpillar?”

“No, it’s more like… an amorphous blob.” Anne pointed towards the creature, which had made its way almost halfway across the clearing. “I’d stay back, in case it explodes in our faces… oh, or you could just walk right up to it! That too!”

“Would you look at that!” Ford exclaimed, kneeling at the creature’s side. “I hadn’t expected to find any cryptozoological oddities I was familiar with here!”

“Cryptozoological?” Sprig tilted his head. “I thought that stuff was all bogus.”

“As in, like, cryptids?” Anne asked. “I saw a Moss-Man here once, does that count?”

Ford plucked a twig from the ground and placed it in the palm of his hand, which he then slowly extended towards the anomaly. The mass of its body seemed to be concentrated in a blob of mud that spilled across the ground with a radius of about half a foot and a height of about five inches at its highest point, from which several plumes of glowing green gas extended.

Two small, dark eyes blinked within the largest plume, and a muddy tendril extended from the creature’s base. For a moment, the mud began to pool in Ford’s hand, but then it pulled the twig back to its main body with a sudden slurp, leaving almost no dirt or moisture behind whatsoever. The twig vanished inside the muddy blob, and the creature gurgled in satisfaction.

Ford ran a hand through the fiery-looking plumes and Anne cringed, but he didn’t get burned. The creature’s flickering eyes widened as it responded with some semblance of a purr, apparently eager for more petting.

“Fascinating! I’ve encountered Scampfires back home, but I think this individual might be better referred to as a ‘Swampfire!’ Although technically speaking, there doesn’t seem to be any actual fire involved — I suspect it’s fueled by phosphorus and hydrocarbon compounds from that muddy blob of biomass, which undergo some form chemiluminescence to produce light without a substantial amount of heat.”

“Is it dangerous?” Polly asked. “Or will it help us on our quest?”

“Neither, I think,” Ford replied. “It seems perfectly content to just ooze along here and keep absorbing plant matter while we head on our way — although, I should really get a quick sketch first!” He pulled out a pen and notebook, adjusted his sitting position, and set to work.

“What happened to finding the cat-erpillar?” Anne groaned. “I thought that was some critically vital mission or something!”

“Oh, it is!” Ford told her. “But it’s not every day one gets to discover and catalog a new anomaly! You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Swampfires exist in my dimension too, but are endangered due to habitat loss… Humanity really needs to do a better job of preserving wetlands and all the biodiversity they contain…”

Sprig peered over Ford’s shoulder at his work — a set of simple drawings, cartoonish yet detailed enough to capture all the details of the Swampfire’s form in multiple poses. “Wow! You drew that so fast!”

“Thank you, I’ve been doing this for quite a while! Now, Swampy, if you could hold that pose for just a moment…”

Swampy, naturally, chose that moment to bolt, darting back between the trees with surprising speed as its lights dimmed.

“Drat. Well, what I’ve got down here is still better than nothing —”

“Hey, guys?” Anne asked. “Is it just me, or did a really big shadow just pass over us?”

In unison, the four of them looked up. Above, a massive shape blocked out the sun — a shape with wide eyes, a pointed beak, and long, silently flapping wings.

“Scatter!” Ford shouted as the owl dove towards the clearing, and the children bolted as its talons raked the ground.

***

End notes:

Thanks for reading, feedback/reblogs are appreciated as always!

This was very fun to write, as fics with Ford often are, because I got to use him as an excuse to ramble about science! Since Sprig showed an interest in science in “Family Shrub,” I figured he’d be pretty inquisitive, and look up to the whole adventurer-scientist deal Ford has going on.

Swampy the Swampfire, also known as the best character I’ve ever written about, is based partly off the Scampfires from Journal 3, and partly off of the “will-o-the-wisp” ghost lights, which are believed to be a result of gases produced in wetlands by decaying plants. (The endangered due to habitat loss detail Ford mentions isn’t a joke, either — according to Wikipedia, will-o-the-wisp sightings are rarer nowadays, and it’s probably because wetlands keep getting destroyed. We need to save the Swampfires!)

[arysafics]

Out Loud

Summary:  Clarke is really into quidditch, but since she sucks at playing, she's forced to annouce the matches at Hogwarts instead. Except she kind of keeps going off on tangents about how hot the Gryffindor captain is.

Rated T, ~2,500 words

Clarke isn’t allowed to commentate Slytherin quidditch matches anymore, on account of how Professor Jaha says she’s too biased. Clarke is still of the opinion that it’s the umpire that’s biased, and not her, but she handles her ban reasonably well, considering she only got to announce for three matches before it happened. Only Professor Diyoza, head of Slytherin, realises that Clarke was the one to curse the Ravenclaws’ brooms so they release green smoke when used.

“If only you would put your talent into something useful, Clarke,” Diyoza sighs. She takes 5 points from Slytherin, but she doesn’t tell anyone else about what Clarke did.

Clarke’s ban doesn’t extend to commentating the other matches, though she is on probation. She swears to herself she’ll be on her best behaviour when commentating the upcoming Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff match. Well, to the best of her ability. The problem is, her mouth kind of runs away with her while she’s announcing. The filter that’s normally there in everyday conversations disappears, and whatever comes into her head pops out. She needs to get a handle on it though. If they ban her completely, she’ll have to just watch the match with the rest of the plebs.

See, the thing is, Clarke loves quidditch. She goes to the World Cup with her dad every year, and she’s always arguing with someone or other about who the best players are, who has the best strategy or who’s going to win. She goes to all the Slytherin training sessions, even though she’s not on the team. Her classmates are careful not to bring up quidditch in front of her, because they know it will just set her off and they won’t be able to shut her up about it for at least an hour. In fourth year, she was caught taking bets on the school tournament. They almost banned her from quidditch entirely then and there.

Despite her love of quidditch, Clarke can’t play for shit, and it’s always irked her to no end. It’s her only failing, as far as she is concerned. She just doesn’t have the coordination or something. She tried out for the Slytherin team her first five years at Hogwarts, for every position. Not agile enough to be a chaser or a keeper. Not enough power to be a beater. Not swift enough to be a seeker. So now they let her commentate.

“Remember you’re on probation, Clarke,” Professor Jaha tells her as she takes her place in the commentator’s box. “I’ll be right here making sure you don’t say anything you shouldn’t say.”

“Yes, professor,” Clarke sighs. She turns her attention to the stands, full of students wearing house colours and waving banners. They’re already cheering and screaming, though the players aren’t even on the field yet. Clarke gets her wand out, silently casting the amplifying charm to project her voice over the stadium.

“Welcome back everyone!” she says. “I’m Clarke Griffin and I’ll be commentating this match. Yes, that’s right I’m still here, even after Raven Reyes tried to get me banned after my commentary on the last match.”

“Clarke!” Jaha scolds. She gives him a sheepish look. She turns her attention back to the pitch as the players fly out and the crowd cheers even louder.

“Today’s match is Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff! The winner of this match will play Slytherin in the final. Gryffindor have been playing a little too well this year so let’s hope Hufflepuff wins this one. Although I, am of course, completely unbiased.” Clarke glances at Jaha to see him rolling his eyes. The players take their places around the centre ring. “Today’s umpire is Professor Pike of Ravenclaw.”

Pike stands in the centre ring and releases the bludgers and snitch from their wooden case. He picks up the quaffle and throws it into the air, blowing his whistle as he does so.

“And we’re off! Finn Collins, Hufflepuff chaser, and two-timing bastard—”

“Clarke!”

“Sorry, professor. Collins has the quaffle. He dodges a bludger, struck by Octavia Blake. He passes off to Harper McIntyre, who shoots for a goal and—it’s nicely defended by Gryffindor captain, Bellamy Blake. Side note—did the Gryffindors get new uniforms? I’m sure Blake didn’t look that good last match. Like he looked good, but the way he fills out that new uniform is something else. Okay, he’s passing the quaffle to Zoe Monroe, who skirts around Collins, heading straight for the goals.”

“Clarke, keep your commentary on the game please!” Jaha scolds.

“I am! Ooh! Kyle Wick just hit a bludger right at Monroe! She managed not to get hit but she dropped the quaffle and now it’s in the hands of that dirtbag Finn Collins again. Personally, I think he should be banned from the team, because if he cheats on women, who’s to say he doesn’t cheat at quidditch?”

“Clarke! This is your last warning!”

“Collins passes to Gina Martin. She’s squared up against Blake, ready to take a shot at goal. This is awkward, they used to date.”

“Clarke…”

“It’s relevant information, professor! I’m just giving context! It’s not like I’m speculating on why they broke up. Although I think it’s because they had zero chemistry. Watching them kiss made me want to barf. She’s going for it and… Blake dives for it, giving us a glimpse of those magnificent abs. Ooh, he misses, but at least he looked good doing it. Ten points for Hufflepuff!”

The crowd erupts into cheers from everyone but the Gryffindors themselves.

“Ooh, Blake does not look happy about that!” Clarke says. His scowl only grows as Clarke says the words. Bellamy fetches the quaffle and throws it back into play forcefully.

“Monroe has the quaffle again. She passes to Wells Jaha. He’s really improved in the last year—he’s flying down the field. No one can stop him now! He’s going for goal—it flies right past Lincoln, the Hufflepuff keeper, and we are tied at ten all!”

Lincoln wastes no time putting the quaffle back into play, and in thirty seconds it’s back at the Hufflepuff goal end.

“It’s Harper shooting for goal again—and Blake’s defence is flawless. Harper needs to up her game if she’s going to get it past Blake. Ooh, a well place bludger by Echo as Blake tries to pass the quaffle off to Monroe. It’s missed him, thankfully—wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face—but he’s dropped the quaffle, and now it’s a race between Monroe and Harper to see who can get there first. And it’s Harper! Can she make the shot this time? She hasn’t been able to so far, maybe she’s distracted by Blake’s arm muscles. Seriously, they got new uniforms, right? Or did someone put a shrinking hex on his? Because that thing is so tight is almost indecent, and it can’t be just me having indecent thoughts right now… Ooh! He grabs the quaffle, but he fumbles it a little. It’s okay, doesn’t make him any less of a great quidditch player. They all have a little fumble now and then. I’ll tell you what, I’d let him fumble around my—”

Her wand is snatched out of her hand before she can finish. She whips her head around to see Jaha glaring at her.

“That’s enough, Clarke.”

“What did I say?” she whines.

“Well, I wrote it all down and I’ll be sending it to your head of house. Get back to the Slytherin common room now. Diyoza will deal with you later.”

“But I want to watch the rest of the match!”

“Now, Clarke.” He hands Clarke her wand back, and Clarke takes it from him, reluctantly descending the stand. By the time she reaches the ground, she can already hear Jasper Jordan taking over as announcer. Jaha must have had him on standby, knowing Clarke would screw up. She scowls. She doesn’t even know what she said wrong! She was just saying what she saw. And now she doesn’t even get to stay and watch the end of the match. It’s so unfair.

  Clarke slouches in the chair across the desk from Professor Diyoza, her expression sour. After the match, Diyoza had called Clarke straight to her office.

“I really thought you learned your lesson after last time,” Diyoza says. “You’re normally so careful with what you say. I don’t understand.”

“I guess quidditch just gets me all riled up,” Clarke shrugs. “I can’t help it. I don’t even know what I said that was so bad.”

Diyoza pulls out a piece of parchment. “Jaha made sure I got this exact dictation of what you said.” She looks down to the parchment. “First you called Finn Collins a two-timing bastard, and also a cheater and a dirtbag.”

“He is though.”

“Not related to quidditch.”

Clarke huffs. “What else?”

“Most of the other stuff is just you going on about how hot you think Bellamy Blake is.”

“I did not say that.”

Diyoza eyes her with amusement. She reads directly from the page. “The way he fills out that new uniform is something else. Blake dives for it, giving us a glimpse of those magnificent abs. He misses, but at least he looked good doing it. It’s missed him, thankfully, wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face. It can’t be just me having indecent thoughts right now—”

“Okay!” Clarke interrupts. Her face is flaming. “I’ve heard enough.” She can hardly believe she said all that out loud. She can tell Diyoza is laughing at her, even if she isn’t actually laughing. “So, what’s my punishment then?”

“To be honest, I think it’s punishment enough that the entire school now knows you have a thing for the Gryffindor quidditch captain. That’s pretty embarrassing, right?”

Clarke scowls. “Shut up,” she mutters.

“Do you speak to all your professors like that?” Diyoza asks, rolling her eyes.

“Am I being punished or not?”

“Yeah, twenty points from Slytherin. And you’re banned from announcing all future matches.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t sulk, Clarke. I doubt Gryffindor’s resident golden boy will find that attractive. They won, by the way.”

“You’re the worst house leader ever,” Clarke says, mostly trying to disguise the fact that she’s blushing again. She gets up and stalks out of the office, Diyoza’s laughter trailing after her.

On her way back to the Slytherin common room, she spots Bellamy coming towards her and quickly changes direction. He’s the last person she wants to see right now. Unfortunately, the hallway is empty apart from the two of them, and he sees her before she can escape.

“Hey, Griffin!” he yells. Clarke stops, squeezing her eyes shut. Her face is hot already, and she hopes it doesn’t look as red as it feels. She turns to face him, trying to muster up some semblance of nonchalance.

“Bellamy,” she says. “What’s up?”

“What the hell was that out there?” he says angrily.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. All the shit you were saying. That was really uncool.”

Clarke cringes. “Sorry I embarrassed you,” she says shortly. “If it makes you feel any better, I totally humiliated myself as well, so there’s that.”

“How exactly did you humiliate yourself?”

“You heard what I said, right?” she snorts. “I kind of admitted to the whole school that I’m into you. Which would be fine if it were anyone else, but no, I have to have a crush on perfect Gryffindor quidditch captain Bellamy Blake. It’s totally ruining my cool Slytherin brand.”

Bellamy is staring at her like she just grew a second head.

“What?” she snaps.

“You’re into me?” he says dumbly. Clarke stares back, confused. He did hear everything she said at the match, right? “I mean—you didn’t just say all that stuff to throw me off my game so we’d lose the match?”

Oh. Oh, that would have been a great cover. Clarke only wishes she’d thought of it herself. And fuck, now she’s blushing again.

“I—” she swallows. “Fuck.” Her eyes drop to her feet, unable to look at his deep brown eyes scrutinising her. “I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut,” she mutters.

“You’re into me,” he repeats, almost wondrously. He laughs. Clarke looks up, glowering at him.

“No need to laugh at me.”

Bellamy’s wide grin drops, and he quickly turns apologetic. “Oh, no,” he says. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I—uh—” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I’m kind of into you too.”

Clarke gapes at him. “What?”

Bellamy laughs again. “Yeah. It’s really annoying.”

Clarke’s heart soars, and she’s not sure she’s doing a great job of keeping the goofy grin from her face. “I bet I’m more annoyed about it that you are.”

“No way. My crush on you is way more inconvenient. Your stupid sexy voice always distracts me from quidditch. Today was especially bad. It’s like… my brain was sure you were saying all that stuff just to put me off, but my dumbass heart got all worked up because it wanted you to mean it.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know I got banned from announcing any further matches.”

“It was probably because of the part where you said you wanted me to fumble around your—what was it? You never finished that sentence.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke groans. “I’m so embarrassing. This ban is probably for the best.”

Bellamy eyes her, smile playing on his lips. God, she feels like she could melt into a heap under his gaze. Her heart is beating so fast she thinks it’s going to burst out of her chest.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” Clarke nods, and then Bellamy is closing the gap between them, taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers, so gently Clarke thinks she might be imagining the whole thing. She deepens the kiss, opening her mouth for him, letting her tongue brush against his. Her whole body lights up for him. He groans softly, then pulls back. Clarke opens her eyes to his. Goosebumps cover her skin.

“Everyone is going to make fun of us for this,” Clarke says.

“No one would dare,” Bellamy laughs. “Everyone knows you can hex anyone and get away with it. Like what you did with the Ravenclaws’ brooms.”

“You know that was me?”

“Everyone knows. Mostly because I figured it was you and I was so impressed I told everyone. But I made it seem like I thought it was a stupid thing to do.”

Clarke smiles. “You think I’m impressive?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m going to tell everyone. Especially Diyoza.”

Bellamy shakes his head, confused but endeared. “Okay? Weird, but okay.”

“So, do you want to like… date me?”

Bellamy grins. “Yeah, I want to date you. If you’re not too concerned about your cool Slytherin brand. Which, for the record, you don’t have.”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

“Gladly.”

[thebluejayawe]

Merry Christmas @tyson-baerrie Tis a surprise from I! Your not-so-great and weakly powerful Secret Santa!!

Pls enjoy my meager offerings :D Hopefully you enjoy the fic~ I’ve never done these two before so hopefully I got them right :/

Dialogue Prompts Used

“Your hair is so soft…”

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“You are ridiculously comfortable…”

Tys is half asleep on his couch, wading his way through his latest binge session of The Office when the door opens.

He doesn’t move, just blinks slowly at the TV and listens as his - possible boyfriend? Who knows - starts banging around the kitchen. There’s a few swears, and then the sound of the microwave going. A few minutes later there’s a muffled grown, some shuffling, then two hundred and fifteen pounds of a Captain lands on the couch next to him, Landy’s head landing hard on Tyson’s stomach.

“Yes?” He asks, now much more awake, but still warm and comfortable. He snags the small cloth pouch filled with whatever - beans or something weird, he’s got no idea, whatever the hell his grandmother put in the thing that doesn’t pop in the microwave - and positions the warm object on the back of Landys neck.

Landy who moans something obscene as the heat his skin. It’s quiet for a little while, and Tys takes to running a hand through that stupidly soft mop of hair.

“You are ridiculously comfortable…” Gabe mumbles into his stomach, not even pretending to care about the TV. Tyson smiles and hums, and Landy shifts a little to be more comfortable on his side. He loves when Gabe’s like this, tired maybe, but soft and quiet, not focused on hockey or the team or anything else but Ty. It makes him feel whole somehow, like...like he’s got Landy all to himself, and that’s all he could ever need.

“Your hair’s so soft.” He says back, and Gabe barely even responds, save for a slightly bigger breath than before. He smiles. 

They stay like that for a while - several more episodes go by, and Landy falls asleep pretty quickly, but he stays up, just listening to the drone of the TV and the soft mumbles that Landy always makes as he sleeps.

He closes his eyes at one point when he realizes he can just feel Landy breathing, soft and deep and even, and he-

He loves him.

They’ve been doing this for years now, first dancing around it, then just...being together, but not being together, and the sex was great, but Tyson drew the line when Landy couldn’t put a name to what they were, how they felt. Or maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t - it was just that he didn’t. So he- he back up, and Landy fell hard, so hard, and there was a few weeks where Tyson thought-

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that now, when they’re together like this, Tys can at least know he’s helping Landy. Helping them both.

….

Showers have always been their thing.

Weird enough as it is to think that, they really are. When they’re at home - whether it be Tys place or Landy’s - they almost never take separate showers. It’s why, when they broke up (can you break up if you were never, officially dating?) he took to avoiding showering at his place as much as could. Every time he’s step in there, it feel too big, to loud, and too, too alone.

Now that they’re doing whatever they’re doing, if there’s one thing Tys had to choose he was grateful for besides have Landy...sorta back in his arms, it’s this.

It’s gentle touches, and soft kisses, and almost too hot water. It’s Tyson running his hands through Gabe’s hair until it’s soaked through, and then it’s them sharing a soft, lingering kiss. When Landy closes his eyes, he keeps them closed, and Tys slowly works the sweet smelling shampoo into his hair until there’s suds everywhere. It never ceases to amaze him, the way Landy looks when he’s like that.

Eyes closed, head tilted back, just letting Tys do this - it’s trust, it’s so, so much trust, and everytime it takes his breath away.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asks softly, gently pressing his fingers into Gabe’s scalp and moving them in small circles.

Landy just smiles, but keeps his eyes closed.

Tys just kisses his check gently and backs him up under the water.

…..

“Are you setting my stove on fire again?” Barrie laughs softly as he walks into the kitchen, wrapping Gabe in a hug from behind and kissing the back of his neck. Pulling away he gazes down at the sad looking spaghetti floating around the water. “Jesus what did you do to that?”

He pulls away and goes into the fridge in search of something to drink, noticing Landy looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.  “I boiled it, but then it was too hard, and now I think it’s been to long. Did you know you could kill pasta like this?”

Tyson grabs a water he doesn’t really want just to close the fridge. He uncaps it and settles at the island counter, watching as Gabe turns off the stove and proceeds to dump the water and the overcooked pasta into the sink.

It’s been a good day, he thinks. There was no arguing, no tension, so friction coming from hurt feelings and heavy hearts. They just...were. And now that he thinks about it, they’ve been doing that for a while now. Dancing around whatever it is they are, but without the pain.

Landy pauses after refilling the pan with water. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Tyson stares back at him, wide eyed. “Yes.” He swallows, and in a moment of zero brain to mouth filter, continues with, “It smells like you so I used to wear it when you were gone.”

Unfortunately, It seems to be the absolute wrong thing to say, because Gabe’s face crumples into uncharacteristic guilt and sadness. “Listen- listen Tys-”

“Landy it’s okay-”

“No that’s- hold on.” Landy turns around and drops the pot on the stove to heat. He turns back around. “That’s- I looked everywhere for that shirt.”

It’s not like he was lying, per say. It stopped smelling like Landy after the third time he washed it, but he thought Gabe just...never noticed. It’s just a plain grey t-shirt, with  ‘Landeskog, 92’ in sloppy sharpy over the tag. He looks down at it, then back up at Gabe.

“It’s just a grey t-shirt-”

“I know. I know it is, and I know- it’s just that one- I’ve had it forever.” He looks like he’s said those exact words to himself a thousand times. “It’s just- well-” Gabe looks Tys up and down, eyes wide like he’s both in shock while also admiring. “Well you’re wearing it.”

“You left it.” Tyson say heavily, and this time Landy does flinch back.

“I know.” Gabe replies, voice just as low and serious. Tys hates how they’re separated by the island, like they’re two different forces fighting against each other. “I know. I left. I know Tys.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry Tyson. I am. But I- here, right now? I’ve never been happier.”

‘He used your first name’. He thinks, because Gabe never uses his full name, and he feels like that’s something to point out, but says instead “Me too,” because he hasn’t, he’s never- he hasn’t had this before. This is...it’s them. It’s happiness and laughter and soft moments and easy touches and it’s everything Tys has ever wanted with Gabe, but if Landy still can’t do this, then neither can he.

“I can’t hide Landy.” He whispers, but Gabes already nodding.

“I know and I- I don’t want you to. I never wanted you to hide Tys, please know that.” He takes a deep breath, and raises his eyes to pin Barrie to the spot.

He could drown in those eyes.

“If you still want...us. Or if- if this makes you happy, then I thought maybe we could- could, um...maybe- well the dads trip is coming up, so I thought- I- I could- I could tell my dad and- I mean only if you want to, only if-”

“I’m happy, Landy.” He cuts off the stammer, a smile on his face despite his want to be serious. “I am happy, but I- I can only do this again if you’re serious, I can’t if you can’t-”

He gets cut off by a pair of lips crashing into his, strong and sure and desperate as Gabe cups the back of his head with his hands. He didn’t even notice him coming around the counter.

Gabe pulls back for just a second and Tyson’s breathing hard, surprised and happy and feeling his heart ready to pound right out of his ribcage, but then Landy whispers “I love you.” and Tyson-

He melts.

Bonus:

“You so cute when you’re half asleep like this.” Landy murmurs, and Tys just smiles into his shoulder.

“So you tell me every time we sleep together.” He mumbles back, humming happily as this time, the roles are reversed and Landy is playing with his hair.

Landy just huffs. “Well it’s true. Get used to it.”

“Mmk.” He shuffles a little bit to get further under the covers, and Landy turns off the lamp, settling down beside him.

“Hey Gabe?”

“M yeah?” Comes the sleepy reply.

“I love you too.”

[my-one-love-is-music]

Forget Me Not Ch. 26

I feel we might be nearing the end of this fic. But for now, enjoy what I think is an epic fight scene and some new developments. 

Also on AO3!

Keith’s muscles tensed as he waited for the first move to be made. If need be, he was prepared to die. And not in the way that had happened before so he could end the fantasy he’d been trapped in. He knew that if he chose to die this time it would be it. There wouldn’t be any way to come back from something like that. But he wasn’t going to allow himself to fall at the hands of this thing. This Galra mind whatever that wanted to torment him for the rest of his life.

Shiro watched him, eyes narrowed. His hand glowed a soft purple from where it was angled away from Keith. Keith wondered if he was prepared to stay there forever. It was a way to trap him without having to actively trap him. But then he wasn’t getting to do anything to him. And Keith wasn’t about to let them be stuck in a standoff.

Energy thrummed under his skin and through his veins. He wasn’t anxious. Fighting always thrilled him. It was a sense of anticipation. He breathed through his nostrils and finally let himself move, rushing at Shiro who grinned, lips pulling open over sharp teeth.

Keith swiped up with his knife, Shiro blocking easily with his hand, not that Keith expected anything less. Their hands were forced apart and Keith kicked out with his foot, hitting Shiro squarely in the stomach. Shiro was pushed back a step and glared at him. Keith grinned.

“Looks like someone thought they could underestimate me,” he quipped.

Shiro’s eyes narrowed further. The energy under Keith’s skin had abated slightly, the tide a little less rough, but the gravity of the situation still weighed down on him.

Shiro rushed at him, keeping low. He swept his arm out and Keith deflected, forced to step back as his arm came back down. Keith swung his knife in an arc and knocked his arm off course. Shiro went with the movement, Keith spotted Shiro’s opposite fist as it swung back towards him. He caught the fist in his hand with a growl.

Keith pushed back, aiming to sink his knife into Shiro’s stomach, but his blow was matched, pushing them apart. Keith flipped his grip on the knife handle, the blade coming to point backwards. He rushed forward, ducking low as Shiro threw his arm out. He sliced towards Shiro’s stomach, but he twisted away, sweeping a leg out to knock Keith’s legs out from underneath him.

Keith valuted over the leg, rolling down over the floor until he could pop back up to his feet. He sprinted back towards Shiro, getting into the feeling of fighting and the rhythm of the way his body moved. His blade met Shiro’s hand. He ducked, avoiding another fist and managed to land a blow to Shiro’s stomach before Shiro’s Galra arm caught him on the shoulder. He stumbled backwards, balance upset, but regained his footing.

His shoulder throbbed, but he didn’t hesitate rushing him again. He sliced upwards, meeting Shiro’s hand and forcing them apart with a shower of sparks. He caught Shiro’s fist as he tried to land a punch and kicked out his foot towards Shiro’s stomach, keeping his hold on Shiro’s hand so he couldn’t stumble backwards and put space between them.

He doubled over with a gasp and Keith brought his other hand down on Shiro’s back, sending him sprawling on the floor. He grabbed his hand and pulled it upwards along his spine, digging a knee into his lower back. Shiro growled underneath him and Keith smirked, but before he could revel in any sort of victory, Shiro rolled.

He forced Keith onto his back, the pressure between their bodies, forcing his grip to loosen so Shiro could escape his hold.

“Surely you didn’t think it would be that easy?” he asked with a grin as Keith got to his feet.

Keith narrowed his eyes and watched Shiro as he walked in a wide circle around him. Keith followed him, watching every movement he made. Shiro darted forward when he blinked and pushed him back as Keith fought to parry each of his blows.

“Ack,” he gasped, when Shiro gripped his shirt, lifting him off his feet. The material pulled uncomfortably around his neck and cut off his air supply.

Shiro grinned. “You seriously think you’re strong enough to defeat me?” he barked out a laugh and threw Keith across the floor. Keith rolled to a stop and grit his teeth against the pain, pushing himself to his feet.

“No. I didn’t think it would be that easy. But it showed me you’re not as strong as you think you are,” he said, wiping a drop of sweat from the side of his mouth.

Shiro’s grin fell from his lips and he scowled. Keith briefly thought it might not have been the best idea to piss off the thing that could torture him mentally for the rest of his existence. But what would it matter when he was prepared to die. He watched Shiro’s movements carefully as he hurried forward. He pulled his arm back to direct a blow. Keith dropped underneath his range as it swung up towards his head and used his back leg to push himself forward, cutting Shiro along the leg.

He spun around, elbowing Shiro in the back and sending him to one knee. He could hear the harsh breaths he was sucking through his nose.

“Keith.”

He froze and looked around, gaze drawn back to Shiro as he staggered to his feet.

“Keith, please wake up.”

“What the hell is that?” Keith asked, pointing his blade towards Shiro. “We agreed this would be hand-to-hand. No mind tricks.”

Shiro chuckled lowly and turned to face him. There was a fire deep in his eyes. “We did. And that’s not me.”

“What is it then?”

Shiro didn’t immediately answer.

“Tell me!” he shouted, gritting his teeth.

Shiro looked up at the void above them. “It’s reality.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Has there been any change?”

A sigh.

“No.”

Shiro’s grin pulled wide. “It’s reality filtering in. Those voices you’re hearing, those are the voices of the people who are actually with you. Outside.”

“Don’t worry, Shiro. I’m sure he’ll wake up soon.”

Keith’s heart nearly stopped. Shiro was waiting at his bedside? If Shiro was there then he had to get out. He couldn’t let himself become trapped.

“Ooh someone got excited by that,” Shiro said, noticing the change in him. “Guess we should make this a little more interesting.”

Before Keith could really focus himself, Shiro was up in his space. He staggered backwards, barely blocking a fist that was thrown in his direction. He sucked in a gasp and fought to get his feet underneath him without letting Shiro land a hit. A blow glanced off his forearm and he winced at how it caught his skin, but he didn’t have enough time to ready himself when Shiro’s fist sank into his stomach, forcing him onto his back.

He coughed and clutched at his stomach, looking up at Shiro where he stood over him, grin harsh. He swiped out his leg and took out Shiro’s legs from underneath him, sending him to the floor. Keith rolled over, throwing his weight on top of Shiro to keep him pinned to the floor. He pressed his knife against Shiro’s throat, forcing his head to stay pressed against the floor.

“I don’t know if you can hear me…” A sigh. “Even if you can’t, I just want you to know how much I love you. You kept me going when I was trapped by the Galra. I fought with everything I had to stay alive and get out of there if it meant coming back to you.”

Keith’s eyes widened at the admission. Shiro saw that as his chance and rolled them, keeping his weight on Keith’s stomach and pressing the hand holding his knife into the floor.

He tutted. “It’s not good to get distracted.”

Keith ignored him, staring up at the white expanse above his head and taking in the words.

“I was crushed when you didn’t remember me. I thought that the universe was throwing it all back in my face and proving I wasn’t meant to be happy. For so long I made myself believe that you were all I was going to need. I just had to escape. I had to get back to Earth because I knew that’s where you would be.”

“Is that all you’ve got? I’m so very disappointed if you’re giving up so easily,” Shiro sighed. “But if it means trapping you here…”

“So please wake up. I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t come back to me. I can’t bear to be without you, Keith.”

Keith finally snapped back to his senses as Shiro pulled his Galra hand back, readying another blow. He upset Shiro, grabbing his arm and pushing him to the side so he tipped to the floor. Keith scrambled backwards and got to his feet, tightening his grip on his knife.

Shiro growled and chased after Keith, movements faster now. Keith’s focus zeroed in on every movement he made, allowing him to parry each blow or duck under those he risked being too slow for. The pace of their fight increased, sparks flying every time Keith’s knife hit Shiro’s arm.

What Shiro-the real Shiro-had said echoed around him. He drew strength from the admission and was reminded how much he was fighting for. It wasn’t just himself and his mind that was on the line. He was fighting for Shiro, too. He was fighting to get back to him so he could be with him. So they could live their life together and make new memories.

Keith moved faster, going beyond Shiro’s movements against him. He saw his surprise as Keith snuck in his own blows, sending punches to Shiro’s stomach and slicing with his knife. Shiro lost momentum and Keith pushed him backwards as he got slower and weaker.

Shiro threw up his arm. The move was sloppy and Keith knocked it out of the way easily, pressing the blade of his knife up against Shiro’s throat. Shiro stared at him, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was wary now. Weakened and placed in such a vulnerable position wouldn’t allow for him to be careless. Not that Keith was going to give him much of a chance to wiggle out of the situation.

“I guess I underestimated you, Keith,” he said, swallowing thickly.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he growled.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Keith turned his blade and slashed to the right, cutting a violent opening along Shiro’s neck. He watched as he stumbled backwards, clutching at the wound that didn’t bleed like a normal one.

“You beat me,” he said as black waves poured from the cut and blew through the air.

Keith stared at him, watching as he stumbled and more of the black matter disappeared. Shiro dropped to his knees. For a moment, Keith a flash of panic at the sight of him looking so weak and hurt, but he reminded himself this wasn’t the real Shiro. His Shiro was waiting for him out in the real world. And he had to get back to him.

Shiro’s body fell to the ground and he watched it disappear, his limbs turning into the same black matter that floated away to dissipate.

He let out a breath when Shiro’s body was completely gone. He turned around, wondering where he could go now. When he made a full circle, he caught sight of a wooden door that looked eerily similar to the one from the shack. He tightened his grip on his knife and took a deep breath before striding towards the door.

The knob was cool in his palm. He turned it, finding it moved easily and pushed the door open, stepping into a blaze of yellow light.

Keith blinked, trying to clear the black spots from his eyes. The light shone around him, engulfing him. He looked around, wondering what he was being faced with now. He’d beaten Shiro, well, the thing Shiro was supposed to represent.

The light next to him brightened and he blinked against it as an image came into focus. He stared at himself. He was dressed in an orange uniform and was carrying a stack of books in his hands. Keith recognized the walls of the Garrison. He had a paper in his hand and was obviously looking for the room he’d be living in.

The scene morphed to another one at the Garrison. He was in a training room, lined up with other cadets. They were staring forward and had their hands clasped behind their backs. Keith recognized Shiro standing in front of them with another officer-Iverson, his brain supplied. Shiro was talking to them and rubbing the back of his neck. It was obvious this one of his first times in charge of other recruits.

The images came faster. Shiro and Keith walking through the halls, eating lunch together, and in the flight simulator. The first time Iverson had reached out about his progress and offered him the opportunity to become a part of the Kerberos mission. Keith and Shiro celebrating.

They drove out to the shack for the first time. They had a bottle of something that made their cheeks flush and smiles come easier. That was the first time they kissed, but it wasn’t the last. More training and more weekend trips. Sneaking into Shiro’s room because he had his own when Keith still had a roommate.

Heated make out sessions until finally they made plans to go all the way. Shiro cooked a huge dinner for them. It was too much food for them to eat and they didn’t eat as much as they could have, too caught up in being together and taking things to the bedroom. Keith laying underneath Shiro and stroking a thumb across his cheek, gazes locked before their touches became more exploratory and heated.

One moment morphed into more, led to tearing off clothes and barely pulling apart if it meant the end to kisses. They could hardly walk down the hall without pulling each other into broom closets or empty classrooms to steal a kiss or ten.

Then Kerberos came and they had a shared room on the shuttle. The Holts were happy to have them and Matt and Keith were learning to build a friendship after him and Shiro were such good friends. They all became closer as they flew by planets and crossed the solar system.

Keith held his breath as he watched the landing, old nervousness filling his stomach even though it was nothing more than a memory. He saw how successful it was and the messages they sent back to Earth and the hours they had to wait for a reply.

Then they got started on their work collecting the ice samples until it all went horribly wrong and the Galra showed up. Keith watched himself desperately make a grab for Shiro until everything went black and he woke up in front of the Commander.

The fear and the pain of facing off against the Galra and being pulled away from Shiro felt so real. More than once, he had to check himself as a reminder that he wasn’t there experiencing all of this and that it was nothing more than a memory. He closed his eyes as he was hit with the laser and everything went black, fighting back a sob at the raw desperation and pain that it invoked as he fought to stay with Shiro.

Keith wrapped his hands around himself as the last image faded. He fought down the trembles that wracked through his body.

“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered.

He was expecting the lights to dim, but instead another image burst forth. It was him waking up in the Garrison. He watched the memories pass by where he fought to compile his research and figure out what was wrong. He watched himself fight to rescue Shiro and everything that followed: Shiro’s pain and their trek into space.

He watched the distance that slowly closed between them and the love that started to bloom. Keith felt it deep in his heart. It felt even more powerful and astounding since it had happened twice. They’d managed to come together despite everything that insisted on standing in their path.

He watched his confession on the planet with Shiro next to him and being rescued. He watched the kiss they’d shared before he was put into the pod and then it ended when he was pulled out only to be left to the trap of his mind.

He sighed as his surroundings returned to normal. He squared his shoulders and looked around him, taking in the endless expanse of yellow.

“I’m ready,” he whispered. “I’m ready to go back. I’m ready to be with Shiro. No matter what comes our way.”

The light blazed brighter and he closed his eyes to keep from being blinded.

Keith’s forehead furrowed in concentration. He felt a tight grip on his hand and he flexed his fingers unconsciously.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice came to him softly.

He blinked his eyes open and was met with the ceiling over his bed. Or a bed, he wasn’t sure if he was actually in his room or not. He turned his head and found Shiro staring at him, gaze a little watery and smile wobbly on his lips.

Keith smiled and squeezed Shiro’s hand, bringing his other up to cup Shiro’s cheek. He brushed his thumb over the skin.

“Hi Shiro,” he whispered. “I didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I?”

Shiro choked out a laugh and turned his head to kiss the palm of Keith’s hand. “You could’ve woken up a lot sooner if I’m being honest.”

“Well I’m here now,” Keith said closing his eyes. He felt strangely exhausted after having just woken up. “I’m here now.”