#his legal last name is death note isn’t that crazy

[kiwipineappleparasol]

So I watched Death Note (relatively) recently Bonus Halloween Scribble 👻🎃

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 06 —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

‘‘ I swear I am going to have someone beat your ass Park Jimin!’’

‘‘ It’s not my fucking fault! I broke up with her but you lead her to the apartment  knowing she’ll follow!’‘

‘‘ Damn it Jimin im going to kick your ass!’‘

Your eyes pop open just in time to see Jungkook on-top of Jimin hitting him repeatedly on the face while Jimin manages to push him off of him and begin his fist fight against him. He straddles Jungkook to the floor and punches are thrown left and right. Now the sudden headache of seeing the two brothers fight has began in your head and you cannot stand hearing the groaning and yelling between them. Bringing your hand up to signal them to stop, you realize they don’t even know you’ve awakened.

 Jungkook on the other hand is not having it so he throws Jimin off of him harshly making Jimin groan. The way he grabs Jimin’s collar with venom fast strength finally gives you the courage to yell out to them.

‘‘ Stop! Damn it, you two are like literal fucking teenagers. Act your age!”

The both of them turn their heads toward you slowly. Jungkook drops his fist, which was going to connect with Jimin’s face. You take a good look at them. Freshly bruised from each-other. Great.

‘‘ You think fighting is going to solve this problem huh? Get over here now.” You say, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Jungkook gives Jimin a death glare before rushing to your side and feeling your forehead. You slap his hand away and pull him down by his shirt only for him to recieve a harsh slap to the forehead.

‘‘ Shit!” He stumbles back and rubs his forehead. He shoots you a glare, wanting to yell at you but doesn’t.  You motion for Jimin to come to you too. He raises his eyebrows in amusement.

‘‘ I don’t think it’s necessary for you to do that..” He says, as if your death glare towards him isn’t enough to tell him you aren’t joking whatsoever.

He gets the memo when you disregard his comments before hanging his head low and bending down a little to your height. One slap against the forehead and two across the wrists.

‘‘ That’s for you fighting He was only looking out for me. The last two were for having a psychotic girlfriend who almost killed me. Look at my wrist!’‘

You hold them out to see two I.V’s, one for blood transfusion and the other a regular for nutrients on your right wrist. Both of them bandaged up which does need to be changed because of the old blood.

‘‘ I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would be this upset.’‘ Jimin says, hanging his head low. Jungkook rolls his eyes at him out of annoyance.

‘‘ Whatever. I already called my lawyer for your case. Since Isabel tried to attempt murder to you, you will win this case for sure.’‘ He proudly leans against the wall hoping to atleast crack a smile from you.

You don’t smile though. The last thing you need is another scandal. If this were to make the news and blogs right now then it could be a bad thing. You’ve just started your modeling career again and right now would be the worst time to have something like that. 

Jimin leans on the wall with his hands in his pockets, still avoiding locking eyes with you which is something he usually does. Something tells you that he’s hiding something. Something that you just can’t put your finger on.

‘‘ The police will come shortly for witness statements and your statement. Then they’ll call for a court date as soon as possible.’‘ Jimin’s voice low, illuminating with a hint of sadness.

Out of curiosity you want to say something more. To ask him whats going on and why he’s acting rather like this. It’s really not like him. He’s hiding something for sure and you just cannot put your finger on it. You just agree and pull out your phone. A missed call from Ryan. You try texting her and she almost always responds immediately. This time she doesn’t. What’s really going on?

You don’t know but Ryan took it upon herself to pay Isabel a visit. Usually visitors aren’t allowed for people in holding but with a little sweet talk of hers she got to get atleast 10 minutes to talk. That’s all she needs. When it comes to you, her bestfriend, she never messes around. Hearing the news from Jungkook yesterday she almost went luncatic. Throwing things at him, calling his brother every disrespectful name in the book. Oh she hates him now for sure.

Jungkook had to stop her from going over to the hospital to beat his ass into a bloody pulp for causing you pain and getting together with that crazy girl just to break up with her. Ryan was heated. 

But now she can take this heat and serve some to Isabel right now. She walks with confidence into the room. Nothing and nobody can stop her and if they even try, she’ll chew them up and spit them out. Catching a glimpise of Isabel sitting at the table with her hands cuffed and security next to her, Ryan shoots her a devious glare.

‘‘ What brings you here? I expected my boyfr-’‘

A harsh slam from her hands hit the table as she bends a little to her seated level, ‘‘ He’ not your fucking boyfriend. You were lucky I wasn’t there to beat your fucking ass.”

The guard tenses up at the sounds and sudden movements. Ryan notices, and decides to take her seat to calm down before she’s the one sitting behind the jail bars too. 

‘‘ Ryan.. I thought we were friends?’‘ She frowns, pouting her lips while fake wiping tears away. 

Ryan scoffs,shaking her head ever so slowly with a devilish grin on her face. “ We aren’t. Don’t let me catch you un-attended without your manager or body guard.. Isabel.’’

Isabel laughs one of her evil laughs, throwing her head back then coming back up, “ Oh how cute. Is this a threat from little ol’ you? Me and Jimin were doing just fine before your bestfriend had decided to enter his life again. I’m not the only bad guy here. She should know boundaries for taken men. Ex’s aren’t supposed to be firendly and lovey dovey. Spending nights and going everywhere with each other. Especially when one’s a famous idol with another idol girlfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“ Maybe you should take that up with your hoe of a boyfriend. He’s the one who can’t leave her alone.” She yells, inches away from Isabel’s face. The two stare at each other long and hard. Isabel is no match for Ryan though.

The guard clears his throat to break the two’s glares. The tension is thick in the air.

“ If you ever touch yn again, I’ll make sure you’re the one in the hospital this time around.”

‘‘ You’ll all see. I’ll win this court case. Trust me… there’s things you do not know.” 

Ryan rolls her eyes, strutting her way out the room with the sound of her heels clicking right behind her. Consider the message recieved. 

It’s been one week after the situation. In which in between those days you were dismissed from the hospital and have been in at Jimin’s house ever since. You didn’t want to be here. You want to be at home with your cat, Clara. Jungkook’s been going over to feed and play with her. Jimin kept pleading for you not to return home just yet because it could be a danger to you. It makes sense. You never know what Isabel has up her sleeve. 

So you’ve been sitting here doing the same old thing everyday. Eat, watch movies and netflix tv shows,  sleep, and repeat.

Jimin would come in and out of his home studio to check in on you. He still has to work on producing and singing his songs. He’d bring the food and your medicine he prepared per usual,  kiss your forehead, and go right back out to producing his highly anticipated album.

It all seems fake to you. Something is off. Something is not being told to you. You can feel it in your gut but can’t put a finger on it.

‘‘ This is so cliche.’‘ You murmur to yourself, switching the flat-screen T.V off.

And as if on cue Jimin comes inside your- well his room with a glass of water and prescribed pain killers for you. The slight smile on his face makes you want to smile but you don’t.

‘‘ Smile for ocne yn. Do you not like staying here?’‘ He says, sitting next to you on the side of the bed and places the glass in your hands.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, taking the two pills out of his palm. “ No.. but be honest with me Jimin okay?”

His face turns a quick shade of pink then pale as if you had said the wrong choice of words at the wrong time. As if he had seen a ghost at this very moment. That’s not a good sign at all.

‘‘ Are you.. hiding something from me?’‘

The atmosphere is thick and silence fills the room. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet his and for once they don’t pull away first. 

Jimin doesn’t know how to break it to you though. It’s now or never.

‘‘ She will never leave me.”

You bite your lip hard, “ What do you mean?”

“ That she said that she’d do everything to ruin our relationship if we continue to persue one. She’d spready rumors about you to Dispatch. Make a scene whenver you’re near me. Anything she can do, she will do it.”

You don’t know how to take this all in. You knew Isabel was possesive but not this possesive. The thought of her doing things on purpose for you to make everyone hate you makes you want to cry. To just bawl your eyes out right here right now. You can’t.. you won’t do it. 

You won’t give in because thats what she wants. To make you cry. To ruin your reputation and work. Jimin came back into your life and of course you don’t know what to do or how to deal with it. But this is what you wanted right? You’ve been longing for you and him to get a second chance. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been putting things off and not letting things go with the flow. Maybe he came back to you because he realized how wrong he was for cheating on you. For leaving you behind. For not seeing things for truly how it is. 

You knew Isabel was bad luck from the beginning. Now is the time to try and take back what was originally yours. That will hurt her more than ever. 

“ She needs to have a reality check. Not everything revolves around her.”

‘‘ I agree. Putting her behind bars might give her a reality check. It should serve her right for harming people.” Jimin sighs. 

The silence is thick. You both don’t know what to say and it’s sure as hell awkward more than ever right now. Until that silence breaks. 

‘‘ I feel like you aren’t being your true self to me. If we are getting things out now.” 

His sudden comment makes you lift your head up from playing with the comforter. “ What do you mean?’’

‘‘ You.. don’t want to take actions on what you feel, say, or want to do with or about me. It’s killing me inside.”

He’s right. You do try to push your feelings aside no matter what the cause is. It’s just you trying to not set yourself up for hearbreak again. You do want him. You do want everything to do with him. Considering the things that happened in the past, it’s no doubt theres a fence guarding your heart from intruders. 

You exhale out heavily, “ Im just.. scared.’’

‘‘ Of? “

‘‘ Being hurt again.”

Dead silence again. This time he’s the one trying to come up with words to redirect your view of him. Yes, he broke your heart in the worst way possible. He wants you to see he’s changed. 

Jimin bites his lip, voice shaky when he begins talking again. ‘‘ How can I show you that i’m not the same anymore. Im not I promise you. I want you to see I have changed. I know it’s my fault. I destroyed you but let me fix it.”

It’s all come down to this. You’ve wanted this and now is the chance to get it. Now is the chance to have what was once yours. But the feeling of doubt had taken its course on you at the worst time.

‘‘ Jimin.. how do I know that for sure?’‘ You say, unintentionally fluttering your eyes at him. To you it’s to prevent from letting tears fall. 

Jimin see’s it as that specific thing you used to do when you wanted him. When you craved him and would drop hints. To be completely honest, you do crave him. You do want him. Make-up sex was something you two used to do often. It was your toxic way of saying im sorry. 

Somehow you want to put that toxic thing into action right now. As fucked up as it is, that’s how you two know you’re sorry towards each other. Actions speak louder than words. 

He closes his eyes for a quick second before clenching his jaw to contain himself. Your weak spot.

‘‘ Stop doing that. Unless you want to start something you don’t want to finish.” 

You smile just a little, hoping he’d get the memo. “ What if I do want to start and finish it..”

As if a car alarm went off, Jimin’s eyes pop back open with a suprised look. That’s the last thing he’d thought he’d be hearing from you. “ Are you sure about that? I mean we don’t have t-”

You lean in closer to where you guys are inches apart, his lips softly rubbing against yours. “ I’m all for it.”

Within seconds, Jimin’s shirt is removed off of you only revealing your blue panties which have became a little soaked with your wetness. He takes in the scent of you before his mouth connects with your thighs, slightly sucking to leave bruises on you.

‘‘ Jimin.. don’t tease me.”  You sigh, laying fully down to spread your legs even more. He hums against your skin making you catch chills up and down your spine.

‘‘ That’s my specialty baby. You know that.” He trails a kiss with each word all the way down to your core where he dips a finger inside. You tense up attempting to close your legs. He doesn’t allow it, spreading them open harshly again. 

‘’ Jimin-’‘ You barely utter before he begins to move his fingers in and out of you slowly. You let out a whine to try and make him go faster but it doesn’t work.

He comes up to your mouth and plants a wet, sloppy kiss. “ No whining. You’re gonna get what you want. Just relax baby.”

Is all he tells you before he goes back down to your core to tend to your desires.

The first lick between your legs is ever so gentle. Too gentle for you right now considering that you want release badly and Jimin knew exactly that. He opens his mouth and swirls his tongue up and down your slit. A groan leaves his mouth once he gets a taste of you which sends a vibration to your sensitive bud.

Each time his tongue laps against you your body jerked and shook but that only makes his tongue go faster. Sending you into a moaning and groaning mess as you tug on his hair.

“Mmh you even taste the same like always.” He moans with a smirk.

“Jimin please-” you cry out, locking your fingers into his hair when a finger is inserted into your dripping wet hole.

‘‘ No whining babygirl.’‘ His voice gentle as ever when he removes the finger inside of you making you pout a little. But that pout soon turned into your eyes becoming wide when he starts to take off his shirt, then grey sweatpants, then his underwear where his thick cock springs up.

Your eyes can’t leave his body. God it’s been a while. He looks pretty damn good. You wan’t to take all of his length in your mouth right now. To hear him praise you about how good your mouth feels against him. God you want it right now. 

He gives it a few strokes before walking over to you. Just before hovering over you, he gives you a passionate kiss while lifting up your legs and positioning them to his liking. Missionary.

The tip of him pokes at the entrance of you, teasing in and out. Soon enough he enters you slowly making both of you moan together.

You still wrap and fit around his member smug as ever, and he could not believe it. The feeling of familiarity of being inside you sends him into a moaning mess with each stroke. You can’t contain your moans and screams. He feels way too good. 

Jimin begins to deep-stroke you by pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You scream his name out in pleasure as your nails scratch up his toned back. Wet sounds fill the room with him picking up his pace. You take a glimpse of him only to admire his figure right now. Forehead forming sweat beads while he groans and moans biting his plump pink lips.

Your breathing becomes faster when that familiar feeling soon starts to take over. You turn your head to the side and let out a string of moans. Jimin isn’t having that though. His hand grabs your face gently and makes you make eye contact with him. Your legs start shaking as your head tilts back moans getting more faster. You finally let out one last one in sync with him, his hot sperm shoots inside of you.

Jimin pulls out, breathing heavily and collapses ontop of you. You let out a small grunt with the sudden extra body upon you, then giggle at him when he lays his head lays against your chest. This is what you wanted. He’s true. He’s sorry. 

‘’ I love you.”

That word surprises you. You weren’t prepared for it. Somehow though, you enjoy the fact that he’s said it to you. Love. Jimin’s love. Your love. 

‘’ I love you much more Jimin.’’ 

[dadsbongos]

Katsuki Bakugou having an airhead gf for about 1130 words

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader Warnings: airhead shit ig, I just got diagnosed, so I gave you ADHD because :D Summary: Katsuki never thought he’d be a fan of airheads, but here he was - holding one in his arms like he’d lose her anytime. ~~~

“Why the wide smile, dork?” Katsuki side-eyed his girlfriend.

“Because,” (Y/n) giggled, squeezing tighter at her boyfriend’s - admittedly sweaty - hand, “you came with me! You don’t usually do that.”

“Whatever,” he gruffed, “I just wanted to spend time with my girlfriend, that a damn crime?”

“No! You should do it more often,” the girl smiled, “Like all the time.”

“Maybe you’ll start training with me, hah?” the blond teased.

“No way,” (Y/n) immediately pouted as the couple walked down the street from their dorms, “Your training’s crazy! I think I'd die…”

“You wouldn’t die, dumbass,” Katsuki huffed, “I didn’t date you just to kill you.”

“I’d hope so,” the girl mumbled quietly.

~~

Tracing over the hand laid against her stomach, (Y/n) closed her eyes with a small smile as Katsuki pressed his cheek to her shoulder. Fresh slivers of golden sunlight peeked through the boy’s blinds as morning arose to wake the couple. Katsuki, for as much as he wanted to deny it, found it hard to sleep without (Y/n) - without her warmth and comfort. Something in the body he could hold so close to his was inexplicably soothing.

Neither party was asleep anymore, simply basking in the glow of morning as soft sheets spread over their lackadaisical bodies. (Y/n) turned the hand over her midsection to face palm-up and began gently running her fingers over the firm flesh there as well.

“You have pretty soft hands, Kacchan.”

“It’s some shit with my Quirk, I don’t get it,” he mumbled, “Don’t get me started on the suppository shit, that made me so pissed to find out.”

“What’s the suppository stuff about?” (Y/n) quirked a brow, looking to her boyfriend despite his eyes being closed.

“Anal fissure rectification,” Katsuki pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing he’d have to rephrase or his girlfriend wouldn’t understand, “Tears in your asshole get healed with nitroglycerin and since my sweat’s so similar, I bet it’d work too.”

“Gross,” the girl fake gagged, still drawing circles in her boyfriend’s palm, “That sucks. I’m sorry you had to learn that.”

“Helps with chest pain too, so it’s not complete shit,” Katsuki huffed, shifting so he was even closer to his girlfriend, “But that was horsecock to find out.”

“I love the way you phrase things.”

“I try.”

~~

“Man, Bakugou,” Denki murmured, watching as (Y/n) and Momo battled on the other side of the gym, “I didn’t know (L/n) was so strong. Kind of inspiring, now I wanna be more like her.”

Katsuki’s brows furrowed, he loved (Y/n) - dearly - but, “I saw her drop a pizza and cry about it for thirty minutes last night.”

~~

“If I illegally download a movie in the Bahamas, does that make me a pirate in the Caribbean?” (Y/n) suddenly asked as Katsuki was doing his homework.

Pausing, the blond turned in his chair to look his lover in the eyes, blinking at her twice before sighing, “Did you take your Adderall today?”

“...maybe…”

~~

“I hope I get run over,” Katsuki grumbled, reading off the pairings for the newest team-building exercise.

“Aw, don’t say that!” (Y/n) cheered, patting her beau’s back, “Kaminari isn’t all bad, he’s super nice!”

“You’re just lucky you got Ponytail, she’s the only useful extra here,” the boy huffed.

“Hey,” (Y/n) puffed out her cheeks.

“Stop whining,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, ignoring the calls of his name from a certain electric blond, “You’re not an extra, I don’t see why you’re pissed.”

“I’m not?!”

“Fuck no, I wouldn’t date a nobody.”

~~

“If a whole zoo escaped, what would be your top priority?” Mina suddenly blurted out.

Just as (Y/n) went to say ‘ducks’, Katsuki answered, “Tigers and lions, duh.”

“Right,” the girl nervously chuckled, “Obviously.”

~~

“Katsuki?”

“What?” the boy turned to his girlfriend, slightly disturbed as she never called him by his proper legal name since realizing she didn't have to.

“I’m scared,” (Y/n) fiddled with her fingers, “I threw a boomerang a few years ago and it didn’t come back, what if it hits me and knocks me out while I’m in class? Or while I’m on a mission?”

Katsuki’s face dropped into a deadpan, “Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Alright, come here, I’ll tell you a secret,” he waited for her to come closer, “I destroyed the boomerang,” at (Y/n)’s shocked face, he nodded solemnly, “It came in while you were sleeping a few weeks ago, I didn’t say anything cuz I knew you’d flip the fuck out.”

“Wow!” (Y/n) smiled brightly, taking her boyfriend into a tight hug, “You’re so cool, Kacchan!”

“I know.”

~~~

Looking over her study guide for the upcoming economics unit, (Y/n)’s brows furrowed, “Inflation? Isn’t that like… a kink?”

Katsuki’s head snapped over to his girlfriend as she sat at her desk, “Tell me you’re joking right now.”

~~

“If I was hiding from a killer, I’d just hide in the pantry!” (Y/n) beamed, “That way, I could eat while hiding, it’s simple.”

“Yeah, then the killer could hear you opening loudass chip bags, it’s genius,” Katsuki sighed.

~~

“I hate everyone in this school,” Katsuki grunted.

(Y/n) frowned, “Even me?”

“I said everyone, (Y/n), not every ten.”

~~

“Someone’s gotta talk to Denki about the birds and the bees,” Hanta shook his head, “Not gonna be me.”

“Huh?” Denki queried a brow, “A talk about what and who?”

“I’ll teach you about the birds and bees,” (Y/n) nodded sadly, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “They’re disappearing at an alarming rate.”

~~

“The recipe says to beat three eggs,” (Y/n) read off the box of brownies.

“At what?” Katsuki snorted, “Hand-to-hand combat?”

“Has to be,” his girlfriend seriously replied, “Aizawa banned Quirks in the kitchen.”

~~

“Wanna hear a sad joke, Kacchan?”

“Why fuckin��� sad?”

“Oh, autocorrect, I meant dad.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at (Y/n), “This is a verbal conversation.”

~~

(Y/n) looked up from the bed sheets in the nurse's room, “You can call it a near-death experience, Recovery Girl, but I call it a vibe check from God.”

Katsuki immediately shook his head, “Stop… please stop.”

~~

“Stress is not good for the baby!” (Y/n) shouted, gripping at the sides of her head.

Katsuki looked over, “What baby?!”

“Me!” the girl sniffled slightly, looking on the verge of tears with her study guide and notes spread out on her desk, “I’m the baby.”

Awkwardly looking away, Katsuki clenched his eyes shut before throwing his arms open and wrapping them tightly around his anxious girlfriend, “Tell me when the stress levels are down, you big baby.”

“Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Whatever, nerd.”

~~

“Hey, does it smell like gas in here?”

(Y/n) pat herself down before pulling out a lighter and igniting it, “Nah.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened as his girlfriend casually placed the lighter back in her coat pocket, “Oh my fucking God.”

~~

“Careful with my emotional baggage,” (Y/n) reminded Eijiro as he loaded her things into the trunk, “It’s designer.”

“He knows,” Katsuki rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “You say it every time.”

(Y/n) nodded, as if her boyfriend was stupid, “Because it’s funny every time, Kacchan.”

[imgonnapanic]

Third gym squad with a theater kid s/o:

Kuroo Tetsurou

Tbh, he knew what he was signing up for when he started dating you.

He’s just not used to it, because he doesn’t have many extroverted friends who aren’t annoying pieces of-

I can envision you both going on the hub to watch pirated musicals. Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, you name it.

He loooves your singing voice, even if it’s your nervous purposely bad one.

You love the musicals that include allll the good stuff (trauma, death, tragedy, etc.)

Or the iconic ones. You can’t forget about those.

So you’re less-than-thrilled when your school chooses “Honk! The Musical” for this years play.

It’s a spin off of the ugly duckling that no one has heard of.

And when you come up to Kuroo sulking about this boring play you’re emotionally obliged to do, he can’t help but laugh a little.

But his laughter stops when he sees your eyes down at your shoes.

And then he shuts the fuck up because you’re actually upset.

After assuring that you will still be Broadway material even if you’re dressed up as a goose, you feel a little better.

In the two weeks leading up to auditions, Kuroo is starting to get caught humming “A Poultry Tale” at practice.

I mean, his Spotify feed went from Kendrick Lamar to Legally Blonde within one month of dating you, so cut the guy a break.

The day of auditions, you’re a bundle of nerves as you go over the dumb song again and again.

And Kuroo is like “calm down babe you’re gonna do great.”

That sure did a ton.

“Shut up Heather”

...

“Sorry Heather”

He’s also a bundle of nerves at practice, though. He just couldn’t let you see it.

By now, all of the Nekoma team knows you’re auditioning today, and the minute he walks in he just holds up a hand.

“They’re auditioning as we speak”

He’s not surprised when you get the lead.

He looks like the cat who ate the canary he’s a little amused when he figures out the lead is named “Ugly” but by now he has learned to keep it on the inside.

Your schedule is now jam packed, but that’s okay, because Nationals are also coming up for Kuroo and needs to put in some extra hours at the gym anyways.

You better believe two months later Kuroo is making his entire team buy a ticket.

Kuroo didn’t even get to see you on opening night because of dress rehearsals, but that’s okay.

He cleared his entire schedule that day and now has time to wallow in his own excitement and buy you some flowers.

He’s there with the squad team at 6PM sharp, dressed up, and trying to keep his dignity.

When you first walk on stage, the team snickers a little bit at your costume, but Kuroo was completely enraptured by your singing voice, your blocking, your makeup, everything.

This was much better than the demo CD that they had given you.

Afterwards, he gives you your flowers and is glued to your side for the rest of the night, babbling about how proud he was of you, and how talented you are, Nekoma team be damned.

Tsukishima Kei

Tsukki-poo already had a soft spot for the arts before he met you.

Not that he would tell anyone, ever.

When you started dating him though, it gave him an excuse to share his favorite soundtracks.

“you can hit that note, you know.”

*cue the arguing about how you aren’t Barbara Streisand*

When you two are walking through the hallway with him and you see the poster reading “Auditions for Karasuno High School’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ are open!” You start freaking out.

You love that movie! And Kei tolerates it!

Kei honestly thought you would be Ariel/Prince Eric when he first heard you singing “Part of Your World”

Like, you have the voice of a fucking lark. The directors have to be batshit crazy not to cast you.

In his humble opinion.

So he’s a bit taken aback when you get the role of Flounder, but he’s very proud anyways. Especially after you explain that there’s musical numbers that you’re in that aren’t in the movie.

He just hates your director for no reason now.

Practicing your lines with him in your free time becomes almost inevitable because you both have nothing else better to do.

And he can see how into it you are.

And let me just say that you are killing it.

Seriously. You have no problem getting into character, and Kei doesn’t say this much but-

It’s fucking adorable, okay? He has little goth moths in his stomach.

And he can’t wait to see the show, because then he can show you off.

That doesn’t mean he likes the other first years prying at your progress.

Hinata’s incessant questioning about theater anatomy and the memorization of your lines gets really annoying.

Even for someone with a normal temper like you-

“Yes it’s called the right wing. NOT wing spiker. Yes they’re off book. Now will you shut your trap already?”

Dress Rehearsals come, and you’re spinning around his room, face morphing from complete concentration to happy, go-lucky Flounder.

You, Kei, and Yamaguchi (your little third wheel-) all know the soundtrack pretty much up and down, left and right, backwards and inside out.

He still shivers remembering the time you just walked into his house not registering that Flounder’s makeup looks kind of scary up close-

All of his pride was sacrificed that day. All of it.

On the morning of opening night, Kei was walking you to the school, pretending to be bitchy about it being on a Saturday.

“C’mon, what am I supposed to do all day?”

As luck would have it, he’s stuck sitting next to one Hinata Shoyo. Lovely.

So he sat down next to him, and ignored him the whole show. I mean, it worked, he shut up after thirty seconds.

After the show, Kei has to wait a bit for you to take your makeup off, but when you come running out, he can’t hold back a tiny grin.

“That was good. I’m proud of you.”

And then he took you to dinner because singing makes a bad bleep hungry 😌

Bokuto Kotarou

Listen, you’re loud, Bokuto’s loud-

So basically you two are on a mission to not annoy Akaashi for as long as you can before inevitably getting yelled at for your affection and love and shit.

Now, both of you would love for this to be possible.

But the Frozen soundtrack makes it too difficult.

Especially when you can edit the lyrics just to piss off Konoha.

“Turn away and slAm the door *on Konoha”

“The wind is howling like the storm inside *of Konoha”

The possibilities are endless, really.

The game changer is when you two are belting out the song where Elsa and Anna are arguing.

And you accidentally hit the “I-i-I CANNNNT”

Akaashi is like for the love of GOD just audition for the play.

He quickly realizes that his suggestion was not a good idea.

Since guess what the musical is.

You’re auditioning as a joke, okay? You love Frozen, but this is a Fukurōdani Academy level play.

You didn’t expect to land the role of Olaf.

Your director sat you down and bluntly told you that he thought that you had the charisma and energy to be Olaf, but he knew that you were auditioning for a joke.

He needed you to be committed.

And hell yeah, you were gonna be committed.

At first, Bokuto was super proud of you! His s/o as a lead role? So impressive!

You even taught Bokuto your choreography for “In Summer”

He only retained half of it, but eh.

He’s a volleyball player. He tried.

As rehearsal times became longer and longer, Bokuto was a little upset at himself because he didn’t realize how committed you were until it hit him in the face.

Akaashi is there to get him out of his funk when you aren’t, though.

“They feel the same way when you need to be in the gym longer. It’s just a part of having a passion. Just utilize your time with them wisely.”

This bitch knows full well Bokuto doesn’t do ‘wise’ though, so he also sets to him a little more.

Dress rehearsals start, and Bokuto is always waiting for you to come out of the auditorium to ride the bus home.

You’re just bubbling over with stories about the magic of being on stage.

The lights, the microphones, the costumes, just talking about it makes you nostalgic already.

On opening night, Bokuto and Akaashi are there in the front row, going through the program.

“There’s y/n!!!!”

And you can’t see him because of the blinding spotlight, but you can hear Bokuto cheering for you after you finish “In Summer”

Afterwards he gives you a big hug, and you guys go home and watch Frozen.

Akaashi Keiji

When you start dating Akaashi in your second year at Fukurōdani, you’ve been on stage for the last ten years of your life.

Singing, acting, dancing, you love it all.

You’re even considering making it your career.

Akaashi doesn’t know much about theater at all, but he makes sure to do his research since it’s such a big part of your life.

The company you take acting classes with is having their winter show soon, and you couldn’t be happier when you figure out it’s ‘Into the Woods.’

Akaashi makes the mistake of asking the plot of the story.

“So basically there are these two infertile bakers with dead parents and there’s this witch that’s old and wrinkly and she comes to their house because fifty years ago the bakers dad stole her veggies and took the magic beans that made her look old and wrinkly-“

(A/n: this isn’t even half the plot)

He decides he’ll figure it out when he sees the play.

Akaashi knows that it’s a difficult one, though.

Sondheim doesn’t fuck around.

So you shouldn’t be beating yourself up about cracking on some of the high notes and screaming into your pillow.

He feels like an idiot every time you ask him to give you constructive criticism.

He doesn’t know what to say. “That was good” is obviously not what you want to hear.

When the date of your audition rolls around, he has early morning practice.

So he sends you a text saying how far you’ve come already and he’ll be proud even if you end up being a tree and break a leg (he’s very proud of that part. Theater lingo with Akaashi 101)

He’s very pleased to hear through your extremely fast and animated chattering that you killed it.

You were going to be Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He’s still not sure how that correlates with infertile bakers, but he’ll go with it.

You also have a notoriously hard solo, “Giants in the sky.”

Akaashi is very impressed.

All you two do is practice that song, until Akaashi is half sure he could sing the song if he really gave an effort.

(He tries seriously one time. He can’t sing. To save his life. Sorry Keiji and RIP y/n’s ears.)

“Maybe you’re just not a soprano?”

“I’ll leave the limelight to you.”

Rehearsals always leave you drained. There are so many dance numbers in the play that you have to go over.

And songs, oh god, the songs are pieces of work.

But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, so Keiji stays close, and is endlessly supportive.

You sent him a picture of your Jack costume, and Keiji is like that is kind of adorable ngl-

He walks into the auditorium you’re performing in, and even he’s nervous to be in there. It’s huge.

But when you walk on the stage, and start belting, all the breath leaves his lungs.

Oh. Ohhhhhhh. He understands the plot now.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,835 Words

Summary: Off to a chaotic start, I see. Bakugou gets dared to start a 1-A group chat. The beginnings, Shinsou gains a father figure, and the bakusquad is chaotic.

Warnings: Dead Body Mention, Death Mention, Cursing, Anxiety Attack Mention, Caps, Mental Breakdown Mention, Fire Mention, Choking Mention, Injury Mention, Murder Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Shigaraki's alias in the group chat is Ren and Dabi's alias is Haruhi. ¥11,055 is about $100 and ¥110,550 is about $1,000 on the day I wrote this.

Usernames: Area 51   Ashido: aggressive chicken dance, Kaminari: pikachoo, Kirishima: ordained, Jirou: neko neko kneecaps, Sero: wine and cheerios, Bakugou: mother i crave violence, Shinsou: its a mental breakdown

Usernames: Emo Sanctuary  Jirou: tell tale heart, Tokoyami: eldritch peep, Todoroki: i love you 3000, Bakugou: knife tag, Midoriya: bitchasaurus, Shinsou: unhappy meal, Kuroiro: meth and deadamine, Shigaraki: depresso extra shot, Dabi: *sad kazoo*

Into The Group Chat We Go: Chapter 1

1:45 AM

Emo Sanctuary

i love you 3000: I require attention.

unhappy meal: is that so?

i love you 3000: Yes, it is, otherwise I wouldn't have said it.

unhappy meal: @bitchasaurus, your man is sad.

bitchasaurus: He's not my man, Shinsou. Pretty sure he's no one's man, actually. And it's not like I'd have time for a relationship anyway.

i love you 3000: True. I'm not in a relationship.

unhappy meal: regardless, get your friend. the man wants attention.

bitchasaurus and i love you 3000 are now offline

*sad kazoo*: I dare someone to start a group chat with 1a and say something weird.

knife tag: Would I get paid for this?

*sad kazoo*: I'll give you anywhere from 11,05 yen to 110,550 yen.

knife tag: Deal.

2:00 AM

Bakugou has started a group chat

Bakugou has added Hanta, Mina, Eijiro, Denki, and 15 others to the chat

Bakugou has renamed the group chat to Area 51

Bakugou: His body is ready to be taxidermied. It's what Shinsou would've wanted.

Sero: What the fucketh?

Aoyama: Quoi?

Midoriya is now online

Midoriya: You didn't add Shinsou, you ass.

Bakugou: Oops, fuck.

Bakugou has added Shinsou to Area 51

Shinsou: hi I guess.

Aoyama: So your corpse is not being stuffed by Bakugou at the moment?

Shinsou: I mean, he can always taxidermy me while I'm alive. it's not like I'd stop him.

Midoriya: He's not. Kacchan was dared with cash to start this group chat and say something weird. Goodnight, filthy heathens.

Midoriya is now offline

Ojiro: Wow, Midoriya isn't messing around.

Aoyama: I feel ✨insulted✨ being called a filthy heathen.

Ojiro: I mean, it is an insult, Aoyama.

Aoyama: Yes, Ojiro, I understood that.

Sero: Why on earth are you two awake?

Ojiro: Because I can't sleep?

Aoyama: I got hungry.

Sero: Well, go to bed.

2:15 AM

Emo Sanctuary

knife tag: It's done.

knife tag: chatscreenshot.jpg

*sad kazoo* has sent a money transfer to knife tag

*sad kazoo*: Your money's pending to whatever card is attached to your number.

knife tag: moneytransferscreenshot.jpg

eldritch peep: wow, you really sent him 11,055 yen?

knife tag: This man's out here fueling my savings since UA instituted the no job rule since the dorms went into effect.

unhappy meal: they instituted a no job rule!? that's why I got that paper!? I thought that was a joke!

*sad kazoo*: Better put in a two weeks, kid.

unhappy meal: I literally can't. if I don't work, I don't have a way of feeding myself!

*sad kazoo*: Can't you ask your parents to send you food money, Toshi?

unhappy meal: okay, Haruhi, I know you weren't here when we started this chat with just me, Katsuki, Shouto, and Izuku so you don't know but I literally don't have parents, man. I lived in an orphanage until the beginning of the school year and, after I got in, I began renting an apartment near the school so I could attend. which means I'll lose my apartment where my cat and dog stay and it has all my stuff in it too.

tell tale heart: He's having an anxiety attack, someone go get him. I don't know where his room is.

meth and deadamine: I'll check on him.

knife tag: On my way.

eldritch peep: I'm coming, hold on.

*sad kazoo*: I've finally become a father at 28. I knew this shit would happen eventually.

*sad kazoo* has sent a money transfer to unhappy meal

*sad kazoo*: That's your monthly allowance. Do whatever you want, kid.

unhappy meal: I'm gonna cry.

unhappy meal: moneytransferscreenshot.jpg

meth and deadmine: You got 110,550 yen!? Haruhi out here paying kids to exist.

*sad kazoo*: That sounds weird, don't say that. I'm here because I'm Ren's best friend and Ren is Izuku's brother. I've effectively adopted both Katsuki and Hitoshi, I'm not sending random kids money for no reason, they're my sons.

eldritch peep: Ignore him, Kuroiro likes making things sound weird. How does it feel to be a father, Haruhi?

*sad kazoo*: Fatherhood? Guess that means I need to shape up and be a dad, huh?

eldritch peep: Step the fuck up, Haruhi.

*sad kazoo*:  I am, I am. Toshi, kid, don't cry or whatever, everything's gonna be fine.

unhappy meal: thanks, dad.

*sad kazoo*: My heart hurts. Why does it hurt? What the fuck is this feeling?

knife tag: It's called pride. It's because you're happy.

*sad kazoo*: This child is mine now, I'm going to find a way to legally adopt you.

unhappy meal: that would actually be really cool if you did.

*sad kazoo*: Looks like I'm re-evaluating my life tonight so I can make it hospitable for a son. I'm gonna go see if I can figure out how to fix some shit. Night, kids.

knife tag: hitoshicryingabouthavingadadnow.vid

Transcript Begin

"Hito, it's okay." -eldritch peep

"I have a dad now, Fumi." -unhappy meal

"We know, Shinsou." -meth and deadamine

"I have a dad." -unhappy meal

"Time to sleep, Toshi." -knife tag

"Okay. Time to sleep." -unhappy meal

Transcript End

*sad kazoo*: I love my son. Take care of him.

8:25 AM

Area 51

Ashido: ALERT- MY ALARMS DIDN'T GO OFF, PLEASE STALL AIZAWA FOR ABOUT TEN MINUTES

this message has been marked as an emergency

Shinsou: On it.

8:40 AM

Area 51

Ashido: What'd you do to distract him, Shinsou?

Shinsou: Oh, gave myself an anxiety attack.

Ashido: SHINSOU!

Shinsou: It was an emergency! You'd be in detention right now if I hadn't. plus I had one last night too so it wasn't hard to do.

Ashido: Shinsou, don't ever do that for me again but thank you. You're getting big bakusquad hugs at lunch.

Shinsou: It's not like it was difficult. I got lots to break down about.

Ashido: Me too, bitch.

4:00 PM

Area 51

Shinsou has changed their name to its a mental breakdown

Ashido: Oh my god, Shinsou.

its a mental breakdown: I figured while I'm at it.

Ashido: Speaking of at it.

Ashido has changed Kaminari's name to pikachoo

Ashido has changed Jirou's name to neko neko kneecaps

Ashido has changed Sero's name to wine and cheerios

Ashido has changed Bakugou's name to mother i crave violence

Ashido has changed their name to aggressive chicken dance

Kirishima: Could you not think of one for me?

aggressive chicken dance: More like can't decide.

Kirishima has changed their name to ordained

pikachoo: You're ordained, Kiri?

ordained: Yeah. I got ordained for my moms' wedding in a few months.

pikachoo: So cool, dude.

ordained: Oh, Shinsou, dude, you said you had an anxiety attack last night, you good, man?

its a mental breakdown: one sec.

4:05 PM

Emo Sanctuary

unhappy meal: can I talk about it, Zuku?

bitchasaurus: Yeah, why not? Because it involves Ren? It's not a big deal, Hitoshi!

unhappy meal: just making sure, some people don't like their personal lives talked about by other people.

bitchasaurus: I don't mind, Hitoshi.

4:09 PM

Area 51

its a mental breakdown: alright. so we had a chat from right after the sports festival with just me, Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki which became an emo chatroom when we added Tokoyami, Jirou, and Kuroiro.

its a mental breakdown: And then Midoriya got in contact with his older brother, Ren and added him and Ren's best friend Haruhi to the chat because he wanted to show off Ren but Ren didn't feel comfortable talking without Haruhi lurking in the chat.

its a mental breakdown: you guys probably don't know but I was an orphan from a really really young age because my parents died when I was young and my other family members didn't want me. and at the beginning of this year, when I got into UA, I moved out of the orphanage, got an apartment close to campus and all, I'd had a job for two years prior.

its a mental breakdown: and last night, Haruhi gave Bakugou 11,055 yen as a dare to start this chat. then Bakugou and Haruhi were talking about the no-job rule because of the dorms and I'd thought it was a joke when I got the paper so I didn't have anything saved up and I don't exactly have parents I can ask for money if I need to buy food and I'm definitely not asking my friends and bothering them.

its a mental breakdown: I mean, I have enough I could coast for a month or two without pay but I feel like Aizawa would kill me for not eating right.

its a mental breakdown: anyway, I had my anxiety attack, Haruhi sent me money, Kuroiro made a sentence creepy like always, and Haruhi called me and Bakugou his sons. him, Jirou and Tokoyami joked about him being a dad for a bit and then he actually told me when I went back online that he wanted to legally adopt me.

mother i crave violence: Thus why I didn't wake up Pinky this morning. I was busy in the Gen Ed dorms with my new brother.

its a mental breakdown: I will have another breakdown, don't tempt me.

ordained: Shinsou, man, that's so awesome! You have a dad! We should have a party for Shinsou getting a dad!

its a mental breakdown: if it makes you guys happy then go for it but if you go crazy with the party again. we already had the incident on my birthday, we're not having another.

Asui: What incident, kero?

its a mental breakdown: Kirishima's hair got set on fire at some point, Sero got tangled onto the railing of my balcony and was hanging from my fifth floor apartment's balcony railing, Mina choked on a piece of burnt tofu, Kaminari slipped in the bathroom and fell into the full bathtub where he then electrocuted himself, Bakugou got his face shoved into the cake and sat in the corner pouting while my cat Ume and dog Anzu tried to eat the cake off his face for the rest of the night, Jirou got lost inside my apartment building, and I hit my head on the counter and had a concussion for a week.

Hagakure: Why is your friend group so chaotic?

mother i crave violence: I like to think I've cultivated a well-functioning group of chaotic demons. At least if one of us is doing something dumb, usually the rest will either follow or do something dumb of their own.

neko neko kneecaps: I'd like to plead innocent as well as shift majority blame to Midoriya's friend group because I just know those idiots could and would collectively kill and hide a body and nobody would ever know it was them.

Midoriya: Bold of you to assume we haven't already.

neko neko kneecaps: Yeah, hi, mom, pick me up, I'm afraid of Midoriya again.

Midoriya: You can run, Jirou, but you can't hide.

neko neko kneecaps: You can't kill me, Bakugou would be sad!

Midoriya: You may live...for now.

neko neko kneecaps: Oh, thank the gods.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 2)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1436

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​ and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​ and @arrow-guy​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in the early afternoon, your parents greeted you with a bit of a chuckle.

“Stay up too late with Jenny?” your mom asked with a teasing smirk. It was a habit of yours and Jenny to probably stay up way past your bedtime, but so long as it wasn’t a school night, your parents never cared.

“Actually… I.. uh, have some news,” you announced as you grabbed some bacon for a BLT that they’d made for lunch.

“Oh?” your dad asked, his eyes still on his laptop. “What’s that?”

“So… Jenny was kind of joking around last night and said that I should try to write on my arm, you know… to see if I had a soulmate…” you began explaining, twisting your fingers around nervously as you sat at the table.

Your parents just looked at you curiously.

“Well, so I did. I wrote something on my arm, and I waited to see if someone would write back… and they did,” you said, showing them your arm. They saw the ‘Happy Birthday’, and the ‘Hi there’, with a smiling face.

“A soulmate?” your dad echoed, looking at your arm inquisitively.

“We’ve never had soulmates in the family, have we, dear?” your mom wondered as she looked over her cup at her husband.

“Not that I know of. Well what do you know about that?” he mused. “I don't see any more marks on your arms, did your mate not write back much last night?”

“No, we actually emailed. We thought it would be best if we reserve our skin.. You know, we don’t want a bunch of… tattoos of each other unless they’re meaningful.”

“Sounds sensible,” your mom noted with a smile. “So what do you know about them?”

“He’s a grad student. He’s 21. He graduated from Harvard at 16, and get this, he’s into psych. He studies it.”

“Graduated at 16?” your dad asked. “Are you sure this guy isn’t pulling your leg? What if he’s some bum?”

“If he is some bum, he’s got a great education. We stayed up all night emailing, and he’s quite well-read.”

“That sounds fantastic, honey. And, did you get his name?” she asked, a bit nervous.

You shook your head. “No, we agreed it wasn’t safe.”

“Good girl,” your mom commended.

“He’s 21, hmm?” your dad hummed. “Isn’t that a little old?”

“Oh, Anthony, don’t pretend like that’s some big gap. You and I have five years between us,” your mom reminded as she got up to pick up the kitchen.

“Yeah well we didn’t meet in high school either. We were adults.”

“I’d hardly call us adults. We were 23 and 28.”

Your dad just shook his head. “You just be careful, kiddo. Soulmate or not, there are weirdos out there.”

“Of course, Dad,” you said.

Well, that was out of the way. Your parents didn’t seem to be too upset, which was good.

You went upstairs to your room and sent an email to X.

“My parents know about us now,” you wrote.

“Do they approve?”

“They’re worried you’re a liar and a weirdo, lol,” you confessed with a smiley face.

“They might be right ; )”

“I reminded them that we won’t ever swap information until one of our names shows up.”

“Of course. As tempted as I am to meet you like a normal person, I don’t want to tamper with fate.”

“I feel the same. And your parents? Have you told them?”

“My parents have died. Happened a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. That’s awful.”

“It’s sad, yes, but don’t let that bring down your mood, please. I miss them terribly. I bet they would’ve loved to meet you.”

“I would’ve loved to meet them.”

“Speaking of, we need to get registered.”

Registered? For what? A marriage license?

Then it hit you.

“Oh, you mean the soulmate registry?”

“That’s the one. Do you have access to it?”

“Yeah, I can just drive to it. It’s at the clerk’s office, right?”

“Yes, it is. Oh, I need to go, Y/F/I. I’ll talk to you later. Feel free to send me emails throughout the day.”

“Will do, X. I’ll go to the registry on Monday, after school.”

“Looking forward to it.”

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

The following afternoon, you went to the county clerk to file for a soulmate. You arrived at the building, stood in line, and finally, it was your turn. You were greeted by an older woman with a permanent scowl on her face.

“Can I help you?” she asked evenly.

“I, uh, I need to get registered for a soulmate?” you said tentatively. You had no idea how this part of the process went.

She eyed you up and down. “Very well, come with me.” She turned around and started to walk away from the counter and you looked around to see if you were supposed to follow. Since no one seemed to be stopping you as you inched towards the small opening in the counter, you went ahead and followed her.

“Do you have a driver’s license?” she asked once she reached a little podium against a wall.

You didn’t answer, instead you quickly searched your purse and wallet to retrieve the ID. She took it from you but before she did anything she asked you to show you the markings.

“I got these, on my arm,” you informed as you pushed your arm forward, your arms exposed.

“I’m just checking to make sure they aren’t tattoos,” she mused as she eyed them and scanned them with a small device that emitted purple light, you assumed it was a UV light or some form of it. “Alright, that all looks good.” With that, she turned to a computer and pulled up a file, scanning your driver’s license that filled out a bunch of forms and blanks - your name, age, social security, birthday, address. “Now, I need to document your markings. Put your arm right here,” she instructed, pointing to what looked like a small x-ray machine. It had a flat platform, a light, crosshairs, and an overhead lens. “Hold still,” she ordered.

You did your best to keep still as she pressed a button and the image was snapped.

“Did you write anything to them?” she asked, her voice stern.

“Yes, I wrote a few things,” you said, explaining everything you wrote and where.

“When did the markings appear? I need the date and time,” she informed.

“Alright, you’re officially in the system. Do you know their name?”

“No, we’ve only emailed and I refer to him as X?” you said, unsure.

“Good. I’m not sure if you know this or not, but we tell everyone who gets a mate: it’s never good to meet them before your time.”

“I’ve heard,” you noted quietly.

“It usually ends in an untimely death, and you don’t get another mate. No one has ever had more than one mate, even if their first one dies.”

You nodded. It made sense. The universe designed one person to fit your soul exactly, they couldn’t do that with two people, it would be crazy.

“No, yeah we agreed not to give any personal information away,” you confirmed.

“Good. Now, whenever your mate comes in to get registered, neither of you will be notified.”

You frowned for a moment. “So what’s the point in doing this?” you wondered.

“In case anything happens before you two meet, you can be notified. If you need a donor, your mate is notified. It’s mainly for record keeping, but just in case, they’re basically added to every In Case of Emergency list you have.”

“Really? Okay,” you said, a little more interested.

“Well you’re all set. Here’s some information for you,” she informed as she handed you a pamphlet. It said: So now you’ve got a soulmate, what this means for you.

Inside were several Do’s and Don'ts.

Do tell people you have a mate, so they don’t think you’re covered in tattoos of random words.

Don’t get the name of your soulmate before it appears on your skin. Their name and current location will appear when you are needed most by them.

Do be sure to include that you have a mate on any legal forms.

Don’t request a new mate.

… on and on it went. It made you smile and laugh at how… old it seemed to be.

Before you knew it, you were back in front of your computer screen, sending an update to X. He said he was busy today and would have to go to the clerk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​

@magpiegirl80​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​​

@thejemersoninferno​​

@rda1989​​

@munlis​​

@thefridgeismybestie​​

@bubblyanarocks3​​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​​

@feelmyroarrrr​​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​

@damalseer​​

@heyitscam99​

@yknott81​

@sorryimacrapwriter​​

@glitterquadricorn​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​

@alyssaj23​​

@sea040561​​

@princess76179​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​

@sarahp879​​

@malfoysqueen14​​

@ellallheart​​

@breezy1415​​

@marvelmayo​​

@lyniboy​​

@paintballkid711​

Charles Xavier

@bohemianrhapsody86​

@lenawiinchester​​​

TSMU

@tilltheendwilliwrite​​

[paulfwesley]

A Split Second (Part 1) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2K.

Description: A split second. That’s all it takes to take a life. TW: guns, violence, blood.  

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: OKAY this is my first time EVER doing Bryce, and even though he technically does not show up in this part, he WILL be in the next part. I’m posting this fic in increments just to feel out the reaction first, if it’s something worth pursuing. I’ve added some trigger warnings just in case, they’re in the description! They’re applicable to the whole series, however many parts this ends up being, I don’t actually know yet. Okay, I’ve gone on too long. Let me know how I did! Also let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list! 

Tagging: @n-wahz @anotherbeingsworld @graphitekayla @malxen @rookiefromedenbrook

Enjoy!

As a doctor, Claire King stared death in the face every day. It was her job to delay the inevitable, after all. Every chest compression, every dose of medication, and every correct diagnosis resulted in Claire’s tally against Death inching higher and higher. But of course, there were always a few cases where even Claire couldn’t beat the Grim Reaper. And she’d walk out of the room of the grieving family with a fire stewing in her belly that drove her to want to do better so that the next time she and death met in the arena, she’d knock him out cold.

 Claire knew death. Claire understood death. She woke up every morning with a determination that she would stare death in the face and celebrate when she triumphed over it. 

But she didn’t fully understand what it meant to stare death in the face until she stood with her hands in the air, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, and her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the end of a gun poised in her face. 

30 minutes earlier… 

Claire thought she would had it all figured out. Ethan ditched her to hang out in the Amazon for two months (though Sienna insisted that technically Ethan went to go help out with WHO, but Claire wasn’t in the mood to change her mind about her… ex? Her attending? The dude she slept with twice before he decided he didn’t like having to deal with feelings before buggering off?) so she was going to erase everything that had to do with Ethan Ramsey from her mind. That included only ever referring to him as “Doctor Ramsey”, whilst ignoring the way she missed the way his name tasted on her tongue when she was moaning it. It included putting a smile on her face and reassuring everyone who noticed her drop in mood in the days following when she showed up to work one day to find out that Ethan had left without so much as a goodbye, even though a bottle of pent up sorrow threatened to burst whenever she curled her lips up. And it included forcing herself out of the apartment when her friends wanted to go out while all she wanted to do was lay in bed and wallow in her own sadness. 

It was actually Bryce who started it. He could tell something was off with her, but luckily Bryce didn’t pry. The only people who knew why Claire was acting heartsick were Sienna and Elijah, and even then, it was because they were there the morning she snuck Ethan out of the apartment. If it were up to her, nobody would know the mess she had gotten into by falling for her attending. Grey’s Anatomy gave her too much hope. 

All Bryce wanted to know was what would make Claire happy. It started out simple; nights drinking at Donahue’s, roommate movie night, late night ice cream runs. Then it was Bryce attending plays with Claire, because none of their other friends would even humour her idea for live theatre. It was nice, even though most of the time, Bryce fell asleep shortly after the play began, only to wake up with intermission and then fall asleep again as soon as the house lights turned off. And then it was Claire attending a monster truck rally with Bryce because Elijah cancelled last minute, and even though she spent most of the evening thinking about the various dishes she could be cooking, it was worth it to watch Bryce freak out at the trucks crushing each other and then turning to her expectantly, waiting for her reaction. For his sake, she went as wild and crazy as he was. Standing there, staring up at Bryce and looking at the way the bright lights cast a shadow against his sharp, soft cheekbones, that was the first time she felt a turning in a stomach, a flutter that warmed her cold core. And when he turned and grinned at her, Claire felt like she had seen the sun for the first time. 

Then, when the yearning to be touched and held and kissed became too much for Claire, it turned into stolen kisses, hand brushes, intimate nights. With every swipe of Bryce’s hand up and down her arm while her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, with every tear that rolled down her cheeks from the jokes he told her, with every moment spent just in Bryce’s presence, her heart hurt a little bit less. And less, and less, until she completely forgot that she was supposed to be hurting. 

Then Ethan returned, unexpectedly, the night they were celebrating their last night as interns. 

When Claire’s eyes met his across the bench outside Donahue’s, she expected her stomach to drop. She expected her throat to close up, her chest to tighten, her tears to threaten at the corner of her eyes. Instead, she offered him a polite smile and a small nod before returning to what Elijah was saying. That feeling was all she needed to know that she was officially over Ethan Ramsey. She could be happy with someone else. She even had a certain meat headed, smooth talking, scalpel jockey in mind. 

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Bryce staring at her and following her gaze. When he looked back at her, she could practically see the curtain drop over his eyes, and it remained there for days following. Whenever she tried to talk to him, she always got the brush off. And it was killing her. She had gotten used to the the way his laughter lit up her world, the way his eyes raking over sent a thrill through her stomach, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever she turned a corner and hoped that he’d be on the other side. But nothing; these days he wouldn’t even look at her. 

After finishing her own rounds, making sure Esme had her tasks, and ordering tests for another patient, Claire sighed as she trudged through the hospital. She cradled a heavy case file against her chest sent over from Manhattan Presbyterian that she planned to pore over during her lunch break. She felt a presence beside her, and she looked over to see Sienna falling into step next to her. Her hair was pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun and she looked utterly exhausted, but she offered Claire a bright smile anyways. “Are you on your way to lunch?” 

“Yeah,” she answered. 

“Cool! I’m starving,” Sienna replied. She nodded at the file in Claire’s arms. “Big, fancy, diagnostic team case?”

Claire laughed. “Yeah.” She glanced down at the papers. “I’m hoping that it’ll be something surgical. That way Bryce will have to talk to me.”

Sienna frowned. “Bryce isn’t talking to you?”

“You haven’t noticed the way he doesn’t look at me anymore?” Claire asked as they walked down the stairs, heading for the cafeteria. “I think it has to do with the fact that…” Claire looked around for prying ears but dropped her voice as a precaution anyways. “... Doctor Ramsey’s back.”

Sienna’s eyes widened. “You told him about Doctor Ramsey?”

“No!” Claire protested. “If it were up to me, that secret would die with Ramsey and me. But I think he can tell.” She raised a brow. “Could you tell? Before you caught me sneaking him out?”

Sienna bit her lip. “Do you want the truth?” 

Claire stopped in her tracks. “You mean you knew? Before?” 

“I suspected!” Sienna corrected quickly. She walked back over to where Claire had stopped. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but you did mention wanting something to happen between the two of you when you went to Miami. You didn’t tell me anything had happened so I assumed nothing did. But despite that, it was so obvious. The first name Doctor Ramsey ever learned was yours, he kept his mouth shut about what happened with Mrs. Martinez even though as an attending he probably had a legal obligation to tell Doctor Emery, and just the way you both never took your eyes off of each other whenever you shared a room.”

A blush brushed Claire’s cheeks. “Well, I don’t feel like that anymore.” She paused. “Well, I suppose I do, but now I feel like that whenever I see Bryce. And I want to tell him that, but the meathead runs away at the sight of me.”

They both resumed their walking. “I feel like straight up avoidance isn’t Bryce’s style though,” Sienna pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want, I can lock the two of you inside a supply closet until he gets his shit together.”

Claire chuckled. “That offer actually sounds tempting.”

All of a sudden, both of their pagers went off. Claire reached into her pocket and produced hers just as they reached the cafeteria. She frowned at the message that stared back at her before looking back up at Sienna. “Lockdown? Is this some kind of drill?”

“I think if it was, Doctor Banerjee would have said so,” Sienna replied casually. She was trying to pass it off like it was nothing, but Claire could see the worrying lines in her forehead. She reached out and grabbed Sienna’s arm. “How about we skip the cafeteria food and just grab something from the vending machine for now? We can hide out in a closet or something until this drill ends.” 

“And you’re absolutely sure it’s a drill because?” Sienna asked, but she let Claire lead her away and down the hall. 

“Because there’s no way we’re in a situation where Edenbrook has to go under lockdown,” she said. “I bet a baby went missing from the NICU or something.”

Sienna gawked. “That’s terrible!” 

Claire stopped at a vending machine, turning her back to Sienna. “All the more reason to grab an unhealthy snack and wait this thing out.” She bent down and placed the file on the floor. As she stood back up, she reached into her pocket for her wallet. “What do you want? It’s on me.”

“Claire…” Sienna’s voice was a soft whisper. 

“What?” Claire said, her eyes scanning the options. A Snickers bar? Nah. It wasn’t filling enough. A bag of chips? That was even worse. This was a hospital. They were doctors. They always went on about healthy eating yet never practiced what they preached. 

“Claire!” Sienna said, louder this time, though the tremors in her voice betrayed the strength. 

“What?” Claire’s tone dripped with annoyance as she turned to look at her friend, but the sight of Sienna’s face, drained of blood with her eyes wide and her lips parted with a slight tremble raised alarms. “Sienna? Sienna, what is it?” 

Sienna didn’t say anything. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. But her eyes never wavered from the direction she was staring at over Claire’s shoulder. 

Claire turned to see what Sienna was gaping at, and her stomach fell through the floor at the sight of the tall, middle-aged man standing six feet away from them. He wore a black blazer over a plain t-shirt flecked with bright red spots that Claire could only assume was fresh blood from the way it stained the pure white fabric. Blessed (or cursed, in her opinion) with an excellent memory, Claire never forgot a face once she had seen it. It was Walter Cameron, a patient she had treated weeks ago. He came in after he had been in a car accident that caused mild injuries, and Claire remembered joking easily with him as she pulled out glass from his body and stitching him up. Claire’s eyes traveled from his brown eyes, down his sweat soaked cheeks, down his leather clad arm, and landed on the pistol in his hand, aimed directly at Claire’s chest. 

Her breath caught in her throat. The only sounds she could make out in the otherwise silent, empty hallway were Sienna’s faint whimpering behind her, Walter’s ragged breaths, and her own heart thumping against her chest. 

She felt a shaky hand on her shoulder. “Claire, we need to get out of here!” Sienna whisper-shouted.

“No!” Walter boomed, taking a rather large step forward. He brandished the gun at them, waving it wildly as his finger rested on the trigger. Both girls let out an involuntary shrieks as they staggered backwards. “Doctor King isn’t going anywhere.” He turned the gun so the mouth was directed at Sienna. “You, on the other hand, will get out of here.” With a jerk of his thumb, he clicked the safety off. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Claire swallowed thickly. Despite the tremors in her throat, she said, “Sienna, go.”

She could feel Sienna’s eyes stare at her in bewilderment, but Claire never broke eye contact with Walter. “What? But Claire—!”

“Go!” Claire said again, stronger this time. She didn’t know Walter, not really, so she couldn’t guarantee whether or not he was crazy enough to take a shot at her or her friend, and Claire didn’t want to jeopardize anyone else’s life if there was a chance to save someone. Under her breath, her lips barely moving, she whispered, “Go find help.” 

The echoing of a sneaker hitting linoleum reluctantly bounced against the walls. One, and then another, and then another, until the echoes got further and further as Sienna dashed down the hall in desperation. 

Once she was out of sight, Claire returned her attention to Walter. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her hands so they were in his sight. 

“Ahh, alone at last,” Walter sighed dreamily. 

Claire sucked a worrying breath in. “Mr. Cameron—” she began.

“It’s Wally!” he cut her off angrily, but the heat in his eyes quickly disappeared in favour of turning soft as he gazed at Claire. “It’s Wally, remember, Doctor King? Like Wally West? Like you said?” 

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She gulped noisily, her eyes zeroing in on the weapon in his hands. “What are you doing with the gun, Wally?” 

 He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He smiled at her, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m going to kill you, Doctor King.” 

[happymetalgirl]

The 15 Worst Metal Albums of 2020

This list might have been shorter if not for my running into a few awful albums at the end of the year that I had been avoiding wisely up until that point. My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and what’s done is done. I’m paying the price for it by going back over the worst albums I heard all year. Let’s get this over with.

15. Ghøstkid - Ghøstkid

This was the debut solo album from the former singer of Eskimo Callboy, who had a pretty decent backing of hype heading into this release under the Ghøstkid moniker, but with the namesake frontman putting in no more than the standard performance on a bunch of poorly assembled tracks in an unappealing and dated poppy metalcore style, ultimately the eponymous album wound up disappointing me pretty substantially.

14. Powerman 5000 - The Noble Rot

Powerman 5000 are just such a low-rate band that even one of their more okay albums makes it here. While not as astoundingly, mind-numbingly basic as their worst material, The Noble Rot is still some of the most unevolved, underwritten, and forgettable electro rock and industrial metal I’ve heard from a big name artist. This is some eighth grade level songwriting here, and that’s a fuckin’ feat for a band that’s been around longer than any eighth grader has.

13. Corey Taylor - CMFT

There was a lot of hype around Corey Taylor finally coming out with a solo project, and it was pretty damn disappointing to hear a bunch of uninteresting classic rock too tacky for Stone Sour. CMFT focuses on the fun side that has made its creator such an enigmatic figurehead in the metal press, but its one-note approach does little more than highlight Corey Taylor’s songwriting deficiencies. I really could have seen this album turning out better too, with just some more time and care put into it, if a fun time of an album is what Taylor was going for. Unfortunately Taylor tried to make a party album and a grand ceremonial tribute to his greatness at the same time, and ego-petting and partying don’t really go hand in hand.

12. Evildead - United States of Anarchy

It has some good bones underneath it, but Evildead’s long overdue (if anyone was asking for it) third album wears out its welcome so quickly with some of the most adolescent thrash I’ve heard in a while. The band gets some good rhythms going and the vocals aren’t terrible either, fitting the older thrash style pretty well. But the band’s predictable formula tires out very quickly, and the political commentary of the lyrics is too cheesy and cringeworthy to ignore. It seems every year we get a handful of these kinds of albums that try to get into the simmering thrash revival with some ultra retro approach, and a good portion of those albums are from long-defunct bands who figure their primitive old-school approach might be a selling point despite their sounds often being even more juvenile against the backdrop of today’s metal landscape. So it’s not a huge surprise or anything to hear an album as ham-fisted and corny as United States of Anarchy; this year it just happened to be Evildead.

11. Five Finger Death Punch - F8

They may not always place highest in this list, but they always manage to make it here, and this was actually an improvement on the last album, not that that’s saying all that much. In fact, I’d say this is the only time in the band’s history that they actually shifted their trajectory upwards. But while the band’s ugly continual creative decay has been a hard thing to watch and made them the five finger punching bag of the metal world, there seems to be a large enough swath of mouthbreathing chuds who love their incoherent derivative shit and flock to their shows enough to put them in lucrative headlining slots and on top of the metal world. Goddamn that sure sounds a lot like someone else we all know doesn’t it. I’ve criticized them plenty in the past, and while indeed an improvement, F8 only mildly remedies the numerous problems with Five Finger Death Punch. Still septic to the system are the predictably formulaic and tiresome songwriting, the stale production, the corny butt rock choruses, the shitty bootlicking worldview that bleeds into Ivan Moody’s douchey and faux-deep lyrics, the contrived ballads and country-dabbling. Even with an improvement in the flow of the track listing and a few more bangers that somewhat hearken back to their first album, F8 is still an over-thought and overly calculated batch of Sirius XM fodder that’s trying to please everyone in some superficial way. I’ll grant that it seems as though the band realized they had been giving the more metal-immersed side of their fanbase that has been with them the longest smaller and smaller crumbs with each new album. I’m not gonna hold my breath for this being anything more than placating for the time being; I’m sure the next album will find the band back on whatever bullshit they feel (or their execs feel) they need to be on to pull enough streams from inattentive radio metal bros. I always end with the disclaimer that I still steadfastly stand by the band’s first two albums, and even American Capitalist to a degree, and that I totally acknowledge the immense potential for greatness this band could seemingly at any time decide to fulfill. Ivan Moody is a talented vocalist with a lot of star power and they really could have been the second coming of Pantera or singlehandedly ignited a new wave of American groove metal and metalcore or carried it on their own. But instead the band have followed the money on the path of least resistance to fast-track their way to the top of festival tickets, which I’m sure affords them quite enough luxury and comfort in life, more than most bands these days get, but it doesn’t exempt them from criticism, and unfortunately I think their legacy will show that they were a lowest common denominator kind of band at the end of the day when they could have been, again, like a second Pantera or something.

10. Anvil - Legal at Last

Another year, another album of Anvil unable to evolve past their prototypic thrash of their forty-year-old origins. Though as tacky as ever, Anvil actually also managed to make a mild improvement on their last album on the musical front at least. The songs are a little more energetic and easier to get through, if not for the lyricism though. Anvil lyrics are never anything beyond a fourth-grader’s poetry assignment for their English class, but some of the Facebook boomer lyrics here are fucking cringy dude. A quick look at the track listing will let you know exactly where you’re gonna find the juiciest cringe, but honestly, even as far as cringe goes it’s nothing comedically special and cringe culture in general is played out anyway. So do yourself a favor and just ignore Anvil the way they deserve to be ignored.

9. Halestorm - Reimagined

It feels a little harsh to place an EP here, especially for a band whose album back in 2018 was one of the best things I have heard to come out of hard rock in a long time. But these stripped back covers and revisions of songs from the band’s catalog just suck all the oomph out of them, perhaps making the case by contrast for the importance of the role the rest of the band behind the indeed charismatic powerhouse frontwoman Lzzy Hale play in making their sound what it is. It’s unlikely this points to any kind of new direction for them, so I’m not particularly worried about them running into this problem again. Plus, I don’t think Halestorm and Lzzy Hale are like fundamentally incompatible with more ballad-y rock music, this forced balladization of older songs just did not work, and it makes perfect sense as to why.

8. Gama Bomb - Sea Savage

The fact that this album is only number 8 on this list is just depressing for its reminder of just how much shittier it got this year. The fact that there are seven albums from this yet worse than Sea Savage, goddamn. With one exception, this was maybe the stupidest album I heard all year, at least in the thrash department it was. God this thing is a sugar high mess. I feel like a toddler on an entire bag of Halloween candy or an elementary schooler on a 2-liter of Mountain Dew sat at a computer to program a thrash album would’ve probably come up with something like this. The erratic operatic highs and dumbass lyrics, it all just embodies everything that ever made thrash look bad. It’s like that drunk guy at a party who’s hyper as shit and doing a bunch of crazy stunts for attention because he thinks it’ll make the people there like him more, but really he’s just embarrassing himself. Yeah, definitely the worst thrash metal album I heard all year, and one I wish I could unhear.

7. Amaranthe - Manifest

One of the albums I was avoiding but reviewed late out of my own weird sense of obligation that I wasn’t surprised to find only validated my reasons for avoiding it in the first place. The weird combo of dancy pop music and power metal isn’t as crazy of an idea as it might seem at first thought. In fact, that’s basically in part what Babymetal are doing, and actually getting better and better at. But Amaranthe get the worst of both worlds with Manifest, unsavory pop melodies and utterly generic symphonic metal to make for something I’m not at all surprised I was so repulsed by.

6. Trapt - Shadow Work

Yep, I listened to it. God, no wonder this band is flailing in irrelevance with aggressive MAGA nonsense being their only audible desperate plea for attention. The album, thank fuck, isn’t steeped in the same bitch boy tantrum that the band’s singer has engaged in all year to the point of getting his band’s Facebook page banned for hate speech, and the music isn’t like offensively poorly made or anything like that either. There’s clearly a conscious meeting of the baseline requirements for the type of music they make, but holy fuck it’s so damn flavorless and predictable. It’d be one thing if this was the trendy thing to be doing, but this diet hard rock for people who think Three Days Grace is too wild has been out of fashion for over a decade. And Trapt are just recycling the same dumb formula that overstayed it’s welcome in the early 2000’s. Yeah, I’m not surprised at all, but god, it’s the kind of thing that has to be apparent to the band themselves too unless they’re lacking of any and all self-awareness. Trapt have thrown themselves to the forefront of the online metal world’s discourse by being an annoying, toxic, and childish presence all year; the silver lining being the unity among metalheads in roasting their laughable posturing about their Pandora numbers and the juicy memes about their one hit “Headstrong” that rile the snowflake singer up without fail. And this shit album is just another reason to laugh at them and more fuel to roast their crybaby Trumper frontman with. Go back into your hole, Trapt. 3/10

5. Unleash the Archers - Abyss

I talked about it in my review, but there really is only one simple thing that sinks this album so low. And that is just how incredibly low-effort and lifeless it is with a genre that’s supposed to be so life-affirming. Power metal isn’t the most highly revered genre in metal, but that’s just for its cheesiness. I love it; when it’s at its best, it’s some of the most inspiring metal music out there and I genuinely wish there was a bigger demand across the board for it. But Unleash the Archers just sound so flat and unenthusiastic in this album, and, sorry, in power metal, unabashed enthusiasm is just nonnegotiable. The guitar parts are phoned in and lacking in imagination, and the vocals especially are so narrow-range, it’s all so antithetical to the ethos of power metal and it doesn’t make a strong case for itself. I’ll leave it there; this album is lazy and lifeless so I feel no need to waste any of my time and work on it.

4. Burzum - Thûlean Mysteries

Ol’ Varg must’ve needed a new wizard hat or camouflage pants or whatever goofy shit he’s been doing since retiring the Burzum name to focus on his racism and LARPing because I thought Burzum was supposed to be finished. I thought you were done with Burzum, Varg. Apparently not too done to not dump an hour and a half of embarrassingly half-baked ambient dungeon synth song fragments that sound, so many of them, quite obviously unfinished. Varg Vikernes has been a washed-up shell of the musical god the various weirdos who idolize him make him out to be for a long time now, and it has shown in the gradually degrading work he had put out after his release from prison. Yet after clearly not caring about creating music in any meaningful way for a long time, Varg drops this heap of shit in his fans’ laps. I suppose they deserve it, but I’m sure some of them are delusional enough to lap it up with a smile on their face while still believing their white nationalist idol to be a musical genius. Again, it’s entirely dull ambient music, not metal at all, but it deserves to be shit upon for its astounding laziness and purposelessness.

3. Asking Alexandria - Like a House on Fire

Doubling down on exactly the unflattering crossover of pop music with their significantly sanitized butt rock in their apparent quest for arena glory that started with their self-titled album back in 2017, Asking Alexandria’s bid for the big spotlight that Imagine Dragons occupies didn’t get any stronger this year with Like a House on Fire. After three or four years of aiming for this style, the band still aren’t even all that competent with the basics of fucking pop rock, which is pretty downright laughable. Honestly, for an album so high up here on my shit list, my feelings on it are more or less just that of unsurprised disappointment; as soon as I got a feel for what the band were doing with the album, I knew it was going to be a mess of predictable results. And lo and behold. This was just such a wholly inexcusably floppy paper towel of an album, and one more Asking Alexandria release I know I won’t be returning to ever again.

2. Hollywood Undead - New Empire, Vol. 2

Coming on at the last minute to get on the scoreboard, reliably, is Hollywood Undead. When I reviewed both volumes of this project earlier, I referred to them as “corporate Linkin Park”, and I stand by that 100%. This album especially showcases nothing but what an incoherent, vapid, clout-chasing act they are, with such a corny, focus-grouped sound that sounds like it was made in a lab by a bunch of out-of-touch boomers. God, they could’ve been safe too if they had left it with the more tolerable first volume back in January, but this follow-up sequel from just this month was exactly why I had avoided listening to the first installment in the first place. And I should’ve never played this second one either. The album opener, “Medicate”, is probably the worst song I sat through in my own volition this year, and the rest of the album doesn’t get much better. It’s nothing new for Hollywood Undead after I gave their 2017 album my award for least favorite album of that year: more unfitting interplay between machismo posturing Eminem-cosplay and the sappiest, wimpiest radio rock and pop choruses; more cringy tough-guy struggle bars; more forgettable-at-best instrumentals. Congrats again, Hollywood Undead, you made one of the worst albums of the year once again.

But even worse than Hollywood Undead is an album that I feel like is already so legendarily bad, that there is no other album that could’ve been sat here. It had to be this one.

1. Six Feet Under - Nightmares of the Decomposed

Shitty metal bands everywhere can breathe a sigh of relief any year Six Feet Under decide to put out new music because any album they release is just about bound to end up as everyone’s #1 worst album of the year, and boy is that guarantee becoming more and more airtight with each successive release. It’s truly astounding too how Six Feet Under manages to outdo themselves every time. I don’t even want to think about what could possibly come after Nightmares of the Decomposed; we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But for now, holy fermented shit, this thing is not just bad, it’s like the holy grail of terrible TERRIBLE albums and I don’t want to know what kind of apocalyptically despicable album Chris Barnes and company could possibly conjure to outdo this one. And make no mistake, it’s still Chris Barnes dragging this band down. I gave this album a 1/10 instead of a 0/10 because there was at least a sliver of salvageable instrumentation on it, as thin of a sliver as it was, a few halfway decent musical ideas of you squinted hard enough. The instrumentalists are checked out and clearly just participating for the paycheck, but I can’t even imagine what kind of professional instrumental performance could possibly overshadow the embarrassment that Chris Barnes put to tape in the studio here. Maybe that says it, because it honestly sounds utterly unprofessional. It’s baffling how this got through management and sound engineering to be released to the public because I don’t think I’ve ever even heard any amateur high school band’s vocalist sound this bad. Vocal ingenuity is generally something to be applauded in the metal world, and pioneers like Randy Blythe, Dani Filth, and Travis Ryan deserve all the praise they get for their innovation with dirty metal vocals, yet what Chris Barnes has “invented” here on Nightmares of the Decomposed to compensate for his continually-deteriorating vocals is just sad. The man simply cannot perform highs anymore, clearly, and the alternative is this fucking comical, cartoonish squealing that sounds more like a bratty toddler gargling their own snot than it does anything fitting for a death metal record, even a death metal record at stupid and cheesy as Nightmares of the Decomposed. Chris Barnes should be thankful that metal is not a sport and that there’s not nearly as much of an abundance of performance statistics to point to and analyze to see what kind of records are broken in a legendarily awful performance. I feel like if there were any kind of performance stats to pull up, this album would have to break some kinds of records. Like this is worse than that 7-1 Germany-Brazil World Cup game, this would be like if the Brazilian team all got unholy levels of blazed and repeatedly scored on themselves because they kept going the wrong way and kicking the ball into their own net, and then pissing their fucking shorts. Even in 7-1 defeat, Brazil had more dignity than Chris Barnes here. Six Feet Under and their label have to know they are a laughing stock and that people will listen to them at this point for the sheer entertainment value of how mind-blowingly awful they sound. It’s not an illegitimate marketing tactic, and it’s the only explanation I can come up with for how this passed inspection. If that’s their mission, to be a spectacle and instill cringe in death metal fans in a regular ritual of comically stupid performances across every successive album, they’re sure doing it, and I guess this baffling headache-trophy is their well-earned prize. Congratulations Six Feet Under, you did it again! Worst metal album of the year.

[roscoe-me-and-this-fuckin-kid]

My Ryden Recs

not in any particular order

The Heart Rate of a Mouse Series (11/10)

~513k words

Ryan "Heterosexual" Ross and his incredibly popular prog rock band, The Followers, start their summer tour for their new hit album "Boneless" in June of 1974. However, Ryan begins to take a shine to their new roadie, the ever mysterious Brendon No-Last-Name-Given, who dodges questions about his past and flaunts his flamboyant homosexuality. After an assault by a member of the supporting act, Brendon and Ryan get their payback, and begin to bond. But much to Ryan's confusion and alarm, he starts to want something he can't let himself have, starts to feel something he can't let himself feel.

--Okay I kinda lied. This list is in no particular order EXCEPT for this one. This one is the best. Anna Green owns my ass. I'm not someone who's picky about first vs third person, but if you are, then just this once throw that out the window and read this utter masterpiece. Ryan's character development throughout is so touching, but my god he fucks up a lot. One of my friends who has gone through the process of buying the physical copies and annotating them says that Ryan majorly fucks up over 50 times. Emotional rollercoaster straight ahead!--

Freaks (7/10)

~45k words

Ryan's face was permanently disfigured when he was 12 years old, and since then, the only person who has ever stood by his side is his best friend Spencer. After earning the nickname "Freak" in high school, he finally accepts that nobody will ever want him, or ever treat him normally again. But after an accident that lands him temporarily in the hospital, he meets Brendon. They get along great, and Ryan begins to fall in love. One small problem though:

Brendon had been recently blinded. Neither of them know if it's permanent, and Ryan is sure that if Brendon knew about his face, he would leave him forever.

--I really liked this one. It makes you sit on edge and every single time you think that Ryan will finally confess and tell the truth, he blue balls you like an asshole. This story is so sad and so sweet, I definitely recommend. Also, there's some background Joncer, which is really cute. Definitely a worthy read if you're looking for some angsty fluff. Oh, and a little aside: the author, spazzyskittles on LJ, actually beta-ed a lot of Anna Green's Ryden fics, including THROAM! So do with that what you will ;)--

The Red Eyed Owl Series (10/10)

~403k words

As one of the best players of one of the best National Hockey League teams, the Chicago Hounds, Ryan Ross has everything he could ever want. Young, famous, and free to do whatever he damn well pleases, the world either wants him or wants to be him. But after a leg injury that could potentially ruin his career, Ryan begins to realise that perhaps he doesn't have everything. Perhaps some things can mean so much more than women throwing themselves at you every chance they get and receiving bottomless drinks at sports bars. Perhaps he could fall in love.

--This was actually recommended to me by @wandering-verses and it was 100% worth the read. I broke out crying in the middle of class during the second book, and I cried again at 3 am when I stayed up all night to finish it. It's one of those that fucks you up so bad that you can't read anything else for a little while after finishing. Now, both the authors are from Spain, so English isn't their native tongue, but it's so well written that I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't read the notes at the very beginning. An all time Ryden fave.--

Missing In Action (10/10)

~204k words

In where the American Civil War goes differently, the nation once known as the United States of America is instead separated into two: DURA and Beauregia. The latter didn't change much in terms of their economy. Slavery is still legal, and the kingdom is ruled under a tight, Christian monarchy. Their king is Boyd Beauregard. His only son, crown Prince Brendon Beauregard, heir to the throne, resides in the highly respected Saint Francis' Academy. DURA on the other hand developed quickly, a democracy founded on new technology and equitable ideals.

Everyday, bipartisanship seems farther away from grasp, and DURA, realising that cooperation is impossible, creates the DURA investigative bureau. Identifying the crown prince as the Royal Family's weakest link, they realise that he could become an infinitely invaluable asset to them. Agent Ross, under the pseudonym "Ryan Hastings", is chosen to go undercover, enroll in Saint Francis' boarding school, infiltrate the Prince's friend group, and gain his trust by any means necessary.

--I'm ashamed to admit that I let this one pass me by for a while. I read the words "American Civil War" and I automatically assumed that this would be a mid 1800's Civil War fic about closeted gay soilders, and I'm not against that, but the premise didn't really interest me. But once I finally caved and started reading, I quickly realised not only was the premise entirely different, but it was really fuckin' good. Read this!!!!--

Esoteric Contagion (8/10)

~18k words

He wakes up with a note stuck to his forehead that reads, “You traded your memory in a spell. It was worth it.” The note is signed George Ross. He wonders if that’s his name.

In which things are lost and gained and remembered and forgotten, in that order.

--Despite being the shortest on this list, I loved it to death. You will cry so hard, I promise. This story is so sad. The author can deal so many shocking blows in less than 20,000 words, and you will be completely invested. I don't want to spoil anything, but it's massively underrated, and it will fuck you up.--

Two Vatos Locos Series (7/10)

~311k words

When you have your first dream with your soulmate, everything changes. But after years and years of watching all his friends have their dreams and fall in love, Ryan started to wonder if he would ever has his dream. At twenty, Ryan started to get desperate. He went to doctors, therapists, even a fucking palm reader. No one could tell him what was wrong with him. There was only one explanation: his soulmate had to be dead.

Ryan spent endless hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, begging, wishing, praying to have his dream and meet his soulmate. One day, with blood gushing down his face and vomit coating his tongue, his prayers were finally answered.

And now, as he stares at this scared, helpless boy, with bloodied rope burns around his wrists and tears staining his cheeks, he wishes that they never were.

--The title "Dos Vatos Locos Lleno de Carnalismo y Inamorates" roughly translates to "Two Crazy Dudes Full of Carnality and Infatuation," which is definitely accurate. I did enjoy this fic; it was cute, sad, and very interesting, but if you are interested in reading, you will need to be patient at times. Some passages seem like filler and the writing in a few places is kinda dry or cringey. But it's still overall a good story though. WARNING: Brendon is underage for most of this fic, but nothing sexual happens until he is of age.--

The Way Home From Nowhere Series (9/10)

~158k words

After his parents find out about his relationship with another boy, Brendon Urie makes a snap decision to flee from his abusive home. After a quick makeover to hide his identity, he decides to thumb a ride. He starts living the life he never even dreamed he could. Talking openly about things like sex, condoms, and homosexuality- he's happier then he's ever been.

There's one problem though.

His new roommates, Ryan and Spencer, have no idea that he is the missing Mormon boy from the nearby town of Summerlin.

--Ladies and gents, welcome to my first ever Ryden fic! This will always be a favourite of mine. Both Brendon's arc and Ryan's are are so heartbreaking, and there were so many times that I wanted to reach into the story and give Dallon a hug. So many tragedies in this story, and not all of them solved. I don't have any empathy for Brendon's parents in this story, but I feel so hard for his siblings, and for Marc. I just wish they knew. This story is so heartbreaking and yet so happy. Will play with your emotions like they're a shiny new toy.--

Filthy Lucre (10/10)

~362k words

Ryan Ross is living the American wet dream. He’s rich, he’s good looking, he gets paid just to turn up at parties and he spends his days drinking, doing drugs and climbing into bed with eager and willing boys and girls. His parents and PA beg him to quit, and his brother turns up his noise at his destructive lifestyle, but Ryan is desperate to sink into the void, escape the memories of what his father's friend did to him when he was fifteen.

Brendon Urie is a man bordering on desperation. He whores himself out to millionaire bankers and CEOs to fund his boyfriend's heroin addiction and pay off his ungrateful father's medical bills. Things could be worse, though. He's lucky enough to have a roof over his head, to be living with the love of his life, to no longer have to hook on the street, but instead be privileged enough to turn tricks in the wealthy circles of Wall Street and Goldman Sachs.

Where a broken boy meets another broken boy, and falls in love.

--Normally, I would never recommend an unfinished fic, let alone fic that hasn't been updated in four years, unless it was it was so good and so engaging that it made me literally scream. Trust me when I say that you have not experienced true hatred until you read this fic. I have literally never hated a character more in my entire life, and I know who Dolores Umbridge is, for reference. The best thing about this fic, in my opinion, is that the characters, whether good guys or bad guys, do evil. And they do it on purpose. Because the characters feel and act as though they're real, and real people fucking suck.--

The Black Rose Season (8/10)

~158k words

Ryan Ross' life is essentially over when his scholarship is inexplicably cancelled and he will be forced to pay his way through school. As a young, broke college student, Ryan is desperate to find cash fast, but to no avail. Just when he thinks all hope is lost, a mysterious benefactor promises to pay his tuition in full, on one condition: Ryan is infiltrate Sigma Chi Beta, the most prestigious and cultish fraternity that Swan University has to offer. And if, by some miracle, Ryan succeeds, his mission is clear:

Befriend Brendon Urie, fellow Swan Sigma, and, more importantly, alleged leader of Sigma Chi Beta's secret society, which might not even exist. He is to document his findings, and send them to his benefactor. One small problem though: Brendon fucking hates his guts.

--Did I mention that Anna Green owns my ass? Because Anna Green owns my ass. This one is so fleshed out, and there are some moments where it really spikes you in the chest. Every time that Patrick comes onto the page, my interest piques, and I remember That One Scene™ that completely changed my perspective of him (You'll understand once you read). Besides... college AU? Secret societies? Betrayal? Enemies to lovers? Sexual tension? Need I say more?--

I have more fics to recommend if you guys like this list, so tell me if you want more fic recs

[ashfountainfanfics]

“This is ridiculous,” Mike sighs in exasperation, “my friends and I had nothing to do with any of this.”

The detective at the other end of the table doesn’t seem to accept this. She’s a recent transplant from another state. Most of the Derry police department leaves Mike be, summing up his interest in police matters as a side effect of his fascination with Derry history. She doesn’t seem to be interested in giving that same assumption.

“You keep saying that,” she pushes, “but I think it’s strange that you show up to all the crime scenes and that two of your friends harassed one of the victims. Not to mention that Henry Bowers was found dead under your place of residency.”

Mike is growing more and more frustrated. It was surreal when the police showed up at dinner last night. The Losers Club plus the small group of cops nearly overwhelmed the small Italian place they’d been enjoying.

Bev, Ben, and Eddie are sitting in the lobby while Richie and Bill are in cuffs. Mike is somewhere between the two options or so he figures. He’s not sure he likes those odds.

Detective Lopez fixes him with a look that lacks any hint of retreat or gentility. She’s a no nonsense kind of woman. Her curly, dark hair is cropped in a pixie cut and her face is bare and set in a deadpan expression. Her blouse is a gray button up and the lanyard of her badge is tucked under her collar.

“It’s a small town,” Mike responds, “coincidences are everywhere.”

“Nothing is ever just a coincidence. Did you know Mr. Bowers?”

Mike calmly explains how Henry Bowers was the resident bully when they were children. How often that bullying went past simple pranks and low grade violence. To stop at calling Henry a bully was like trying to call Ted Bundy just an unfortunate date.

“You can ask Ben about his scar, that should give you a clue.”

“I understand that Mr Bowers had a history of violence and mental illness-“

“Being an angry white boy is not a mental illness,” Mike points out.

“Agreed,” Detective Lopez says flatly, “but that isn’t my point. My point is that several children and a man named Adrian Melon are dead and the escape of Mr. Bowers does not correlate with those deaths.”

“It doesn’t correlate with the arrival of my friends either. They weren’t here.”

“But you were.”

Mike is taken aback by the remark. All this time he’s been keeping watch, dreading the day that Derry needed saving but looking to save it nonetheless. Not that this town ever gifted him much beyond tolerance. He has no adult friends here, no significant others, only a series of routine faces that note his presence. Derry, Maine isn’t friendly or good. It’s not even scenic but he wanted to save it anyway. His jaw tightens.

“Of course I was here. I live in Derry. I’ve lived here most of my life, where else would I be?”

“You didn’t know these kids. You didn’t know Adrian Melon. Why did you visit the crime scenes? What business did you have being there?”

Detective Lopez is standing over him now with her hands planted on the table. She does this all calmly with very direct body movements. She never lets her frustration get to her. She harnesses it into orderly conduct and in a way it’s terrifying.

But she’s an outsider without all the facts. You can tell she comes from a big city by her demeanor and her thought process. Often a crime is committed by someone close to the victim or someone that makes themselves close. Contrary to the movies, the person most likely to kill you is the one in plain sight and right next to you. Monsters that hide in the dark and stalk you like prey aren’t the norm.

Mike is glad that he and his friends got rid of that norm for Derry.

“Detective Lopez? Have you ever seen someone die-“

“Of course I have. I’m a homicide detective.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mike insists, “I was asking if you’ve ever seen someone die when you were a child?”

This gives her pause. Her elbows soften the smallest amount and her hesitancy is plain to Mike. She doesn’t sit. There’s no way she’s backing down that quickly but it’s clear she’s listening.

“I can’t say I have, why?”

“If you take the time to look into me a bit more you’ll know that my parents died in a fire and I was in the other room. I was too little to help them. I couldn’t save them.”

Now Detective Lopez sits down. Her posture is unnaturally straight and her gaze is still unwavering. This is either the best she can do to convey being receptive or it’s the most she’s willing to give.

“Can you imagine the sort of impact that has? I couldn’t even put down a sheep on the farm I grew up on. The idea of causing harm to anyone or anything, indirect or necessary or otherwise, still makes me sick. So please, Detective Lopez, don’t insult me with what you’re trying to infer.”

“Be blunt then. What were you doing?”

“Trying to see if there was a way to stop it. If you look at our history, you’ll see there’s a pattern. Every 27 years since the town was formed, a stretch of terrible things happen. That’s longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than my family’s been in Derry.

I thought maybe if I could pay attention for the next phase I could find the connection. I could save them.”

Mike can see that she’s regarding him as an absolute looney but Mike hopes it’s the harmless kind. She can picture him tinfoil hat and all if it means she doesn’t see him as a murderer.

“And what did you find?”

Mike decides that this is as good a time as any to tell one last lie. It’s not like she’d understand the truth of the matter. She’s the type to only accept hard facts and indisputable evidence. There isn’t anything he can show her to back the truth. Nothing but a lot of rubble on Neibolt street.

“I found nothing. Whatever makes this town the way it is, it’s not for me to understand.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Pennywise was just a part of what made Derry the way it is. Its death isn’t going to cure Derry of its bigotry overnight. There will still be small minded people, violent people. Mike will never understand that.

“So you’re giving up? Just like that?”

“I almost died because a literal living relic of my past broke out of an insane asylum and tried to kill me. I think that’s a sufficient wake up call that I’ve wasted too much time on this town and my own baggage.”

Mike can’t tell if she’s buying it or not. Detective Lopez gives away nothing. She’s an absolute professional to the core. Mike respects that. Derry could use someone on the force who can’t be swayed.

“I may need you to call you back in to corroborate a few stories so don’t skip town,” she gives him a curt nod, “You’re free to go.”

Detective Lopez opens the door to Mike’s freedom. Mike has a feeling that the others have been given similar instructions or that they will be given them. He wonders briefly if they should have thought ahead to confirm a set story with each other but he thinks better of it. None of the Losers are crazy enough to tell the truth.

“Hanlon, wait,” the detective stops him as soon as he’s out of the door frame, “tell your comedian friend that making jokes isn’t going to work with me. It’s not endearing and he’s digging a much bigger hole for himself.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, trying to get him to stop is a joke in and of itself.”

—-

“Her first name is Jennifer!” Richie shouts as if wounded, “Last name Lopez! What did you want me to do?”

Richie can tell that his lawyer is not amused. His voice sounds really far away and it is. He’s driving to Derry as fast as he can.

“Richie, this isn’t your usual legal trouble. This isn’t stolen material or a damaged room-“

“That was one time and I was still a baby! How was I supposed to know what ecstasy looks like? You’re about to see the podunk town I grew up in, man.”

“They’re talking homicide!”

“I still cry over Bambi, for fuck’s sake. Do you seriously think I’d kill anyone for fun?”

“Of course not.”

Roger Clemming has been Richie’s lawyer since the start of his career. He’s a cousin of his manager and normally Roger has no qualms about representing Richie. Most of his legal cases aren’t even his; the man doesn’t write his own stand up so he can’t exactly be held responsible if it’s stolen. Richie Tozier is an easy client.

“I didn’t even mean to kill him. He had Mike and it was clear that old Bowers was totally batshit. I reacted. I don’t know.”

“So we have a witness. That’s good. The more witnesses the better. I just wish you hadn’t pissed off the Detective.”

“Yeah yeah I’m an asshole but I didn’t say anything about the case. And I stayed away from ass jokes!”

“I’m sure that’s what will save you.”

The Derry police station is not a big place. The holding cell is visible to the front lobby and there’s only two private rooms; the sheriff’s office and an interrogation room. Richie can see Eddie, his arms crossed and his face looking like he bit into a lemon.

Stressed out, Eddie spaghetti? You’re not on this end of the station.

“Be honest with me, Roger, am I going to jail or not?” Richie clings to a rare moment of seriousness.

“You defended someone from an escaped convict. If you sit back and don’t make an ass out of yourself we may not even go to court.”

Richie sighs and he wishes he could telepathically share this news with Eddie. He stares down Eddie in the hopes that somehow they do share a psychic link. Eddie remains pissed at some very specific wall instead.

“And, uh, my friend? Bill?”

“I’m not sure a trial can be avoided on that, but as long as there’s no physical evidence then the best they’ve got is circumstantial with no real motive. They’ll be grasping at straws if they charge him. Dead kids do make for angry parents though and sometimes they’ll pull a guy to trial because they’ve got no one else to blame.”

“So 50/50 chance?”

“40/60 of an arrest being made and I can’t begin to estimate the odds on him being found guilty. That all comes down to the kind of town your Derry, Maine.���

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Richie groans and buries his face into his free hand.

“Watch it, Tozier,” the nearby cop warns him.

Richie apologizes and feigns composure.

“Sorry kid,” Roger’s using his turn signal given the soft ticking in the background, “I’ll do my best but I make no promises.”

Richie mutters a sentiment of gratitude before hanging up. It would still be the better part of a day and a half before his representation gets here. Technically he’s not even sure if Bill wants Roger to represent him but Richie figures it couldn’t hurt to arrange it. After all, do either of them really want to trust whatever a Derry lawyer looks like?

---

Bill settles in for the night. To be honest, he’s slept in far more uncomfortable places than a holding cell. He wasn’t always a big famous writer. He remembers when he had to sleep in his shitty, used Toyota back in the early days. Now he’s got two houses, a celebrity wife, and a second movie deal. None of which he’s particularly sure he wants anymore.

It’s startling how unconcerned Bill is about the charge against him. He’s been taken in on suspicion of murder but Bill knows damn well he didn’t kill that kid and Detective Lopez doesn’t have much of anything on him except that he was seen yelling at the child earlier at the day and had been spotted at the carnival. 

Bill didn’t want to seem entirely unhelpful though despite knowing they were never going to catch what killed that boy. He offered an account of what he thought was an animal attack but it was difficult to make out. Richie’s lawyer probably won’t like that he talked without him present but Bill doesn’t really care.

Bill blamed the yelling on a mental breakdown. His hometown memories were complicated and a failing marriage and work pressure wasn’t helping. When he saw a kid about Georgie’s age living in his old house, he lost it. It was easy to sell this because it wasn’t really a lie. Detective Lopez did make a comment to Bill about how childhood trauma seems very convenient in this town but Bill didn’t know how to respond outside of confusion.

“All right, everyone,” a tired cop announces into the lobby, “Y’all should get yourselves to bed. Visiting hours are over.”

The other members of the Loser’s Club are essentially draped across each other in the lobby and half asleep already. Ben is in the middle like some sort of handsome centerpiece. He has an arm over Beverly and Mike is leaning on his free shoulder. Meanwhile, Eddie is sitting on the floor at Ben’s feet looking tense and irritated.

They gather themselves up except for Eddie who continues to sit on the floor.

“Eddie, honey,” Beverly says softy, “it’s time to go.”

“Richie and Bill didn’t do anything wrong. I will leave when they do.”

Bill chuckles a bit at this and looks over to Richie on the other side of the holding cell. The look on his face gives him pause because it’s not what he was expecting. Eddie looks genuinely frightened in here. He’s also watching Eddie as if looking at the last boat on a sinking ship; one that’s just too far out of reach. Bill isn’t sure what to make of that.

“They’ll be okay,” Mike assures the sulking man on the floor, “I know these cops. They’re decent.”

Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Sweetie,” Bev is getting a hint of irritation to her voice, “we can come back in the morning.”

“I refuse to get up. This is a protest.”

Bev sighs and looks to Ben.

“We’re going to have to force him.”

“Force him?” Ben asks back incredulously, “Force him how?”

“Ben, he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet, what do you think?”

“Oh Lord,” Mike immediately understands the implication.

Ben thinks about it for a second and it dawns on him the same exact time it dawns on Eddie. Ben is briefly horrified by the idea.

“You wouldn’t” Eddie challenges him.

Ben looks helplessly at Bev who shrugs as if to say that there’s no other way. Eddie recoils as Ben clearly accepts his orders and approaches Eddie with strong arms ready to lift him. His stance is that of someone attempting to capture a wild animal.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie screams while rapidly kicking his legs to slide away.

Bill again turns to get Richie’s reaction to all this. He’s pleased to see Richie desperately stifling a chuckle. The cop stationed here for the evening seems to be frozen in disbelief as one grown man is trying to catch another and that other fully grown adult man is essentially crab scuttling his way to safety.

On reflex, Eddie sends a hard kick and gets Ben right in the shin. Ben stops his pursuit to cradle it.

“Eddie! What the hell!?” Bev scolds him.

“Now that’s enough!” the cop finally sees fit to reanimate, “I’ve seen some bull shit in my day but I won’t have a brawl in the station! Sort yourself out or I’ll put you in holding! Got it?”

Eddie gets up from the floor.

“Oh no,” Richie says quietly.

Bill’s confused but looks back to the scene playing out before him. Eddie looks apologetic and humbly confronts Ben.

“Sorry, Ben” he says meekly.

“It’s just my shin,” Ben responds, “It’ll bruise but it’s fine.”

“No, I’m sorry about this.”

Eddie uses his whole body to send a punch right into the side of Ben’s scruffy and very shocked face. Eddie’s fist retreats just as quickly as it had departed and he’s shaking out the pain of contact. Ben cups his cheek, obviously not very wounded. The man’s essentially built like a brick house for fuck’s sake. This does get the cop moving though.

Eddie is escorted into the holding cell with Bill and Richie. Richie looks in awe of Eddie either because he was so reckless or stupid Bill can’t figure which. He does have sneaking suspicion however that Eddie’s little stunt has more to do with Richie than with Bill himself.

Eddie is still pouting and sits square on the floor all over again.

“The little guy will be free to go after he cools down, unless you want to press charges,” the cop asks Ben.

“What? No. No… it’s fine.”

Mike quietly exits as quickly as possible. He’s clearly done with the nonsense that just played out. Bev and Ben stay behind a minute as Bev checks his cheek over again. Bill can make out the soft conversation they’re having but just barely. She’s apologizing for her plan, saying she didn’t think Eddie would fight that much.

“No no, it was a good idea,” Ben assures her.

Bill can see the way that comment washes over her. Ben was always full of a certain sincerity and purity that none of the other Losers ever really had. He’s soft and probably the only one of them that didn’t end up with a ridiculous amount of paranoia or cynicism. Bill doubts that Ben is unscathed but it looks like he at least had the good sense not to unleash his unknown trauma on anyone else.

Unlike Bill and his marriage to Audra.

It’s painfully clear to Bill right now just how much Audra looks like Beverly. They’ve got similar frames, similar facial structures and they’re both redheads. Granted, Audra’s red comes from a salon but it suits her as naturally as it does Bev. They could be sister’s.

‘Why can’t you be how I want you to be?’ Bill remembers saying to Audra not long before he took off to Derry. He’s disgusted with the comment now. He’s disgusted with the fact that he kissed Beverly and it meant more to him than his entire marriage. He’s disgusted with himself.

“See you in the morning, boys,” Bev waves to everyone in holding.

She doesn’t give Bill any special treatment. No lingering eye contact or wistful gaze. It’s as if she never had a crush on him at all, as if they’ve never shared anything. Before it always felt as if she was looking to Bill and now she’s looking at Ben.

Despite a sense of heartbreak, Bill takes comfort in that difference.

---

There’s only two beds in the holding cell. One of which is already taken up by Bill who is sound asleep. Eddie is still sitting on the floor and up against the wall. He watches for the cop to doze off. Sure enough, he’s starting to snore in his chair.

Eddie quietly and carefully scootches over to Richie. Richie’s been lying on other cot, entertaining himself with some sort of impromptu, silent puppet show. He breaks from it as he notices Eddie encroaching on his personal bubble.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers.

“Hi…” Richie answers.

Eddie isn’t sure of how to move forward. Originally he had mapped out exactly what to say after the gang’s celebratory dinner. He was going to apologize for kissing Richie, explain again that he had panicked. He would ask that they move forward from this and go back to normal. He wanted to reassure him that he is very alive and not going to die anytime soon too. He wanted to know how much it meant to him that Richie cared so much. He never knew he was that important to anyone.

Eddie did not plan on embracing his inner chaos and landing himself in a cell for the night. He still isn’t entirely sure what came over him in that moment. The idea of leaving just hit so hard and quickly that he couldn’t do it.

“I went to jail for you,” he glares at Richie.

Well that’s not a good start, Eddie mentally notes.

“I see this. I’ll file it under your list of uncharacteristically brave fuckery.”

“I mean that I want to talk. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause between them. That pause grows into a prolonged period. That period slinks into awkward silence. Eddie is aware since he brought up the conversation that he should actually start it but his head is empty. All he can think about is how the stab wound in his cheek hurts and how flustered Richie looks.

“Look, man,” Richie gives in, “We don’t have to talk. I get it. You panicked. Case closed. Mystery solved. We both deserve a Scooby snack for that epic conclusion.”

Eddie realizes for the first time that Richie is hiding behind his humor. He feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner but his eyes are a dead give away. Richie is making more eye contact now than usual. It’s like he’s forcing himself to present a put together facade. He’s watching Eddie to make sure he believes it.

Eddie wonders if it might be prudent to look at Richie in a different light. In childhood, he was always just that asshole friend. He liked to pick on him but never past annoyance. You’d think trying to steer clear of Henry Bowers would have made Eddie resistant to a friendship built on teasing. In retrospect, Eddie’s not sure what did open him up to it. By all logical accounts, Richie shouldn’t mean much of anything to Eddie and vice versa.

“Why do you do that?” he decides to approach it directly.

“I’m a comedian, Eds. Cracking a bad joke is as natural to me as breaking wind.”

Eddie could easily feed into this but he doesn’t want to. He physically sits up straighter and takes a calm breath in. It’s tempting to write Richie off as immature and continue down the rabbit hole of humor at Eddie’s expense but he refuses. Richie is keeping a secret of some kind which seems painfully obvious to Eddie now. If he’s ever going to move forward from recent events he’ll need to know what it is.

“What are hiding?” he leans in close.

Richie’s face loses all color. He stammers for a moment and Eddie is secretly pleased with himself. He’s so used to Richie getting at him that it is deeply satisfying for the tables to turn. Eddie tries not to stay in that mentality though. He wants answers not revenge.

“Bill’s the one with the stutter,” Eddie points out, “fess up. You’re hiding something from me and you’re using your crap jokes to do it. I won’t go to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It seems a little overkill but Eddie is feeling the dramatics today. They saved each other’s lives earlier. They should be able to talk. Eddie debates their closeness as he waits for an answer. Sometimes it felt like they were the closest two people in the room and other times they were the furthest. Eddie wants to know why.

“I- uh,” Richie is sweating at the forehead, “I want to say first that- shit no. Okay, growing up I- fuck no that’s going to take forever.”

Eddie continues to glare down his friend. It’s not that he wants to force the truth out of him but rather his concern is growing. Showing Richie his soft side doesn’t come naturally though. So here he is trying to be a good friend but acting like a displeased asshole.

“Okay, here goes,” Richie takes in a breath of confidence, “Dinner.”

“...dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What about… dinner?” Eddie says bewildered before getting accusatory, “I swear to God, Rich, if this is a set up to a mom joke I’ll-“

“Dinner!” Richie says again a bit too loud.

The guard stirs. The two men freeze. A few seconds later a loud snore emerges. Eddie sighs in relief. He’s done just enough to end up in here. He doesn’t want to get in enough trouble to stay.

“You and me. Dinner. Us. Dinner. Together. Y’know, dinner?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. So it’s not a joke about his mom but a joke nonetheless.

“Oh. I get it. Ha ha, very funny. Like a date,” Eddie comments sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Richie isn’t grinning. He not casually avoiding eye contact either as he does with a usual set up. Instead he’s looking directly at Eddie with everything he’s got. It’s the ‘please believe me’ look from before but in an entirely different context. It’s sincere.

Jesus Christ, I think he fucking means it, Eddie panics.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying even as confused internal screaming fills his insides.

“Shit. Really?” Richie is as shocked as Eddie is.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“I guess.”

This is all on the premise that Richie is released in time for a date. He may end up in real jail. Then what would they do? A prison dinner date doesn’t have the most enticing ring to it.

Eddie feels like a part of him has detached from his own brain. Whatever his body is doing is past his control now. The surrealism of this unexpected direction broke him.

“Move over,” Eddie demands quietly.

Richie backs up as far as can, looking absolutely befuddled. Eddie climbs into the small space left on the cot. He’s tired. There’s only two cots and one is taken. It makes direct sense to share at least when you’re not entirely in your own body anyway.

Eddie remembers briefly about how the two of them would often share the hammock as kids. Eddie unceremoniously plopped himself in and fought for space so often that it became customary. He never did it to anyone but Richie though. He was the only one.

Richie braves putting an arm around Eddie and at first Eddie’s spine goes rigid. He’s not ready to think about this, not even sure if acting on it is right yet. He still feels far away from all this even as he Richie’s body heat cradles him.

Something about the way Richie’s hand cups the small of his stomach feels...good. Eddie’s body relaxes and he realizes how fucking exhausted he is. It’s been an exceptionally long 48 hours. A little shut eye and a cuddle isn’t so ludicrous. Even if it is with Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“Just keep it in your pants,” Eddie yawns before falling asleep.

[justmickeyfornow]

Super{Delivery}Girl

Lena heard the knock on her door and didn’t need to look up from her work to know it was her secretary, Jess. She highlighted a line of the contract that she needed to speak to the legal department about and noticed Jess placing a covered plate of food on her desk.

Just as she was about to argue that she wasn’t hungry, Jess put a finger up, shutting her up completely.

“One day, this conversation is gonna get old.” Jess said sternly, as she began opening up containers and setting the utensils, “I bring you food, you say you're not hungry, I threaten to quit if you don't eat, you end up eating it. Let's just skip to the end, Ms Luthor.”

Lena sighed. The smell of the seasoned veggie stir-fry from her favorite Chinese restaurant making her regret claiming she wasn’t hungry, “I don't know how I'll be able to survive without you the next two weeks.”

“I told you I could set up a food delivery service for you.” Jess claimed, going to the other side of the office and grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass.

“No, no. I don't like being interrupted. Other than by you, that is. Can you imagine a delivery boy walking in on one of my meetings to give me my food? Besides, I don’t like eating from the same place every day, you know that." Lena said.

"So, hire a temporary assistant until I get back." Jess chuckled.

Lena narrowed her eyes, "Oh, I can never cheat on you, Jess. How dare you suggest I would even think of it?"

Jess rolled her eyes, as she poured a glass of red wine for her boss, "I'm serious, Ms. Luthor. She won't be responsible for anything but ordering your food. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lena leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine, "I'm very peculiar about who I have to deal with on a daily basis. Remember? It took me forever to choose you as my assistant.”

Jess feigned innocence, “I remember you choosing me in the blink of an eye,” she shrugged, “but tomayto tomahto.”

Lena found herself laughing at that, "I'm gonna miss your snarky comments."

Jess bagan clearing some of the documents that Lena had set aside and marked as complete, "If you want an assistant with my snarky comments I have one trained and ready for you."

Lena rolled her eyes, “I’ll pass, thank you very much. Besides, think of it as a challenge.”

“A challenge of what? How long can you last without food?” Jess deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

Lena shook her head at her antics, “No. Of whether or not I’m a snobby rich CEO that doesn’t know how to function without an assistant.”

“Oh, you can function! Trust me! You just have a goldfish memory regarding your food!"

Lena rolled her eyes and drank from her wine. Jess tapped the pile of papers to straighten them out, before carrying them with her, "I'm gonna take these and place them on Richard's desk. Do you need anything before I head out?"

Lena smiled warmly, "Just that you have the absolute most wonderful time on your much needed vacation."

Jess already began walking as she chuckled, "That's impossible. I'll be too worried whether or not you've dropped dead from malnutrition." she turned to Lena just as she reached the door and flinched to make her next point, "Not really in the mood to job hunt if you die on me."

Lena breathed out a chuckle in response, "Go, before I extend your vacation to 3 weeks. You're more of a workaholic than I am." Lena exclaimed.

Jess simply smiled and leaned against the door frame, "Goodbye, Ms. Luthor."

Lena returned the affectionate smile with one of her own, "See you in two weeks."

"Take care of yourself." Jess shouted from the hallway, "Literally!"

"What's the worst that can happen?" Lena replied just as loud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena stayed at the office much later than she had planned. When she looked at the clock it was almost 10 pm and Jess had walked out through her doors almost 6 hours ago. She sighed at her inability to have normal working hours these days. Taking over the company has been a grand decision. One she was forced to make rather than given the option. But now that she had, she was determined to make the most of it. To create a force for good. Which was why she was changing the company name to L-Corp. A fresh start that strode away from the death and destruction that her brother had caused to the family company.

She let out a tired breath, looking at the papers in front of her. It looked to be a long night. She was only halfway through with the reports she was supposed to present tomorrow at the board meeting. She needed a break but she was determined to finish. She looked at the clock and decided to give herself another hour of work before heading home.

A few minutes later, as she was deep in thought about her presentation for the board, she heard a tap on her balcony windows. When she turned around, she found nothing.

Must be the wind.

She went back to work, but another tap interrupted her. This one sounding more like a knock. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and marked the spot where she left off before getting up from her chair and going to the balcony doors.

As she opened the door, she didn't find the superhero she expected to find. She had only met the hero of this city once or twice and didn't expect another visit. But no caped blonde woman stood at her balcony. Instead, there sat a brown paper bag with a huge yellow label that read "Big Belly Burger".

"What the...?" she whispered as she picked up the bag. The whiff of hot greasy food filled her nose as she opened the paper bag. Her stomach automatically rumbled at the tempting smell, her stubbornness slowly wavering.

There was only one person she knew who was able to reach her balcony and the hero was nowhere in sight. Supergirl seemed to have dropped the meal off and flew away.

It was odd. But a gesture Lena didn't think too much of. Maybe it was because she had cooperated with the government agencies to disclose information about her brother. Or maybe it was simply a late welcome-to-the-city gift. An odd gift at that, but maybe that's all that it was.

Whatever it was, Lena made a mental note to thank the hero if she ever ran into her.

A phone number would've probably been helpful right now.

She took the bag inside her office and sat down on the sofa, grabbing her tablet to finish off reading while she ate. Right at that moment, her phone began to ring.

The number of that reporter that Lena had recently befriended appeared and Lena smiled as she answered, putting it on speaker.

"Ms. Danvers?" she asked, flinching at the use of her last name even though Kara had more than once told her not to call her that. They were still pretty new to their friendship. It was unexpected, if Lena was being honest. She didn't think she would make a friend in this city that easily. But it was no easy task to say no to Kara Danvers and her golden retriever smile.

"Lena! Hi! I hope that it's ok I called so late? You're not busy or sleeping or anything right?" Kara asked in her excited nature.

"No, no. Of course not. It’s fine. Was there something you needed?" she found herself saying, always eager to please the blonde.

"Me? No no. I just thought maybe we could chat. I just ordered in and needed some company while eating."

"Oh, that's odd." Lena couldn't help but say.

"What's odd?"

Lena attention darted from the bag of food on her table, "Hmm? No, nothing. I just thought that it was odd since I was just about to eat as well. But I thought about doing some reading while eating.

"Yikes, that doesn't sound so fun. But I'll leave you to your reading then."

“No, no. Kara, please. I need an excuse to stop working for a bit. A break might help me refocus.”

“And I'm that excuse? “

“It seems you are these days.” A very very distracting excuse, Lena couldn’t help but think.

“OK, then! But should you even be working this late?”

“Truthfully, no. But my assistant isn’t here to push me out the door.” Lena admitted, chuckling at the end. She cringed after uttering the sentence, finding it a bit self-pitying.

“Well, I’m just glad you found time to eat a little.” Kara mentioned.

Lena thought of mentioning the mysterious bag of food on her balcony but decided against it, “You sound like Jess.”

“Well, she is a very wise woman. Anyway! Let me tell you about the crazy day I had today!”

Lena chuckled as she opened the bag and pulled out the French fries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena arrived to work in a hurry, speaking on her phone and dumping a pile of paperwork on her desk that she had just retrieved from on top of jess' desk. It seemed as though not everyone was aware that her assistant was on vacation and that said paperwork should be put on her own desk rather than her assistant's.

"Yes, yes. I understand, Mr. Michaelson. But I truly cannot postpone my Hong Kong trip to September. It has to be next month." she unceremoniously dropped everything on her desk and watched as her purse slowly leaned at the edge before it toppled down onto the floor, spilling half its contents. Lena closed her eyes and resisted the urge to let out a loud sigh. "The deadline for the project is nearing and I need to finish up the schematics of... Yes, I understand. Mhmm. Of course. I'll have my assistant talk to you tomorrow then, ok? Ok. Goodbye."

She sank down on her chair and finally let out that sigh, only to suddenly remember that her assistant can't call him tomorrow because she was on vacation.

She cringed before she opened up her calendar on her computer to schedule a phone call with him tomorrow morning. She placed two alarms to remind her.

After looking through some emails, that were quite unpleasing if she was being honest with her herself, she pressed the intercom on her office phone to call Jess into her office.

When the usual ' Yes, Ms. Luthor?' never came, Lena groaned remembering again that Jess was on vacation. She looked at her Nespresso machine in her office and remembered it needed some sort of repairs that she could probably fix herself if she had the time.

"Ugh, what I wouldn't kill for a double shot right now!" she groaned out into the empty room.

Just then, a tap came on her balcony doors and Lena snapped her head towards the sound to find no one. When she walked towards the doors and slid them open, she found a cup of coffee with a sticky note on it.

Please don't kill anyone for coffee.

Lena gave a confused smile, looking around the sky to see if she could spot the hero but found only scattered birds. It was odd. Very very odd, in fact. She needed to speak with the hero about this. Thank her or ask her or... She wasn't sure.

She was grateful for the coffee anyway, taking a sip to find it exactly how she liked it. Very odd, indeed, for Supergirl to randomly know her exact coffee order. But she didn't have too much time to dwell on it. She took it inside to start her day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noon came with another disaster.

"What do you mean that the arugula cashew salad has been discontinued." Lena asked over the phone, "My assistant orders it for lunch almost everyday!" she exclaimed, admittedly a bit louder than she should have. "I am perfectly calm thank you very much, but I would be much calmer if maybe I would have my lunch delivered! I don't want your apologies, I want - you know what? Nevermind. Thank you for nothing!"  She hung up in the guy's face and puffed out in frustration.

"What do I have to do to get a simple arugula cashew salad with pear and stilton cheese? Honestly it's not that hard! I can hire my own personal chef to simply..."

Just then a familiar knock came from behind her and Lena this time turned faster and caught a glimpse of a red cape flying off. She rushed to her balcony to find the exact salad she was trying to order, with a sticky note stuck to it. She picked it up and read it.

Your salad was actually discontinued. So, Jess found a new place that was across town that made it and would order it from there. Delivery was extra because it was further, but according to her, the salad tastes better than the first restaurant. Please don't take it out on Gary, he only answers the phone and works part time there to pay for college.

Lena was baffled. This was getting out of hand. How on Earth would Supergirl know any of that? Did she and Jess speak often? Did Kara tell her? Did Supergirl just happen to eavesdrop on her every conversation?

Lena was furiated. Grateful for her rumbling stomach and her hunger-induced foul mood, but also infuriated. She didn't need a nanny. She could handle a simple task as ordering food.

Maybe she really should have taken Jess on her offer of a temporary assistant. But she was still new to the city. It's barely been a year since she has moved to National City. She didn't take too kindly to people. Nor did she like dealing with those questioning stares and curious looks. The pity is the worse. She still had so much to prove that she was nothing like her brother. And she thought coming to National City and away from Superman's territory was the way to do it.

Never did she ever think that she would be in a situation with Supergirl such as the likes of this.

She sighed but took the salad anyway. She had a meeting in half an hour and she needed all the energy to get through it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening saw Lena picking up a plastic container of sushi and sashimi from her favorite Japanese place. A cup of Matcha green tea sat beside it.

She still didn't like it but took it anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, she walked into her office and found the same croissants that Jess would get her every Friday. Fridays she almost always forgot to have breakfast. It was mainly due to the fact that Thursdays she had her international calls scheduled in the late hours of the night. Dealing with the other side of the world meant she had to call during their working hours. Which happened to coincide with 3 am for her. And Jess knew this. Which is why every Friday, Jess would get her breakfast to have on her desk while she read her emails.

Croissants and a banana kale smoothie is what she usually preferred. Which was what sat on her balcony table right in front of her. There was no sticky note this time.

"What on Earth is she on about?" she asked no one but herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noon was the same. A tap on her balcony door and a package of food delivered by National City's very own superhero.

Lena held the fruit salad bowl in frustration, "Do you deliver food to everyone in the city?" she shouted to the empty sky, feeling a bit stupid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day’s evening when she found a plate of Fettuccine on her balcony, she was ready for a confrontation with the Girl of Steel. She had already picked up both her lunch and her afternoon coffee from the balcony like it had suddenly become a drive-thru window in her very own office.

She was very much confused at this point.

Was Supergirl that different from Superman?  

She stabbed the pasta with her fork as thought hard about the most complicated question of her life.

Why was Supergirl delivering food to her?

Maybe this is some sort of benefit of National City that I wasn’t aware of. Some sort of agreement between Supergirl and the people of National City that she would deliver everyone’s food and they would... What? Give her free food in return?

Lena suddenly gasped.

Was I supposed to leave money on the table for her for delivering my food?!

She suddenly felt ashamed. Her cheeks burned with the realization that she was not paying for a service she was clearly using as she sat there eating the Fettuccine that Supergirl herself had delivered.

It was all so confusing and Lena was determined to get to the bottom of it. Which is why, the next day she arrived extra early to her office and began setting up.

She dragged her wooden coffee table all the way across her office and into the balcony. Then came the comfy armchair that she liked so much. She half expected it wouldn't fit through the balcony door, but it somehow did. A sane enough CEO of a multi-billion dollar company would have asked someone from the many employees she had to do the job for her.

But she was in a stubborn mood.

She then took out her laptop, placing it outside on the coffee table. Her printed copies of the annual financial reports. Her coffee cup and everything else she needed to do her work.

She was going to work from her balcony and catch Supergirl in the act.

She needed to understand the reasoning behind it all. Needed to see how much money she owed Supergirl. It just didn’t make sense that Supergirl was delivering everyone’s food without taking any sort of compensation!

And so she began working.

"Hello, Mr. Michaelson.” she spoke through her bluetooth earphones, using her hands to edit a paragraph in her speech while talking to the man. “Yes, it's me. No, my assistant is on vacation unfortunately. Where? Oh, umm well she went to Vancouver actually. Yes, yes, I agree, beautiful place. Now, as for our agreed upon dates for the project sc- Oh. Sure I could ask my assistant for you if Vancouver has nice Japanese restaurants."

She held her hand to the bottom of her phone and sighed audibly looking up to the sky and wishing Jess would just magically appear.

After almost an hour speaking to the old businessman, and not all of it spent talking about work, Lena almost whined when she saw her coffee cup empty.

"I'm gonna need a whole gallon of coffee to deal with more like him." she spoke out loud to herself.

Taking off her heels, she folded her legs neatly beneath her and balanced her laptop on the chair's armrest. She began typing out a detailed email to the finance department asking for a budget increase on the project.

It was less than ten minutes later that she noticed movement in the sky. When she looked up, she didn't find anyone. Frowning, she went back to work.

The next thing that happened would never have even crossed her mind. Dangling from her balcony ceiling was a thick string, securely tied to a cup of coffee, and coming down slowly as though someone was gradually letting more of the string go until the coffee cup would eventually reach Lena's brick railing.

Lena gawked at the coming down cup with wide eyes.

There was a coffee cup dangling from the roof of her balcony! Swaying from the wind and slowly coming down like a hookline of a fisherman.

After getting over her shock, Lena immediately got up, letting her laptop fall in her seat, "Hey!" she shouted, very unlady like of her. She planted both hands on her railing and cranked her neck to look up. The string went all the way up to the roof of the building and disappeared there.

"Excuse me? I would like to speak to you." she shouted towards the rooftop. "Thank you for the coffee but it's really not necessary for you to bring me food and drink everyday. I am more than capable of feeding myself." Lena blatantly spoke to the rooftop, looking more and more like a crazy person. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Jess snicker at her words.

Capable of feeding myself, sure.

"Supergirl? Or whoever you are, I simply want to thank you personally if that's all right." Lena tried again, but still no answer.

And just like that she saw a flash of a red cape in the sky before it disappeared.

Why won't she talk to me?!

And then the answer came to her.

She probably doesn't have time. If she delivers food to everyone in the city, not mentioning the fact that she saves people left and right... Then. When does she have time for anything?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a fire. Lena was having a meeting with a client at a restaurant when the smell of smoke began to filter into the air. Suddenly, one of the chefs barged into the restaurant, coming from the kitchen and collapsed onto the floor. The smoke began to seep quickly into the restaurant and in under a few minutes it started to get harder and harder to breathe.

Unfortunately, for everyone inside, the restaurant was quite a large and crowded one with only one exit, aside from the kitchen exit that was probably blazing in a fire. Chaos erupted and everyone began stumbling towards the door to escape.

And just as suddenly as it had happened, Supergirl flew in and saved the day. She blew out the fire and began evacuating people quickly. Lena had been hunched over a table, coughing from the smoke and eyes watering. She felt herself be lifted off the floor suddenly and found herself in the arms of the blonde hero. Supergirl flew her to an ambulance that was administering oxygen to those who needed it.

"I'll be right back," she said to Lena before flying off to make sure no one else was inside the building.

Lena was checked up by a medic and was cleared. She felt a little dizzy but she didn't inhale too much smoke. She was however buzzing with energy.

Supergirl flew back down and nodded towards the fire chief shaking his hand and assuring him no one was inside. She smiled at the job well done and was about to go check up on the Luthor woman when...

"You!" Lena shouted angrily, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Supergirl turned to find the woman's narrowed eyes and immediately took a step back, terrified. Oh, yes. She was very much terrified.

Lena came up to her, her heels seemingly still making her look shorter than the well-built hero. But she was not intimidated at all, in fact she was angry. She was out looking for answers and she expected to find them.

She jabbed a finger in the hero's chest, "Why do you insist on feeding me?!" she accused, "What do you have to gain from it all, hmm?!" her eyes were predatory, filled to the brim with frustration.

"M-Ms. Luthor, I don't know what you're talking about." Supergirl stuttered.

"The coffees, and croissants, and sushi, and salads. All of it! Why are you bringing me food everyday? I'm not crazy, I've seen your cape flying about! I'm more than capable of feeding myself, you don't need to bring me food, Supergirl!

"M-Ms. Luthor, I believe there's been some sort of misunderstanding."

"I would just like to know why ?! I didn’t sign up for this service!"

"Ms. Luthor, can we please please talk about this when there aren't so many cameras a-and and..."

Lena jabbed her finger harder into Supergirl's chest, "You tell me right now!!" she barked.

"M-Ms. Luthor..."

"Why-" she punctuated her word with a harder jab.

"I really think-" Supergirl took a step back.

"Do you insist-" another jab to the chest and a step forward.

"It's just maybe this isn't-"

"On bringing me-"

"If we could just-

"Food!" Lena jabbed her finger harder to punctuate her question.

Supergirl seemed to make up her mind on something, nodding once to herself with a tight lipped smile, “Yup, you’re not gonna like this. I’m really sorry in advance.” she said

“Sorr-”

Supergirl bent down, fireman carried Lena on her shoulder and flew off into the sky.

Lena screamed immediately, her scream echoing in the city, “What are you doing?!”

Supergirl didn’t answer which immediately led Lena to believe that she was being kidnapped.

She started banging her fist on the Super’s back, kicking with her feet, “Why would you buy me food for days only to kidnap me in the end??!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Supergirl made an accidental swoosh in the sky trying to balance the struggling woman in her arms, “What?! I’m not kidnapping you! Stop moving so much!"

"Stop kidnapping me then!!" Lena shouted.

"I'm not kidnapping you!!"

“Put me down this instant!"

Supergirl’s sight was blocked by a smooth thigh, and she was momentarily distracted with how it felt that when she refocused again she found a brick wall in front of them. She immediately turned full circle and redirected their course before slamming into the wall with a struggling woman.

Lena tried to thrust her knee into Supergirl’s nose, her plan was to maybe somehow break the unbreakable nose made of steel. It wasn’t her best idea, “Put me down!”

“I’m trying!” Supergirl shouted back, “Rao, woman, just calm down and let me take you where I’m taking you!

“So you are kidnapping me ?!!”

“What?! Why would I kidnap you?!”

“Then where are we going?!”

Supergirl flew down a little, holding on to the squirming woman as tight as she can. She dived beneath the ceiling of the balcony and safely landed with her two feet on the ground. “Here!” she voiced out loudly, “Your balcony!” she said as she set the woman down.

Lena Luthor wobbled on her feet and realized she was one foot short. When she looked down, one heel seemed to be missing. She looked back up, staring daggers into the hero.

Supergirl put her hands up in surrender, “Hey! In my defense it wouldn’t have fallen if you had just simply calmed down!”

Lena crossed her arms and discarded the other shoe before facing Supergirl, “Do you mind telling me what all of this is?”

“All of what is?” Supergirl deadpanned.

Lena rolled her eyes, “Oh for the love of...” she sighed. When she looked back to the other woman, she found her distracted, looking over the balcony. Lena was about to ask when she got her answer.

“Oh! Found it.” The hero exclaimed before jumping over the balcony railing and diving down to the street. Lena had a miniature heart attack, barely remembering that the woman wasn’t falling to her death.

Seconds later, the hero flew back onto her balcony with her missing heel, smiling widely, “Cinderella.” she curtsied and handed the show to Lena.

“Very funny.” Lena said sarcastically before taking back her precious louboutins. She placed it beside the other and faced Supergirl, “Explain, please.”

Supergirl gave an innocent smile, “Explain what?”

And Lena more or less lost it, “Explain to me why it is that you’re delivering my food? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for the past week so I could explain to you that I am perfectly capable of ordering my own food, thank you very much! I don’t know if this is a National City deal that you have going on, but I don’t want you delivering my food. Not to mention paying for it! Which reminds me, I owe you...”

"Jess and I are friends." Supergirl blurted out, cringing as though she wasn't supposed to disclose that particular piece of information.

Lena tilted her head in confusion, "Friends?"

Supergirl sighed, "Yeah. I saved her once from a bus flipping over while she was getting you coffee this one time." she mentioned casually, like a bus flipping over was the most normal thing in the world.

Lena's eyes widened, she choked on a gasp in her throat, "Bus... F-Flipping over?"

Supergirl however didn't notice her shock nor seemed to be listening. Her eyes were on her fingers, counting the number of times she had saved Jess, "And then there was that time when I saved her from getting caught in the crossfire of a shooting." Supergirl listed, as Lena watched in utter horror, "And the time those CADMUS guys came to take you, and she wouldn't let them through the door. So, they were about to attack her but she had already called me-" Supergirl paused, putting up her finger to add information, "I gave her my number after the third time I saved her. Anyway, so she-

"Num...ber?" Lena's mouth moved to form the word as she watched with wide eyes, still frozen in place.

"Called me and I came and took care of the two guys before anything happened. Which was a good thing because Jess told me you were in a very important meeting that day and you weren't to be disturbed. Not even by CADMUS goons coming to kidnap you apparently!" Supergirl giggled at that, only to continue her rant as though nothing happened.

"You'd be surprised how much that woman is a chaos magnet. Accident prone too! I once saved her from tripping and dropping two coffees, a stack of papers, a laptop under her arm, a box of pastries balanced over the stack of papers, and herself because she was talking to you and her heel got stuck in the pavement. It was almost a disaster, but I was near her and I managed to catch it all." suddenly Supergirl's face lit up momentarily as though she remembered something before it was replaced by a dopey grin at the memory, "She gave me a donut as a thank you I was really hungry that day."

Supergirl scrunched her nose in thought, "What else? Oh yeah! There was this time I saved her from-"

"OK, I get it!" Lena suddenly interrupted her, if she heard one more story about Jess' life being risked because she was out getting her coffee... "I get it. I need to give Jess a raise. Or buy her a house. Maybe even give her my office while I'm at it. God knows she deserves it!" Lena mumbled the last part. She had no idea what Jess went through to simply get her coffee. What kind of world do they live in?

Lena sighed, refocused herself, "What does any of this have to do with you delivering my food to me?" she asked.

Supergirl furrowed her eyebrows like she didn't remember, before gasping and lighting up with wide eyes, "Oh! Yeah, sorry." she chuckled, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, "I think I lost track of the story a bit there."

That's the understatement of the year, Lena couldn't help but think

“So, umm, after I saved Jess a bunch of times we eventually became friends. She also figured out I was Kara, so I pretty much-”

“You’re WHAT?!” Lena all but gawked.

Supergirl froze, hand in mid-gesture. Her face seemed very very confused, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth forming an O. She tilted her head to the side, “Kara?”

“You’re Kara?!!” Lena demanded, admittedly much louder than she expected to utter the words.  "The-The..." the reporter, the friend I made, the possible crush. "Kara Danvers?"

“Well, yeah. I thought it was kinda obvious...”

Lena opened her mouth and closed it several times with no words making it out. With wide shocked eyes, she observed the blonde closely. Blonde tresses framing her face, blue piercing eyes. She imagined a ponytail, a pair of glasses.

“Oh God.” she half whispered.

She was crushing on Supergirl the whole time.

For some baffling reason that Lena couldn’t seem to fathom, Supergirl looked more confused than she was.

“I thought you already knew.” she noted.

“How could I have possibly known?! I’ve met you twice !”

Supergirl flattened her lips and swayed her head on each side, “Actually, it was three times.” she corrected.

“That is not the point!”

Supergirl backed away, putting her hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. Sorry.” she shrugged then, “I kinda just thought you knew but weren’t saying anything. I mean Jess figured it out almost instantly and you’re supposed to be super smart-”

When Lena gave her a threatening glare, Supergirl realized her mistake.

“I-I mean you are super smart.” she backed up immediately, “You know, you were answering my calls and you laughed at my flew here on a bus joke.”

“You were being serious?!!!” Lena shouted unladylike. She was doing a lot of unladylike things today that involved this situation she found herself in.

There really wasn’t any possible way for Lena’s jaw to drop even more.

“Well, obviously not at first. But when you didn’t ask about it and then we met again and I mentioned flying again, you were totally okay with it.”

“People say stuff!! I didn’t think you were serious! I just thought you had weird expressions!”

“Huh.” Supergirl looked up and thought about it, “I never really-”

“Look.” Lena stopped her before she went on another rant. She was getting a headache from all that was happening on this God forsaken balcony, “Can we please go back to the food delivery situation?” Lena pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh!” Supergirl perked up again, chuckling, “I guess a sorta lost track of the story a bit there.”

“You seem to have a habit of that.” Lena muttered.

“I heard that.” Supergirl grinned.

“I know.” Lena deadpanned.

Supergirl ignored her, “Where was I?” Supergirl thought out loud.

“Literally still at the beginning.” Lena deadpanned again. When she saw that Supergirl was still thinking about it, she sighed and reminded her, “You and Jess are friends after you had saved her numerous times. What - for the love of all that is good - has that got to do with you suddenly being my delivery person?”

“Jess asked me to.” Supergirl miraculously gave the answer in less than a thousand words.

“She did what?”

“She said that she was going on vacation and that she didn’t trust you to properly take care of yourself. So, I volunteered to help.”

Once again, Lena found her jaw dropping and eyes widening.

“She even wrote me an instruction list.” Supergirl casually mentioned, not at all noticing the blood-curling shock on the young Luthor’s face.

“She...She wrote you...” Lena tried to mutter.

Supergirl began fumbling around in her suit, “I swear I had it somewhere here.” She patted her cape, “Darn, must’ve left it in my other cape.”

It must be a dream. There’s no possible explanation at how more and more absurd this situation was becoming.

Supergirl shrugged before turning back to her, “Anyway, she wrote me a list of instructions. Which restaurants to pick up from on which days, what to get from each restaurant, allergies. Days on which you might miss breakfast at home, days when you’ll be working extra late for a late second dinner. Important meetings I shouldn’t interrupt, stressful meetings that need a double shot afterwards. She wrote the type of tea you like to drink when you’re working on contracts, and the Kale smoothie that you drink when it’s hot out.” Supergirl made a disgusted face at that, “She even specified food items you don’t like in your food, like pickles in sandwiches and green olives in your salads. And other food items to add that aren’t in the ingredients, like cashews on your salad and-”

“Fuck me, I don’t pay that woman nearly half of what she deserves.” Lena blurted out, sighing out loud.

Supergirl suddenly stopped listing things - another habit of hers - and looked at Lena with a shocked face, before looking down and playing with her fingers with wide eyes and a blushing face.

Lena had a feeling that it had everything to do with the fuck me aspect of her blutness. It wasn’t her fault! All of this was too much! Was she really that snobby rich CEO who didn’t know anything about her assistant's duties. She knew Jess’ job wasn’t easy, sometimes Lena found her job harder than her own, but she never knew it was damn near impossible!

Lena pinched the bridge of her nose again, and sat down on the armchair that she had pulled out on the balcony the other day. She was honestly afraid to ask - if this whole conversation was anything to go by, she’d probably get some bizarre answer that’ll probably spin her head - but she needed to know one more thing.

She looked up at the hero, who was still very much blushing at the fuck me statement. She rolled her eyes and asked her question.

“I still don’t fully grasp why you refused to speak to me while delivering the food to my balcony. In fact, you avoided speaking to me so much to the point that you dangled my coffee cup by a string.”

Supergirl pointed with a finger, “Not my finest moment, I admit.”

“So, why? Would it have been so awful for you to-”

"I just thought you wouldn't like me." Supergirl answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

And there it was. The bizarreness unleashed.

“I beg your pardon?” Lena cocked an eyebrow.

“I thought you wouldn’t really like me, you know, as Supergirl.” Supergirl replied again, kicking some non-existent pebble. “I can be a little awkward in front of beautiful, smart, brunette women. My sister always makes fun of me for it. Says it's my kryptonite. So, yeah. I figured to just drop off the food and just go. But then you had to pull that trick and work from the balcony so I had to improvise."

"You thought... You thought I wouldn’t like you?"

"Yup."

"Me?"

"Uhu."

"Not like you? Supergirl?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Commence jaw drop once more.

“But you also thought that I knew that you were Kara Danvers?” Lena asked, the fact she even said that was still mind blowing. She was talking to Kara Danvers who was also Supergirl.

Supergirl shrugged, “Yeah, what about it?”

Lena furrowed her eyebrows together, “So why wouldn’t I like you as Supergirl if I like you as Kara, if you thought that I thought that you were the same person?” the question gave her a headache just saying it.

Supergirl’s eyes widened, “You like me as Kara?” she gasped out.

“Was that what you got out of that question?” Lena asked. She needed to redirect the topic away - very very much away - from the fact that she like Kara Danvers.

Who happens to be Supergirl.

Supergirl was still sporting a dopey grin at it, but then lit up when she remembered something else, “Also, Jess said that you don’t like people in general.”

“Jess said that I don’t like people.”

“No, she said something else. But I’d really rather not say that out loud to you.”

Lena crossed her arms, standing up and facing the Girl of Steel with steel eyes of her own, “What did Jess say?”

Supergirl pouted, “Do I really have t...”

Lena pushed her on with a raised eyebrow.

“But...But...”

Eyebrow seemed to go higher.

Supergirl sighed, “She said you were prickly.”

“ Prickly ?” Lena honestly expected something worse. Like bitch. Or monster workaholic.

“Yeah. You know, like a cactus. And that only people who really got to know you would find water inside. Or something like that. I can’t really remember. But she called you prickly.”

Suddenly, something began to beep from Supergirl suit. The hero hunched over and reached inside her red boot, taking her phone out.

Lena figure it must be some sort of emergency in the city. A fire, maybe. A bank being robbed. Someone needed saving. A car...

"Ooh, it's time for your 2 O'clock lunch!" Supergirl exclaimed.

Not that!

She expected sirens! Fire Trucks! People in danger! Not her 2 O’clock lunch!

“Oh God, I can’t believe Supergirl has a reminder on her phone for my lunch.” she whispered, falling back on the armchair, giving up on trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last half hour.

Supergirl was busy on her phone, typing something and mumbling to herself, “Today is tuesday, so that means it’s the...” she pursed her lips, typing more, before, “Okay, I just ordered your baby spinach salad.” She looked up at Lena, “Apple, pecan and honey dressing, right?”

“R-Right...” Lena stuttered. Supergirl was literally taking her lunch order.

This is a dream. There is no possible way that...

Supergirl nodded, “Okay, I’m just gonna go grab it. It’ll take me no more than a minute.” she said, shrugging.

“Uhh O-okay.” Lena said, still frozen at the idea of Supergirl going to get her her lunch.

Supergirl reached behind her, pulled out a bag that was ultimately tied to the inside of her cape it seemed, “Do you mind if I just leave my Potstickers, here?”

Seven. Lena counted seven times now that Supergirl had said something that had caused her jaw to drop.

“Did you just put off a fire, save countless people, and have this whole conversation with me with a bag of dumplings tied to the inside of your cape?”

Supergirl chuckled, “You’d be surprised how often I do that.” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

She flew away right before Lena managed to gather herself and utter a, “Take your time.”

A minute later, Lena felt her clothes ruffle from a bust of wind as Supergirl landed on her balcony once more. “One spinach salad with apple, pecan and honey dressing.” she smiled brightly, putting the bag on the table. She picked up her own bag of potstickers, “And I believe these lovely potstickers are mine.” she grinned, barely hiding her excitement.

Lena finally caught up with her everlasting shock in time to stutter out, "Would... Would you like to have lunch with me?" she blurted out.

Supergirl sported on a huge grin at the question, "Would I ever?!" she exclaimed, already sitting cross-legged on the coffee table like she had done so a thousand times.

Lena said nothing about the existence of chairs. She actually liked how at ease the hero was as she dug inside her takeout bag and pulled out a container of potstickers.

Lena shook out of her daydream, not wanting Supergirl to catch her staring and took out her own lunch. She looked up just as she opened her plate to find Supergirl had already stuffed three potstickers in her chipmunk cheeks. She giggled, causing the blonde to look up in surprise with wide eyes as though she had been caught once more without her table manners. She gulped down the unchewed contents and gave Lena a guilty smile with a cringe of her eyes.

Lena chuckled, “You’re very different from your cousin.”

“Yeah, I’m the weird one in the family.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read it on AO3 HERE

[octoberobserver]

I recently had a dream about a plot for a fic where reddie get a duck from mike on their wedding day and the note makes it seem like it’s meaningful to their relationship and they spend their whole honeymoon trying to figure out what the deep meaning of this duck is and it turns out stan and bev dared mike to do it to fuck w/ them and when i woke up i immediately was like SOMEONE HAS TO WRITE THIS and i immediately thought of you! (literally u don’t have to it’s just funny how i thought of you)

Hi Nonnie! This *probably* isn’t what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway ^_^ ♥️

Your Love Life’s DOA (read on ao3)

“...a chick.” 

“Pretty sure it’s a cock, dude.”

“It’s a chicken, asswipe. Cocks are roosters.” 

“Huh. And here I thought cocks were—”

“Don’t,” Eddie Kaspbrak held up his hands, cutting Richie Tozier off mid-terrible-joke. 

Richie just smirked, his eyes alight in a way that never failed to make Eddie’s stomach swoop.

“Cock, chicken, whatever it is,” he waved dismissively with the hand not cradling the miniature poultry, “it’s cute as fuck.”  

Eddie stared at Richie staring down at the (probable) baby chicken, warmth spreading across his chest. 

He only basked in the feeling for .2 seconds however as the irritation he had felt this morning when he opened the door to go grab their mail and nearly stomped on the little feather-ball, made a swift resurgence. 

“But why the fuck was it outside our door?”

“...”

“Richie.”

“...”

“Rich.” 

“...”

“Trashmouth!” 

Richie’s head snapped up from where he had been gazing down at the chick that looked comically small in his ridiculously large hand. 

Eddie’s treacherous stomach did an impressive (if annoying) front handspring. 

“I don’t know, Eds. Maybe it was meant for the butcher shop down the street. Or a petting zoo,” he tilted his head, looking pensive, “maybe it’s Erica Delaney getting her sweet revenge on me after I broke our egg-son in the first five minutes of class. Or it’s the chicken god’s gift to us to raise in his image, fucked if I know. All I do know is,” he shrugged, gently, with one shoulder as to not jostle the chirping baby bird, “we're definitely keeping it.” 

Eddie blinked.

“We can’t keep a chicken in the apartment, Richie.”

Richie’s eyebrows raised halfway up his expansive forehead.

“Why not? I own the building, and I say it’s all good for lil Chick-Fil-A to stay.”

“We’re not naming it after a homophobic chicken restaurant, dickwad.” 

A slow smile spread across Richie’s face that had Eddie’s pulse simultaneously racing and screeching to a halt. 

“...But we are keeping it?”

Fuck.

~*~

“Chicken Little?”

“No.”

“Chicken Run.”

“What?”

“Chick Flick.”

“Hell no.”

“Oh! Wait! I got it - Chicken Carbonara! Carbs for short.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I agree,” Stanley Uris piped up as he meandered his way over to where Eddie and Richie (baby chick loudly making her presence known in his shirt pocket) were arguing at the sink, glass in hand, topping up Patty’s Merlot.

“You don’t have a horse in this race, Staniel,” Richie dismissed his input, gently running a finger over the chick’s fuzzy head, adopting a sickening sweet baby voice, “Isn’t that right, Carbs? Uncle Stan the Man wouldn’t know a good nickname if it kicked him in the face.” 

“Coming from the man called ‘Trashmouth.’” 

“Eds gave me that name, so blame him,” Richie quirked an eyebrow, elbowing the man in question. 

Eddie’s Chardonnay tipped dangerously close to the rim of the glass. 

Richie ignored his murderous glare. 

“Now all we need,” Richie beamed with pride as ‘Carbs’ gave another loud chirp from her cloth perch, “...is a duck.” 

Eddie winced, “You need to stop binge-watching Friends, Rich. Who are we, Joey and Chandler?” 

“Dibs on Chandler!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, gesturing up and down at Richie. 

“Well duh.” 

Richie merely smirked, tilting his head at him, “You’re definitely more of a Monica than a Joey, though.” 

“So in this scenario, you two are married?”

Both Eddie and Richie whirled around to blink at Stan who had attracted the attention of the rest of the Losers, each now awaiting some sort of response with rising interest. 

Eddie refused to give one. 

He also refused to look at Richie not give one. 

“Ooh we’re playing the Which Friends Character Are You game, huh?” Richie asked, stepping around Stan, eyes still focussed on the chick. 

Stan rolled his eyes, “There’s eight of us, it doesn’t work.” 

“Spoken like a true Ross.” 

Stan shook his head and sighed.

Like the Ross he was.

“Alright, I’m game,” Bev piped up, raising her glass from across the room, her eyes glinting at Richie. 

“Do your worst, Trashmouth.” 

Richie smirked, clearly tickled by the challenge. 

“Alright, Marsh,” he cleared his throat, beginning to pace the room like Columbo at the end of every episode, where he explained how he solved the whole damn case with nothing but a moved potted plant, “You’re Phoebe obviously, because you’re a fiery but lovable enigma who’s cooler than all of us combined.”

Bev chuckled, “Damn straight.”

“Haystack here,” Richie whirled around, cradling Carbs to his chest in one hand and pointing with the other, “is our Joey for his actor good-looks and lovable nature.” 

Ben sank down into the couch next to Bev, picking up her socked-feet and rubbing them, “I’ll take it.” 

Bev grinned, “I did always think Joey and Phoebe should’ve got together. Although Paul Rudd was great.”

“Which leads me to,” Richie turned to his left, smirking.

“Oh no,” Mike held up his hands, “count me out. Black people weren’t even a thing on Friends until like season 9 or whatever so—”

“Oh yeah, the diversity sucks ass Mikey, no one’s disputing that,” Richie agreed with a nod, “but hear me out. You’re Mike, Mike! A sexy, African-American Paul Rudd. Think about it...you may come in late in the game but you win everyone over instantly with your good looks, nerdy charm and wicked air-piano skills! Just like you did with the Losers Club!” 

Mike blinked, amused.

Stan tilted his head.

“I don’t think that’s exactly—”

“Same with Patty!” 

Richie cut Stan off, clearly on a roll, whirling around to point at his wife.

“It feels like she’s always been with us, right?” he asked the group at large, smile pleased when everyone nods in agreement, Bev winding an arm around her from where she was perched on the arm of the couch, causing Patty to flush and grin behind her wine glass at the compliment. 

“And you know who was always with the Friends? Always there, like an honorary 7th member? Or 8th in this case?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, not quite believing he was going to participate in this.

“Gunther.” 

Richie winked, “Gold star for Kaspbrak.” 

“She does make a mean Cappuccino,” Stan mumbled almost absentmindedly as Patty gave her charming snort-laugh, letting her head rest against her husband’s shoulder as he stood next to the couch. 

“Which leaves…”

Richie slowly turned on the spot, like the dramatic bastard he was. 

“Congrats, Bill. You’re Rachel. Our Jen Aniston. People are gonna start copying your hairstyle soon.” 

Bill chuckled, “Yeah, don’t think ‘The Bill’ has quite the same ring to it, Rich.” 

Richie gave a dismissive wave. 

“It’ll catch on. Then you’ll become a mega movie star and forget the rest of us exist. Except for Eddie, of course.”

Bill frowned.

“Why just Eddie?”

Richie threw him an exasperated look.

“Because he’s Monica! Courteney Cox. Best friend of Jen to this day. Duh.” 

“So you two are married, then?” 

Eddie felt his throat tighten as Richie squared his shoulders at Stanley, gently putting Carbs in her bed before huffing out a laugh.

“Nah man, we’re still in the friends-who-help-friends-give-their-dates-orgasms-in-seven-steps, stage.” 

Stan rolled his eyes.

“Right.” 

Eddie watched as the two friends stared at one another, a weird tension draping over them.

And in true Phoebe-style, Bev broke it.

“Hey, who wants to hear my Smelly Cat rendition?” 

Richie’s analysis was flawed, of course. Bill didn’t know jack about fashion (that was Bev), Ben built stages not performed on them, Stan actually loved, cherished and respected his partner, Patty wasn’t desperately in unrequited love with Bill (that was Mike, though it was requited), Mike wasn’t married to Bev (that was Ben) and Bev…

Well.

Bev was spot on, actually. A riddle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in mystery, all while being simultaneously cool and lovable. 

And Eddie?

He was Monica Geller and proud of it, dammit.

A damn shame Courteney never got the Emmy-nom, in his opinion. 

As for Richie?

Richie wasn’t Chandler Bing. Chandler Bing was Richie Tozier.

“If only they had let Chandler be gay,” Richie sighed wistfully as Eddie closed the door, waving off the last of their guests, Bill and Mike as they hopped in an Uber headed for Casa Denbrough. 

“Why? So you could fuck Ben instead?” 

Eddie knew how his voice sounded as he slowly leaned back against the door, reaching out to pull Richie towards him by his collar, crashing their lips together in a bruising kiss that he had ached for all night. 

Richie gasped into his mouth, his hands roaming Eddie’s body like a hyperactive octopus, pressing him back against the door and rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Eddie groaned, breaking the kiss, staring up at his best-friend-turned-secret-boyfriend. 

“So, when do we tell them we hooked up at Ben and Bev’s wedding?” 

Richie chuckled, leaning down and pressing his lips against Eddie’s neck, right over the spot he knew drove him crazy, breathing hot against his skin. 

“Not until I ask Bill for his eyelash curler and Ben figures us out. Duh.”

~*~

They really should have been all fucked out after three weeks of eating, drinking, sleeping and sex-ing in Barbados, and yet, as soon as they got back to their apartment, they christened their old bed, their leaking shower and the living room floor because they just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Married.

They were fucking married.

Husbands. 

Legally bound.

Til death—

No, not even death could stop them. They proved that already.

“You’re heavy,” Eddie groaned, his chest vibrating under where Richie had his face squished against it. 

“It’s all the Barbadian food, dude. S’gone straight to my thighs.”

Eddie brushed his hand along said thigh, squeezing roughly.

“Hmm. I like your thighs.” 

“I like you.”

“You better. You’re kinda stuck with me now.”

Richie lifted his head off Eddie’s sweaty chest, smiling softly, interlocking their left hands, pressing their rings together. 

“Guess my love life isn’t D.O.A anymore, huh.” 

Eddie groaned, and not in the sexy way he had been five minutes before. 

“Those Friends references grew old in the nineties, dude. Stop.”  

Richie pecked at his lips, letting out a sound of disagreement. 

“I’ll have you know, Eds, I—”

The unmistakable sound of a knock echoed throughout the apartment. 

They blinked at one another.

“Who the fuck is that? No one knows we’re home yet.”

The post-Honeymoon-fuck had come (heh) above all - including texting the group chat that they had made it back safely onto California soil. 

Marriage had made them selfish like that.

Eddie shrugged, “I don’t know. Could be Rosa dropping off Carbs. I did tell her we’d be back today, and she might have like...sensed us. You know what she’s like.”

Rosa was their downstairs neighbour, a lovable, elderly woman who seemed to have had a sixth sense for everything Richie and Eddie-related even before they had become a couple, often calling them out for the pining bullshit before they got their act together, got tipsy at Benverly’s wedding and jumped each other. 

Or as Richie put it once - “She high-key ships us, man. Wants us to bone it out.” 

To this day, Eddie had no idea what that meant. 

Another knock came, this one louder.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Eddie called out, pushing a whining Richie off his chest before he could make the obvious joke and forcing himself to sit up, grimacing as the sheet stuck to his back. 

He’d have to be the one to answer. No way he was unleashing a half-naked Richie onto Mrs Hernandez. 

Eddie actually had the decency to pull on sweatpants and an old Trashmouth-tee before padding to the door.

He knew his husband did not.

Husband.

Eddie smiled to himself, his stomach doing its usual somersaults that he knew would never fully disappear. 

Richie Tozier, his lifelong best friend, was now his husband too. 

Crazy. 

“Sorry Rosa, we were—”

His incredibly made-up-on-the-spot excuse died on his lips as he opened the front door to reveal - nothing. 

Frowning, Eddie stared into the empty air, turning his head to glance down the very vacant hallway.

And then, he heard it.

Quack! 

“Oh, not again.” 

“Duck!” 

Richie said it like fuck.

Like he had been human-autocorrected.

“Yes, Richie, I see that,” Eddie sighed at his husband who had appeared over his shoulder, still shirtless, staring down at the baby duck sitting pretty in a box, much like Carbs had two years before.

“We’re not naming him Daffy,” Eddie grumbled, bending down to gently pick up the box, cradling the duckling against his chest and kicking the door shut.

Richie opened his mouth.

“Or Donald.” 

Richie closed his mouth. 

One quack called Donald was enough. 

“We’ll brainstorm,” Richie grinned, leaning down and capturing Eddie’s lips, before softly patting the new addition to their family on the head.

They’d find the note later. The one that read, 

To Chandler and Monica, 

You two were the last to find out.

Not Stan. 

Here’s a brother for Carbs.

We left her with you as a prank, for Richie’s Friends obsession, but you became the best dads ever instead. You’ll do it again. 

Just don’t get them stuck in the Foosball Table. 

~The Losers

[imagine-loki]

You were saying, little mortal?

TITLE: You were saying, little mortal?

CHAPTER NO.: 1/?

AUTHOR: Solaramoonset

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being a passive superhero fan. You’ve read a few comics, you’ve seen most of Marvel’s movies. One day on your way to work, you get pulled over and arrested. The police don’t explain why, only demanding you keep quiet. You’re taken to an abandon looking warehouse. Roughly you’re tossed into a makeshift cell. Really its just an office someone empty and replaced the normal door with a metal one. You don’t expect the voice behind you.

“So kid what are you in for?”

Its Robert Downey jr, sort of. Something is off and he seems confused to be called by that name. You hear a scuffle outside your shared cell. The door bursts open and in walks Tom Hiddleston as Loki. Although something is off about him too. You soon find all the “Avengers” actors there. You don’t know whats going on but the longer you are around them the more crazy you feel. They don’t seem to know their actor names, and you can’t find any cameras around. Its like for them this is real.

They decide to take you back with them (clearly thinking something is wrong with you). You find yourself sitting next to Loki. Having enough of this craziness you go on a rant, expecting you are ranting to Tom Hiddleston. Loki lets you say your bit, seemingly amused by you, before holding up his hand and bringing forth just enough seidr to glow and flow around his hand. “You were saying, little mortal?”

RATING: Teen

NOTES: Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953773/chapters/45003085

Chapter 1

“Wake up

Grab a brush and put a little (makeup)

Grab a brush and put a little

Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)

Hide the scars to fade away the

Why’d you leave the keys upon the table?

Here you go create another fable

You wanted to”

Enid groaned as she blindly reached over for her phone. Who’d call this early? A quick glance showed it was her boss. “Enid Rose here.” She mumbled into the phone.

“Good morning. How is my favorite secretary slash unofficial office manager?” A far too cheerful voice answered her.

“Duncan, its three in the morning. Please get to the point.” Enid rolled over to stare at her ceiling.

“Gregory needs a ride to work. If I remember correctly you pass his place on the way in. Care to give him a ride?”

“Gregory who?” Enid knew who Gregory was. She actually got along pretty well with the head of maintenance and IT support, even though most thought he was a little weird. He was a brilliant engineer, but for some reason, chose to work in a small office setting.

“Gregory Stark, naturally. His hover car broke down again. Go figure, man makes the first hover car but can’t keep the damn thing running. So about that ride?”

“Yeah Duncan, I’ll pick him up. I’ll text him when I’m on my way. Now if there’s nothing else I think I’ll get back to sleep.”

“Don’t forget it’s your turn to bring breakfast. Please make sure its something unhealthy, totally bad for you and full of sugar this time.” Duncan hung up before Enid could protest.

“I bring pumpkin-carrot muffins one time.” Enid threw off the covers. There was no way she’d be getting back to sleep. Might as well go for a morning jog.

XOXOXOX

Enid pulled up outside a group of apartmentsshooting off a quick text. ‘ERose Taxi service. Searching for brilliant engineer, who killed a hover car. Again.’ Almost immediately she received a response.

'Good morning my beautiful, intelligent, wonderful, sarcastic savior! I’ll be right down to your death trap masquerading as an SUV’ a few minuets later Gregory hopped in.

“If you don’t like my baby, you can always walk to work.” Enid pulled out of the apartment complex and back on the road.

“My lovely queen of the office file system, I shall endeavor to keep my mouth shut. I think we both know how monumental a task that will be.” Enid began laughing, Gregory joining a moment later.

“Did you see Venom yet?”

“Enid, the only reason you went to see that movie was to watch Tom Hardy. Besides I have issues with villains getting their own movies.” Gregory grumbled.

“Tom Hardy is nice to look at. I wasn’t expecting the twist they put to Venom though. In the Tobey Maguire spider-man, Venom was a villain. In this new story there’s no way anyone will call him a hero but he is a very interesting anti-hero.”

“What about that new avenger’s trailer? Have you seen that?”

“It had me in tears Gregory, tears. It looks like they’re going to kill off Tony! They already killed Bucky and Loki! … Dammit. We might have to test you keeping your mouth shut sooner than expect. It looks like we’re getting pulled over.” Enid frowned looking in the rear-view mirror. Gregory tensed up.

“Call me Duncan around the cops. Lets just say I’m not exactly here legally; I’ll explain later.” Enid gave a quick nod grabbing her wallet and putting both hands on the wheel. She lowered the window as an office approached.

“Step out of the vehicle please.”

“Sure office. Can I ask what this is about?” Enid gulped. What was going on?

“Both of you need to get out of the vehicle, hands in the air.” Both Enid and Gregory stepped out of the SUV hands raised. Rough hands grabbed Enid, slapping cuffs on her wrists.

“What the hell?” Enid tried to look at the officer. A heavy hit to her temple had her stumbling.

“Enid!”

“Shut up! You’re both coming with us!” The world faded in and out as Enid was shoved in the back of a cop car. She shook her head to clear it.

“Keep quiet, they’re after me. I’m sure when they figure out you aren’t part of anything they’ll let you go.”Gregory leaned in and whispered into Enid’s ear. She knew he was probably trying to be reassuring but it was freaking her out more. What could her friend be involved with? The patrol car slowed down outside an abandoned looking warehouse Enid’s stomach dropped. She was pulled from the car one way, Gregory the other.

“Move it.” Enid was half dragged through the warehouse into what could have been an office once. As the door was slammed in her face, Enid made a quick look around for anything useful, but it appeared someone had removed everything already. Enid tried not to hyperventilate as she looked at the closed door. It was metal, and looked heavy. Probably not the original door. She tried to wiggle her wrists, the cuffs were digging into her skin.

“So kid, what you in for?” Enid jumped at the voice and spun around. Sitting in a dark corner was none other than Robert Downey Jr. As impossible as it seemed, the man she was starring down was a dead ringer for the actor.

“Robert Downey Jr.? How? Why? What is Gregory mixed up in?” Enid stammered. The man gave her a confused look.

“Whoa there Kid, my name’s Tony. Did you say Gregory? Cause I have this brother named Gregory and those thugs were looking for him. Was your Gregory with you when you got caught?” the more she looked at him, the more something seemed off about him. She just couldn’t figure out what.

“Yeah, I was giving him a ride to work. But you don’t look anything like him.”

“That’s not good news to me kid, my brother looks nothing like me.”

“Please don’t call me kid.”

“Okay short stack. Just sit tight, my friends are coming to bust me… I guess us now, out.” Enid rolled her eyes at Tony. At least he’d apparently stopped calling her a kid. Enid heard a shout and a thud from outside the door She step closer to listen better but Tony pulled her back. “If my friends are here, it won’t be a good idea to stand by the door.” The door groaned and burst open. A tall figure stood in the smoke. Enid gaped.

“Oh my god! Its Tom Hiddleston!” Enid was stunned. The man in the doorway seemed confused.

“I am Loki, of Asgard. Come Stark, I was sent to free you.” Enid was practically vibrating in her excitement. She bounced over to Loki with stars in her eyes. A thought struck her and her excitement disappeared. She rounded on Tony.

“Wait Stark? Your name is Tony Stark? Were your parent’s Marvel fans or something? No this is too much, its gotta be some sort of prank.”

“I’m getting out of here short stack, you coming or what?” he followed Loki, Enid trailed behind the two. There was no way she was staying. As they reached the main floor of the warehouse, a huge fight was going on. Enid could see Scarlett Johansson in a black skin tight suit. Jeremy Renner was in the rafters shooting arrows! There was even someone dressed as Captain America. The fight was intense, the hits looked and sounded very real. The one thing Enid couldn’t seem to find, were any cameras.

“Head down!” Enid didn’t know who shouted that or who pushed her down but her instincts were screaming at her this fight wasn’t staged. What the hell was going on? Enid stayed down, shaking as the fight continued around her. She had no way to judge how long the fight lasted, time had no meaning for her. It was Gregory’s soft voice which finally had her looking up.

“Hey E, it’s okay. Its over now.” She shook her head at him and held up her wrists which were still cuffed. Scarlett knelt beside her and picked the lock, freeing Enid’s wrists.

“How’d you do that? I mean your charcater Natasha is a complete badass but I wouldn’t think you’d have to learn something like this to play her.” Enid whispered in awe. Scarlettt gave her an odd look.

“So how are you?” Gregory winced at his own question. Enid blinked. She wasn’t sure where the laughter or tears came from but she couldn’t seem to stop either. “Tony, we can’t leave her like this, they’re bound to come back.” Gregory called over his should.

“Greg, why doesn’t she know us? She didn’t even know Loki, called him Tom Hiddleston.”

“It’s a long story-” Gregory started.

“It always is with you. But your right, we can’t leave her. Something is wr… isn’t right. Did she get hit in the head?” Gentle hands help Enid stand, she looked up into bright blue eyes. It slowed the tears. By the time she had been led onto a weird plane, quinjet her mind supplied, she was reduced to soft hiccups. Gregory sat on one side of her, oddly enough Loki sat on her other side.

“You’ve had an interesting day, would you like to talk about it?” Loki gave Enid a gentle smile.

“What are you up to brother?” Enid turned her head to look at Chris Hemsworth. Something in her snapped. She turned back to Loki.

“Interesting isn’t the right word. Impossible is so much better! This entire day should be impossible! I’m surrounded by the actors from the Avengers movies only they don’t seem to know it! Tony Stark or Robert Downey Jr? Tom Hiddleston or Loki? Cause I swear I’m talking to the actor, not the character. And you just had to go and say the line, why did you have to say the line? Haven’t you seen other fans swoon from it?!? Don’t get me wrong, all of you are brlliants actors but superheros aren’t real! The Avengers aren’t real! It’s just a movie! The costumes, the fight, and no cameras! ANYWHER! None of this can be real! What the fuck is going on?!? I have to be losing my fucking mind or sometihng. Greg if this is one of your pranks I will stab you.” Enid ranted. There was a twinkle in Loki’s eyes.

“Wow two 'fucks’ and a death threat all in one day, today has been rough hasn’t it?” Gregory muttered. If looks would kill, Enid would have murdered him.

“Language!” Steve called from somewhere up front.

“Dude so help me, this is a FUCK, FUCK, FUCKITY, FUCK kinda of day!.” Enid snapped. The plane was deadly quiet. Enid looked back at Loki. He was wearing a smirk and his eyes were practicly glowing. Slowly he held his hand up, his seidr flowed around his hand like a green mist. Enid looked from his hand into his eyes, her mouth gaping, her eyes wide.

“You were saying, little mortal?”

“No fucking way…” Enid’s eyes rolled back into her head and her body slumped. Loki caught her before she could fall out of her seat.

“So Greg, we’ve got a long flight ahead of us, I think it’s time for that story.”

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (17/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: Remember that thing I said about a happy ending? They’re (and you guys) are getting one💜

Soon! I’m sorry to those I mislead! I didn’t realize that. Oops. They’re getting one when the story is over, I promise 😘

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current 

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Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64  @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @blowmiakisscolin

“How does that make you feel?”

She cuts her head to look at Dr. Lawrence and the way she’s tapping her pencil against her notebook, the one where she most likely writes down “Emma Swan is crazy” over and over again. It’s what she would write down if she were her own therapist because damn, sometimes she is crazy.

“Isn’t that a little cliché to ask me how that makes me feel?”

She sighs, her shoulders heaving the slightest bit, and she rolls her eyes. She likes Dr. Lawrence. She really does, but sometimes all she wants to do is take that notebook and rip it into pieces. She’s been coming here for two months now, since late February, and April isn’t bringing her any new revelations. Not that she thought therapy would. She just wanted to talk to someone else who wasn’t so emotionally invested in her life, to talk to someone who won’t get hurt by the things she has to say. They’re not all great, and she’s only a little ashamed by that. That’s what she’s supposed to be working on though.

“It is, yes, but I think it’s a legitimate question to ask when you’ve been circling around saying that it bothers you that Killian hasn’t proposed yet.”

Her lips press together in a firm line, a sour feeling settling in her stomach and making it twist into something that has to be unnatural. Feeling this way has to be unnatural. “I did not say that.”

“Not in those words, but you did.”

She sighs again, unable not to, before falling back on the couch and rubbing at her eyes, most likely making her mascara run and create some kind of weird, smoky eye raccoon look. This is a really uncomfortable couch, the cushions almost like rocks. Shouldn’t the thing be more comfortable? Aren’t people supposed to feel comfortable in here? That’s a thing, right?

“I’m not,” she starts, not really sure where the words are going as she uncovers her eyes and looks up at the paneled ceiling. They should do that in the living room. It’d look nice. “I’m not upset that Killian hasn’t proposed. Us getting married has never been a top priority for us, you know? We love each other, and a piece of paper and a diamond ring isn’t going to make us love each other more.”

“But it is more of a commitment.”

“Technically, yeah. With the whole legal aspect and all. I don’t – I don’t know. I want  to marry Killian. I really, really do. And I know he wants to marry me. He’s had a fucking ring for at least five months now, had to have had it for a few months before that, and he’s never asked me.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

She chuckles darkly, her stomach untwisting and sending that unpleasant feeling to her throat so that she feels like she could vomit all over the hardwood floor in here. That would probably be an extra fee that insurance doesn’t cover. “What? You mean like my dead ex-husband coming back from the dead, having to explain to him ‘hey honey, I moved on from you and am in love with your friend and can’t make you happy like that anymore. By the way, I realized most of our marriage was shit, but I can’t harbor any resentment toward you because you’re a hero and the father of our kid and have been through more bad things than I thought possible. Plus, you know, I did love you at one point and you’re a nicer guy now.’”

She finishes her words on a long breath, her shoulders releasing some of their tension, before she twists her head to the side and looks at Dr. Lawrence furiously scribbling notes down. Great, she’s probably going to get put into a mental institution now. Can her therapist do that?

Probably not.

God, she has got to get a grip.

And stop on the way home and get something for dinner so her mom isn’t forced to feed her when she picks Henry and Ada up from her house. Killian’s working late on some project with Robin that she cannot wait to be over. She swears that it’s aging him by ten years some days. He’s always so tired and stressed. Sometimes she wonders if he needs a new job, one that’s less stressful and reminds him less of his time in the Navy, but whenever she brings it up, he always says that he’s happy there and that the money is good. She believes him, but it doesn’t keep her from worrying about him and wanting to work on the stress that’s in his shoulders and between his brows.

Dr. Lawrence still doesn’t say anything, and for some reason this bothers her enough to make her keep going, to keep rambling.

“And I guess…things have calmed down now. It was like I was walking a tightrope for a long time, and I wasn’t allowed to trip or fall, you know? Because if I did, things fell apart. I had to be strong for Henry and for Ada. I had to be strong for Neal too. And Killian, even when we were going through that…even when we were going through that rough patch. But I failed, you know? I felt so lost and helpless. Sometimes I felt worthless, which is not an uncommon feeling for me but recently, it wasn’t a usual one. It took me a long time to get over Neal’s death, to get over being abandoned again, and Killian just made me feel so – he made me feel solid. Happy. Good. He was there for me when I felt like I had no one. He listened to me cry over my husband’s death. He listened to me cry over raising a baby alone. He listened to me. And he let me be me, which was something I didn’t have a lot.”

She smiles to herself thinking of it all, of all of the times Killian has been there with her and for her throughout the years, all the way back to them meeting in Oceania and him making her laugh. He’s always making her laugh.

“He’s my best friend on this planet. I can be myself when I’m with him, and he has held my hand through the shitstorm that have been parts of my life, even when I didn’t want to let him. I love him, you know? And I’m badass, by the way. Just thought that needed to be said. I’m badass and totally could have made it on my own, but Killian…with him I get to be strong and independent while also having that hand holding mine for comfort and support. He’s made my life so much better. He’s given me Ada, and really, he’s given me Henry too. So, yeah, I guess I am bothered by the fact that he hasn’t proposed yet. I’m worried that maybe he’s changed his mind again. I shouldn’t really. I know he loves me. He doesn’t let me doubt that. I just…I want to be with him fully. Hell, I want me to not have a different last name than both of my children. I want to marry him, and yeah, a part of me is worried that he doesn’t want to marry me, that everything with Neal has made our entire relationship be altered.”

Once the words are out, she knows that she can’t take them back. She doesn’t want to take them back. This is…this is her life and her emotions and she needs to feel them. It feels really good to say all of that, and honestly, she wants to say more. She wants to talk more about Killian and more about Neal. She wants to go back to what they were talking about last week and how Neal’s moving has affected everyone, especially Henry. She wants to talk about how terrified she is being a parent and putting her kids in such stressful, life changing situations.

She wants to talk.

But the clock on the wall says she only has ten minutes left, and she figures that Dr. Lawrence has to have something to say or else she’s been writing on that notepad for nothing.

She reaches up to wipe her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have been furiously falling without her permission before her hand lands on her pendant. She’s going to have to make herself look less puffy. She doesn’t even remember when she started crying.

“I think Neal coming back has altered your relationship,” Dr. Lawrence begins, and Emma sits up on the couch, straightening out her shirt and her back as she sniffles. “How could it not? Besides the emotional trauma and joy of having him be found alive, it’s completely changed your life. You and Killian are no longer parents to Henry alone. You share that responsibility even if the two of you carry the load. Your ex-husband is no longer a dead man. He’s a real human being with thoughts and feelings that aren’t always going to be perfect, so you have to adjust to that too. For as much change as you’ve been going through, Killian has been going through something too. You have to give him the emotional time to adjust as well because while I don’t know the man, I do know that he cares about you and is probably putting your feelings above his.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Killian thinks that you’re not ready yet, that he thought you were still going through too much emotional upheaval until you two talked about it a bit – ” she looks down at her notebook, eyes seemingly searching for something “ – two weeks ago.”

Ah, so maybe she does actually pay attention.

“Does that really count as talking, though? I literally just hinted around at it.”

She smiles. “But it’s a start.”

-/-

“Henry, you have got to put your shin guards on so that we can go.”

“I can’t find them,” he shouts back over the railing.

“Of course you can’t,” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes a bit as she looks down at Ada who is currently banging her hands against the wall and giggling to herself. Kids are so damn weird sometimes. She doesn’t understand what the purpose of banging her hands against the wall is, but if she’s about to have to go upstairs and help Henry find the rest of his soccer uniform, she can’t leave her down here by herself despite how much baby proofing they’ve done.

Her entire house is metaphorically wrapped in bubble wrap, and Ada still manages to find ways to nearly kill herself just by exploring.

This is terrifying.

How is Killian not back from his run and the grocery store yet? He’s already supposed to be here so they can go to the fields together like they’ve done every Saturday this spring. He already missed their usual breakfast, so he really needs to show up soon. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or there was some kind of freak watermelon accident and there are watermelon all over the road. Or maybe he ran into someone he knows. She doesn’t know, and even though she really shouldn’t be angry at him right now, she’s had a bad morning and needs him.

And she misses him. He’s here, always right here, but he’s felt so distant lately, so far away. She felt so good after her therapy appointment on Tuesday, like she was ready to talk to him and finally fix things and have all of her emotions centered, but she’s barely gotten a chance to talk to him in the three days since. Both of their jobs have been busy, the kids have been insane, and then she had to deal with Neal cancelling his trip into town this weekend. She understands, really, but Henry understanding is different. He misses his dad, and if the hour long phone call last night is any indication, Neal misses Henry too.

Her life is a constant ebb and flow of being all together and all falling apart.

No, her life is good. She’s just been stressed the past few days. That’s all.

“Come on, bug,” she sighs, stepping toward Ada and picking her up, wondering when in the world this kid got so heavy. Ada lets out what has to be an actual, blood curdling scream and starts thrashing around while Emma carries her up the stairs. “Ada, shhh, it’s okay. We’re just going upstairs. You don’t have to have a meltdown.”

That somehow only makes things worse, the cries going up another decibel, and she resigns herself to this as she walks down the hallway into Henry’s room. There are clothes scattered everywhere, his notebooks spread across the floor. When in the world did his room get to be such a mess? He has to clean that tonight or tomorrow. It cannot stay like this.

“I can’t find them,” he whines again, tossing a pair of shoes out of his closet, the pair of converses landing on one of his books.

“Have you checked in your bag?”

“That’s the first place I looked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he shouts, coming out past the doorway and running his hands through his hair, yanking at the brown strands. “Why is Ada so loud? Make her stop.”

“I’m trying, kid.”

“Try harder.”

“Hey, no,” she says sternly, trying not to yell to escalate the situation, “you do not get to tell me what to do, especially not being loud and harsh like that. I understand that you are upset and can’t find your shin guards and that your sister is being really loud. I get that. I don’t like it either, but yelling isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

“Ada is yelling.”

“Henry,” she sighs while Ada lets out another loud cry. Shit, this is not a good day. It’s not even ten in the morning yet. “Ada is a baby. She can’t really talk. You know this. I’m going to text your dad and ask if he knows where your stuff is.”

“How would my dad know if he doesn’t live here anymore?”

Her stomach drops for a moment before she realizes that she used the wrong term for Killian. It’s usually not confusing, but sometimes it’s so easy to slip up like that.

“Your daddy,” she corrects. “I’m going to text your daddy.”

“Killian is not my daddy. He’s my step dad.”

Her stomach really does drop then, a heavy anchor weighing her down and making it nearly impossible for her legs to stay steady and her arms to stay strong against a still wailing Ada, even if her cries are beginning to calm down. What did…what did Henry just say?

Why did he just say that Killian isn’t his daddy? She knew that sooner or later he’d feel too old to call Killian his daddy, that he wouldn’t always call him by the name he started calling him when he was five, but he’s not supposed to be calling Killian his step dad. Yeah, that’s pretty much what he is, technically, but that’s also not what he is. He’s his dad. He’s the man who raised him, and Henry should never think otherwise when that used to be all he knew.

“Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Henry.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while his lips curl downward. Does she have the most dramatic kid in the world? Probably not. But he seems to be going for that title today. She’s just waiting for him to start crying or throwing things. Or hopefully not throwing things. That would be a disaster.

This day is kind of a disaster.

At least she hasn’t gotten to the point where she has to take away Henry’s games yet.

“My dad told me that’s what Killian is.”

Motherfucking hell.

She’s going to start crying.

And throw something.

Maybe throw Neal. Definitely throw Neal. He’s bigger than her and hundreds of miles away, but she could get it done. She could. Absolutely. All of those stories about mothers raging to protect their children – one of those is going to come true after she figures out what the hell is going on. Neal wouldn’t have told Henry that. He wouldn’t have. But then why would Henry have said that? He obviously knew he wasn’t supposed to tell her before she pushed him into saying it, so he was probably trying to protect his dad.

But why would Neal have told Henry that in the first place when they explicitly told him over and over again that this is how their family situation works?

It must be some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be. Neal wouldn’t do that, and if he did, it has to be a mistake, a slip of the tongue. She’ll call him later and get it all straightened up. It’ll be fine. Right now she really just has to focus on Henry and this situation and getting him to his soccer game.

Swallowing the gulp caught in her throat, she puts Ada on the ground, figuring that’s probably all that she wants to stop this crying, and squats down so that she’s at eye level with Henry, reaching up to brush his hair off of his forehead while he stares at her with those watery chocolate brown eyes.

“Kid,” she whispers quietly, curving her lips into a small, hopefully reassuring smile while she keeps pushing his hair back, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Henry nods his head up and down, his little shoulders heaving while Ada has managed to make her way to Henry’s bed and is holding herself up on it. At least she’s not banging on the door.

“Killian is your daddy. You can call him Dad if you want to, if you feel too old to be calling him Daddy. That’s okay. You are a very special kid, and like I’ve told you before, you get to be lucky enough to have two dads who love you and care for you more than anything in the world. Not every kid gets that like you do.”

“But Dad told me when we were on the phone that Kil – that my daddy is my step dad. Like how Ella has a step mom.”

She doesn’t know how to explain this. It was easier when Neal was dead, which is a horrible thing to think. But Henry understood it much more easily then. He embraced it more. Now he’s older, though, and has an entirely different situation for his life.

She wishes Killian were here. He’d help and know what to do and know what to say despite the fact that this would break his heart even more than it’s breaking hers.

“It’s…it’s grown up things. I,” she sighs, running her free hand through her hair and trying to think while her thighs begin to ache from this position. “You know how when we told you about Ada being born, we told you it was because Mommy and Daddy loved each other and that helped to make her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, back when your dad and I were married, we loved each other and made you so that we could love you.”

“I know.”

She smiles at him again, making sure that her eyes don’t leave his except to glance over to Ada as she plops down on the ground and starts messing with some of Henry’s books. Thank God she’s stopped crying. That was miserable. Her entire life was about to implode in the span of five minutes.

“But then your dad disappeared, and I didn’t have him to help me love you or me anymore. But your daddy came along and he fell in love with me and  with you. And he was around to help you learn how to walk and talk, just like he is with Ada. He took you to the pool to go swimming and to the playground. He went to all of your school plays and all of your birthday parties. He tucked you into your bed at night and read you stories, and he’s spent so much time loving you and me and your sister that I don’t think we can even imagine how much he loves us.”

Henry nods his head, and she desperately hopes that he understands. She doesn’t understand how to explain this without scarring Henry for life about sex when he is so not ready for that. She knows that some parents are fully open with their kids about things like that, but it’s not her parenting style.

“So he and my dad are the same?”

“Y-yeah,” she sputters, knowing that she needs to attack this conversation with a better plan later but thankful that things have seemed to calm down. “They’re the same. They’re both your dads, and they both love you so much that I bet your arms don’t even stretch out that far.”

Henry sticks out his arms to test the theory out, and she can’t help but chuckle at that. He has such childlike innocence and faith for someone who keeps having his life changed and uprooted, and even though she still feels like a frayed wire right now, she knows that she has a set of good kids in her life.

Leaning forward, she wraps Henry up in a hug and holds him as tightly as she can without smothering him. He hugs her right back, and she feels a little of the lead that’s in her stomach dissipate.

“Come on,” she says as she pulls back, “we’ve got some shin guards to find and a soccer game to go to.”

They find the shin guards in the kitchen of all places, and even though they have to practically sprint across the fields to get to his match, they make it in time. She knows a lot of the other parents there, a lot of them have kids in Henry’s class, but she prefers to sit under this tree in the shade with Ada. It’s at the corner of the field, so she still has a clear shot of Henry and he does of them.

Emma: Where are you?

Emma: We’re already at the fields. Hope you get here soon!

Emma: We’ve had quite the morning. Can’t wait to tell you about it later.

She puts her phone down on the blanket and pulls Ada back to her so that she can adjust her hat on her head, making sure she’s totally shaded while she slathers more lotion on her.

“Mama,” Ada babbles, grabbing at her necklace with enough force that she could snap it. Emma has to immediately grab Ada’s hand and move it away before twisting the necklace around so that Ada can’t see the diamonds. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“What?” she laughs, scrunching her nose up when Ada tries to grab at it too. “Baby, you’re driving me crazy today. Nothing makes you happy, and you’re going to either rip my nose off or break the necklace your daddy gave me.”

Ada giggles at that, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and Emma can do nothing more than shake her head as she continues to get Ada’s arms with lotion. She’s wearing a United jersey with Jones written across it that Killian got her. He’s so extra sometimes, and this is a prime example of it.

She kind of loves that.

Plopping Ada down on the blanket in front of her, she snaps a picture of her back with the soccer field in front of her, and sends it off to Killian, hoping that he’ll answer this one since he hasn’t answered any of her other texts and calls. She’s trying to ignore that and convince herself that it’s fine, but there’s this weird, sinking feeling that’s stayed with her all day. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Emma: Henry’s number one fan!

The rest of Henry’s game (or is it match? She’s really not sure.) goes by pretty quickly. He’s at the age where the kids are actually pretty competitive, so it’s not so much all of them running around and kicking balls in the wrong goal as it is them legitimately trying to win the game. Not quite as cute as it used to be, but Henry likes it. That’s all that really matters.

“Did you see me kick that goal?” Henry gasps when he runs over to her after the game, his hair covered in sweat and grass stains covering his knees. “It was awesome.”

“It was awesome,” she agrees, holding her hand up for him to high five him before holding Ada’s hand up so that she can do the same, even if it’s not with quite the same impact.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, not too sure how to handle this situation. That seems to be happening a lot lately. “He’ll be home later, though.”

The smile that was on Henry’s face instantly fades, the upward curl twisting down. “He didn’t see my game?”

“No, kid. He didn’t. But he wanted to.”

“He promised that he’d come to all of my games.”

“I know,” she laments, bringing him into her side. Poor kid. Both of his dads have bailed on him this weekend, and she knows that if it’s just today, it won’t mess with him too badly. But if it’s…if it keeps happening, well, it can’t keep happening. She won’t let it keep happening. “But sometimes things happen that make us break our promises. I’m sure your daddy is so sad about not getting to see you score that goal.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, his shoulders sagging forward as she starts to pick up all of their stuff so they can walk to the car.

It doesn’t take long even navigating through all of the kids and parents, and soon enough she’s driving out of the soccer complex and on her way home with the kids so that Henry can get showered and Ada can take her early afternoon nap. The music cuts off in the car as a phone call comes in, and she hits the button on her steering wheel to accept Neal’s call, leaving it on speaker since he’s probably calling for Henry anyways. Good. If he can’t fly home this weekend because of work then at least Henry will have this.

“Hey, Neal,” she greets, pulling up to a stop light and inching closer to the car in front of her.

“Hey, Ems. How are you?”

“Good, good. We’re on our way home from Henry’s soccer game. Kid, why don’t you tell your dad what you did today?”

“I scored a goal,” Henry shouts from the backseat, his voice far too loud. “It was really cool. Avery kicked the ball to me, and I kicked it right past the Dragons’ goalie. She couldn’t stop me.”

“That’s awesome,” Neal laughs. She can practically imagine the smile on his face, and it makes something in her heart settle thinking of how much Neal is here for Henry even when he’s physically away.

-/-

-/-

“Come on, Emma, push.”

“I can’t,” she cries, holding onto the handrails over the bed while a contraction roars through her body, making all of her limbs shake as she feels herself shutting down, feels her will to keep going fading. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“I am right here, Hon,” one of her nurses soothes, holding onto her hand even though Emma doesn’t know her name. She should know her name. She’s the woman who is by her side while she delivers her son. If she’s the only one going to be here, Emma should know her name. It’s too painful to ask. “You’re doing just great. So is your baby. His heartbeat is so strong, yeah. He gets that from you.”

“He’s okay? He’s still doing okay? This isn’t – this isn’t hurting him, ah, too much?”

Her nurse squeezes her hand, holding on tightly as she watches people move between her legs. She’s officially had her vagina stared at by more people than she ever thought would stare at it, and even though she doesn’t want to think about that and what’s happening right now, it’s all that she can focus on.

If she doesn’t, she’ll think about Neal.

He should be here.

He should be here holding her hand and helping her through this.

He should be here to hold his son when he’s born.

He should be here.

But he’s not. He can’t help it. He’s training. This is what he has to do. This is his job. He’s helping so many other people, and that’s what she has to remind herself. That’s what she has to keep repeating over and over again as she suffers through labor. Why did no one tell her how much this hurts? They did, but it was in broad terms. It wasn’t like this. It was never described like this. Everyone always glossed over it and told her that it would be all over and she’d have her baby in her arms and that everything would be okay.

How is this okay?

How is any of this fucking okay?

She’s by herself.

She’s alone and has no one here but this nurse who she still doesn’t know the name of to help her. Neal isn’t here. Ruth isn’t here. Neither is David. Or Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would be good at helping here. She’s been through this. She’s so soothing even when she’s annoying and pushing all of her opinions on Emma.

She doesn’t even have any friends here. All of her friends are mostly Neal’s friends, and she doesn’t know any of them well enough to ask them to be here.

Why didn’t she make more friends? Why didn’t she keep some of hers from freshman year? She had friends, didn’t she? She had people she talked to and got lunch with. She knows that she did. She had to.

She’s been alone for so much of her life, but right here, right now, is the last place she ever thought she would be alone.

She can’t do this. She can’t. It’s too much.

Maybe she’s not meant to be a mother.

She can’t be one.

How could she when she didn’t have one for most of her life?

“I can’t be a mother,” she cries, tears stinging hotly behind her eyes while her contraction begins to wane. She knows it’s only a brief moment of reprieve. Her son is almost here. She knows that he is, that has to be. She’s been suffering in here for too long for him not to be here soon. She needs him to be here. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Sweetie,” the nurse promises her, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Neal always does that, and it’s so damn soothing. She misses him. He should be here. She can’t stop thinking that. He should be here. “You can be a mother. It’s just scary right now, but you’re doing great trying so hard to help this boy come into the world.”

“But I’m alone,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before they get captured by a sob, one that moves her shoulders and makes her vision completely blur.

She’s alone.

She thought she finally wouldn’t be, but she is. She’s alone and terrified.

But she’s been alone for most of her life, and the sad truth is that she knows how to deal with it. She knows how to deal with handling things by herself, how to deal with pain and happiness, with loss and with celebration.

She knows.

So she can do it. She can get through it. She has to.

She can be a mother.

She can be a mother for this kid. Maybe even for herself too.

Her eyes haven’t seen this kid outside of a black and white picture. Her hands haven’t felt him move except for the hard kicks to her ribs that have taken her breath away. Her arms haven’t held him except when she’s cradled her bump at night.

She doesn’t know anything about this kid, but she knows that she loves him. She knows that she wants to be his mom and to be there for him for every day of his life.

She knows.

This is her son, and she can do this.

And she does.

Even with the epidural, it’s possibly one of the most painful things she’s ever experienced, and she knows that doesn’t go away anytime soon. All of the books told her that about the recovery. But there was no way they could tell her the pure joy that she feels holding this red, squirmy baby in her arms. He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life, and she made him with her body.

She and Neal made him.

They’re parents. They’re freaking parents.

She can’t wait to tell him, to let him know that his son is here, but right now all she wants is to spend time with her boy, to get to hold him and never let go.

She’s never letting go.

“Hey, Henry,” she sighs, rubbing her finger across his cheek while he looks up at her. He has Neal’s nose. She always thought people who could tell who a baby looked like when they’re born are crazy, but her kid has Neal’s nose. “I’m your momma. I am. You are so precious, and I love you so damn much. I’m pretty sure you don’t understand what I’m saying, so that curse is just between you and me, okay? Yeah? Just between you and me. Your daddy never has to know.”

“You did a great job,” her nurse sighs as she stands at the door. “That’s a good baby with a healthy mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head back against the pillow. It feels so comfortable, but she’s not ready to go to sleep quite yet. “It really means so much to me to have had someone to hold my hand throughout all of that.”

“It’s certainly not a problem.”

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before. I was kind of busy.”

“Ingrid.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

Ingrid walks out of the room, and she turns all of her attention back to Henry and the roundness of his eyes, the dark lashes. He’s so bald, but he’s got this one little patch of dark hair. He’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And not crying, which she thinks she likes most of all.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, kid,” she tells him, letting him grasp onto her finger. “Like, you eat food from my boob, so it’s pretty much a given that we’re going to be close. Just saying. My body has gone through a lot for your existence, and I expect some good mother’s day gifts someday. Your daddy knows what I like. Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet your dad. You’re going to love him. He’s so funny. I bet he’ll make you laugh all of the time, yeah? But not as much as me. Don’t tell your dad, but I’m so much funnier than him. He has no idea.”

Throughout the rest of the day, nurses and doctors come in and out to check on both she and Henry. She knows that she takes a lot of naps, but it’s all a bit of a blur for her as some of the pain starts to kick in and she struggles getting Henry to eat. Once he does, though, she feels like infinitely less of a failure. It’s a weird feeling, being so devastated by something that’s really not in her control, but she has to keep reminding herself that she’s not going to be perfect at this and that things are going to go wrong. Hell, so many have already.

But Henry is here and healthy, and that’s all that matters. That’s always been what matters.

“Thanks for making me not be alone anymore, kid.”

-/-

-/-

Neal and Henry talk for the rest of the ride home, but really, it’s mostly Henry going on and on about his game and saying the same things several times while Neal pretends it’s brand new information to him. When she pulls into the garage, the door shutting behind them, she switches the call to her phone so that she can talk to Neal for a little bit while she sends Henry inside to take his shower, hoping that he’s actually going to wash himself instead of simply standing under the water.

“Thanks for calling him today,” she tells him as she rocks Ada back and forth in her glider, hoping that she’ll fall asleep soon and not have another meltdown. “It was kind of a big day for him, and you have no idea how much that means to him.”

“Of course. He’s my kid. Just because I’m not at home anymore doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there for him.”

Her heart lurches, practically dropping to the pit of her stomach, and she has to hold back the tears that are threatening to push through. That’s literally all she’s ever wanted since the day Henry was born.

“That’s good,” she sniffles, adjusting Ada in her arms. “You’re a good dad. You’ve done such a good job adjusting to being a parent to an eight-year-old who likes to talk back and who you can’t just cuddle with to make them stop crying.”

Neal hums on the other end of the line. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound a little upset.”

“I – ” she begins, almost ready to spill all of her thoughts to Neal, but she bites her tongue to hold herself back. She’s not about to share how upset she is with Killian with Neal. That’s pretty much asking for disaster. She knows that they have a good relationship, a good friendship, but they’re not the kind of exes who talk about their love lives with each other. Not in graphic detail. They talk about Henry and the movies and old times. She doesn’t tell him her intimate thoughts, not anymore. “It’s been a long day. The kids had me about ready to pull my hair out.”

“Killian didn’t help?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, telling Neal the same one she told Henry earlier. Killian will call soon. He has to.

Neal clicks his tongue.

“What?” she asks, watching Ada’s eyes flutter closed.

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, Neal. I know you. You click your tongue when you have something to say.”

“It’s just that, well, shouldn’t Killian be around for Henry’s soccer game?”

“Sometimes things come up.”

“That’s still a shitty thing to do.”

She huffs, all of that anger from this morning returning as the memories flood back to her brain. How in the world did she forget that she needed to talk to Neal? It’s like she got lulled into some kind of false sense of security and didn’t even realize it.

“You missed his game today too, Neal. For the exact same reason.” She doesn’t know if Killian is at work right now, but that’s what she’s going with. Something must have happened for him not to be here. “And we are far too old to be playing petty games over who is being a better parent to Henry. By the way, where the hell do you get off telling Henry that Killian is his step dad?”

She can feel her voice begin to raise, so she gets up from the chair and puts Ada in her crib, hoping that she’ll fall asleep quickly. When she exits the nursery, she can still hear the shower going, so she walks down the hall and into her bedroom, moving to the bathroom so Henry will be less likely to hear her talk. She can’t begin to count the number of arguments she and Killian have had in the bathroom. They don’t yell too often, but she doesn’t want Henry to hear any of it when they do argue.

Neal still hasn’t said anything, so she asks again. “Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t,” he finally says, his voice completely even.

“Henry told me that you did.”

“He’s a kid. He says crazy shit.”

“He’s a smart kid who only says things when he’s learned them somewhere else. Just admit to it so we can talk about it. It’s already a tricky situation, so we don’t need it to get worse.”

“What’s tricky about it? He’s my kid, and Killian is pretty much his step dad. I mean, you two aren’t married, so not really. But I figured that made it less complicated.”

Less complicated her ass. Why is he being such an ass about this? This is not him, not anymore.

“First of all, he is Killian’s kid too. I have never let Henry think that you’re not his dad. You are. That’s something I’ve made a priority for him to understand ever since he was old enough. But you cannot take away Killian’s right to him as well. Killian helped me raise him, Neal. For most of Henry’s life, Killian has been Henry’s dad too. That doesn’t just change.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I wasn’t fucking around to raise him.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You might as well have, going on and on about Killian this, Killian that. Fuck, Ems. He’s not the greatest man in existence. You don’t have to put him on a pedestal.”

“I don’t.”

“Please,” he scoffs, and she feels acid swish in her stomach, twisting around as she settles down on the countertop next to the sink, her legs like jello beneath her. “You so do. Ever since I’ve come back it’s been all about Killian and the life you share and the daughter you have, like our marriage was absolutely nothing to you. I bet you didn’t even consider taking me back.”

“What the hell is your problem today? I’m trying to talk to you about our son to make sure that he doesn’t get confused, and you decide to be nasty to me? No, Neal, I didn’t really consider taking you back. Life moved on. It changed. But don’t you dare for a second think that I didn’t go through hell trying to figure out how to deal with things when you came home. I nearly lost my mind trying to handle everything. I care about you. You’re my friend, and I tried my best. But there’s no way you could have expected me to drop everything to be with you when I spent years grieving you.”

“I would have done it for you.”

“Bullshit. I loved you, but you never loved me in the same way. I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know.”

“I think you’re making a mistake being with Killian.”

“I think you’re making a mistake trying to talk to me about this when it’s really none of your business.”

“If it affects my son, it is my business.”

She scoffs, bewilderment inching its way over all of her skin, gooseflesh rising. How fucking dare he try to turn this on her, try to gaslight her. This is what he’s always done. He’s always tried to steamroll her like this. She thought he’d changed, that he’s tried to be better, so why is he being like this? He shouldn’t be like this anymore.

“You know what affects your son, Neal?” she asks, her voice cold even to her own ears. “His dad fucking with how he thinks of one of his other parents. No part of that is okay, nor will it ever be okay. Don’t do it again.”

She hears him say her name on the other end of the phone, but she hangs up before he can say anything else. He’ll call back. She knows that he will, but she’s done with that conversation. It was ridiculous, in every single way. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable bringing up the whole step parent thing, but she didn’t think it would ever turn into…that.

What the hell was that?

Neal hasn’t talked to her like that since he found out that she and Killian were together. It was harsh, but she understood in a way. Now though, she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why he would be rude to her life that, why he would try to make her think that she’s doing something wrong by being with Killian, to make her think that she’s a bad mother. It’s how he used to talk to her, but it’s not how the man she’s known as talked to her ever since he came back.

It’s not supposed to happen like that anymore.

All she wants to do is cry, but she’s too tired to cry. If she starts, she may not be able to stop. It’s all too much. Today has been too much for her, and she still doesn’t know where Killian is, what’s going on with him. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe she should be calling hospitals to make sure that he’s not in one, but something in her gut keeps her from doing that. She does text Mary Margaret and David, however, hoping that maybe one of them will have the answer.

She needs to know, and worry is slowly covering each inch of her skin.

“Mom,” Henry calls, stepping into her bathroom.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you make me a hot dog?”

“Sure,” she sighs, giving him a watery smile and wiping away at her eyes. “Let’s go do that.”

The rest of her day is spent with her kids, trying to entertain the both of them with games and movies, even going outside to play on the play set for awhile. She never hears from Killian, and only Mary Margaret texts her back to say that she hasn’t heard from him and that David’s got a busy day at work and probably won’t get back to her until his shift is over. It bothers her, makes her practically sick to her stomach, but she can’t focus on it as she focuses on making sure Ada and Henry have a good day.

It’s what she has to do if she’s doing this alone today.

That night, after she’s got Ada in her crib, she walks to the next room over and into Henry’s. They both cleaned up in here a bit today, so she doesn’t step over any legos or sharp objects as she crawls into his bed behind him, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding onto her son like her life depends on it.

Maybe sometimes it does.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, still flipping through one of his books.

“Cuddling with you because I love you so much.”

He squirms, but he still settles into her. “I love you too.”

“What are you reading?”

“Matilda.”

“That’s a good one.”

“I know. I like it. She has magic.”

She nods her head and settles it down onto Henry’s shoulder, reading behind him while he mumbles some of the words out loud. She doesn’t know how she got a kid who loves to read when she remembers hating it at his age, but she’s really thankful for that.

She’s thankful for Henry and how he changed her entire life for the better on the day he was born, how he brought magic into her life in a time that was so dark that even the stars seemed to disappear, blinking out one by one until there was no light left.

Except for Henry. He has always been the light.

“Did you know I love you?” she whispers to him.

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek and holds him a little closer. “It’s just that I love you and Ada so much that sometimes my heart can’t contain it, and I have to keep telling you so that you know how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you forever.”

“I love you and Ada too,” he says simply. She knows that he means the words, but they don’t have the same emotional depth that her words do. Good. He doesn’t need to feel how she’s feeling, like her heart is threatening to break into pieces over how much she loves him.

“And your dad and your daddy love you too. So much more than you even know.”

“I know. Mom, you’re making it hard to read my book.”

Emma chuckles, kissing his cheek again before she shifts out of the bed, figuring that she’s smothered him enough for tonight. Just because she needs to time with him doesn’t mean that he wants it. “In thirty minutes your light needs to be off and you need to be asleep, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Henry.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Night, kid. Thanks for making me feel like I have real magic in my life.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She closes his door behind her and makes her way downstairs, quickly checking on Ada on her way. The house is quiet, only the sounds of the air conditioner running and the refrigerator making ice filling the space. Usually she’d crave something like this. She’d crave having peace and quiet and not having to worry about anything for a little while. She can fix herself a cup of hot chocolate and settle down in front of the television to watch whatever she wants. Those are the nights she craves sometimes, but now that she has one of those, she wants none of it.

All she wants is for this day to be over, possibly for this day not to exist. Frankly, it sucked, and she knows that not everything will be fixed when she wakes up in the morning. She’s still pissed at Neal. Like, if he were home she would probably have the urge to punch him pissed. She’s worried about Henry and how everything is impacting him. She’s already emailed Dr. Hopper today, but sometimes she’s worried that him going to therapy and them trying so much to give him a good life is not enough.

Sometimes she worries that she is not enough.

That she’s not enough for her children.

That she’s not enough for Killian.

He has only made her feel that way once in all of their time together, and she doesn’t hold it against him, not anymore. She understands everything that he was going through. But right now, today, she needs him, and he’s not here.

She falls asleep on the couch, and when she wakes, it’s to a twist in her neck and a twist of the front door handle, Killian coming inside as quietly as possible. At first, she’s relieved that he’s okay, that he’s home, but then she remembers the absolute hell that she’s been through all day without him by her side, without him answering any of her calls.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. She thought the words would be louder, harsher, but she finds that she can barely get them past her lips.

Right now she’s just relieved that he’s okay, that his heart is still beating within his chest.

“Why aren’t you asleep, love?” Killian asks her, stepping into the bright light of the living room so that she can see the red rim around his eyes. “You should go to bed.”

“I’d really rather know why you ignored all of my calls all day long.”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Damn it, no,” she yells, this time the words coming out as she sits up further on the couch, “tell me now. I’m done being pushed around today. You have been gone. I have been worried. Henry has been worried, and you walk in here at two in the morning telling me that we’ll talk later. No, that’s not how this works.”

Killian nods his head while his lips press together in a firm line. He looks exhausted and like he’s been crying, and beneath all of her anger, she feels the worry for him that she’s felt all day. “You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling before his gaze finally finds hers. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”

[confrontingbabble-on]

After Jesus was crucified, everyone had a different understanding of what Jesus had wanted them to do...even those who had never met or heard Jesus’ teachings, like Paul. Christianity is the result of those who thought Jesus wanted them create a religion...to collect money, and side with murderous/immoral political rulers...so they could gain status and political power (to cover up their immorality and avoid legal punishments)...legally steal pagan temples and property...and replicate pagan ceremonies...

“When it comes to religious history, the list of Catholic Church transgressions makes for pretty uncomfortable reading. Despite exalting virtue and kindness in its teaching, Church leadership has spearheaded a long history of outright unforgivable Catholic actions...

Though Vatican violence goes way back, there are a number of disturbing episodes from recent history. Some of this repugnant behavior comes from Popes, some was Church-endorsed, and some, most unsettlingly, was just straight-up regular Church practice.

Dark Church history contains scandal after scandal rife with every vice and taboo you can imagine. When the Church was at the height of its power (at which point it was the most powerful organization in the Western world), it's safe to say everything went to its head. Combine that with the fact that Church leaders seem to stubbornly resist adapting to changing(improving) morality...and you've got a whole lot of unforgivable moments on our hands.

** Systemically Covering Up Tens Of Thousands Of Cases Involving Sexual Misconduct:  Remember the time there was a systematic cover up of abuse, molestation, and rape at the hands of priests that went all the way to the top of the Church? A conservative estimate says there were 17,200 victims in the US alone, and this type of mistreatment happened world-wide. When complaints came in, priests and other offenders were transferred, rather than punished. The extent of their actions will probably never be fully understood, because of the decades of cover up. But the Church isn't denying it anymore. The archdiocese of Milwaukee acknowledged the severity of the issue and agreed to pay a $21 million settlement to 300 victims. But these types of settlements are few and far between.

The molestation of children is still happening at the hands of priests, 15 years after the Boston Globe broke the story. In fact, in August 2018, a grand jury reported that internal documents from six Pennsylvanian dioceses noted that over 300 "predator priests" were "credibly accused"...of harming more than 1,000 child victims; the alleged violations go as far back as 1947.

Due to statute of limitations, only two priests were charged with abusing minors. In February 2019, however, Pope Francis publicly acknowledged the systemic maltreatment and vowed to combat the problem. He said, "I think that it’s continuing because it’s not like once you realize it that it stops. It continues. And for some time we’ve been working on it."

** The Crusades...Or, Incapacitating Jews And Muslims For 300 Years:  In 1095, when Pope Urban II made a plea for war with Muslims, armies of Christians in Western Europe took up the charge. The pope promised serfs freedom if they went, galvanizing the masses. In the First Crusade, an army of peasants led by Peter the Hermit was massacred by the Turks. When an army of knights went after them and captured Jerusalem, it was said they massacred Muslims until the streets ran with blood.This was only the beginning. Waves of the Crusades continued until 1396, marking three centuries of warfare, and incalculable human suffering. "Taking the heads of slain enemies and impaling them upon pikes appears to have been a favorite pastime among crusaders. Chronicles record a story of a crusader-bishop who referred to the impaled heads of slain Muslims as a joyful spectacle for the people of God. When Muslim cities were captured by Christian crusaders, it was standard operating procedure for all inhabitants, no matter what their age, to be summarily killed. It is not an exaggeration to say that the streets ran red with blood as Christians reveled in church-sanctioned horrors. Jews who took refuge in their synagogues would be burned alive, not unlike the treatment they received in Europe."

** Pretty Much Everything Done By Pope Boniface VIII:  Boniface VIII (1230 -1303) was guilty of many horrible crimes that, sum total, make him seem like a sadistic Roman emperor. Among other things, he oversaw the complete destruction of Palestrina, a city that peacefully surrendered. Palestrina was completely razed, and Boniface ordered a plow driven over it to prove it had been reduced to nothing but earth and rubble.  You know priests take a vow of celibacy, right? Apparently, Boniface VIII didn't take his too seriously. He once had a three-way with a married woman and her daughter, but was even more well known for saying that having sex with young boys was as natural as rubbing one hand against the other. So, obviously, he was raping (or at least fornicating with), children. To celebrate his many great accomplishments, Boniface VIII just loved erecting statutes of himself. So add hubris to his list of sins.

** Burning Joan Of Arc For Dressing Like A Man:  You may know Joan of Arc as a saint, but the Church didn't always hold her in such high esteem. In fact, at one time, she was pretty much the Catholic Church's public enemy number one. In 1429, 17-year-old Joan of Arc, believing God had spoken to her, instigated an uprising to get the English out of France, but some high-powered Catholics who sympathized with the English weren't pleased. French king Charles VII wisely accepted Joan's help in his fight against the English, and together, they won some major battles.

When Joan was captured, Charles VII, unsure of whether he trusted her as an emissary of God, handed her over to the Church, which did what Catholics do best, put her on trial for heresy with no evidence. To make things one step more ridiculous, Joan was denied counsel, which was against Church rules. Despite this, she is famed for remaining cool, calm, and dripping with integrity throughout the trial. Because there was no evidence of heresy, Joan was found guilty of one of the 70+ other charges brought against her, wearing men's clothes (shirt and pants, like every country girl today!) , for which she was burned at the stake in 1431 in front of a crowd of thousands. In 1456, Charles VII ordered an investigation into Joan's trial. The result? She was declared innocent and made a martyr. The Church followed suit and, in 1920, canonized her. Talk about a change of heart. Maybe since all male Church officials wear dresses they pretend are robes, they decided it was okay for Joan to dress a little (country!). 

** Burning William Tyndale For Making A Vernacular Bible For The Masses You'd think the Church would make the mass distribution of its core text a main priority. As it turns out, in the 16th century, this was the last thing powerful Catholics wanted.  Scholar William Tyndale, on the other hand, wanted this so badly he went into hiding to translate the Bible into English, so lay people could read it for themselves. The Church was not happy about this, and when copies were smuggled around Europe, Catholic authorities demanded they be burned. And what of Tyndale? He was captured, tried for heresy for daring translate the bible, and burned at the stake. When Church authorities decided printing Bibles in English was okay, they borrowed a whole lot from Tyndale's translation. And never apologized.

** Slaying Countless Women As Witches Because Pope Innocent VII Was Paranoid: The Catholic Church wasn't the only group involved in witch hunts, but it kicked things off with Malleus Maleficarum (Hammer of Witches), a doozy of a book written in 1487, after Pope Innocent VIII declared, by papal bull, witches were real and a threat (due to their involvement with Satan). He wanted that sh*t investigated stat, so clergymen Johann Sprenger and Heinrich Krämer (using his Latin name, Henricus Institoris) took up the call and literally wrote the book on witches, Satanists (which were invented for this book), and hunts thereof. And boy, was it a success. It was so popular that, for 200 years, it was second only to the Bible on the sales charts. The problem? Well, for one, the book was hugely sexist and focused almost only on women, promoting burning them at the stake,  a common punishment for heretics. So who knows how many deaths it inspired; its influence was too huge to quantify. The book is also filled with somewhat dubious information, such as the following facts about witches and Satanists: they stop cows from giving milk; they rode through the air on broomsticks on their way to forest orgies; they ate infants.

** Absolving Sins For Cash Payments, Including Sins Not Yet Committed:  If one bit of Catholic Church history got drilled into your mind in high school, there's a good chance it was the selling of indulgences and Martin Luther's reformation. Now synonymous with money-grubbing, the idea of an indulgence isn't so bad in theory. According to Church doctrine, "[an] indulgence is a remission before God of the temporal punishment due to sins whose guilt has already been forgiven, which the faithful Christian who is duly disposed gains under certain defined conditions through the Church’s help when, as a minister of redemption, she dispenses and applies with authority the treasury of the satisfactions won by Christ and the saints." A little wordy, but potentially inoffensive.

In the 16th century, however, indulgences got out of hand. Pope Leo X had expensive taste and wasn't above using shady means to satisfy it. Indulgences were peddled as "pay X to absolve you of Y." Basically, money gets you into heaven. To give some indication of how crazy things got, Dominican friar John Teztel was named Grand Commissioner of indulgences in Germany (so, overseeing indulgence was his only job), where he sold absolution for future sins. So: "Hey, give us some gold, it's all good if you kill that dude next week."

If you were poor and ignorant, as most poor people in the period probably were, you basically just believed you were hopelessly f*cked and did your best to prepare for an eternity spent frolicking in the torments of hell. So what happened? Martin Luther, none too pleased, wrote his 95 Theses, effectively kick starting the Reformation.

** Orchestrating The Fall Of The Knights Templar To Appease A Broke King:  ...the Knights Templar, a stateless military fraternity assembled to protect Christian pilgrims to the Holy Land, were the subject of gossip a long time ago. They were endorsed by the Roman Catholic Church in 1129, and were famous valorous service in the Crusades. They were also really good with money, which shouldn't have been a problem, but King Philip IV of France owed them (and others) a whole lot of it. Philip took advantage of growing fear of the Knight Templar's power and pressured the Church into dropping the mighty anvil of god down on them. What the Church did next wasn't great. In 1307, Pope Clement V had members arrested and tortured, gaining false confessions of heresy. In fact, he got enough such confessions to justify disbanding the order in 1312. Various Knights confessed to spitting on the cross, fraud, and secrecy (which was apparently a crime?), and nobody cared the confessions arose from torture and were recanted afterward. Archbishop of Sens Philippe de Marigny, who ran an investigation into the Knights, had dozens burned at the stake. A fine repayment for all of that fighting in the crusades. In 2007, a secret document showing Pope Clement V absolved the Knights before later deciding to disband them was published. Historians believe this document provides essential proof that the Church caved under King Phillip's pressure. Good news for the Knight's integrity, bad news for the Church's.

** Burning Someone 43 Years After He Passed Because He Upset Some Important Catholics:  As if having your enemies killed wasn't enough, Catholics gotta burn the corpses, too. What gives? Trying to outdo what the Romans did to JC and John Wycliffe (1320 – 1384), famous English theologian and vocal critic of the Church, was a forerunner of the Reformation. Among his many criticisms was a belief the Church should give up its worldly possessions. As you can imagine, not an idea the church was happy to have spread around. Wycliffe also promoted and worked on the first English translation of the Bible, hoping to give people direct access to the word of god. Again, not a fun idea for the Church, which liked its monopoly on power.

William Courtenay, Archbishop of Canterbury, made moves against Wycliffe after retiring (gotta stay busy). Wycliffe's writings were banned in certain areas, but it didn't end there. It didn't even end when Wycliffe died of a stroke in 1384. Instead, in 1415 (31 years after he died), the Council of Constance declared Wycliffe a heretic. Not only did they order his books burned, they ordered his body exhumed and burned. And it took them 12 years to do that. So, 43 years after Wycliffe died, his corpse was torched and his ashes thrown in the River Swift. So much for resting in peace.

** Executing Jan Hus For Working Out Some Tricky Theological Philosophy: The Church tends to be pretty brutal with its critics, of which the treatment of Jan Hus, born 1372, is one of the best (or worst) examples. A Czech priest, Hus felt the Church, run by humans, who are by nature flawed, must necessarily also therefore be flawed, while the Bible, the direct word of God, had no flaws. He was, therefore, openly critical of Church practices, especially the papal schism and indulgence sales. So, not very happy with Hus, the Church convened the Council of Constance and invited him to join them. Nothing to worry about, just a wee chat. Or so they said. Instead of having that wee chat, the Council arrested Hus and put him on trial (and then in jail) for, you guessed it, heresy. He was kept in a dungeon and, when he refused to recant his teachings, was sentenced to death. The Church even refused him his last rights before burning him at the stake. And to think they said they just wanted to talk.

** The Joust Of Whores Organized By Pope Alexander VI: The Joust of Whores is just one example of the corrupt and ridiculous popes of yore. In 1501, Pope Alexander VI (a Borgia, if that rings any bells), who was known to have some pretty refined hobbies, like watching horses fornicate, took things way over the top. According to historian Tony Perrottet, he invited 50 women to strip at the pope's table. Then things got weird.As Perrotet writes: "Alexander and his family gleefully threw chestnuts on the floor, forcing the women to grovel around their feet like swine; they then offered prizes of fine clothes and jewelry for the man who could fornicate with the most women."It's rumored Alexander VI was killed by his son, Cesar. Just to show how truly f*cked up Alexander was, his body was expelled from the basilica of Saint Peter. Why? He was considered too evil for sacred soil.

** The Roman Inquisition, During Which Judaism And Love Magic Were Serious Crimes: The level of the Church's involvement in various inquisitions can be argued. It's important to remember Pope Innocent IV (ironic name, that) explicitly condoned torture as an Inquisition interrogation technique in his papal bull Ad extirpanda in 1252 (which bull probably deserves its own place on this list). The Spanish Inquisition, most famous of these murder orgies, was carried by Spanish royalty and friars, who were Catholic, but not working directly for, or under direction of, the Vatican.

But wait, kids! Don't forget the Roman Inquisition, or the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, which was 100% the church's doing. In 1542, as part of a Counter-Reformation against Protestantism (seriously, didn't these people have anything better to do than overreact to other Christians who pissed them off?), the Spanish Inquisition's gentle cousin, the Roman Inquisition, was born. Galileo and Copernicus were among those questioned. While Church staple heresy was a popular dish during the Inquisition, the menu had a number of options, including blasphemy, Judaism (which is a crime how?), immorality, witchcraft, love magic (yes please), and anything else wrathful Papists could shoe-horn in. John Bargrave, a  contemporary English writer, described how he was questioned in Latin (rather than Italian) to prevent uneducated guards from understanding what was being said. He was also prevented from carrying books "printed at any heretical city, as Geneva, Amsterdam, Leyden, London, or the like." Not as bad as the Spanish Inquisition, sure, but very much related and equally dogmatic, close minded, and power-mongering. A Church specialty

** Imprisoning Galileo In His Home For Years Because He Suggested Science Was Greater Than God:  The Church and science have a complicated relationship, to put it nicely. In 1633, Galileo Galilei, the father of, like, all science, was put on trial by the Church for saying the sun is the center of the universe and the earth moves around it, rather than the other way around. Which is, you know, true for the most part (sure, okay, the sun isn't the center of the universe, but still, he was onto something). But that didn't matter. Pope Urban VIII was having none of it, seeing Galileo's statement as horrific heresy. So, 10 cardinals sat in judgment of Galileo, who was threatened with torture, imprisonment, and even being burned at the stake. Galileo, 69 at the time and in a "pitiable state of bodily indisposition," eventually renounced his beliefs. Because of this, the church went easy on him and, rather than torture, he was subjected to house arrest until he died. What a way to treat the father of modern of science. And what does the church have to say on the subject now? "We today know that Galileo was right in adopting the Copernican astronomical theory," Paul Cardinal Poupard, the head of an investigation into the matter said in 1992. So, only 350 years too late.

** Cutting Funding For Immigrants Because Of Their Connection To The LGBTQ+ Community:  Not all Catholic faux pas come from the past; there's been some dodgy stuff in modern times, as well (see priest rape bonanza), and the church's relationship with the LGBTQ+ community continues to be a source of frustration. But here's a humdinger: For years, the Church gave thousands of dollars to Compañeros, a nonprofit helping Hispanic immigrants access healthcare, understand laws, and meet other basic needs. That is, until the Church found out Compañeros teamed up with a gay and lesbian rights group, at which point Nicole Mosher, executive director of  Compañeros, was informed their funding was in danger. Compañeros is but one example of organizations the Church threatens for not falling in line with the most strident dictates of Catholicism. The New York Times explained in 2002, "Since 2010, nine groups from across the country have lost financing from the campaign because of conflicts with Catholic principles."On the one hand, of course it's okay for the Church to withhold money from causes in contradiction with its beliefs. Like, say, an abortion clinic. But cutting off funding to aid the needy simply because of an association with the LGBTQ+ community seems extreme and unfair, especially given Church doctrine on helping the needy and feeding the poor. What's more, members of the LGBTQ+ community can identify as Catholic and go to church, but can't be helped by that Church? This is all the more more difficult to swallow when considering the Church's $1.6 billion stock portfolio...”

From https://m.ranker.com/list/most-unforgivable-things-the-catholic-church-has-done/lea-rose-emery

[honeyjaez]

Maze of Miroh- Chapter 9 “Revelations”

Editors note: I stayed up until 2 am to finish this so hopefully you like. I sleep now <3

Minho’s body felt heavy as he trudged on down the darkened hallway. Between the barley healed gunshot wound on his side and the constant running from killer dogs, he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep off this pain for the rest of his life. But the limping boy next to him, the one who was using him for support to walk stopped him from falling over, and kicked his body into overdrive; Changbin needed him.

Together with Yamako, the boys continued quietly down the hallway, the only thing being heard is that of Changbin’s pained huffs and the sound of their footsteps pounding on the ground. Luckily for them, they hadn’t come crossed any more dogs for the time but in all honesty, the dogs were the least of Minho’s concerns.

Changbin.

Changbin’s leg didn’t look good at all. They had managed to stop the bleeding with Yamako’s jacket, but even now Minho could see the wound flare up with infection, a red purple color bleeding around it. The younger couldn’t even walk on it. And as much as he likes to act tough, he knew the boy was in pain. How were they supposed to find Jeongwoo now? More importantly Minho thought with a gulp. Can I get Changbin out of here?

As he thought of him, Minho turned his gaze down towards the younger boy, whose head hung low, his damp hair covering his eyes. Changbin was panting heavily and Minho didn’t need to see his face to know that he was sweating profusely. It’s definitely infected.

Minho silently cursed himself as he readjusted his grip on him. This was his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on coming in the first place Changbin wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Sure the two were rather far from friends, but he was out here risking his life for Jeongwoo. He is someone important to Felix. More so than that, in the little time he has known the boy, Minho had become quite impressed at how strong he was. Seeing him in pain like this felt wrong.

“Here….” Yamako offered, placing a hand on Minho’s shoulder “Let me help.”

Minho shook his head, eyes unfocused as if he barley heard Yamako’s words. He had to do this. He had to prove to Changbin….to himself that he could be strong as well.

He was going to protect Changbin.

“Let’s stop here for a bit” Yamako offered when Minho refused his hand. Minho didn’t respond, but nodded slightly, placing Changbin gently on the ground before collapsing himself next to him. He took a second to glance around their soundings, groaning to find that they were nowhere near an exit. It was just a rather spacious room with various empty desks spread throughout it.

“Here” a bottle appeared in his vision and Minho looked up to see the older man offering him a nearly finished bottle of water. Minho nodded his thanks, and took the bottle, immediately offering it to a rather dazed out Changbin. After he knew the younger had swallowed a few drops Minho himself took a swig, handing it back to Yamako.

“You know….” Yamako said quietly from his spot on the ground. “You kids are crazy brave you know that?”

Minho didn’t respond at first, and looked down at his feet. “I’m not brave” he mumbled.

Changbin let out a weak growl next to him “Yeah and I’m not a kid”

Yamako laughed and let out a wave of his hands “Okay Okay sure. Not a kids. But you certainly are brave….both of you.” He added the last part looking directly at Minho who was hunched over in guilt.

When neither boy responded, Yamako leaned back, fascinated with something on the ceiling. “You two remind me of him……..of my brother I mean.”

Neither boy said anything in response so Yamako took that as a sign to continue.

“He wasn’t very inclined to his studies growing up. Our mother and father wanted nothing else but for him to continue in the family tradition of being scientists. But his heart was never into that. He was always more of the free spirit constantly telling us that he should do what he wants to do. The problem with that is what he wanted to do wasn’t legal according to The Order.” Yamako let out a long sigh, still staring at the celling “I never told him this, but I was jealous of that. That my little brother could stand up for what he wanted instead of falling in line. It made me want to follow in his footsteps as sad as that sounds.”

“It’s not sad at all” Minho huffed, thinking of Hyunjae.

Yamako peaked his head down at him, nodding “I still remember the day he met those friends of his. A group that were considered hooligans at first. They picked on the local officials, spending a night in jail every once in a while but that was it…..”

“What changed?” Minho finally asked, honestly curious. “What happened that made him want to go against The Order?”

“Well….You guys happened.”

Minho’s widened slightly at this.

“Well I should say what you guys did 5 years ago…”

His brain wracked itself with memories as he tried to think back to what event he could possibly be talking about. But his head was fuzzy and his memories were muddled together. After a few more failed moments, Minho just looked at Yamako with confusion who seemed equally as confused.

“You don’t know what I am talking about?”

“Well I’m n-“

“He isn’t one of us” Changbin interjected quickly, the hostility in his tone causing Minho to wince. Yeah he wasn’t one of them, and was pretty sure he did not want to be. But he figured this little adventure would lessen the walls between the two of them. He shook himself clean of the hostility directed at him and turned towards Yamako. “What happened 5 years ago?”

“Well……” the older man trailed off, looking rather unconfutable. He quickly turned his gaze side to side between the 2 younger boys. “I don’t know….it’s not my place…-“

“It’s okay” Changbin mumbled suddenly, glancing towards him “You can tell it”

Yamako hesitated a moment longer then nodded once more. He turned towards Minho and gave a smile. “Do you remember 5 years ago The Order was having their 110th anniversary in the heart of Spector?”

Minho grimaced “Vaguely” he lied.

Yamako nodded “Well in the midst the celebration. S-K-Z….well I guess they weren’t known by that name yet, but they crashed the party, literally. They showed up with a bunch of civilians and called out The Order along with its President. And when I saw call out I mean they showed up, blasted right through the guards and stood there on stage, attacking everything The Order  stood for……went as far as to take the president hostage. It seemed like they had it all planned out. No one moved as they listened….just listened to your leader as he spoke. He spoke with such confidence and pride…..” Yamako’s face was in pure awe as he thought back to the memory. Minho turned to look at Changbin, his own eyes wide with amazement. “You guys seriously did that?”

“Not us….we weren’t allowed to be there” Changbin mumbled quietly, as if reliving the moment in his head.

“Well it was definitely S-K-Z”

“Sungjin….”Minho whispered with realization. Changbin nodded harshly, as if the name gave him goosebumps. After a few moments of silence the youngest sighed heavily and he straightened his body more. “If you know that name then I assume Woojin hyung told you about them.”

Minho shook his head lightly “Just that he was the he was the leader before Chan”

Changbin nodded, his eyes ghosts of themselves as he thought back. “Sungjin was the one who started all of this. His mother and sister had been Miracles, Miracles that were brutally murdered by The Order’s greedy hands. After their deaths, he swore that he would protect all other Miracles from The Order and would see the organization burned down for everything they were doing. Along the way he found friendship in other souls who would share in his convictions and dreams. These people would later create the foundation of S-K-Z and what we stand for.”

There was a long pause, and Minho almost swore he saw Changbin shaking like he was crying.

“What happened?” he asked softly “What happened on that day?”

Changbin let out a long shaky breath and straightened himself again as he wiped his nose. “…..Sungjin and the others….. died.”

»»»»»»»

»»»»»»»

“I am only going to ask you this one more time” the tall lanky Agent growled as he pressed Hyunjin’s nose into the hard cold tiled floor. “Who. Do. You. Work. For?” with every word he banged Hyunjin’s face harder and harder into the ground. The boy already had one swollen eye and blood dripping from his nose, but still gave no inch to the commanding officer interrogating him.

“You might as well give up” Seungmin said harshly from the other side of the room where he sat after being flung. “If there is anything that idiot is better at than talking, it’s keeping secrets.”

The other Agent in the room, a rather unfortunate looking fella with a gray receding hairline stood by the door, unmoving. Seungmin’s eyes flash between him and his partners who stood over a quiet Hyunjin. Seungmin bit his lip, tasting blood in his own mouth.

This was bad.

He knew neither of them would cave into the interrogation, taking their secrets to the grave was just a part of the job. But that was just it. He would prefer an ending where both of them survive to see the light of day again.

Suddenly if on que, Hyunjin’s eyes flashed towards the Agent standing over him, who had gotten distracted by Seungmin’s declaration. He watched as Hyunjin swung his leg out from under him, twisting his body slightly so that he had better access and slammed his boot hard into the Agents deep cut Jawline.  The big guy went flying into the wall nearby landing on the floor with a hard thud.

Seungmin shook his head in disappointment. And here he was worried about the idiot.

“See? What I tell you. You might as well give up.”

“Tch!” The agent spat blood through his teeth, getting back up and glaring daggers at a smiling Hyunjin. “You’re going to have to hit me a lot harder than that kid if you wanna knock me out.”

Hyunjin let out a small chuckle shrugging slightly “I’m not trying to knock you out. Why would I do that when I could just get in some early practice time?”

This seemed to anger the Agent and Seungmin could feel the murderous intent glowing from him. He let out a rather annoyed sigh and caught Hyunjin’s gaze. “Jinnie don’t anger the man when we have no way out.”

Hyunjin’s gaze darkened slightly as he turned and stared at him, much to Seungmin’s own confusion. He watched as Hyunjin turned towards the Agent who hadn’t moved yet, his gaze cold.  It took only Seungmin a second to realize that Hyunjin must have seen the cut on his arm that he gained when the agent flung him into the wall. He groaned silently, knowing full well how Hyunjin gets when he sees stuff like that.

He turns into a full blown idiot.

“Hyunjin-“ he warned.

“You hurt my Minnie” Hyunjin growled.

Seungmin silently cursed for he knew that the Agent caught onto this weakness of Hyunjin’s and started to egg the idiot on.

“Ha! I did, and trust me when I’m through with you, I’m going to do worst things to your friend here.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Jinnie” Seungmin tried soothing “Don’t listen to him. He is just trying to work you up-“

“I know that” Hyunjin hissed quietly, not taking his eyes off the much taller Agent “but he can’t get away with hurting you”

“Literally I am fine so shut the fuck up” Seungmin scolded, standing up, sending Hyunjin a look of warning. Unbeknownst to him, the Agent had sprung behind him and Seungmin watched as Hyunjin’s own eyes widened with horror. Seungmin could feel something sharp up against his throat and once again groaned silently at the situation. Nice Job Seungmin.

The Agent pressed the knife deeper into his throat “I only need one of you, now talk or your pretty friend here dies!”

Seungmin cursed silently

You Idiot. Not helping

Seungmin let out an audible sigh and raised his hands in defeat. He didn’t need to look at Hyunjin to know the murderous look he was probably giving the older man. But before the older boy could act out said murder, Seungmin suddenly felt a gush on wind, and the body behind him slumped to the floor. He looked up at Hyunjin whose murderous look was replaced with that of confusion. He hadn’t done anything yet.

Seungmin looked towards the door, noticing it swinging back shut as he did so, the other guard slumped on the floor as well.

“Having fun?”

Seungmin recognized this voice immediately and had to stop himself from smiling. These idiots didn’t need to know he was happy. “Took you long enough. What were you doing? Napping?”

“Quite peacefully actually” Felix said from the chair in the corner, standing up. “But then Channie hyung called me saying that some idiots of ours ruined a rescue attempt” He walked towards Hyunjin, giving him a side hug. Then started to walk towards Seungmin.

“Hmp!” Seungmin sighed, annoyed. “That was Minho and your boyfriends doing thank you very much.”

At the mention of their names, Seungmin noticed Felix’s eyes darken and knew right away something was up.

“Come on” he said to both of them, tone unreadable. “We need to find them before they find Jeongwoo."

»»»»»»»

»»»»»»»

“They died?” Minho gaze was dismayed as Changbin’s words rang out clear.

He watched as Yamako bowed his head, as if honoring their memory. Changbin just nodded his head, still not looking at either of them.

“Sungjin…..Jae…Younghyun…Wonpil…..” he said each name with his teeth grit and Minho saw as he clenched his fist tight. “They were all killed on that stage.”

“B-But….” Minho was lost for words.

“It’s like you said earlier” Changbin hisses “Why fight if you have your family? You’ll sit through the pain if it means that your loved ones are safe right? Well unlike your family, my family was not content with just sitting through it. We dreamt of a better life…not just for ourselves…but for everyone in this stupid world!” He paused slightly, turning his hard gaze on Minho “Yes they died….but at least they died for something. Unlike yours.” He spat the last part out and Minho felt his body turn hot. It was his turn now to glare at the injured boy, standing up with fists clenched.

“Insult me all you like….but don’t you dare insult them!” he growled.

How dare him. How dare him. Sure, he, himself, was a piece of shit. But Jeongwoo was innocent. Jeongwoo had suffered enough, he didn’t need any more suffering. And Hyunjae…..Well Hyunjae was….

The two boys glared daggers at each other, both at a standstill.  It wasn’t until Yamako had coughed that Minho turned his attention away from the younger boy, anger still seething through him.

“Well Minho-ssi….if you aren’t apart of SKZ….then may I ask why are you down here with them?”

Fists still clenched, Minho ripped his head to the side, trying to control his anger.

“I’m here because The Order took someone important to me” he mumbled quietly.

“Someone…Important?”

Minho’s eyes narrowed as he could hear the uncertainty appear in the older man’s voice. He glanced in his direction and could see Yamako now staring at the ground.

“Yeah Doc.” Changbin said from the floor “You’ve probably heard of him…..he is a Miracle boy that goes by the name Jeongwoo”

Minho watched as Yamako’s eyes widened for a split second before returning to normal. He watched with a quickening heartbeat as he shook his head once, not looking at either of them.

“I’m sorry-“

A loud bang unexpectedly shot through the room accompanied by a noise that caused Minho’s heart to drop to his feet.

Barking.

“Oh for the love of���.” Changbin cursed.

“Come on!” Minho yelled, eyeing Yamako as he grabbed hold of Changbin once again. Yamako nodded, seemingly understanding and grabbed Changbin’s other arm. Together the two sprinted in a run across the room towards an open door that laid in the corner.

“We won’t make it if we keep running in circles” Minho huffed out.

“Agreed” Yamako said “There is an elevator down this hallway, it will take us to the experiment room. It isn’t a way out, but it’s away from the dogs!”

“Anything is better than this” Changbin muttered.

The 3 of them started to run down the hallway with all haste. The dogs, to Minho’s horror had busted through the doors and now were right behind them, maybe 10 feet back. He could hear the snapping of their teeth and the scratching of their nails on the ground but Minho tried not to think about it anymore.  He could see it, the singular elevator that laid at the end of the hallway but all that was passing through his mind was the pounding screams of the dogs behind them. That’s when Minho realized.

They weren’t going to make it

Sure they could make it to the elevator in time, but they still needed it to open, and by then the dogs will have already clenched their teeth deep into their throats.

Changbin seemed to realize it himself because he heard a soft sad sigh coming from the boy.

Minho was so caught up with his own thoughts of peril that he didn’t even notice the change in pressure on his side. Suddenly Changbin became heavier.

Yamako.

He turned his head to see the tall scientist stand firm in the middle of the hallway, waving his arms around wildly at them. “Go!” he screamed. “The elevator will take you to Jeongwoo!”

Minho thought about turning around and stopping the suicidal man, but his body couldn’t stop moving even if he wanted to.  The hallway was filled with the roars of the barking dogs, but Minho saw Yamako’s mouth moving and somehow made out the words he was saying.

“I’m sorry”

His eyes filled with tears as Yamako’s words hit him. He slammed into the elevator door and crashed his hand down on the button, opening it. He turned around, but immediately wished he hadn’t. Minho watched with horrified eyes as the dogs launch themselves onto Yamako, his body vanishing under the heap of flesh.  Changbin’s own eyes mirrored that of Minho’s as they watched their friend be eaten alive. There was a Bing behind them and Changbin threw himself and a frozen Minho into the elevator. Closing themselves off from the horrendous scene.

Suddenly the ravage barking and Yamako’s screams was silenced and they two laid in the elevator in stillness.

Detecting Employee ID Adachi Yamako. Level Clearance 5.

The elevator started to move downwards, and Minho sat in shock, his body still frozen. His mind tried to wrap around what just happened, and it seemed Changbin was just as shocked. Something hit him in the side, and he looked down realizing that Yamako’s Id Badge was tied around his wrist. He must have done it was they were running. Minho cradled the badge in his hand, tears flowing down freely.

“He…..” Minho trailed off, unable to finish.

They sat in silence a few more heartbeats before Changbin placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder, looking towards the doors “He was a good man.”

He nodded, wiping the tears from his face in an attempt to calm down. He silently thanked Changbin for willpower to push on. He wouldn’t dare say this out loud, but the more time he spends with younger, the easier it was for him to push his feelings aside and move on, not wanting to look weak. He had to continue on, for Jeongwoo’s sake. Clenching his fists, he picked up a still limping Changbin, throwing his arm over his shoulder. Yamako’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain if he had anything to say about it. The elevator binged again, and the doors opened to another rather spacious room. But instead of desks, the room was littered with large steel cages, some big, some small. Minho’s heart lurched as he realized they must have found where they kept the dogs.

“Where are we?” Changbin huffed.

“It’s where they keep their experiments” a familiar voice rang out.

Minho narrowed his eyes, grabbing hold of Changbin tighter. He looked at the direction of the voice and saw Jisung step out from the shadows, his gaze locking with Minho’s immediately.  Changbin groaned in relief next to him.

“Jeasus Sungie….don’t scare us like that”

“Don’t scare you?” The smaller boy hissed walking up towards them “I wasn’t the one running from Agents! I’m not the one limping! When communications went down I thought the worst! Felix and I-“

“Felix?” Changbin echoed, lightly pushing Minho away as to stand on his own “You brought Felix here!?”

“Yeah I did!” Jisung huffed, flicking the older boy on the forehead “Good thing I did too because your guys’ stunt caught Hyunjin and Seungmin in the crossfire! I mean honestly Changbin! They should be meeting us down here any moment”

Changbin opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by Minho.

“How did you get down here?” he asked, wonder in his voice as he stared at the smaller boy. Jisung turned his gaze back towards him and raised his hands in the air while shaking his head, eyes closed. “There are such things as stairs.”

As he said it, Jisung pointed towards the corner where sure enough Minho saw a flight of stairs heading upwards. He walked a few steps towards it, relief flooding in his body. They had a way out.

“We are about 25 floors down” Jisung said. “It’s a long way up, but since you guys destroyed the other elevator out we have no choice.”

“And not much time I’m afraid” another familiar voice sounded from behind them. Minho spun around to see with relief, Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin in toe, all a little bloody but no serious injuries. His heart warmed at the sight of Felix, a sense of familiarity hitting him. He hadn’t spoken to Felix since they both left the hideout and Minho was reminded that he still needed to apologize to the boy for lashing out at him.

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked, unsurprised at the additions but Minho took note of the tone of relief founded in his voice.

“They discovered his highness’ unconscious body. The alarm will sound any moment.”  The red headed boy reported. He glanced in his direction and Minho saw a sense of relief flood his own face as he saw him unharmed. Then his eyes flashed towards Changbin’s who Minho noticed was staring anywhere but in the younger boy’s direction. Minho watched as Felix’s eyes widened and he quickly jumped up to him.

“Here we go” he could hear Jisung mumble next to him.

“Seo Changbin. What is this?” Felix hissed, standing in front of the boy. Changbin, still refusing to look him in the eye shrugged nonchalantly.  Minho watched with a slight amused expression as he detected the mother like scolding tone in Felix’s voice.

“Well you see…I….errr…” the once aggressive boy stumbled on his words as Felix loomed over him and Minho had to stifled a laugh realizing that the harsh weapons specialist was terrified of Felix right now. As he should be.

“You tried showing off again didn’t you!?” he demanded, shaking the boy’s shoulders “What did I tell you about that?! No dying today or tomorrow. No dying ever! Got that Changbin?!”

Felix’s words started to fade out from Minho’s mind as something in the corner caught his eye. It was a soft, small movement, barley catchable, but Minho caught it nonetheless. The room they were in was rather ill-lit but as his eyes started to adjust, he realized with sinking horror that they were surrounded. There was something in the cages. Hyunjin and Seungmin’s attention were so focused on the couples bickering in front of them that they didn’t notice Minho take a step towards the cages.

But Jisung noticed. His gaze locked immediately onto Minho’s back, gaze unreadable.

“Minho” Jisung said, interrupting the boys quarreling. Felix immediately shut up, and all eyes turned to the lone boy.

“What is this place?” Minho whispered.

There was no answer from anyone. He turned around and was met with sympathetic faces all around. He looked at Jisung, eyes narrowing and then flashed towards Changbin. “Yamako said we would find Jeongwoo in here didn’t he?” Changbin nodded, his eyes worried. Minho felt his heartbeat pulsating, his breathing quickening.

“Minho hyung….” Felix trailed off, looking at him with sadness in his eyes, but Minho wasn’t looking at him, no, his gaze went straight towards Jisung’s, desperation in his face as the boy stared back with a glint of sympathy and sorrow. Suddenly Jisung’s words from earlier rang clear through his head.

“It’s where they keep their experiments”

Minho’s eyes darted around as his breathing grew heavier by the second.

They were surrounded by cages.

Cages that he thought originally were for the mutant dogs.

No…

“No” he choked out.

“It seems we were wrong about what The Order was doing to the Miracles…..” Jisung said quietly, confirming his fears “They weren’t killing them…..they were…..”

“Experimenting on them” Seungmin finished, looking at Minho with a cold stoic look “Whatever it is….those rapid dogs were the end result. The Miracles are being turn-“

“Shut up”

Minho’s ice cold voice shut Seungmin up before he could finish.

“Minho hyung please. It’s true….all of it” Felix pleaded, taking a step towards the older boy. But Minho took no note of him. His body was frozen still, all he could hear now was his own heavy breathing and the pounding of his heart.

No

It can’t be true

Jeongwoo isn’t one of those…those beasts.

Jeongwoo is safe. I just need to find him.

Suddenly and without warning, Minho shot forward, launching himself towards the nearest cage. He latched himself onto the bars, trying to peer in, but the next thing he felt was pain scorching his entire body. The bars were reinforced with electricity and at that very moment Minho felt every shockwave course through his body. He grunted in pain, but because the electric currents were messing with his nerve system, he was unable to let go. He stayed on the cage for a few more moments before he felt 2 pairs of hands rip his body off.

“Minho hyung!” Felix cried

“Idiot!” he heard Jisung snap.

“Jeongwoo….” He moaned out in pain, pushing the 2 boys off of him “I have….I have to find him.”

“There is at least a hundred cages here, all secured with an electric barrier around them” Jisung hissed “You’ll kill yourself!”

“Well then I’m one less person you have to worry about huh?!” Minho spat back “I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what happens to me….” He turned to face Jisung, his eyes brimming with tears “I’m going to save him! Even if it costs me my life!”

Jisung’s eyes widened.

“Hyung?”

They voice was so small, so frail, yet so achingly familiar that Minho’s heart started again, just to shatter slightly. He spun around and saw a small cage off to his side, in it, a lone figure stood near its edged, looking out. A figure that Minho longed to see.

“Jeongwoo” he barely managed to whisper out, as if he almost didn’t believe it. He could still feel the tears flowing freely down his face. He pushed himself forwards until he was almost touching the cage. There he was. He was tiny, tinier than usual. His skin was so sickly pale, like the blood had been drained from his entire body. Minho could see even through his white t-shirt that his ribs were poking out, almost like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Minho’s heart broke as he looked at the suffering boy. He reached out his hand but quickly receded it as the hum of the bars hit his ears.

“Minho hyung” Jeongwoo cried again, tears now in his eyes as well “Is it really you?”

Minho gave him a big grin, sniffling. “Yes” he choked out “It’s really me bud”

“Oh Minho hyung!” Jeongwoo sobbed, rushing towards the bars “Hyung I was so scared!”

“I know bud I know” Minho cried with him “But you don’t have to be afraid anymore.” He hiccupped “Hyung is going to get you out of here”

Jeongwoo began rubbing his face, tears ever flowing “Hyung! Hyung!” he sobbed “My sister……Sejeong…..I found her……..She…..I….. I-“

“Shhhhh” Minho soothed “it’s okay Jeongwoo. It’s going to be okay.”

“She wasn’t my sister anymore hyung!” he choked out “She…She turned…..into this scary monster…..I was so scared hyung!”

“I know” Minho lulled “I know you were. But it’s okay, hyung is here now…nothing can hurt you”

Minho’s heart broke as the younger boy’s sobs continued. They were so fill of pain. So full of raw heartache. This boy truly believed the past 2 years that he would eventually find his sister alive and well…..only to have The Order rip that dream from him. Minho couldn’t even imagine the pain. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails broke through his palm and blood started to trickle.

“I promise you Jeongwoo” he said through gritted teeth “Those here will pay for what they did to you.”

Jeongwoo pulled his hands away from his face and looked up towards Minho, eyes red with tears “I just want to go home with you and Hyunjae hyung” he sniffled.

And at that, Minho’s heart broke for a third time.

“Jeongwoo?” a soft voice ask from behind. “Can you tell us what they did to you?”

Jeongwoo sniffled some more before nodding, turning towards the source of the voice.

“Who are you?” he asked, unsure.

“We are friends. Promise.” Jisung said softly, kneeling beside Minho who didn’t dare take his eyes off the small boy in fear that we would vanish again.

Jeongwoo shook his head slightly, trying to think back “I don’t know exactly….all I know is that it hurt…. And I’ve been feeling funny since.”

As if on que, Jeongwoo’s eyes widened and he threw his head to the side as he vomited blood. Minho’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Jisung “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.

Jisung’s eyes were grave as he stared at the heaving boy but he did not answer him.

“Jisung” Minho blurted out “Please”

This got the brown headed boys attention and he flashed his eyes towards him before falling back on Jeongwoo and standing up. “Felix and I read it in a file The Order had…..they…..The Order was extracting Miracles of their DNA. For what purpose I don’t know….”

Minho thought rapidly “So what does that mean for Jeongwoo?”

“I….” Jisung trailed off, wincing.

“It’s impossible for Miracles to sustain life without their DNA” Seungmin explained. When Minho turned around and faced the smaller boy, he continued. “It’s just physically impossible…….if their DNA is extracted, then they die.”

Minho’s head whipped around to Jeongwoo who was still recovering.

“If that’s the case” Changbin piped up from the side “Then why is here still alive? No offense kid”

“And why are they turning into mutant man eating dogs?” Felix echoed.

Seungmin scratched his head, his mind hard at work. “We don’t know what they were doing with the extracted DNA, but we do know that they obviously were trying to sustain the Miracles life after the extraction….whatever they are using to keep them alive is probably what’s turning them into those creature….”

Seungmin trailed off as Jeongwoo’s body jerked again, sending his body into a series of violent shakes. ”Jeongwoo!” Minho cried, grabbing hold of the bars. He was so concerned with the convulsing boy that he forgot about the electric shockwaves and fell back in seething pain.

“Minho hyung!” Felix hissed in worry, rushing towards his side.

“I-I’m fine” he coughed out as Felix helped him up “We need to get Jeongwoo to a doctor.”

“A doctor isn’t going to fix this” Seungmin snapped at him harshly.

“Is there nothing we can do Minnie?” Hyunjin whispered sadly. Minho heard the younger boy sigh in defeat, a sense of sadness in his voice. “I don’t know….. I just don’t know….”

Suddenly a loud alarm went off, covering the room with a red, pulsating light. The Order knew they were there….again.

“We have to go!” Hyunjin cried, standing protectively towards the door in fear of Agents popping out. Minho looked at him incredulously “Not without Jeongwoo!”

“Minho”

He turned towards the voice, he eyes landing on Jisung’s face as he stared at the still convulsing Jeongwoo.

“Don’t” he started, knowing what the boy was about to say.

“We can’t help him.” He whispered “It’s too lat-“

Jisung’s sentence was cut short by the loud, sharp sound of Minho slapping him right on his cheek. Silence fell on the group as they all were frozen with shock.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” He spat out.

The sirens blared on as the two boys found themselves staring at each other. Jisung’s eyes were widened as he cradled his face while Minho stared back, determination set in his gaze. “I told you I don’t care what happens to me.” He could feel the tears flow down his cheek again as he felt his body overcome with emotion. “I’m not leaving him!”

Jisung just stared back, unable to respond. He continued to stare at Minho like he was thinking of something and then finally, after what felt like year, he snapped himself out of it and pulled out his phone.

“Chan hyung?” He said, his face back to the stoic look that Minho was so accustomed to “We have a situation…”

Jisung pulled the phone from his ear and palced it in the middle of them, pressing on the speaker button.

“Yeah I know you have a situation!” Chan growled on the other line. “You have Agents all over Spector coming down on that building! What the hell happened?!”

“It’s a long story” Jisung mumbled, voice deep in thought.

“Well you better get out of there and fast! There is only so much we can do!”

“We?” Seungmin echoed.

“Hiya guys!” a younger voice sounded from the other line. Minho saw Jisung’s eyes widened in slight horror “Innie!?”

“Yeah I know! Channie hyung let me outside! It’s a miracle!”

“More like a onetime deal.” Chan responded “Do you understand now why I need you guys out of there? I’m risking a lot here right now”

“That’s just it hyung” Jisung urged “We have a problem”

»»»»»»»

»»»»»»»

“You guys are going to give me heart attack I swear” Chan hissed as Jisung relayed their current situation to the leader. “Okay fine! Give me second to think of something!”

…

.

..

.

After what felt like forever, they heard someone snap their fingers on the other line.

“Jisung! Is there a way to disable the electric force field engulfing Jeongwoo’s cage?”

Jisung froze, and Minho watched as he could see the boy thinking furiously. “I-I think so… if I could get into the main system, I might be able to shut it down….” He paused “But hyung that’ll take time….time we don’t have!”

“Seungmin! What was your guy’s original plan to get out?”

“We placed several bombs in various points within the hideout and we were going to detonate them strategically and use the diversion to sneak out.”

“Excellent we can use those. Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin shook his head “One problem hyung. I don’t have my master control, it was confiscated when we were taken hostage.”

“You have a gun don’t you?”

“I mean yes but I th-“

“Use whatever you have to set those bombs off, I don’t care”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened and a small smile graced his lip as he saluted the phone. “Aye Captain!” Minho grabbed ahold of Jisung’s wrist and brought the phone closer to him. “Chan!” he called “I’m staying with Jisung.” As he said it, Minho locked his eyes with Jisung once more, determination in his gaze “I will help him by any means necessary”

“Minho you’ve done enough for us-“

“I’m staying “he declared, voice hard.

There was a short pause of silence, but Minho finally heard Chan sigh “Understood”

“Seungmin and Felix”

The two boys in questioned straighten up.

“You guys have done your part, I need you both to get Changbin out of there so that Woojin can take a look at that wound!”

Seungmin nodded, immediately going towards the smaller boy. Minho watched as Felix opened his mouth to argue.

“And no Felix you can’t stay. I know you want to stay with your friend, but Seungmin will be virtually helpless as he carries Changbin. You are the best at protection so they need you!” he growled out the last part out and Felix recoiled slightly. With one last look at Minho, the red headed boy turned around and picked up Changbin with ease, following Seungmin towards the stairs.

“As for the rest of you!” Chan shouted as gun fire could be heard on the other line “Hyunjin, Jisung and Minho! Rescue Jeongwoo and get out! That’s an order” he commanded

“Yes sir!” The 3 boys yelled in response. Jisung quickly hung up the phone and urned towards Hyunjin who was filling his gun with bullets.

“Be safe”

Hyunjin turned back towards him, a smile on his face “Right back at cha.”

And without a second thought, Hyunjin turned around and flew up the steps, disappearing to do his work. Minho’s heart lurched as they all went back towards danger. He thought of Changbin, already hurt immensely. He thought of Jeongwoo, whose body was dying with every second. If anyone else got hurt here….

“Come on” Jisung said, pushing Minho out of his thoughts “I saw a control room over there…maybe that can help”

Jisung picked up his lap top and sprinted over to the room where Minho went to follow.

“H-Hyung” a feeble, frail voice choked out.

Minho looked down to see Jeongwoo, who was now lying on his back, his eyes half closed as he panted.  

“Don’t you worry bud” he soothed “Hyung and his friends will get you out of here just you wait and see.”

And before Jeongwoo could respond, Minho ran towards Jisung, preparing to help save his little brother. He ran away so quickly that he didn’t even notice Jeongwoo’s convulsing body start to change. His breathing grew ragged as he lay on the cold steel floor.

He was beginning to change.