#i asked my friends where they thought he gets his daily egg and one of them said he lays it.

[buried-l0cket]

polygon nightly routine

semi prequel to this

[yowyowyaoi]

Itachi's Daily Texts from the Akatsuki, Part Two

From Kakuzu

Won't be as effective if you don't get some damn sleep.

You need to stay off of it for at least a week. I'll explain to Nagato.

How you choose to live (and die) is your own business.

Well tell him to take it easy with you. Your stamina isn't up for "extracurricular activities" like that, brat.

I'm aware. I'll deal with him later.

If you don't wish to pay it then use a candle instead of that lamp.

Once again, GO TO BED.

Your sweets consumption is appalling.

Of the three of you, I'm not sure which one worries me more. Four counting Tobi.

A gengetsu where all I have to do is sit still and money flies into my lap. Birthday present.

Your worst is likely STILL superior to his "best".

Rent is due. Utilities as well.

From Sasori

I swear your stubbornness rivals even that of Deidara's sometimes.

I'm working on a new remedy that should still the pain for much longer periods of time.

If you don't take better care of it I'll be forced to amputate. And as a warning, once I start with body modifications I find it very, very hard to stop.

SLEEP.

With as bad as your breathing sounds? The enemy would hear you coming from a mile away!

Eternal doesn't mean eternal patience.

I told him to behave himself with you or I'll take away his clay.

I wish I could help more. I truly do, child.

My thanks for the book, I'll return it within the week.

I'll admit I've thought about it but I'm not sure the sharingan would translate as well aesthetically in wood as it does in human flesh.

From Hidan

Prove it.

Mine's shorter but it's better. Not so greasy.

You'd be healed from everything if you just prayed to Jashin!!

It's a. Fucking. Fishing pole. He has like fifty! Why's he making such a big deal out of ONE?!

I did it and I'm NOT sorry.

Shit ain't my business but really isn't he too big for your sick-ass body?

Can't even tell you man.

It's not my deal but blondie looks cute as fuck when we go. Tell him I said that and I'll cut off your balls with my scythe.

You're like a fucking vampire dude. You NEVER SLEEP!

When I tried saying it Kakuzu almost knocked my head off my damn neck.

Stop being so gay and come with us. It's not like you've got shit else to do that day!

Whatever asshole.

I would rock your fucking world and I wouldn't break your ass in half like shark-dick.

Just use your creepy eyes and put him to sleep first! All we gotta do is cut off like two inches and he'll freak so bad he'll have a heart attack!

You know what? I'm gonna lend you my Jashin bible. One you read it you'll see I'm right about everything I keep telling you!

From Zetsu

You hurt his feelings, child. He said you're the only ones left of your clan and you never wish to spend time with or even speak to him.

I can smell it coming from your pores.

Time is merely an illusion.

These trips to Konoha are proving quite lengthy ...

You should probably lay low for a bit. Kakuzu finally received the credit card bill for all of those tea and dango shops.

That's a lovely idea but I doubt ALL of us could go to one place without causing some chaos.

There is no heaven and no hell. There is simply NOW, and whatever realities we choose to create for ourselves.

I believe he's started to think of himself as being your "big brother". Could be either good or bad for you.

From Deidara

Art absolutely IS a "life necessity". Heathen.

As good as friends as two assholes can be, right?

Mine got softer since I started using the eggs. It's slimy but after it sets in, it's really great.

If I wasn't goofy about Danna and EVERY OTHER man in the world died, then maybe.

Should you really be drinking?

Maybe if you went to sleep! Fucking hell you're creepier than a vampire!

Yeah but if I DID like girls I bet I'd get more than you!

I just don't get why he wears it? He's hot as FUCK without it.

Would Kisame get mad if I asked him if he wanted to come with us to the aquarium?

Just get Konan to do it. She's nice and has soft hands.

Hidan wants to but I'd rather stay home.

Yeah I could teach you but yours wouldn't explode so what's even the point??

From Konan

Thank you! I can't believe you noticed! <3

You need the fresh air, come with me for a walk.

Don't listen to him ok?

Yes and no. More so "yes".

I wish I had the time for it.

I'm almost done with that book, you have the sequel right?

It's like every single particle of dust on the road just magically finds it's way into my hair.

If you're trying to avoid back pain, I'd advise against it.

Not that I don't appreciate them but ... did you go out at one in the morning to pick them?

He talks too loud and I've already got a headache.

Thanks for letting me borrow it, Nagato's hair is much healthier now.

From Tobi/Obito

You think THAT was bad?? Try BATHING the son of a bitch!!

You, me, and Sasuke could do it though. It would be more powerful than any clan that ever existed.

Just because it tasted good did NOT mean you needed to eat that many in one sitting!

I applaud the idea but with as weak as you are right now I don't see how it could work.

He's taller than you now. Still with the short hair though.

I can see I was wrong in criticizing Fugaku's parenting style because you ARE a handful, little cousin.

Four hours of uninterrupted sleep would do you a world of good.

Why should I give that up?? It's absurdity to think that an UCHIHA has a PUPPET as a romantic rival!!

It gets so hot and itchy under this thing.

A vacation somewhere warm and quiet would be nice.

Your idea of atonement is even more fucked-up than mine.

No but HE said I had to.

I'm honestly surprised nobody has tried to kill him yet.

I wish it was so. I truly do.

It's loud but you have to admit it's better than being alone.

Come and eat.

Depends on what your definition of "helpful" is.

From Kisame

Did you eat something yet?

Did you get any sleep last night?

Come here, I drew you a bath with lavender oil.

Can I help that I legitimately worry over you?

Just a snack? Just so you have something in your stomach? Please?

The water is warm and gentle and I bet a swim would cheer you up.

I forgot how much energy they have, I ran myself ragged trying to keep up with them!

Then come let me brush that beautiful hair of yours.

I understand. I don't agree but I get it.

Then just let me kill them. Problem solved.

Come on, please, just one quick little nap. An hour max.

They invited us but I know you don't really like red meat so I said no.

Fortunately MY bed is VERY warm and cozy. Come and see.

It might shock you to learn that there are other foods besides dango and tea.

You shouldn't even have to ask, that was 1000% Deidara.

There are other, and perhaps more interesting, ways of building your stamina. <3

Never imagined that one day I'd want something like this, but here we are.

Is it a little one or a big one? If it's small just take a deep breath and use your shoe.

I love you as well but dammit brat you'll be the death of me for sure!

[dira333]

Congrats on finishing Passing Peonies! As you could probably tell from my tags, I'm completely enthralled with it!

I was wondering if you'd considered what Shigaraki would be doing post war? This isn't necessarily a request for the follower milestone (though I do plan on sending in a request or two after I've gathered my thoughts). I was just curious if you'd had any plans regarding him in that universe.

Thank you for asking! I do know what Shigaraki is doing in the Passing Peonies world but I didn't want to convolute the story with too many people to focus on. So glad that I get to talk about it!

Deku managed to defeat All for One and Shigaraki by doing what he does best - get through to Shigaraki and convince him of the power of Friendship. Without Deku's example, Shouto might not have been so successful with Touya.

Not everyone from the League of Villains wanted to change, because not all of them wanted to be heard and understood in the first place.

The Public demanded harsh punishments but Allmight, coupled with Deku "the world-saver" and his friends, demanded a change in the system. Touya, Toga, Shigaraki, Spinner, Kurogiri... They were taken in for physical and psychological therapy. But, and that was important... They were not allowed to meet each other at first. They could ask questions about each other if they wanted to, but people were afraid that it would pull them down and hinder their healing if they were confronted with people from their past.

That did not work as well as they thought they would. Kurogiri almost broke out of the hospital he was in because no one would tell him where Shigaraki was held and if he was still alive.

Toga's mental health improved significantly once she had regular contact with Touya and Spinner was moved to the same hospital as Kurogiri and Shigaraki in an attempt to benefit Shigaraki's recovery.

Touya is the first to actually enter the rehabilitation program of all the villains, because he has the biggest support system: his whole family, plus Hawks.

Toga is second, because she has Touya to rely on, as well as Ochako who never misses their weekly trips to get coffee or try on cute clothes.

Kurogiri could have been the first but he will not leave Shigaraki's side. Him, Spinner and Shigaraki are living in a remodeled three bedroom apartment in a hospital wing.

Spinner is retaking highschool classes and is thinking about working for a mechanic as soon as he's allowed to start rehabilitation - his therapist is still a bit concerned with his obsession with Stain.

Kurogiri has weekly cooking classes with Present Mic and Aizawa which are doing nothing for his memory but they have gotten close.

And finally, we have Shigaraki.

After two years in therapy - at the end of Passing Peonies - he's doing a lot better. He wears gloves all of the time even though he's wearing quirk cancelling anklets and there are days where Kurogiri has to hang blankets over all the mirrors because Shigaraki doesn't want to see himself but he's doing better.

Kurogiri has taught him how to cook and he's making a fantastic fried rice with egg on top whenever Deku comes over (about once a week). Allmight visits him daily - he's at the hospital anyway, so why not? - and some days they spend by reading books together or Shigaraki explaining Memes to Allmight who has to peer at his phone through reading glasses like the old man he is.

Maybe in a year or so he might be able to start the rehabilitation process himself but he's not thinking about that now. He's just trying to get better, one day after the other, and not think too much about the future ahead.

[achillean-heartbeat]

i need help and wisdom from followers of Lord Beelzebub

i think beelzebub is reaching out to me.

the other day i got triggered so bad. it had been a long while since i was holding myself off from reaching this low again but i ended up crying for a full 2 hours while praying for Hecate to help me "become the master of myself and stop letting my reactions control me."

I had been feeling like beelzebub had been teaching out for a while, but i still had doubts because it didnt make sense to me that he would be. A few days ago i dreamt a short dark foggy dream and there was a light that shocked me awake and i said his name while waking up. I was so confused because i dont even read much about him in my daily life. I feel lik i should have taken this as a definitive sign but i kept brushing it off.

Back to my prayer to Hecate. The very next day after it, i kept seeing flies the whole day at work. With food related work its normal but we put up a very strong fly repellent and there is usually not one fly. There was flies EVERYWHERE and they stuck to everything. I took a five minute break wgile eating caramel ice cream and decided to think about beelzebub. specifically, i thought, "if i were to work with him, what can i even put up as offerings?" and the moment i thought that, a fly came and started eating ice cream from the edge of the cup.

the rest of the day at work i keot thinking about it and when my dad came to pick me up from work, there was a bee holding on for dear life to the winshield. there was a literal storm out. i dont know how in the laws of physics did it hold on. but it did.

when we parked i told my dad to go up without me and i picked the bee up and searched for flowers where there was other bees. i felt so bad we took her far away from its hive. so i put her there beside another bee.

I came back home and finally decided to research beelzebub, and to my surprise, he has the power to help with exactly what i asked from Hecate. So i thought... is it possible Hecate referred me (??) to him? Like does that happen between deities?

So after reading for the entire evening about beelzebub, i was in awe of him but a bit scared of everyone saying you should be really educated before contacting him because there is risk of somethig bad happening.

i fell asleep while reading about him and i had the most agitating dream i have ever lived. first of all, i kept being stuck in a loop of trying to wake up inside the dream, but it was just not working. at some point i think i was mentally awake but physically stuck. like i could hear myself grunting with effort to get up. i sleep on my stomach so i was facing the floor. somehow i was able to slightly raise my head and i instantly saw a tall slim dark figure in the corner of my eye. i instantly brought my head back down cuz i was scared shitless. i know this dreaming experience is common (i think they call it lucid dreaming?) but i have NEVER experienced this. i have friends who have but never me.

the next part of the dream was even crazier. i have a huge painting of a woman having a mental breakdown in my living room. i dreamt that i saw a firefly crawl from below it and light up (the living rooms light was off in the dream) and when i saw it, suddenly i saw a thousand of them light up from under the painting. in my dream, my mom comes in and takes off the painting to reveal an entire colony of fireflies and they were flying everywhere. my mom took a lighter and said "we have to burn it its ruined!" while crying and i kept holding her hand telling her no maybe theres a way to fix this then i looked down and saw that there was firefly eggs laid in the literal paintings fabric. then i woke up.

is this beelzebub reaching out to me?

[somewhere-over-the-rynbow]

Thoughts while listening to Death Shroud:

SPOILERS AHEAD. Obviously.

• nicknicknicknicknicknick

• Ellie where are you getting coffee

• what do you put in your coffee???

• “There aren’t many spare parts for you Nick” why can’t you use gen 2 synth parts?

• Goodneighbor? THIS EARLY? MY BITCH IS BACK?!

• HANCOCK HANCOCK HAN- Hancock? HANCOCK!?

• THEY HIT THE FUCKING PENTAGON THIRD RAIL

• HANCOCK!!!!!

• wait why would Nick order a drink

• KENT KENT KENT KENT KENT KENT KENT-

• KENT NO-

• omg canon Nora real???

• Nick stop encouraging Hancock’s chem use

• how the hell are they gonna get Hancock into Diamond City

• cram! It’s meat… mostly!

• DID THEY KILL ELLIE

• thank GOD ellie is safe

• “drab upstairs apartment” lmao they said your interior decorating skills suck nick

• Nick “The Dick” Valentine

• Okay WHO is charlie????

• damn what did the Minutemen do to y’all

• Nick 4 Mayor

• who even is the mayor of Diamond City now

• John “Hold Me Back Nicky!” Valentine Hancock

• that was supposed to say Hancock, but Valentine was accidentally typed and that’s funnier.

• 3/4 families are missing their daily intake of processed powder cheddar? Believable.

• ayo time skip?

• lmao Seth Patrick Day

• OMG REMINISCING ABOUT THE PREWAR GOD I LOVE THIS OLD MAN SO MUCH

• D I M A ! ?

• omg Nick and Nora are besties <3

• OMG ALL THE COMPANIONS HANG OUT!?

• Hancock you’re already back <3

• oh Moe,,,, never stop lying babe

• his source is “i made it the fuck up”

• The Mechanist is back????? Hello???

• salty bitch. can you leave Sole and Co alone like goddamn

• Is the Mechanist a Synth now?

• THE CHILDREN OF ATOM?????

• wait no

• NO

• YOU CANT DO AN AD NOW WHAT

• WHAT ABOUT PIPER??? CAIT???

• I don’t care who Nick Valentine sends, I am NOT eating sugar bombs

• did they fucking nuke Piper

• THEY FUCKING NUKED THEM!?

• NORA!!!!!

• omg Shaun :)

• omg Nick :(

• omg Danse???? Why are you here what

• hdjdjdjd say hi to your big brother Nick, Danse

• “don’t touch me” lmao

• oh FUCK MACCREADY

• oh no. strong left. that’s… so sad…

• Protective mom Nora!

• NORA AND HANCOCK NORA AND HANCOCK

• I love them all so much oh my god

• this is a fucked up family reunion

• ugh FUCK maxson all my homies hate maxson

• “An old flame” “Seriously? I wanna see how that works” Hancock is asking what we’re all thinking

• bro can Nora have anything

• I can not believe that Hancock and Danse are friends now lol

• lmao don’t rob the vault tec rep

• wait. why didn’t Nora invite him to Sanctuary :(

• HIS NAME IS MACK!?

• god I love you so much Mack

• omg this trio can NOT be good lol (Nora, Hancock, Danse)

• Nora how the fuck is Hancock lifting Danse

• “Danse, scan the building, use infrared vision to pick up vitals” “I don’t have infrared vision” “Really? So much for human 2.0” he’s such a smart ass I love him

• FEV conjoined twins???? Omg that’s so fucking cool

• Hancock, stealing is bad

• Hancock, Florida is bad

• lmao Danse is bitter about Nora taking Nick instead of him haha

• Oh shit they got Lorenzo’s crown? Nora you can’t leave this shit laying around girl

• OMG PSYKERS

• Nora really. You freed Lorenzo??? You dummy

• okay so Hancock and Danse aren’t really friends now lol, they just kinda tolerate each other. Real.

• “No, are you nuts? He’s armored, dual wielding, and you’re wearing a 16th century nightgown!” “You unpatriotic son of a-” “Hush, damn it!” these three are so important to me

• UNITY???? UNITY!? no way they’re doing a Master plot right?

• so is this the same mechanist as in the automatron DLC?

• damn these 3 are agile

• omg not Hancock’s coat!!!!

• oh fuck the silver shroud and mechanist fused

• can we please discuss how fucking disgusting yum yum deviled eggs sound. How the fuck were they preserving eggs. Why would you make prepackaged deviled eggs??? I always thought that was such a weird pick for a food lol

• YO WHY ARE WE AT SANCTUARY

• uh oh. UH OH.

• WHERE IS SHAUN.

• can y’all let Nora have ONE THING god DAMN

• OH THANK GOD CODSWORTH

• I cant believe they canoned Nora and Danse being together,,,, damn

• omg Hancock please don’t traumatize Shaun

• Hancock do NOT give Shaun alcohol oh my god

• THEY KILLED MAMA MURPHY :(

• can they stop killing my favorite old people

• omg I forgot about you Nick lol

• hey Charlie? What the fuck

• DONT FUCKING HUMAN NICK-

• do NOT kill Mack PLEASE

• KELLOGG!???? WHY ARE YOU HERE

• bro can Nora have ANYTHING damn-

• can’t have shit in the commonwealth fr

• AMARI WHAT THE FUCK

• OMG KELLOGG NICK THING IS TIED UP!?

• Mack you are fucking useless (I still love you though)

• why are we talking about puppies what

• oh my god :(

• OH FUCK A BOMB?

• Nick… you fucking plug yourself into computers???? hacker supreme

• omg he’s so robot

• omg Mack you are so papaw

• it’s cre-shendo not cre-sendo

• Nick you are NOT captain america omg

• shit I guess he is captain America

• poor papaw has had such a day let him go home Nick

• “I’m not asking!” DAMN nick

• WHAT. HOW DID HE CALL A CAB.

• HOW DOES HE HAVE A PHONE???? WHAT JUST HAPPENED???? WHAT

• this is so funny what the fuck is happening

• WHY IS EVERYONE ACTING LIKE THIS IS NORMAL WHAT

• YOU CANT CUT TO A VIM AD NOW HUH

• ok it is kinda funny to imagine a salesman in power armor lol

• Huh. Cannibals will eat ghouls. Interesting.

• learn to drive? How? What driving schools are there???

• okay the idea of a cab driver in the commonwealth is so funny. But how the fuck did Jefferson come into existence-

• NICK CAN WALK UNDERWATER????

• WHAT. IS NICK A TIME LORD!?

• WHAT IS HAPPENING. WHAT. NICK. NICK WHAT IS HAPPENING. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

• WAIT IS 47 THE UNDERWATER VAULT!?

• Mack is so real lol

• HIS NAME IS DAVID DWECKER!? I THOUGHT IT WAS MACK

• omg David my beloved peepaw

• 747683 is not 5 digits Nick

• Champion of Justice???? What?

• WHY WOULD THE CODE BE SHROUD?????

• maybe I’m missing something?????? It is 6 am lol

• I’m sorry, did Nick magic a fucking vault into existence

• CRYOPOD!!!!!! TWO YEARS AGO???? WHAT.

• time to wake up bitch

• NICK STOP MAGICING

• … what? THE SILVER SHROUD!?

• WHAT IS HAPPENING

• but… the shroud… isn’t real… did Nick just create the fucking Silver Shroud?

• it should be 2289, not 2287

• “Same words Hancock uttered after smoking a tire that one time…” huh???? Nick and Hancock hang out lol

• EMOJI???? HOW DO THEY KNOW WHAT EMOJI’S ARE!????

• I’m sorry, I can’t get over Nick Valentine accidentally bringing fucking Batman into existence simply for the drama of it all

• Poor David lol

• How The fuck is Nick gonna explain all this to Nora, Danse, and Hancock

• HOW DOES THE SHROUD KNOW JEFFERSON????

• oh. Ok. That makes sense.

• this is like the world’s strangest fanfiction

• NICK. STOP DOING MAGIC. OH MY GOD.

• WHY ARE NORA AND DANSE HERE. WHO IS DEAD. WHAT.

• WHERE IS HANCOCK!?

• WHY IS THE SHROUD CASUALLY A PART OF THEIR GROUP NOW

• MACCREADY IS DEAD!? WHY IS HE HERE. WHERE DID HE COME FROM.

• Okay, I’m starting to think that Nick managed to get high off Jet or smth

• who is the duke????

• “sociopath science daddy in slacks” What the hell maccready

• “just one more job” thanks. Gonna go sob now

• omg fancy lad snack cakes my beloved

• omg Hancock is in his Robin era

• wow. Just remembered Kent is dead. Devastating

• pay your employees Shroud.

• An old lady, the Silver Shroud, and Hancock get into a cab…

• why is no one questioning this cab

• honestly though. I understand why Hancock isn’t. He probably just thinks he’s hallucinating lol.

• “Fish Lips Malone!” what. is happening. I’m as confused as Hancock is…

• “activate passive aggressive restraint!” What is that????

• Hancock why do you know every criminal.

• “yes indeed my flesh peeling friend!”

• “man I have never seen anyone who needs to be laid more than you do” “finally someone else says it” oh my GOD I love Hancock so much (and Jefferson. Man, do I love Jefferson.)

• “omg Hancock we’ve been waiting for you! Oh… and the shroud’s here, too…” just like me fr

• Is the Silver Shroud an incel…

• THEY MEDUSA’D MAGNOLIA!?

• lmao everyone else hates Johnny Guitar?

• KELLOGG GET THE FUCK OUT.

• Hancock you are REMARKABLY casual about the dead man in your booth

• The Silver Shroud is a short king lol

• why is Kellogg the only one who thinks the shroud being here is weird

• Nora is an “uppity broad” lol

• why are y’all dissing Hancock, leave my man alone-

• Just gotta say… it’s a great day to be a Hancock stan

• THE DUKE IS THE MECHANIST!?

• what. A literal rat faced man? Why does he have 3 arms?

• Hm. They still do beehive hair, huh? I’m kinda impressed

• what do you mean they turned Louie into a mole rat using the creation engine

• “stay low to the ground, my crusty companion!”

• THEY TURNED THE SILVER SHROUD’S GUN INTO A DOG????

• THEY TURNED HANCOCK INTO A STATUE NO-

• how could they do this to me.

• the Silver Shroud can say fuck. Nice

• omg wait

• Hancock is… Hancock’s… he’s…

• he’s stoned

• ba-dum-tsh

• Travis, please don’t sexually harass all of Diamond City

• I’m more than half way through this and I genuinely have no clue what’s going on lol

• omg they legit are using the creation engine huh

• HANCOCK???? YOURE BACK??? WHY DID YOU DRINK GASOLINE!???

• I wanna have tea with god…

• Dr… Satan?

• HAROLD!? WHY ARE YOU HERE????

• Nora 🤝 Harold

never getting to rest

• I think it’s very funny that Hancock is just… back.

• damn they all got stoned

• and the stone is gone again

• what even is the point of the stone lol

• THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!?

• OH MY GOD

• OH MY GOD

• OH MY GOD

• THEY KILLED THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!?

• who is… showing up…

• WHO IS OBEDIAH BLACKHALL

• Damn. Bye bye Obediah.

• I genuinely can’t remember what started this lmao

• Oh fuck, Kellogg is back…

• omg they broke the scarab!!!

• what do you mean by too many voices

• too many characters??????? WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT

• WHY IS IT JUST NICK AND THE SHROUD VS REALITY

• they are SO remarkably calm

• “see if you can… blind him with some… bullets to the face” yeah that should do it Nick

• “my speed should give me the upper hand” your what Nick

• WHY IS NICK SUPER FAST WHAT

• … they’re summoning bitches now? A Grognak bitch? WHY ARE YOU HERE?

• wait. Nora is the one magicing?

• oh wait. You mean that Nora was the silver shroud for a while. Right? What is happening.

• The Silver Shroud is really good at sticking to his bit lol

• OMG NORA BECAME THE SILVER SHROUD AND CHANGED REALITY?????

• Silver Shroud speed runs an existential crisis

• uh oh

• uh oh

• uh oh

• reality is literally crumbling

• SHEOGORATH!?

• oh fuck Bethesda is crumbling

• GLADOS!?

• THE JOKER!!!!!???

• CLAPTRAP!!!!!!!????

• Poor Nick…

• can you guys stop having relationship issues when I’m on the phone with my dentist

• SNIPER?????

• GLADOS is hitting on Nick Valentine. Yeah. Okay.

• “Thank you, intelligent sociopathic blender!”

• at no point could I have predicted this.

• they gave Nick a portal gun.

• he is opening a portal on the moon.

• they are essentially creating a black hole.

• How The FUCK is Nick supposed to mentally handle all of this

• GLADOS didn’t even get to say goodbye :/

• omg they’re in the creation engine

• OH MY GOD THEY ARE IN TODD HOWARD’S BRAIN????

• Jesus Christ, poor fucking Nick

• Hey, you. You’re finally awake.

• what do you mean it was all a dream

• how did Nick fall asleep

• is everyone alive??????

• wow. Huh. What.

[usermischief]

♜Pairing: Briles ♜Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Brett Talbot, Kira Yukimura, Lori Rohr ♜Tags/Warnings: getting together, explicit sexual content ♜Words: 8217 ♜Kinktober 2023: Reluctant Sex

ao3

---

this funny feeling

“And, here you go.” The hotel employee pushes the door to the dining room open.

Stiles smiles at her. “Thank you so much. I’m terrible with directions.” And he’s a bit too tired after having to catch a fight at 3 am to navigate a hotel he’s never been to.

“That’s absolutely no problem, darlin’.” The woman smiles before returning to the reception. Luckily, it’s early enough that not too many people are out and about yet.

So, Stiles isn’t surprised when the only people he spots in the dining room are Satomi, Morrell, Brett and Lori, as well as two couples with newborns. He’d have preferred for Kira to be up as well, but he also can’t expect her to crawl out of bed at 7 am during her vacation.

Stiles’ heart jumps when Brett turns to look at him — and a smile blossoms on his lips. Fuck. This is the worst. He thought he’d be over him, still, every time he sees Brett again, his crush on the guy all but punches him in the face. Going to the same university for two years brought them a lot closer together. They were friends, surely. In the beginning out of convenience, but that changed later. They hung out daily, and Stiles’ heart did what it did best — it got attached. He did date other people during and after college, but it didn’t fucking matter. Every time he sees Brett again, he’s right back where he started.

Stiles takes a deep breath and crosses the room. “Good morning.” With a little awkward wave, he drops his bags on a chair next to Brett. “And thank you so much for the invitation. I know this is a pack thing…” A two week long vacation is exactly what he needs after the year he’s had, but he’s still a bit unsure about the whole thing. Part of him feels like he’s intruding on something private.

“Kira and Brett insisted to have you join us.” Satomi smiles up at him.

Brett too?

Surprised, Stiles glances at the werewolf, who jumps to his feet. “Let’s get you some breakfast. You must be starving.” He ushers Stiles away from his snickering sister and towards the buffet without waiting for a reply.

Stiles doesn’t have it in him to tell Brett that he already had breakfast, that usually ended in a very long discussion of his terrible eating habits. During college, Brett had made it his mission to make sure Stiles eats three times a day — even when he was stuck in one of his terrible relationships. Plus, Stiles doesn’t mind to spend as less time as possible with Morrell, who told him she’d kill him the last time they spoke, and Satomi, who still kind of scares him. He doesn’t get a read on her, and he’s not a fan of that.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Stiles asks as Brett pushes an empty tray into his hands. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glances back towards the table and catches Satomi’s eye. Great. Grinning awkwardly, he turns back to Brett. They’ve been close during college, but never meet-the-parents close.

“She likes you,” Brett tells him as he puts a bowl of scrambled eggs and two slices of toast onto Stiles’ tray.

Does she? “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her.”

Contemplating the options, Brett merely shrugs. “You saved my life. She’d marry me off to you if that were still acceptable in today’s society.”

Stiles squints at the French toasts that are added to his tray. “That’s been a thing?”

“Yup,” Brett says, reaching for a bagel before he continues, “provide and protect are the most important features of a future mate.” Deciding against the bagel, Brett adds a couple of waffles before Stiles even has the chance to move away — who the hell is supposed to eat all of that? “It’s a stupid tradition. Nobody cares about that any longer.”

“I’m good.” Stiles grabs Brett’s arm, stopping him from adding anything else to his plate. “You provided me with enough food. More than enough, actually.”

Brett stares at him.

Stiles tries not to laugh.

“Asshole,” the werewolf mutters eventually, flicking Stiles’ forehead. “Keep that up and you’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Sleep on the—" Stiles isn’t entirely sure if he heard that right. That’s a joke. It has to be. “Are we sharing a bed?” Hopefully, that’s not the case. Stiles hardly survived sleeping on a pull-out couch with Brett after a party, how the fuck is he supposed to get through two weeks of not only sharing a room but also a bed?

“Yup,” Brett confirms as if that’s the most normal thing in the whole wide world. “Don't hog the blanket.”

Oh god.

———

Sighing, Stiles sits up and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t exactly fall asleep on the beach often. To be honest, the last time he did that was when his mum was still alive. The fact that basically passed out in public says a lot about how desperately he needs sleep. This vacation has barely started, and Stiles already misses this freedom. But there won’t be a lot of time to sleep once work is starting again.

Stiles crosses his arms over his knees and scans the beach for Brett. He’s not too far away, entertaining a group of the youngest werewolves with a girl Stiles has never seen before. They look awfully… domestic. Like this is a thing that is happening all the time. It hurts watching them. It hurts in a way Stiles didn’t expect. Feeling like this is fucking stupid. He shouldn’t. After all, he threw himself in every relationship he could find. He stayed in every relationship that was convenient enough, no matter how terrible it ended up being, just to keep his heart occupied because he was too afraid to get his heart broken by losing Brett if he told him he loved him.

The girl brushes her hand over Brett’s arm, something Brett doesn’t react to — either because it’s a too common occurrence or because he doesn’t care.

Please, don’t care.

“That bitch.”

“Lori!” Kira is sitting up on her own towel, staring at her friend in shock.

But Lori doesn’t react. She crouches down next to Stiles, arms crossed over her thighs. “You know I’m right.”

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “Who is that?” He can’t deny the pang of jealousy, or the frustration gnawing at him — and he can’t help but wonder, however briefly, if he’s missed an opening, he’s never been aware of.

“It’s Finch’s daughter,” Kira informs him, propping her chin on her left knee.

Finch’s kid? So, she probably knows Brett well. They must be close with each other since Finch and Satomi have decided to go on vacation together. Maybe they’re close in a way that— Stiles shakes his head and curls his hands into his towel. Best not to think about that right now.

Lori looks as if she’s smelling something rotten. “Quinn thinks she and Brett will bring the packs together one day,” Lori drawls, her voice teetering somewhere between annoyance and disgust, “through marriage.” At that, Lori shoots him an exasperated look.

“Marriage?” Stiles laughs because if he didn’t do that, he might end up screaming. “Brett?” he keeps going, going, going, trying so hard not to let the fear creep in. “He’s never going to marry.” Every time they as much as scratched the topic of marriage, Brett instantly changed it.

Lori stands up. “Not her, at least. Come on.”

“What?” Stiles looks up at her, drawing his brows together.

“We’re going to go swimming.” Clearly not in the mood for discussions, Lori grabs him by the upper arm and quite unceremoniously yanks him to his feet. The Talbots’ bossy nature really is fucking exhausting. “Drop the shirt. Kira, let’s go.” Lori doesn’t wait for either of them to follow them.

Knowing a little too well that any discussion is pointless, Stiles yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it onto his towel. If Lori wants him to go swimming, he will go swimming with her. Kira seems to have come to the same conclusion since she’s joining him on his way to the sea.

That Quinn girl spots them first, her features darkening almost at once. Mrs. Finch disliked him ever since Stiles corrected her once during AP Biology. Clearly, she didn’t speak fondly about him in front of her daughter.

Fantastic.

“Lori, hold on.” To his surprise, she stops dead in her tracks — causing him to almost crash into her — and stares at him with the same intensity remembers very well from Brett. “I don’t want to cause trouble, okay?” For one, it’s the first day of his vacation, he doesn’t need thirteen tense days. His anxiety is going to kill him. For another, Stiles doesn’t need to make shit any more complicated between the two packs.

But Lori merely waves a hand. “You’re here to resolve some issues, trust me.” And with that, the discussion seems to be over for her. Instead, she turns around. “Quinn, the girls want to play mermaid, not sea witch. Feel free to leave.”

Kira covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Clearly nobody like Quinn.

“Yukimura!” Brett bellows from somewhere to their right. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Oh, shit.” Without warning, Kira grabs Stiles’ hand and yanks him around, hightailing it in the opposite direction. Her grip around his fingers is tight, unrelenting, almost as if she expected him to take a moment to tap into his fox again. He’s never been the biggest fan of the remains of the nogitsune still deeply anchored in his DNA.

But his body does remember its powers a lot quicker than he expected. “What’s going on?”

Kira lets go of his hand, probably realizing that Stiles can keep up with her, and scrunches up her face. “I may have made a bet with Brett,” she admits, glancing over her shoulder, “saying that there’s no way they could capture us.”

Us as in kitsunes, Stiles assumes, but before he can dwell on it too long, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. “A little warning would’ve been nice.” He grabs her around the waist and stops both of them in their tracks. Tierney and Jiang have cut off their path now that the beach has gotten a lot emptier. Both of them are brimming with excitement.

Stiles twists around, so he’s standing back to back with Kira.

And Brett is right there.

Fuck.

Stiles steps away from Kira, watching as Brett comes running at him fast. There’s an almost predatory grin on his lips. Heart hammering in his chest, Stiles chances a glance over his shoulder, hating that he can’t see Jiang and Tierney without looking away from Brett. The two of them, however, seem to be focused on Kira. Good. But going up against Brett isn’t exactly the outcome he would’ve preferred.

“Split up,” he says, and Kira doesn’t hesitate a second. She spins on around and dashes back the way she came from. Stiles does the same thing, rushing past Tierney in the opposite direction of Kira. They’re faster than wolves, for the most part, but running in sand is a fucking nightmare for Stiles. He’s more stumbling than running. Finding every fucking hole in the world is really on brand, meaning Stiles’ advantage is dwindling fast— because Brett is not a goddamn klutz while running.

Stiles glances over his shoulder, and instantly regrets his decision. He misses a quite deep hole and steps right into it. His shin smacks against the edge, and all he can do is trying not to eat sand. Cursing under his breath, Stiles pulls himself out. Before he has the chance to get his feet back under him, Brett’s arm is around his waist, and he spins him around, pushing him into the sand.

The grin on his lips is more than predatory. “You can’t run from me, little fox,” Brett whispers as he’s leaning down until their noses almost brush.

Stiles’ heart all but skyrockets. “Is that a threat or a promise,” he asks, and he hates how breathless he sounds, hates that his body wants to stay right here and not move whatsoever. He’s not exhausted, not in the slightest, and he’s here to win a bet.

“A bit of both,” Brett replies, sounding just as breathless. He doesn’t move either and remains kneeling over Stiles’ legs, fingers digging into the sand next to Stiles’ head.

Stiles licks his lips, breath catching in his throat when Brett’s gaze drops down to follow the movement. Despite himself, Stiles holds his breath for a moment, too scared to move a single muscle. What is going on? Why is he looking at his mouth like that? He sucks in a breath. “What’s going to happen now?”

Brett blinks and locks eyes with him again. “Ocean,” he mutters, brows slightly furrowed. It almost seems as if he’s not sure himself if that’s really what’s going to happen. He certainly doesn’t move to get Stiles any closer to the ocean. Instead, his gaze darts back to his mouth again. Brett swallows, licks his lips, and his gaze flicks up to meet Stiles’ again. “I—" Brett cuts off, and he cups his cheek.

Something clicks into place.

Oh god.

Brett is trying to kiss him. Brett wants to kiss him.

And for a second, Stiles considers letting it happen. Because why not? This is everything he wants. Kissing Brett has been on his mind since meeting him again in college. Stiles swallows, parts his lips. But he’s going to leave, and Brett is going to return to Beacon Hills — and he can’t do that to himself. He fucking can’t.

“Ocean,” Stiles repeats softly, but Brett doesn’t even react. His thumb is tracing his jaw, and Stiles’ heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest. Bad. Bad. “Shark!” Stiles yells, ripping his hand out of the sand.

Brett pulls away, staring at him as if he’s lost his mind. Which is fair. It’s not like sharks are usually hanging out in the sand, but it’s really the only thing he manages to come up with to distract the werewolf — and open up a chance to push him off.

Something he does instantly, forcing a grin on his face and pretending as if Brett didn’t hear his heartbeat or pick on his chemo signals. “I’m not going to be captured by a wolf.” Twisting away, he gets to his feet surprisingly quickly and doesn’t hesitate to dash back in the direction of the others — in the direction of safety.

———

“You’re up early.”

“Look who’s talking.” Stiles grins up at Kira and pets the blanket next to him.

She plops down, body warm and sweaty from what’s very clearly been a morning workout. Her dedication is admirable. He didn’t make it a week, and he’d especially not do it on vacation. Kira yawns and pulls her legs to her chest. “What got you out of bed? Insomnia?”

Stiles wishes insomnia was the issue for once.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Aside from spooning him and giving Stiles the worst and most awkward morning boner, he’s had since fucking high school.

Kira cocks her head. “But he drove you out of bed at 5am?”

Stiles falls back and crosses his arms over is stomach. Only a second later, Kira does the same. They haven’t been able to do this in years. He’s been so busy working on getting the FBI’s supernatural division up and running, he hardly had time to even miss his friends. But right now, he hates being so far away, hates how occupied he is with travelling everywhere, sitting in hour-long meetings, trying to make supernatural creatures understand that he’s with them instead of against them.

And then he goes home alone, or crashes into a strange hotel bed in a strange town with no one to keep him company.

If everything goes well, Stiles will have another 12 months of this.

Stiles lets out a breath. “I can’t do this.”

“You still love him.” It’s not a question. It never has been a question.

“I can’t sleep in a bed with him for two weeks and walk away with my heart in one piece.” At this point, Stiles can’t even tell if he’s not too far down the rabbit hole already. How the fuck is he supposed to be this close to Brett and then act like nothing at all happened?

Kira turns onto her side, brushing strands out of her face. Her eyes are heavy on him, searching. “What if you tell him?”

“That I’ve been in love with him since college?” Stiles barks out a laugh, cold and humorless, a sound that hurts in his throat.

Kira gently pokes his side. “You’re not unlovable.”

Huffing out a breath, Stiles rolls onto his side too, facing her, and instantly, he’s transported back to college. How many nights have they spent exactly like this? More than he can count, that’s for sure. He’s never felt more peaceful. “But it’s Brett. Do you remember him ever being even remotely interested in a relationship?”

“But what if he is interested in you?” Kira urges, raising her brows in question.

Stiles pinches his. “Do you know anything?” It’s not necessarily unlike her to be this pushy, but it’s still a little unusual.

“No.” She shakes her head a little before propping herself up onto her elbow. “But Brett wouldn’t give away his right to a single room for just anyone.” That’s phrased very kindly. They both know Kira means that he wouldn’t give up his chance to have sex with various hot people hanging out at the hotel. “When I talked to him about inviting you, he instantly offered.” It’s not hard to see where she’s coming from. Brett wasting two weeks of sex with strangers without a second of hesitation isn’t exactly like him.

Stiles lets out a breath. “Okay, but even if he just so happens to like me back romantically…” he scowls a bit, but he cannot bring himself to say love. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous. “What good is it going to do? I’ll leave in two weeks, and there’s nothing I have to offer in terms of a relationship. I can’t even say when I’ve got the time to see him again. Do you know how hard it was to get these two weeks off?” He knows he’s being unfair by making it sound like this is some type of hardship. He wants to be here, but he’s a one-man-team at the moment. It’s a fucking nightmare. “Please, don’t get me wrong—"

“Oh, I know.” Kira sits up, smiling down at him over her shoulder. “But maybe things are easier than you think. You know how a different perspective can help.”

“So what?” Stiles its up too, bumping against her shoulder. “I should just tell him?” There’s no way that’s going to lead anywhere, not when Brett is Satomi’s second in command, and Stiles is the leader of the supernatural division. Maybe things will be calmer when everything is established.

Stiles squints at the storm in the distance, watching it creep closer minute by minute.

That’s a big fucking maybe.  

“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t knock it till you try it.” She bumps into him with a chuckle.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ll think about it.” But he’ll doubt he’s ever going to admit to his feelings. He doesn’t want to allow himself the type of hope that will eat him alive.

“And if it gets too much for you, I’ve got room in my bed too.” Kira wraps an arm around him and scoots closer, so she can prop her head on his shoulder.

The first rumble of thunder is audible when Stiles leans his head against hers. It won’t take much longer until the storm is right above their heads. But neither of them moves.

———

Instead, they ran inside through the rain, laughing and cursing and probably being a menace for the hotel staff. Stiles does feel a little bad in retrospect. They did leave behind a few tracks, but Stiles only cared about getting into the shower, and now he desperately needs to get some food into him.

But the moment he reaches the dining hall, Quinn steps in his way. “So, you’re this year’s conquest.” She leans against the wall right next to the door. As she shifts in front of him, Stiles has the weird feeling that she’s been waiting for him.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles glances from her to the rest of the room and back again. “Sorry?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Quinn’s smirk is about as pleasant as nails on a chalk board. “Every year, Brett finds someone, makes them feel special, fucks them, and then doesn’t even look at them the next day. Didn’t peg you as one to fall for that.” 

Stiles stares at her, trying his best not to let his feelings get to him. It’s not like there’s a relationship in the cards; they’re living at opposite ends of this country. Stiles’ schedule with the FBI is a nightmare, and Brett, well, he’s supposed to be Satomi’s successor. He can hardly leave the pack. Stiles doubts he’d— why is the even thinking about this again? Only an hour ago, he’s talked this through with Kira, and as much as he’s trying to find it in himself to look for something positive, he can only focus on the negative. Probably because there are so much more arguments for keeping quiet.

Stiles shakes his head, deciding that not deigning this with a response is probably the best idea, and moves to walk away.

Quinn steps in his way.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

“An apology.”

Stiles blinks. “For what?” They haven’t spoken a single word since he’s arrived. All she did was glaring at him from a distance.

“You’re ruining this,” Quinn tells him, stepping closer. Her eyes burn yellow, reminding Stiles that he should bring a weapon the next time he joins this type of fun. She looks ready to jump him. “Brett and I are supposed to—.”

“Bring the packs together?” Despite everything, Stiles has never been afraid of most werewolves. He whacked the fucking twins with a baseball bat when they were morphed into one weird as hell abomination, and he very colorfully told one of them what he’d do with a branch of mistletoe. He’s not going to be intimidated by Quinn. Raising his brows, Stiles leans forward a little. “I don’t care about your future plans, so back off before I forget that I’m with the FBI.” Stiles is really good at picking fights with people he doesn’t know. But this time, it’s at least not his fault.

Not entirely at least.

Quinn steps closer again, but before she has the chance to do anything, Brett appears out of nowhere and fits easily into the space between them. “Hey.” His voice is light and charming, but his rigid body speaks a different language. “Is there a problem?”

Stiles lets out a breath. Part of him wants to push Brett out of the way and deal with Quinn himself. He doesn’t need protection.

“You should find a different bitch, that one bites.” Quinn spits, stepping away from Brett with a sneer.

Stiles lunges forward, but Brett is faster than him. Grabbing his waist, he pulls him flat against his side, holding him back with no effort whatsoever. “Call him a bitch again,” Brett says in a low voice that’s so much more threatening than any growl could ever be. “I dare you. See what happens.”

For a moment, Quinn stands stock-still, staring at Brett as if she’s trying to figure out what the right thing to do is. She flares his nostrils as she takes a breath then gives Stiles a nasty smile. “We’ll continue this conversation probably much sooner than later,” she drawls, shooting Brett a look before stepping away. “Have fun.” Turning his back on them, Quinn walks into the dining hall.

Does she think Stiles is afraid of facing her alone? Because if that’s the case, she’s dead wrong. If Brett weren’t having an iron grip on him, Stiles would show her exactly what he thinks of her.

Fucker.

Brett doesn’t let go of him, holding him flush against his side, fingers digging into his waist, probably sensing that Stiles is very much itching to jump the other werewolf.  “Let’s go outside.” It’s not a request, and he’s not waiting for a response anyway. Instead, Brett grabs him by the back of his shirt and yanks him around so fast, he almost lost this footing. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he informs him in a hushed tone.

Once through the door, Brett lets go of him with a shake of his head.

It’s stormy outside. Rain is pounding on the canopy of glass. The conversations from inside barely reach them here, even less when Brett pulls the door shut behind them. Stiles nudges a chair with his foot, barely repressing the urge to kick it across the patio and into the pool or turn around and snap at Brett as well. Just for good measure. He can’t believe the guy had the nerve to drag him around like a rag doll. Instead, Stiles takes a deep breath and directs his gaze to the dark horizon. “There’s a beach ten feet from here,” he mutters, pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “why the fuck would they have a pool?” Stepping right up to its edge, Stiles contemplates throwing himself into the cool water. Maybe that would drown the anger.

Stiles gets the feeling this whole vacation was a terrible idea.

“Sharks.” Brett doesn’t hesitate to reply and comes to stand next to him, so close their arms are almost touching. “But I bet you don’t fear those either.”

Stiles shoots him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Humming softly, Brett shrugs. “Not many people would talk to a werewolf like that. You’d probably punch a shark in the nose before it got too close.”  

“That’s how you lose a hand,” Stiles replies, fixing his gaze on the thunderstorm in the distance. “You want to hit the gills or eyes. Preferably the gills.”

“And threatening a werewolf is how you lose your head.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but Brett is probably right. “Noted.”

“Can we go back inside without you trying to kill her?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Stiles keeps staring towards the horizon.

Brett huffs out a breath. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the dark clouds as if they’re to blame for this. “She came at me.” He doesn’t even understand why she’s so upset at him. After all, Quinn said herself that Brett is always hooking up with random people. Besides, if she knows him even a little, she’s fully aware that Brett isn’t at all interested in anything that’s even remotely like a relationship. The guy has serious commitment issues. If Quinn really believes Brett will settle down with her, she absolutely has to rethink her world view.

Sighing, Brett wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulls him close. “I know.”

Stiles hates how his body instantly melts against Brett’s. At this point, the guy doesn’t even have to be a werewolf to notice that something’s up. But waking up next to him, missing him since graduating from college — part of him is tired of hiding his feelings. Maybe Kira is right. Maybe he should say something. If Brett doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he might be able to finally move on. “She believes you’ll settle down with her.” Stiles knows he sounds jealous, but perhaps this is another way to figure out what’s what without serving his heart on a silver platter.

“And?” Brett cups Stiles’ jaw, easily moving his head so Stiles has to look up at him. “What do you believe?” 

That’s not the answer he hoped for.

Stiles swallows around a lump in his throat. “I can’t see you settling down,” he whispers, suddenly hit with an awful déjà vu.

“Not with her, at least,” Brett mutters, a smirk curling around his lips, and just like that, he leans down.

Slowly.

Giving Stiles time to react.

Panic floods his veins. The moment he kisses Brett, the moment he allows this to happen, there is no going back. There’s no way to stop his heart from free-falling. But he can’t be Brett’s hook-up for this vacation. He can’t do it. So, Stiles jerks backwards — and loses his footing completely. The pool, he realizes belatedly.

Fuck.

Stiles flails, knowing very well that there’s only Brett to hold onto, but Brett merely watches him, hand now pushes in the pockets of his jeans.

Asshole.

He crashes into the water, deciding that breakfast can very much be happening without him. There’s no way in hell he’s leaving his room today.

———

“Well,” Brett says, kicking the door shut behind him, “that day is going swimmingly, isn’t it?” With the most annoying grin this side of the universe, he sets down a box filled with various breakfast foods on the bet next to Stiles. The guy really makes it hard to be annoyed with him. Then again, it’s hard to blame Brett for letting him fall into the pool after pulling away from a kiss twice.

If not for his stupid heart, Stiles would jump at the chance to hook up with Brett fucking Talbot for two weeks straight. But he can’t do that to himself.

Shooting the werewolf a narrow-eyed look, Stiles pulls the box towards him. “Can’t wait for your full routine, Mulaney.”

“At least I’m not holing myself up in my hotel room to mope.” Brett toes off his shoes and collapses into bed next to him, his mood unbearably good.

“I’m not holing myself up,” Stiles shoots back, ignoring the pointed look towards the drawn curtains. Yes, he went straight to his room after falling into the pool. No, he did not come out to eat breakfast — and he will not leave it for lunch or dinner either. This day is very much over for him. “I hate thunderstorms, you know that.” He hates how accusatory he sounds. The storm is hardly Brett’s fault.

Quinn’s bratty behavior isn’t either.

For a moment, Brett doesn’t reply and instead watches him nibble on a waffle with near uncomfortable intensity. “You got up pretty early today,” he says then. It sounds like he’s been meaning to talk about this for a while now.

Stiles isn’t entirely sure what that has to do with anything, so he merely hums in agreement and hopes that’s the end of it. He’d love to watch IT since he, for one, paid money for it — ha — and for another, he really doesn’t want to go into any details of anything that may or may not have happened.

Not even in the slightest.

“Why? Nightmares?”

Stiles gestures towards the TV with his waffle. It’s not like he needs to watch it, he knows the movie inside out. He still very much prefers it over this conversation.

But Brett keeps pushing, “insomnia?”

Once again, Stiles doesn’t reply. Mostly because he has no idea what to say to get out of this. Because the truth is a terrible start.

“Or the fact that we cuddled, and you woke up horny?” Brett snatches the remote and turns the TV off without hesitation. “You know I noticed, right?”

Know would be a bit much, but Stiles somewhat suspected it. Shit like this is just his luck. “Listen,” he says as his cheeks grow uncomfortable warm, “I just…” what? What could he possibly say to get out of this? “Haven’t been close to anyone in a while.” Aside from sounding absolutely pathetic, it’s at least the truth. “Can I please get the remote back now?”

The gin curling around Brett’s lips is positively wolfish. “I’ll trade it.”

Stiles puts the waffle down and pushes the box of food towards Brett, raising his brows expectantly. Of course, that’s not what Brett meant at all. “I’m so not in the mood for this.” But Brett is a shithead, and there’s absolutely no way for Stiles to get out of this. He’s too drained to try and out-stubborn a Talbot. “What do you want?” For some awful reason, the question tasted bad in his mouth, as if part of him new he is making a huge mistake giving Brett’s stupid idea even a second of consideration.

“A kiss.”

His breath catches in his throat. “What?” Sure, Stiles probably should’ve expected it since Brett tried to kiss him twice already. Hearing it this bluntly, however, is a very different story. “The fuck is this coming from?” It’s also not technically a lie. Brett has never tried kissing him before.

A flash of surprise cuts through Brett’s expression of confidence. For all but a second, it seems as if he questions his calculations — no matter how quickly the grin returns. “You kissed Kira and Lydia.”

“That’s different.” Stiles regrets those words the second they leave his mouth. Why can’t he think before he speaks? Sure, technically, the situations have been a bit different; mostly because they haven’t been alone in a hotel room. He kissed them during a stupid game. It’s never been serious. Besides, he also didn’t have feelings for either of them when it happened.  

Brett’s on his case like a fucking bloodhound. “Oh, is it? We’re friends too, aren’t we? Or is it because—"

Before Stiles can think any better of it, he leans over and presses their mouths together. The very second their lips touch, he pulls back again, not allowing himself to give this any thought at all because if he does, throwing himself out of the window might be the more painless option. “There,” he mutters, not daring to meet Brett’s eyes.

The laugh filling the room is surprisingly breathless. “You call that a kiss?”

“You didn’t specify—"

“A real kiss, Stiles. I thought that’s obvious.”

But it’s not. Nothing is obvious right now. Stiles is two seconds from running away; this time not into a relationship but into Kira’s room. Maybe he should’ve taken her up on the offer the second she made it. “This is fucking stupid.” Stiles sits back on his heels, still staring anywhere that’s not Brett. That, however, is stupid too. Setting his jaw, he locks eyes with the werewolf. “Are people falling for this shit?” He’s angry and defensive, and Stiles knows Brett is more than aware of it — of everything, even the feelings Stiles harbors for him. How could he not? “It’s so stupid.” And it’s certainly not funny.

Brett laughs, tapping the remote against his thigh. “You mentioned that.”

Stiles makes a grab for it. Unsurprisingly, he’s unsuccessful. “I’m really not in the mood.”

“You mentioned that too.”

Stiles wants to smother this asshole with a pillow. It certainly would solved absolutely all of his problems in one go. “Seriously, if you want to kiss me that bad—" stupid, stupid, stop talking “— just do it. Don’t act like a fucking middle schooler.” Stiles snaps his mouth shut entirely too late. With Brett, there’s always a risk that he might do it.

And, of course, Brett doesn’t hesitate.

He tosses the remote aside; because it’s never been about this fucking remote, because Stiles could tell things have been different since the moment he arrived, because Brett attempted to kiss him twice already. He would have, too, if Stiles hadn’t pulled away to protect what’s left of his heart.

But Brett doesn’t allow that this time. He pulls him in by the front of his shirt and crashes their mouths together.

The collar of his shirt digs into the nape of his neck, and Brett’s lips glide over his. He holds him there, doesn’t allow him to pull away again in any shape or form. He wants to, and he doesn’t want to. His body screams for Brett, begs for his hands and his mouth everywhere on him.

But he can’t do that to himself. He’ll have a night, if everything goes well, he has two weeks with Brett, two weeks of living his heart’s desire — and then reality comes crashing down on him.

Brett’s tongue traces Stiles’ lips, and his thoughts evaporate. Stiles cups the back of Brett’s head, holding him close. Brett wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer. His eyes flutter shut, and his heart pounds in his chest.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Stiles sighs softly into the kiss, giving Brett the chance to deepen it. His tongue flicks Stiles’ teasingly. His whole body tingles, and Stiles shudders as the werewolf grabs his ass shamelessly. This fucking guy has a way to consume him entirely too easily. It’s not fair.

Before Stiles knows it, he’s on his back, Brett above him, his body warm and heavy. His kiss is desperate and bruising and eager for more.

So much more.

For something Stiles would rather not give.

Fuck.

Stiles let’s go of Brett and pulls away. “Wait,” he whispers breathlessly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Their relationship is meant to remain strictly platonic. There’s too much risk to ruin it, too much risk to ruin himself.

And he can’t.

Not this time.

But Brett clearly doesn’t get the memo. He kisses him again, and Stiles kisses him back because he really, really wants everything that’s happening so, so fucking bad; the way Brett tastes like orange juice, his nose bumps against Stiles’ and his hands are roaming his body, and the way he bites his bottom lip.

It makes him dizzy.

Stiles curls and uncurls his fingers then grabs Brett’s shoulders. “Stop,” he mutters into the kiss. Wait doesn’t set the right signals. “Stop.” And he finally manages to turn his head to the side. “Brett—" He really needs him to fucking stop.

Instead, Brett drags his lips down to his jaw, trails them further down to his throat.

Stiles leans his head back, gasping when Brett sucks on his sensitive skin. It’s so easy to just give in.

No.

No.

“I said, stop!” Stiles gives Brett’s shoulders a shove and finally, finally, the werewolf raises his head, but he’s not moving off him. “I don’t— I don’t want this.”

Brett quirks a brow, clearly not buying it — not when Stiles’ body sends a very different signal. “I beg to differ.”

The amusement rubs him the wrong way, and he gives Brett another push. “I’m not going to sleep with you just because you offered me to stay in your room.”

Brett sits up as if Stiles slapped him in the face. “Is that what you think?” His voice is icy, his muscles rigid, and suddenly, the way he towers over him now is terrifying. It’s easy to forget how dangerous Brett can be — and he’s got every right to be pissed. “Do you believe Quinn? Do you really think I’d treat you that way?” They both know the answer to that question — and that’s most likely why Brett hasn’t kicked him out of the room yet.

Shaking his head, Stiles props himself onto his elbows.

Brett collapses onto the bed next to him. “Are you going to tell me the real reason?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t.”

Stiles drops onto his back and squints at the ceiling. “A bit of both, I guess.”

To his surprise, Brett laughs. It’s breathless and soft and everything but angry. “Can I tell you something then?” He rolls onto his side and props his head on his hand, studying Stiles’ face with sparkling blue eyes. He’s so pretty it hurts. “Something only Satomi knows?”

Stiles licks his lips and nods. Slowly. He’s not entirely sure what he might hear. “Sure.”

“I love you,” Brett tells him as bluntly as always. He chuckles when Stiles bolts upright — not entirely sure if his heart is going to stay inside his body in the foreseeable future. But Brett continues talking as he scoots behind him and wraps both arms around his waist, “and I can’t stand another year of being away from you.” His left hand slips under Stiles’ shirt.

A shudder runs down his spine, and Stiles grabs his wrist. He doesn’t stop him, not yet, merely holds on for dear life.

With ease, Brett pulls him closer, running his fingers over Stiles’ lower abs. “I wanted to take my time and try to figure out how you felt.” His lips are so close, every word is painted against the shell of his ear. All the while, his hand creeps lower at a snail’s pace. “But the bed is still drenched in your scent from this morning, and… I overheard you talking to Kira”

“Oh god,” Stiles breathes, not sure if it’s because of the admission or because Brett pushes two fingers past the waistband of his sweatpants.

The soft chuckle paves its way straight to Stiles’ dick. He wishes he could say it’s because he hasn’t been close to anyone in forever, but that’s not true — it’s Brett, all of this is fucking Brett.

“And I just can’t help myself,” the werewolf whispers, grabbing Stiles’ chin to turn his head just enough to brush their lips together. “I want your scent all over me.” He hooks a finger under the waistband of Stiles’ boxer briefs, tugging once, twice. A question. ‘Stop me’, it seems to offer.

Stiles lets go of Brett’s waist and curls his fingers into the sweatpants instead, blood rushing in his ears.

And Brett continues; he keeps talking, allows his hand to slip further into Stiles’ boxer briefs. “I hated seeing you with others. I hate how they treated you.” Just like that, Brett curls his long fingers around Stiles’ dick — the touch alone makes him almost jump out of his own body. “I knew I could treat you so much better. I will treat you better.”

Stiles groans and lets his head fall back.

Another chuckle.

Stiles tugs on Brett’s sweatpants.

“You smell so good,” Brett whispers, free and sliding from his chin to Stiles’ throat. His thumb rests right above his pule. He hums, sounding so smug, so fucking happy with himself.

It should be embarrassing that all it took were a few choice words to change Stiles’ mind, but it’s hard to feel bad with a hand wrapped around his dick. “Brett,” he breathes.

Brett hums again and kisses his temple. “Want me to make you feel good?”

“Please.”

Brett makes a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a grow. Everything after that is rushed. They’re moving, getting rid of clothes. Brett’s shoe refuses to cooperate. It’s fun to see Mr. Smooth getting frustrated enough over such a small thing. A moment later, the shoe is gone, and Brett is on top of him again, kissing him with a hunger that leaves Stiles lightheaded and painfully hard.

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles watches as Brett rummages through his backpack. He’s hard lines and muscle where Stiles is skin and bones, lack of training and time to eat carving their marks into his body. His dick is long and hard and, apparently, now exclusively for Stiles’ pleasure — well, and Brett’s, but that’s a given.

If Brett told him the truth, that is. Which he did, right? They’ve been friends for years. Brett wouldn’t lie to him just to get into his pants.

Right?

“I can hear you overthinking.” Brett drops the backpack next to the bed, flicking a bottle of lube at him.

Stiles catches it awkwardly. For a moment, he stares at it as if the weight of his future rests inside of it. “Are you sure about… this?” Stiles gestures vaguely around, not daring to look at him.

“You mean the sex thing, or the whole I-love-you speech?” Brett asks, and although he smirks at him, his blue eyes have gone unbelievably soft. “Because I fully intend to be your trophy boyfriend.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious about us. If you let me, I will come with you after this vacation. I’ll travel the US with you. I’ll make sure you eat and sleep, and I fuck you as often as you want me to.”

“And here I thought romance is dead.” Stiles can’t help but grin at the idea. It’s easy to see Brett by his side, to come home to him. Still, “it’s going to be boring for you, though, isn’t it?”

Brett raises his brows, shuffling closer until they’re nose to nose again. “Relaxing by the pool? No way.”

“I’m not staying in hotels like this.” Not usually, at least.

“Stiles,” Brett sounds exasperated, yet he cups his cheeks ever so gently. “I can deal with a year of ratty motels in the middle of nowhere if that means I’m with you, okay?” The moment Stiles opens his mouth for a reply, Brett leans over and kisses him, very clearly done with the conversation, and pushes him back into the pillows. “You’re not going to talk me out of this,” he whispers against Stiles’ mouth. “Stop wasting your breath.” With a chuckle, Brett plucks the lube from his fingers. “And relax, my love.”

Fucking hell.

Stiles runs his fingers through Brett’s hair and pulls him down for another kiss. He’ll allow himself to dream, to imagine this future Brett is painting will have a happy ending. Perhaps it does. He’ll never know if he refuses to try. So, he tries — tries to be an optimist, tries to relax as Brett’s hands and mouth explore every inch of his body, and tries desperately to hold onto his sanity as Brett’s tongue and fingers do their very best to make him fall apart.

Something that gets significantly harder the moment Brett thrusts in to the hilt. He presses their foreheads together, breathing heavily as he stays still for way too long.

Stiles hooks a leg around Brett’s thighs and rolls his hips. The way Brett moans his name makes him almost cum on the spot. “Fuck,” he breathes, “warn a guy.”

Brett chuckles as he captures his lips for another kiss mere seconds before he pulls back out and thrusts back in, fast and hard, yet not quite hard enough. Brett does it again, harder this time — testing how far he can go, or how much he has to hold back.

Stiles moans into the kiss when he does it for a third time, unable to stay quiet any longer.

“Okay?” Brett asks, stilling again.

“Yeah,” Stiles gasps, “better than okay.”

Brett lets out a breath. “You’re perfect,” he mutters, and it almost sounds like a curse. But Stiles can’t be bothered. Now that they’re here, he’d like to feel it for as long as he can, even when Brett won’t be leaving his side anytime soon — or ever, hopefully. God, he wants his marks all over his body, wants to feel this with every step he takes.

Brett seems to be thinking along a similar vein because he keeps the pace, fucking Stiles as if he’s got every intention to leave his mark everywhere. His fingers curl around Stiles’ dicks again, adding more fuel to the fire burning absolutely everywhere inside of him.

Stiles digs his fingers into Brett’s back, feeling his muscles tighten as he rushes towards his orgasm.

They’re hardly kissing any longer, instead, they’re breathing, gasping, moaning against each other’s mouths — lips brushing against each other’s more an accident than purpose.

And then, it hits him. His orgasm cuts to his core, and Stiles throws his head back.

Brett holds him, fucks him, until he collapses on top of him, boneless, skin hot and sweaty, face hidden in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

His brain is still trying to catch up while his heart is already beating in sync with Brett’s. His body truly never fails to disappoint. Stiles lets out a soft breath and runs his fingers through the blond strands. “I could get used to this.”

Growling quietly, Brett nips at his skin.

Stiles flicks his ear. “What the hell was that for?”

Brett chuckles and props himself onto his elbows. His eyes are bright, his lips ever so kissable, and he ducks down and brushes their noses together. “I’m not going to get a quiet afterglow, do I?”

“Have you met me?” Stiles raises his brows, not exactly expecting an answer to a question that couldn’t be any more rhetorical if he tried. “I could offer you cuddles in exchange for the remote, though.” He’s going to finish that movie, even if he has to stay still in Brett’s arms for the rest of it.

Sighing dramatically, Brett kisses him again. “Fine.”

Stiles grins. “I love you.” Three words he’s been wanting to say for years.

“I love you too.” But hearing them feels so much better.

[omegaremix]

Innersleeve Records, 2022

There was one more store on the list that I planned on going to. That was Innersleeve Records in Amagansett, located all the way out at the Eastern tip of Long Island. It’s the one trip I really had to prepare for. At 60 miles and 70 minutes to get there, Innersleeve- would be the furthermost locale of any stops I’d make this year. Out east is where the most scenic parts are - the farmland, the famed beaches, lighthouses, and resorts that partially define it and give Long Island its identity.

Innersleeve- was on the list of my last record-store victory tour (‘18). It was to be on my last stop between mid-July and the end of summer in the event that anyone could go with me, because I refused to go all by myself. So I asked all of my radio-station friends if they wanted to join but all I heard from them was deafening silence. I was also dealing with a personal collapse that rocked me like no other before it. Hence why I didn’t take the ride. But this year is a different one which didn’t deal me a bad river card or rolled snake eyes. Like the last, I had plenty of sizeable victories. I was finally going to give Innersleeve a chance I’ve been putting off, even if gas prices were at an all-time high.

It was the day I was going to head out there, a partially cloudy Thursday. I sat in front of the computer having a breakfast egg-bowl with bits of green peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, and bacon with a glass of orange juice. I popped in a cassette in the deck and let it run through to be digitized while auditioning my music finds for an upcoming radio show. I asked my friends on social media who visited Innersleeve- what they thought and told me it was a pretty good spot, but they also cautioned me that their prices were not cheap but reasonable. WUSB’s all-around good guy Evan told me that he nabbed some spaghetti western soundtracks and giallo for his mother-in-law. (Nice. I guess he was feeling Italian that day.) So, how ‘not cheap but reasonable’ are they, really? Why not visit their page and find out.

Here’s the daily record flip…oh, the fucking horror.

I saw the stickers on what they were selling and it didn’t look good for me. For example: a copy of Talk Talk’s The Party’s Over for $26.99. New records from Interpol, Soccer Mommy, Harry Styles, and King Diamond went for $25.00 to $35.00, some frightening more. Here’s an original pressing of Talking Heads’ '77 album going  for $40.00. The Doors R.S.D. (Record Store Day) sold for the same. A yellow vinyl version of The Smile’s A Light for Attracting Attention spun handsomely for $50.00.  Billion Dollar Babies by Alice Cooper was asking for a whopping $60.00. Wow, seriously? Marie Antoinette would tell me to fuck right off and go choke on a cake.

I’d assume that being they’re located in the trendy uptight part of Long Island, that their selection was pretty straight. I saw nothing but pop, rock, common reggae, all-too-familiar indie artists, American standard jazz greats, and Rock & Roll Hall-Of-Famers. Maybe the occasional Amyl & The Sniffers record? Nothing daring, challenging, or defying to throw in the face of the power-move-making status quo in an uppity part of - wait, nevermind - they carried a copy of GG Allin’s Brutality And Bloodshed For All. That’ll scare all the socialites, Seinfeld, and the rich and powerful back into their bank-account vault homes in no time, eh? I had a laugh for five seconds before I resumed hate-watching their stock. It seemed like they didn’t even attempt to care in hiding their price tags while flipping through their new arrivals.

I remember when I went to Plainview’s Vinyl Bay 777. I looked around and experiencing the freshly-built interior felt like finding a hidden gem in the middle of nowhere. The excitement started to die slowly when I saw that all of their stock was priced three to four times what other stores were selling. They were big on condition and rarity. I only lasted 45 minutes before walking out with nothing and feeling ashamed of myself.

I’m more of quantity over quality. I can care less if the album in question is in tattered condition. As long as I have the physical product and can get it for less as possible then great. I can always stream it afterwards. I knew that -777 and Innersleeve were playing the vinyl revival game and were competing to see who can sell their stock for the highest price possible. They’ll have their case as to why they mark up their selection and even you’d agree it’d make sense. It doesn’t mean you’d want to go broke, and that’s if you were in my position.

That said, their selection didn’t excite me and reeling from sticker shock wasn’t helping, either. Along with the mania of high gas prices ($4.40 a gallon at the time of posting) and spending $893.00 in two days at Amityville’s High Fidelity, it wasn’t worth it. Instead, Innersleeve Records will be replaced by taking a ‘bonus’ trip to (Greenpoint) Brooklyn’s Captured Tracks. After that, I’ll declare my ‘22 Record Store Victory Tour over.

**********

TL;DR: Imagine if I was batting for the Yankees and I hit a zippy ground ball that rolled right to the Red Sox pitcher’s glove. He catches it right before I take my foot off the dirt and then throws it to his first baseman for the out. Now you know how I felt choosing to stay home instead of going to Innersleeve Records.

Innersleeve Records shopping list: no dice.

[fizzingwizard]

in a writing rut. but here's something i scribbled to try to get the creative juices flowing. it amused me. i might do something with it

totally unfinished, random ideas. moomins at (american) college, but this is fantasy so it's not america, it's troll land or whatever haha

~~~

"Moomintroll, why don't you try something new for a change?" Snorkmaiden asked.

"Something new? Like what?"

"I don't know. How about rugby?"

"Rugby?"

“Well, you have the right build for it. And wouldn't it be fun to win?”

“More fun than losing, anyhow.”

"Oh, pooh! The risk is what makes competition so exhilarating!”

Moomintroll pulled a face. With a huff, his girlfriend folded her arms. Today her fur was tinted a whimsical fuchsia hue. She used to keep it white, because "white goes with everything." Lately, though, it seemed she'd entered an experimental phase. Which was fitting. Why else did people go to college, except to try on a hundred shiny new personalities out of sight of those who knew them in high school? They certainly didn’t come for the academics.

"It's up to you, of course. But if you ask me, your life could use a shake-up. You practically live in your dorm. You don't come to campus events. Class is the only place we ever see you."

Moomintroll bit back the urge to retort that this was college, you were supposed to live in a dorm and go to class. Snorkmaiden liked sarcasm, but not when she was lecturing. (She also didn’t like to be described as lecturing.)

"You're seeing me right now," he pointed out instead.

"But in twenty minutes I'm going to the Midnight Breakfast, and you won't even join me for that! There will be pancakes, Moomintroll!"

"I don't like pancakes."

"Yes you do!"

Shuffling his feet, Moomintroll turned his back to her and pretended to search for something on his desk. He opened the drawer. Inside there was a little tin box, where he kept shells and sea glass worn smooth by the waves.

In a small voice, he muttered, "I like the way Mamma makes them."

Snorkmaiden heaved a long-suffering sigh. He felt a pang of guilt, and wished he'd kept his thoughts to himself.

"I know you miss home, my Moomintroll." Her paw came to rest on his arm. With the other, she nudged the drawer with the tin box shut. "But this is your chance to live your own life, however you want it. Remember how we used to stay up late planning adventures for when we grew up? You wanted to be a pirate!”

"Trolleton College doesn't offer a major in piracy."

"Comp sci!" Snorkmaiden chirped.

"Wrong sort of pirate."

At last she let the subject drop. But he could sense her disappointment, even though she talked and giggled the same as always. It rankled. He knew he should feel grateful that she cared. And she had waited over a year to start gently prodding him to put more effort into collegiate life. Now, half-way through their sophomore year, Snorkmaiden was in every club her packed schedule would allow for and had friends in every department. She never lacked for something to do or someone to do it with. Compared to her, his daily routine of go to class, eat lunch, go to class, eat dinner, study, then sleep, looked pretty sad indeed.

It hit him suddenly, as Snorkmaiden’s twenty minutes ran out and she took one last swing at persuading him to come to the midnight breakfast (“There won’t only be pancakes - last year they had scrambled eggs, fried ham, sausage, fruit, not to mention donuts!”), that Snorkmaiden was popular. In the small valley where the two of them met, grew up, and fell in love, he’d never noticed. People liked her, of course. But back home people were rather scarce.

She nuzzled his cheek, waving as she exited his room, the buttons from various campus events that covered her backpack twinkling in the light. They sported slogans like “Go Green,” “Save The Arctic: Polar Bears Menacing But Too Cute To Die,” and “I ♥ Ethical Environmental Policies.” He wondered how she could enjoy living in Trolleton, surrounded by brick and cement, not a tree to be seen that hadn’t been planted last year by boy scouts. At night, instead of the hushed parley of frogs and crickets, their lullaby was police sirens and motorcycles ripping down the street.

His stomach growled. Moomintroll looked at the clock. Just after eleven. He opened his mini fridge and took out a frozen pizza.

The first time he ate pizza, he was around fifteen. His family never traveled much farther than the mountains, although they loved to talk about it. But a winning sweepstakes ticket took them out of the valley to the Riviera, where they found the cozy pizza restaurant. It was real pizza, with fresh basil and tomatoes, baked in a massive wood-fire oven. The cook slid it out on a huge wooden slab, the cheese still bubbling. Even the memory made his mouth water.

The frozen pizza was rock-hard. Heating it in the microwave always left the crust soggy. Moomintroll clutched the box, wrestling with indecision. It might not be too late to catch up with Snorkmaiden. Honestly, the scrambled eggs at the caf were like rubber and only marginally edible. But donuts never let you down.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he threw on a scarf, grabbed his lanyard with his student ID, and hurried out of his dorm. Outside was dark, the lights streaming from the cafeteria beckoning. Over the archway hung a banner:

MIDNIGHT BREAKFAST! At the caf, 10:00 p.m. - 1:00 a.m. Tuesday, December 10th. We know you all want to cram in a few more precious hours of study, but you’ve still got to eat! Power up with good food and good friends! Food is free with your student ID. 5 silver coins for students without a meal plan. Best of luck! Show those finals who’s boss! Sponsored by the student union.

At the door, Moomintroll hesitated. There were a lot of people inside. A lot of people. It wasn’t like he was shy. But how was he to find Snorkmaiden? He didn’t want to be that awkward guy eating a stack of donuts by himself in the corner. He’d probably wind up with a horrid nickname that would stick with him for the two and half years - longer if he went to grad school - something like “Corner Donut Boy.”

Grabbing a tray, he made his way around the buffet table. He snagged two jelly donuts, one custard donut, and a cinnamon-dusted stick thing with a placard that read CHURRO. Then he scooped up some sausages, since they were there, and a few hash browns for the salt.

With his tray loaded, he took it and wandered around dismally. Every table was occupied. Should have thought to bring a doggy bag.

A gasp. “Ooh! Moomintroll!”

Snorkmaiden shot up so fast that her table rattled. “Over here!” she cried. “Move over, Sniff, move, move!”

“Why do I have to move?” Sniff cried. “It’s just Moomintroll. I was here first. Let him sit on the floor!”

“But he’s my boyfriend and I want to sit next to him.”

“So?”

“So, girlfriend privilege. Scoot over!”

Sniff’s whiskers twitched, but he made room on the bench. Moomintroll squeezed in between them with a sheepish grin.

“Thanks, Sniff.”

“Don’t thank me! She twisted my arm!”

“Well, thanks to your arm, then.”

“Come on, Sniff. We’re happy Moomintroll’s here!” Snorkmaiden said, raising her eyebrows with meaning. “We’re so happy our friend made it down here to hang out with us before finals after all.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Moomintroll, what is she doing?”

“Being subtle.”

Sniff stared at him, mouth open. “... Huh?”

Moomintroll picked up a jelly donut. “Want a donut, Sniff?”

Donuts were the one thing Sniff loved more than not having to share his seat.

“So is this boyfriend?” someone asked. Moomintroll squinted, but no one appeared to have spoken. Across the table sat a rather gaunt hemulen, quivering as he pored over an entomology textbook (whether the quivering was the result of lack of sleep, nerves, or too much caffeine wasn’t immediately clear). To his left was a pretty girl with enormous blue eyes, her red hair bundled in a tidy knot. Next to her, a round, sturdy blonde in a striped shirt gazed dreamily into a mug of cocoa.

Moomintroll was gobsmacked to realize he didn’t know a single one of Snorkmaiden’s friends (apart from Sniff, who he couldn’t help knowing - Sniff was his brother, of sorts). Apparently she flitted like a butterfly through the different circles of friends on campus.

“Um.” He bit into a hash brown. “... Did someone say something?”

“I did,” answered the same voice. Once again, no one’s mouth appeared to move.

Moomintroll blinked twice, then rubbed his eyes.

“Down here, idiot.”

Someone jabbed his leg. Hard. In shock, Moomintroll bent and tried to fit his snout under the table. There, on the floor, stood a very small girl in a red dress, sneering. She also had vibrant red hair in a knot like the pretty girl, but her demeanor couldn’t have been more different.

“Well, didn’t your mama teach you it’s impolite to stare?” the tiny… student? … shouted at him.

“Oh - sorry - I didn’t realize you were down there is all. Er. I didn’t step on you, did I?”

The girl cocked one brow at Snorkmaiden. “He’s quite the catch, your lover boy.”

“Moomintroll.” Snaking an arm through his, Snorkmaiden snuggled in close. “Let me introduce you. This is Little My. She doesn’t always eat under the table. Sometimes she sits on top. But she said Hemulen’s moaning gave her indigestion.”

“Nice - nice to meet you,” he stammered, suddenly feeling quite anxious.

“And this is her sister, Mymble,” Snorkmaiden added.

The pretty redhead smiled.

“You don’t… mind that your sister eats under the table?” Moomintroll asked.

“Oh no,” Mymble replied. “She’s always stirring up trouble, you see, and makes me run after her. If she’s not trying to go for a ride on a frisbee, she’s photocopying her face in the library, or leaving toy roaches in RA’s shoes. I’ve had so many discussions with the dean on her account. If she’s under the table I don’t have to worry at all, except if she starts biting ankles.”

That explained this strange anxiety. Little My did give the impression she was likely to take a bite of his ankle instead of the pancakes.

“I hate it when she bites,” Sniff grumbled.

“It’s all right,” the blonde girl said. Her voice was as airy and dream-like as her eyes. “Keep your ankles out of reach and you’ll be perfectly fine.”

Sniff quickly tucked his knees in. “That’s easy for you to say!”

“Expect the best and prepare for the worst,” grinned Little My.

 The girl in the striped shirt suddenly drained her cocoa and stood, plopping a funny blue hat with a red pom on her shaggy crop.

“Are you leaving, Too-ticky?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“Yes. My first exam is at eight-thirty, and I like to get a full eight hours’ sleep. Good-bye, everyone.”

She even walked away dreamily.

“Sleep well, Tooti,” Mymble sang.

“She’s very nice,” Snorkmaiden told Moomintroll. “A bit - odd - but who isn’t?”

“And she’s a philosophy major,” piped in Little My. “They’re all a little whiz-bang-watchamacallit, if you get my meaning."

“What’s your major then?” Moomintroll asked, to be polite.

Still under the table, Little My appeared to turn her head a full 180 degrees, fixing him with her piercing green eyes. She bared her teeth. “Toxic mycology.”

Moomintroll gulped. “I didn’t know the majors here were so… specific.”

“I customized my own,” she answered. “And what’s yours? Let me guess. Undeclared?”

It sounded like an insult, the way she said it. Which was ridiculous. Lots of students went undeclared in freshman year. And sometimes their sophomore year too. Nothing wrong with that. Still, he found he was once again stammering. “No - well, yes - but I have - an intention to declare a major soon…”

“Oh, you do?” Snorkmaiden perked up, turning to him with interest. “What did you finally decide? Tell me, I’m all ears!”

“Ehm… agricultural… something…”

“Agriculture?” Little My scowled. “Aren’t you afraid that if you start a farm, you’ll be mistaken for one of your cows?”

That ruffled Moomintroll’s fur. “People usually say Moomins look like hippos, not cows,” he shot back haughtily.

Snorkmaiden patted his shoulder, in warning, perhaps. “My sweet. That’s… not the flex you think it is.”

Little My shrugged. “I’m just saying. But I guess you know all about farming, growing up in that lovely, open valley Snorkmaiden goes on about.”

“Moomintroll doesn’t have a farm,” Sniff interjected, helping himself to Moomintroll’s questionable "churro." “His papa doesn’t work. Moominmamma has a garden, with big tomatoes and cucumbers in the summer, and squash in the fall. But she doesn’t sell them. I told her she ought to, but she said if he sold her vegetables, what would she have to cook my birthday dinner? So I said maybe she could sell only some of the vegetables, and leave enough for my birthday dinner. But she worried that then she wouldn’t have enough to make sandwiches for Mrs Fillyjonk’s tea.”

Sniff, naturally, was a business major.

“Pappa works,” Moomintroll objected. “He writes books.”

“Anything good?” Little My asked.

“Yes. Lots.”

“Anything I’ve read?”

Moomintroll thought for a while. Snorkmaiden drummed her fingers on her cheek with a look of deep boredom.

At last he settled for: “Well, when he publishes his memoirs, I’ll send you a copy, and you can judge for yourself.”

Little My set her jaw and nodded. “You do that.”

“Snorkmaiden dear,” interjected Mymble. “Do you want more cocoa?”

“Gosh, yes!” Snorkmaiden exclaimed, seizing her mug. “I meant to go earlier but - oh, looks like they’ve run out…”

“No problem,” Mymble said. “I can get us some from the back. Wait a little.”

She sashayed off. Moomintroll watched her go, perplexed. “What ‘back’ does she mean?”

“She means she’s going to flirt with Marco the cafeteria worker, and get him to dip into the cocoa bins in the supply room.” Little My made a noise of frustration. “I thought grad school would teach her to cool off some, but the minute she spies anything shiny with washboard abs and a few chin whiskers, off she goes…”

Managing Marco didn’t take long. Mymble returned after a while with cocoa packets for each of them. When she offered one to the Hemulen, he pinned it to the table lightning quick, muttering about bluebottle butterflies.

“Now let’s talk about something else,” said Mymble.

“Like what?” Little My pulled herself onto the table in Too-ticky’s spot.

“I don’t know. Pick something.”

“Fine. Piranhas.”

“Nothing that bites,” Sniff cut in, shivering.

“Moomintroll, you pick,” said Snorkmaiden.

He was taken aback. “Why me?” he cried, but she only looked at him expectantly. Frantically shifting through his mind, he tried to summon a topic that everyone would like, something interesting, something current.

“How about finals?”

“Finals?” For someone of her stature, Little My had quite the thunderous voice. “Groke take me. We came here to get a break from the endless facts going round and round in our heads, and all you can think of talking about is exams?”

“... Or something else,” he squeaked.

(to be continued.... ????)

[crashcitycentral]

[ Just some small practice writing snippit I wrote with adult Bart/Preston ]

It’s always the little things in life that remind you of what you miss the most. For Bart, it was the sunrise.

It’s trivial, something that happens every day, but no matter how early he has to be up, he’s always right there watching the sun come up over the horizon. Sometimes from different places around the world for a new angle or view.

No one really notices, or if they did no one asked why. Bart does a lot of strange things that are inexplainable, people stopped questioning him a long time ago. But staring at the sun coming up? That was special, something only for himself.

That’s how it started anyways. Later on he did more and more things for the same reasons, but again, nobody asked. Well, not until now.

“Where did you go this morning?” Preston asks into his next bite of eggs over the breakfast table. Bart was distracted pouring himself a glass of orange juice that it caught him by surprise.

“What?” He didn’t need to hear it again, he knew what Preston was asking, but it was jarring having someone call him out on it. He’d been doing this same routine since he was 15, and only now was it actually spoken aloud.

“It’s just, you got up super early and left for half and hour.” Preston ducks his head, embarrassment seeping into his voice as he adds. “Not that I was keeping track of you like a weirdo, I just woke up when you went out.”

“Oh.” Bart mutters with baited breath. They sit in more awkward silence before he actually caught up to his thoughts. He’d never actually sat down and explained this, but if he was going to trust anyone with this, it was Preston.

“I was watching the sunrise.” Bart smiles a bit and picks up his glass, sipping slowly at it.

“You got up that early just to watch the sunrise?” Preston gapes at him like he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. “Is that some kind of daily ritual from the future I’m not getting?”

Bart chuckles and sits down in the chair opposite of the blond, tangling their legs under the table out of habit. “Sort of? I’ve always done this. Growing up in Virtual Reality, I never had real people or experienced real things, like feel the breeze or smell the fresh air. I didn’t even know that I was missing those things until Grandma rescued me.”

“For a while I had the mindset of being in virtual reality. I didn’t find things dangerous cause there was always a reset button before. I took things for granted.” He chews on his lip with a furrow slowly creasing his brows. Preston reaches across and twines their fingers, squeezing his hand comfortingly with a reassuring smile.

Bart answers back with his own smaller grin, falling a little bit more for this blond idiot. “I never knew my parents, not until mom came and brought me to the future with her for that short time.”

“I remember that.” Preston recalls quietly. “You two were practically twins, I was so shocked when I met her.”

“You were also starstruck.” Bart chuckles, stroking small circles into Preston’s hand with his thumb.

“Only because I was a closet case with the biggest crush on you. I was presented with a girl version of my best friend who I was in love with, my head made weird connections.” Preston grumbles, kicking Bart’s shin under the table.

“Right.” Bart smiles fondly, nudging his foot back. “Anyways, even if I couldn’t be with her long, and I likely won’t be able to see her again, she’s.. She used to call me sunshine. Watching the sunrise is like my way of holding on to her memory.”

Thing go quiet again, companionable silence instead of the awkward interval. Preston had that calculating look in his eyes and Bart watches him think, committing every detail of his face to memory like he could lose that too.

Preston lost his mother when they were kids too, in a way, if you could consider her a mom. It wasn’t the same situation but Bart could tell that he understood. Maybe that was the reason he felt so comfortable telling this to Preston, he got it. He met Meloni, and not many people had got that chance before she had to go back to their time and ward off the evils of that world.

“Can I go with you tomorrow?” Preston finally asks, and the surprise almost threw Bart back.

“You want to watch with me?” No one’s ever done that, how would that even go? Would it be the same? Would that give it a different meaning? So many unknowns and yet all Bart could do was nod with a shy smile.

The next morning they both got up and left in total silence, still in their pyjamas. Bart carried Preston out to the cliffs, his favorite spot for watching, and they sat in the dew covered grass waiting for the sun.

“You know, I bet she looks at the sun too and thinks of you.” Preston says randomly after some time. Bart stares at him with absolute wonderment, his vision going blurry as they watered.

“Yeah.” Bart smiles, wiping at his eyes and turning his head to catch the first rays of light peeking through. He was right, watching it with someone did give it different meaning.

[allithealigator]

Camp Half Blood an Alternate Universe

Chapter 5: Aliya

I fell asleep so quickly and so eager for the Capture the Flag game tomorrow. I woke up to Sophia’s ugly face staring at me. 

“What are you doing staring at me?” I asked 

“Because I can and we gotta go eat breakfast,” she said. “Come on. Elena and some friends I made are already down there.”

“Wow, you made friends?”

“Yup.”

Groggily, I got up and changed out of my pajamas. I had found a Camp Half-Blood shirt on my bed so I put it on after Sophia left because I’m not about to change in front of my best friend.

After I changed I met Sophia and Elena down at the pavilion. I just followed the campers that were coming out of their cabins because I didn’t know how to get there.

I found Elena at our table and sat down next to her. It was kind of depressing that we had to sit at our tables, but I found it strange that Annabeth and some Hermes kids were sitting with Percy and Sophia at the Poseidon table. I sadly glanced at them. Sophia seemed to notice and patted the seat next to her. 

I went to Sophia’s table, which was very far away from mine, and brought/dragged  Elena with me. We sat down at the table and then a plate appeared in front of me. I looked at it, confused. 

“You have to say what you want,” Sophia explained. 

“Oh.” I looked at my plate. “Eggs and pancakes.”

Eggs and pancakes appeared on my plate. I noticed that the ambient sound of clinking utensils in the background was somewhat calming.

“Who’s this?” I asked, gesturing to the Hermes kid.

“That’s Lukas.” 

“Oh.” I looked back at my food and started to eat.

“Demigods, I have an announcement to make–first, we have three new half-bloods, two have been claimed, but one is still unclaimed,” Chiron announced. “Can everyone welcome Sophia, the daughter of Poseidon, Elena, the daughter of Koalemos, and Aliya, who has not been claimed yet? In other news, the Capture the Flag game will be tonight.”  

After Chiron announced that there were new half-bloods, everyone’s heads turned to us. Even after the long announcement, people were still looking at us. I took this chance to look at everyone's faces. I saw Nico and his boyfriend looking in my direction. Everyone started to leave the pavilion and do their daily stuff. 

Percy and Annabeth dragged us away and gave us our first official tour. We viewed the climbing wall, amphitheater, labyrinth, Zeus’s fist, Woods, The Pegasus stables, forge, arena, cabins, Volleyball court,  the strawberry fields, where the Demeter kids were growing strawberries, and the lake. 

When we got to the lake, Elena thought it would be a good idea to push Sophia into the lake to see if she would float. In the end, she stayed in the lake and started breathing underwater. After the tour, Percy took us to the Pegasus stables to teach us how to ride while Annabeth went to do Athena cabin things. Elena got on a pegasus and then it bucked her off. 

“I guess pegasus riding isn’t your thing,” Percy had said. 

Sophia stroked the winged horse’s face and started to talk to it. She mounted the black pegasus like a queen and took off. 

I successfully got on the winged horse despite not knowing anything about horses. Soon I was up in the air and flying next to Sophia.  

“What’s your horse’s name?” Sophia asked me.

“Her name is Jalisa,” I said. 

“Cool. “

Then Percy appeared next to us. “I forgot I let you take my horse, so I had to borrow another.”

“Wheeee!” Sophia yelled as Blackjack folded his wings and went into a dive. Jalisa followed, and Percy’s horse brought up the rear. 

“He wants a donut!” Sophia shouted over the wind. 

“He always wants a donut!” Percy shouted back.

I seriously thought Jalisa was falling at first. And then I realized that we were just going to land. I saw Nico and his boyfriend Will and fangirled a bit (What? I ship Solangelo) standing next to Elena so I decided to land next to them. Once I landed Elena gave me a look of disgust.

“What?” I asked 

“You figured out how to ride a pony,” she said grumpily.

“Is that a problem?”

“Um? Yeah! It’s a huge problem because now you're better than me at something.”

I smirked. “I’m kinda better than you at everything.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

Sophia landed next to my horse. 

“There we go, they’re fighting again.” Sophia rolled her eyes. Will walked over to us.

“Hey, you guys who want to practice archery?”

Sophia went pale. “Uh . . .” she glanced at Percy. He was shaking his head, eyes wide. 

“I’ll do it!” she yelled. “It’s worth a try, anyway.”

“I wanna join too, to prove that I’m better than Aliya at archery,” said Elena.

“I’m gonna come to show Elena that I’m better than her at this too,” I said. We all walked to the archery range to try.  

I took a bow and an arrow from the small basket of bows sitting on the floor next to me. 

“Let me show you,” Will said from behind me. I hadn’t noticed he came with us. I held the bow up and Will stepped behind me and positioned my arms. 

“Just like that,” he said, and I swear tingles shot down my arm. I saw Nico sitting in the stands smiling. Elena also had a bow and aimed at the target. Will counted down from three so we could all get ready.  

“Three….. Two…….. One… Shoot!”

We both shot the arrow. Mine had hit the target smack in the center, while Elena’s was right on the edge of the target. I heard clapping coming from the stands and saw Nico, Sophia, Percy, and Will clapping their hands and cheering. 

The next activity was close combat. Elena picked up a small dagger and waited for Sophia to pick something to fight with. Elena lunged at Sophia, and in summary, it was a brutal fight and I knew I had to break it up. 

I remembered Elena said that she would prove she was good at close combat. But I wouldn’t let her prove herself if it meant hurting someone. I stepped forward and took out my box knife, and slowly it turned into a black sword with a half-moon, half-sun design on the hilt. I still wasn’t used to the transformation of it, but I liked its design.

I stepped up to Elena and Sophia. I stood with my back to Sophia and was facing Elena, pointing my sword at her. 

“Stop,” I said calmly.

“I need to prove I’m better than someone at something!” Elena protested.

“That doesn’t mean you should hurt them.”

“Yeah, I agree with Aliya,” Sophia added.

“Shut up, Sophia!” She backed off after we said that.

Suddenly we heard someone shout, “Hey, Percy! Annabeth!”

Percy and Annabeth’s heads turned to find the voice.

“Is that . . . Leo Valdez?” Sophia whispered in my ear, her eyes widening like saucers.

“Yeah, of course, it is, dummy,” I answered her.

“He’s cute,” she whispered in my ear.

“He’s taken,” I said bluntly.

“I know.”

[flydotnet]

Répondez, s'il-vous-plaît (it's a fanfic in English don't flee)

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

Up until yesterday, I had no idea what I'd write for this day. We're a third in and some days do have prompts that boggle my mind.

Fortunately, I got out of there by going to Paris on Friday, seeing good ol' Prism, and wow actually I know what characters I'm gonna use for this oneshot! Thanks Prismou!

Don't look into the actual context around this scene too hard. Like for "Egg Basket" from June, it's in reference to a yet-unpublished piece of fanfiction I've been working on with friends. We still can't release any concrete info about it, so for now, you'll have to do with Vague Setting That's Clearly French.

I'm a bit cheeky about it, though, I'll admit, since I purposefully gave this fic a French title to allude to the fact this is set in France with mostly French characters who speak French among themselves. What's funny is that I've never seen "RSVP" in anything ever in my daily life, only "je vous prie de bien vouloir répondre". Maybe it's one of those Parisian sayings I don't get. I just thought it really fit the fic.

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

Répondez, s'il-vous-plaît

Summary: répondez s'il-vous-plaît (RSVP): French for please reply. Though francophones may use more usually "prière de répondre" or "je vous prie de bien vouloir répondre", it is common enough.

Everyone has their issues, and sometimes, it's bound to bubble up to the surface. JB and Maxine just… didn't plan on finding out their friend's the way they did.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa (with a good dose of universe mixing and OC/Canon!)

Word Count: 1K words

AO3 version available here.

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

Today was supposed to be one of those innocuous days where her best friends aren’t playing soccer for a living for a couple weeks, where they just spend the day together talking about whatever and doing what friends do: hang out, drink, eat, walk, pet a dog, pet a horse. Whatever Maxine was meaning for it to be, it wasn’t playing nursemaid.

Instead, it’s turned into a shitshow and she doesn’t know where to direct the anger that’s swelled inside of her. Maybe it isn’t even anger, who knows. It could be frustration, it could be disappointment – all she knows is that, whatever it is, it’s drowning in slimy concern.

She should’ve known something was afoul when Yuzo wasn’t responding to her text messages. He’s usually so uptight about responding to her in time, he’d have had apologized for responding as little as half an hour later, to some of the most useless stuff possible. This man would apologize for not giving his seat in the subway to a barely-showing pregnant woman because he couldn’t actually stand on his right foot, courtesy of a practice mishap.

All in all, Maxine was expecting something iffy by the time JB and she concluded they both didn’t have news from their pal – and she wishes it was just him oversleeping on his day off, or having forgotten to respond by misplacing his phone somewhere, or some other stupid explanation that wasn’t… that.

When JB and she arrived here, they were greeted by a door left open, if just barely, and a passed-out Yuzo hanging on the floor of his own kitchenette. Most odd was that he was dressed to go outside and had in fact not even taken off his coat nor his scarf, not even his beanie, which was still on his head. On the counter, barely put there, was what clearly was a doctor’s notice with a medicine list.

Unfortunately, doctors speak a language only pharmacists can decode, and neither JB nor Maxine is one. She only knows the names of horse medicine and ketamine isn’t going to help Yuzo – at least, not to rise back to his feet, because God knows it can help with other issues.

“Max, what’s happening to him?” JB asks, downright panicked.

This happens to be how she realizes she’s never explained shit to him and instead just sent him on a wild goose chase for the nearest pharmacy.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest, but I think it’s, uh…” She sighs. “How did you even make yourself so sick to begin with, you idiot…?”

“It’s my fault, I’m sure of it.”

“Why would it be?”

JB is the kindest man alive on Earth, but this is stupid.

“I was the one who had the flu first! I must’ve given it to Yuzo and now he’s…” he points at the man on the sofa, “like that!””

“JB, you’re not the sole cause why Yuzo’s like this, I’m certain of that. You were nowhere near as bad as that.” She slowly inserts a thermometer inside his mouth as she speaks, cradling his head with her other hand. “Maybe he’s not used to our European bugs yet. He’s not been here for that long, after all.”

“Maybe I should’ve been more cautious?” There he is, freaking out again. “Maybe if I had worn a mask, or told him not to come inside, he’d be—”

“JB, he was going to catch something eventually. We all have caught something on the subway or the RER. Stop worrying about how he got it, it’s not going to serve much use.” She takes the thermometer out and cusses as soon as the number comes into view. “Shit.”

“It’s bad?”

Maxine glances back at Yuzo. He’s frowning in a fitful sleep, everything about him soaking in sweat and what may be tears, his skin white as his blanket and yet so bright where it’s concerning.

“It’s bad-bad. His fever’s over forty.”

She puts the thermometer back where it came from: the mess of things JB found at the foot of the sofa when they came in.

“What?! That’s…”

“I’m gonna get a bucket and some water, he—”

As Maxine gets up, she feels a grip on her forearm that makes her stop dead in her tracks. The grip isn’t very strong, far from it, but it’s vicious: now staring at her, or trying his hardest to at least, is Yuzo, whose half-open eyes with unfocused irises are freezing her blood in place.

He’s trying to tell her something, as far as she can tell, but it’s gibberish to her. She can’t even tell if it’s her Japanese that’s not good enough to understand it (and it wouldn’t surprise her) or if Yuzo really is incoherent in his speech. All she can tell is that he’s calling out to… someone. First it was his mother, but then, it sounded like names Maxine had never heard about.

“JB, can you get the bucket of water and a washcloth, please?” She asks as she lowers back to her boyfriend’s level. “I’m afraid of what would happen if I left him.”

“I’m on it!”

“Thanks a lot,” she tells her best friend before focusing back on their shared companion. “What were you trying to tell me, honey…?”

Unfortunately, she gets no response from him as he slips back into his fitful sleep.

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

It takes around thirty minutes before, at long last, Yuzo reemerges from whatever hell of the mind he was stuck in. It’s clear as soon as she can actually see something in his eyes, not just haze and a sort of desperate plea.

“Ah, you’re awake!” JB says as he rushes to the sofa, the bag of medicine in hand.

Yuzo flinches at the noise, gritting his teeth.

“I think you’re too loud, his head must hurt.”

“Ah, crap! Sorry, pal!”

Maxine can’t help but sigh with fondness, then focus back on their patient.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hurts,” he replies in Japanese, and that’s how Maxine can interpret it.

“What’s he saying?”

She lifts her eyes to JB, who looks discernibly worried out of his skin, rubbing his arms for warmth.

“He isn’t feeling too good, from what I can tell. It’d be more obvious if he spoke French, but it’s not a surprise he’s fallen back to Japanese.”

“Yeah, true…”

It seems as if even hearing this conversation has awaken something in their friend, whose arms barely manage to lift him up.

“Maxine…?” His voice is hoarse, his barking cough sounds wet. “What’re you doing here…?”

Both JB and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, good, you can actually speak coherent French! That means you’re doing better.”

“What happened, I’m… confused?”

JB runs to her side, smiling a little – no doubt from relief.

“Sorry for that, pal! We found you passed out on your floor earlier. You really worried us, you know?”

Yuzo looks like he’s trying to solve an equation with two unknowns on the fly to very mixed results.

“I don’t know what the doctor diagnosed you with, Yuzo, but it must be terrible. Do you mind if I take your temperature?”

“N-no, go for it.”

They all stand in silence as she does. It takes longer than the first time, and despite how heavy it makes the air as a result, it’s somewhat reassuring. Eventually, it beeps again, and this time, Maxine’s eyes don’t bulge out of their sockets.

“Thirty-eight point nine,” she announces. “It’s not good by any means, but it’s better than before, that’s for sure.”

Yuzo stares at her with

“Hang on, Max! We’ve still got all that stuff!”

As she stares at the bag in JB’s hands, she feels utterly stupid.

“Oh, snap, you’re right.”

It only takes them a couple minutes to get a couple of pills inside Yuzo, who doesn’t even protest – his throat does, but he doesn’t. In the meantime, she observes him, watches the colour on his face slowly come back even if he remains ashen pale compared to usual anyway.

She has questions swirling through her mind, some dating from before today and some so fresh they still feel crispy. She waits to ask them, sits through JB making sure his friend isn’t going to lose consciousness again. For a second, she wonders if he knows, so less puzzled yet just as heartbroken as she was earlier.

“Hey, Yuzo… Can I ask you something?” She eventually says.

He looks back at her

“Earlier, when your fever spiked, you said some things out loud.” Her eyes harden. “I doubt you remember much from it, but I still wanted to ask: do you know what you could’ve said? I think you were talking in Japanese.”

He takes time to process. Jesus, Maxine, you know he’s already struggling with French and a fever, don’t make both harder on him.

“It… depends. I was deep in a dream, I think.”

“You clutched Max’s arm and told her stuff as you cried,” JB adds.

Yuzo changes faces immediately, losing all confidence.

“Oh… I know what I must’ve said.” He takes a pause, gets a coughing fit out (she hands him a glass of water as soon as it’s done). “You said… You said you’d never leave me.” He gulps. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

“Do you know who you were saying that?”

“My mother… presumably.”

He doesn’t sound sure, but it doesn’t prevent JB from wanting confirmation, even if his face is hesitant.

“You said that to your… mom?”

“I don’t see anyone else I could’ve asked in my sleep…”

“Not even one of your friends or teammates?”

Maxine prefers to make sure because, come to think of it, she’s been dating this man for months and he’s never told her about his family. Every time she asked, he recoiled and she dropped the topic entirely. Which means…

“No, I’ve never been ill in front of them.”

“It’s normal to call out to your mom when you’re sick, though, I do it all the time,” JB continues. “So why do you look so… uneasy?”

In front of them, Yuzo rolls back inside himself, shoulders rounded like a hedgehog protecting himself. It’s bizarre to witness.

“It’s… I’ve never gotten along with my parents.” Despite his hoarse voice, he sounds clear as day, suddenly. “They’ve always held more interest within my brothers.”

“You have siblings?”

This is the first time Maxine hears about potential in-laws.

“Two brothers. One older, one younger. Engineer, doctor.” He shivers. “I wanted to be a soccer player. It didn’t make them happy.”

She doesn’t like where it’s going. Don’t tell her they…

“So when any of us would get sick, it was first them, and then me. I think they didn’t really want me to be born, but they still raised me.”

Her blood is boiling. Who are those people? How can you be so cruel? How could they’ve given the world such a sweet man…?

JB and Maxine are staring at each other, speechless.

“It’s fine, it’s just… How I was raised,” Yuzo continues to try and justify. “

“Actually, uhm… That’s just…”

JB is struggling to find his wording, fretting again (and who can blame him, that’s quite the unexpected package to drop onto their lap); so Maxine, like the good ol’ pal she is, takes the helm once more.

“Can I be very blunt about that?”

“Yes…?”

She’s sorry, she really is, especially since he looks so troubled, trembling from head to toes and hair risen on his arms; but it must be said. It must be done.

“Fuck your parents and fuck your brothers while I’m at it. They should’ve taken care of you before it got this bad.” She gets JB closer to her. “And neither of us is gonna let you down like they gave up on you.”

“It’s…” Tears prickle at his eyes. “Thank you…”

“It’s no big deal!”

“Just tell us when you’re ill, though. I’d rather not have that scare again!”

“I promise.”

She cups his face again, relief finally coming back to her.

“Now, you should get some rest. JB and I will stay here, don’t worry.”

“Actually, I need to get my sleepover stuff…”

“Well, at least one of us will be here at all times,” Maxine chuckles. “Unless you want us both?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he replies with a bit of a cough stuck in his throat. “It’s already a lot. Thank you very much.”

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[winged-deity]

Hello I was wondering if you could do a part 3 to the heard it from uncle bad series with quackity, technoblade, eret, puffy, and tubbo please

So many people asked for it, so heres part 3!

Mcyt parents reacting to you cursing

"Heard it from uncle Bad" Pt. 3

Warnings: !cursing!, !mention of blood and violence!, !mention of nuclear weapons!, !implied gambling, drug use and alcoholism!

Quackity

You were usually left upstairs of the casino while your father worked downstairs, though this time you got bored of playing by yourself in his office.

You neatly put away your toys, just as your Papa had taught you, before you excitedly ran to the door and from there to the stairs.

The first two things you noticed when you arrived down at the casino were the bright lights and a ravenette screaming at your Papa.

Without much thought, you ran in between the two, screaming at the man "Leave my papa alone you fucker!"

This caused some shock in both the man, and your father, but before either of them could respond, the man was already sprinting out of the casino.

Your Father picked you up "Hey- Cariño, good job on telling that guy off, but who taught you that word? I have to personally thank them" your Papa gave out a soft laugh.

You grinned excitedly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and told your father that you had heard your regular babysitter Badboyhalo say it while fighting with Uncle Skeppy.

"oh man thats hilarious, Cariño!" he had laughed while carrying you back to the office "now let's get you back upstairs, you're not safe here with all these drunkens"

Technoblade

Your father was a busy man, but that didnt stop him from adopting an orphan, so usually he kept you on his lap during syndicate meetings, just like today.

They were discussing an attack on the eggpire, and you felt left out and wanted to contribute to the conversation, so once they finalized the attack plan, you jumped onto the table from your fathers lap, and screamed "yeah let's get those fucks!"

Which caused you father to let out a comically loud "HEEH!?" which then caused Philza to burst out laughing at the sight of both Ranboo' and Niki's confused faces.

After your fathers near panic attack and alot of unnecessary yet confused questions, you told him that a couple of weeks back when Tommy took you to see the egg for the first time, both him and Badboyhalo had thrown around a few curses, mostly Tommy, but that beyond the point.

After hearing that, your father picked you up in his armpit while grabbing the Orphan obliterator, he then looked each of the syndicate members in the eye with an emotion that could only be described as bloodlust.

"we're eating some scrambled egg tonight warriors" even if you barely had any idea what was going on, the tone in your fathers voice made your skin crawl.

Eret

You were situated on your fathers lap while she taught you new vocabulary on their throne.

You and your guardian had made up a system, that each day you'd get to choose if you wanted to lesrn vocabulary, maths, or fencing.

Today was a calm day, so you had chosen vocabulary, but the task at hand had reminded you of something much more exciting.

You excitedly turned around in your mothers lap, putting the book down while looking at them "Pom-Pom!!" you screamed, full of energy.

"Yes my little monarch?" he smiled down at you, brushing your hair out of your face.

"i learned a new word while i was at Uncle Bad' and Uncle Skeppy's house!" you exclaimed proudly, hugging your parents chest.

"my my- what might that word be?" she chuckled quietly at your antics, while waiting patiently for a reply.

"Fuckhead!" you grinned, looking up at him with a proud glint in your eyes.

This caused you father to let out a suprised gasp "dear! You cant say that!" she shushed you quickly "thats a bad word alright? My little monarch cant say that.." she smiled apologetically.

The discussion ended in a small and lighthearted lecture for you, and a couple of royal guards sent in the direction of the Skephalo residence.

Captain Puffy

You had been clinging to your mothers side for the whole day, begging to be able to go see your big brother who was currently in prison, you were such a young duckling that you didnt understand why your brother was even locked up, beyond people saying "he was a bad person"

After what felt like the hundredth time your mother had firmly told you no, you finally entered tantrum mode and ended up saying something you shouldn't have.

"Bitch!" you screamed at her while stomping your foot, your mother finally turned her full attention to you with a loud gasp "language! You cant say that!" she was beyond furious, more so on whoever taught her duckling such a word, than being called a bitch. I mean come on now, Tommy calls her Captain Pussy on a daily basis.

You nervously stepped back, genuinely surprised from your mothers tone as she pulled you close "thats a bad-bad word!" she explained to you while running her fingers through your hair.

Upon finding out that one of her closest friends, Badboyhalo, was to blame for her child's language, she stormed right over, ignoring everything else going around, and gave Bad the biggest disappointment parent lecture.

Tubbo

You were playing with your brother Michael in your shared bedroom, when Michaels sword had accidentally given you a rather small yet painful scratch on your arm which caused you to let out a loud shriek "Shit!"

Not long after you heard a "don't teach your brother curse words y/n!" from downstairs, the voice belonging to one of your fathers, Tubbo.

"he hurt me!" you screamed back at your dad, sitting on the floor with an annoyed pout while Michael tried his best to comfort you in piglin.

Soon enough your Dad was by your side with a bandaid while you hissed in pain from the stinging, he then turned to you "so who did you hear that from?" he tilted his head with genuine curiosity, as you told him of a similar incident where it was Badboyhalo who let out the curse, which caused your Dad to let out a dramatic "Badboyhalo?!" which then caused all three of you to laugh.

Needless to say, even if Dadbo seems lighthearted and chill, badboyhalo did get a visit from a calmly pissed Tubbo and a whole ass nuke.

Really hope you enjoyed this one!

Here's the third part everyones been waiting for! I'd like to say that 1. I dont speak spanish so dont come after me for the translations. 2. I got really lazy closer to the end, so sorry about that.

[qierxing]

Obligations

Yan! Zhongli x Reader

Word Count: 2,837

How long can a man talk before he runs out of air?

Scratch that. How long can this man talk before you decide to strangle him?

"...as such, the rivers, plains, and mountains that are said to have been the remains of what is left of the dead gods remains…."

The intonation of Mr. Zhongli's voice nearly puts you to sleep at the ornate dining table, and if it weren't for the fact that you were at an esteemed establishment (even if you two were in a private room), you surely would've face planted and fallen asleep right there on the mahogany wood. But you don't, because it would be an insult to the very man (and the food) who invited you on this outing.

Mr. Zhongli is a respectable man and apparently, a good friend in your family's circles. Even though you've never met the man till now, even you're aware of his shining reputation; aunties giggling on how he's so charming and polite, cousins admiring his knowledge and strength, and other relatives likewise praising him to high Celestia and above.

And he is, you suppose, very handsome. His face is beautiful; high, defined cheekbones, molten amber eyes that glow warmly, pretty curved pink lips and nose to match. A good face, your auntie would say if she was here. An auspicious face.

“And that is how the geography of Liyue came to be...”

You're sure anyone in your position would be swooning over how his voice flowed like the trickling rivers that ran through Guili plains, but you just wished he would shut up at some point. Not even the delicious spread of food at the glass carousel wheel could distract from his tirade, and that was saying something.

Speaking of, why did he order so much food for only the two of you?

'In Liyue, you can always eat till you drop!' A saying that always echoed among the locals, and still holds true today. But even then, the intricately painted línglóng porcelain holding the remnants of steamed egg soup, roasted duck, squirrel fish, and more and more food, are way too excessive, even if he wanted to impress you.

You idly push around the Tianshu meat on your plate as he continues to drone on, wondering when you can politely excuse yourself without being rude.

-

"So, how was the dinner?" You internally groan as your mom's barely concealed excitement in her voice shows.

"Mama, we just sat there and talked." Well, Zhongli was the one doing most of the talking. But you weren't about to say that, not when you know a lecture awaits that answer.

"Isn't he a very handsome man?" Your mother's eyes gleam dangerously and a resigned sigh leaves your lips as she barrels on confidently. "Doesn't he seem like the perfect husband?!"

"Mama, it's ten in the morning…" What you wouldn’t give to eat your congee in peace.

"He is a respectable man, and quite knowledgeable to boot."

"Not you too, Baba!"

Your father merely chuckles as he continues reading the daily newspaper, and you roll your eyes as he continues chuckling behind the printed pages. Your mother swats at him to finish his porridge, turning to you with a frown on her wrinkled face. You brace yourself, knowing exactly what is coming next.

"[First Name], you're already of marriageable age, you should be looking for your future spouse! Your parents are growing old and when we die-"

"I will be perfectly fine without a husband." You cut her off, rubbing at your forehead. It was too early in the morning for this talk.

"Aiya, I don't want our only child to be by themselves! We will never know peace once we pass away, so much worry-"

You tune the rest of the lecture out, not even having the energy to refute her worries.

When you leave the house to take a walk, you meet the infamous Mr. Zhongli again.

"What a coincidence, I am also taking a walk to clear the mind. Would you perhaps like to join me?" And trapped by societal politeness, and the fact that this man did order you a three course meal the previous night, you agree.

So it's to your surprise that he does not immediately initiate dialogue as the both of you stroll leisurely through the stone gardens in Yunjin terrace, and a comfortable silence falls.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind." You turn to meet his gaze, and then away. Your frustration burns at you in the remainder of the morning's argument, but it dissipates at his concerned face. It is not his fault, you reason, that your mother wants you to court him for a possibility. For fortune. Despite the man's shortcomings, he is nothing but a gentleman.

"I don't want to pry but...I have heard that talking about your thoughts might ease your mind?"

You pause for a long time, breathing out your nose as you close your eyes.

"My parents want me to marry you." You've never been one to mince words, much to your mother's dismay at trying to teach you etiquette. "They think that you're a good match. And they're paranoid about me becoming a spinster."

There's silence for a moment and you open your eyes to not a face of disgust or shock, but rather one of musing.

"And you, [First Name]? What do you think?"

You turn your gaze to the water.

"Honestly? I don't know. I don't know you well enough to make that judgement. I know my parents are worried, but I don't want to get married for the sake of not being alone. I think it's rather selfish, to wish that solely for your partner."

The words tumble out of your mouth, one after another and you wonder how it is that it's easier to confess this to an acquaintance than your own parents.

"I was under the impression that people often like to pursue lasting romance in their lives. It's interesting to see this is not always true." Zhongli hums, hand coming to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"Perhaps? I don't know. I've always been content with my friends." Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. "Who knows? Maybe I have yet to meet the right person."

Zhongli hums again in response, seemingly in deep thought with a small frown pulling at his lips. A silence falls once again, and an awkward atmosphere falls upon the both of you.

"Oh yes, I never did thank you for the delicious dinner last night." You note offhandedly, half distracted by the swimming carp in the clear pond water. The water trails are hypnotic, and they help take your mind off the stressful morning you had.

"It was nothing. For my friend's precious child, that was the least I could do." He modestly replies, and you deadpan. It was nothing? A three course meal at Xinyue Pavillion, nothing? You know that squirrel fish did not have a low price tag.

"Regardless, I'm very thankful for your generosity." After all, not many tolerated your blunt, forthright personality, least of all the potential suitors your mother always brought before you. The memory makes you feel guilty at the irritation you had back then at the dinner. "The next time, I insist we have dinner at Wanmin--I've heard their black back perch stew is to die for. My treat."

He hums, and turns to you with a heartbreaking smile, a far cry from his previous countenance. "Is that a promise?"

You raise your eyebrow, "What are you, Morax? Yes, it's a promise, unless you hate fish, I guess."

His amused chuckles are soft but light a warm hearth in your heart.

-

Your mother is growing more daring than you remember.

She shoves you out the door as if you're some kind of fancy wrapped gift to offer to Mr. Zhongli, and there's a manic glee in her eyes as she eyes you and him standing together like a couple.

"[First Name] has been looking forward to this, haven't you, sweetie?"

The Liyuen hanfu she forced you into were a different cut than the modern cheongsam dresses of the current trends. Archaic, if you dare call it that. While some traditionalists still donned hanfu, it was not as common to see it in the streets. When she was shoving you in the under robes, she muttered about how it was something passed down in the family. Which explained a lot. These days, hanfu like this were something of a rich antiquity.

You sigh deeply, tugging your translucent pibo around you tighter as you decide to humor her, if only to get her to stop embarrassing yourselves and leave faster.

"Yes, quite."

Zhongli hums, and when you turn to face him, you're almost unnerved at how his eyes sharpen and scan over you, pupils slit like a dragon's. The moment is gone in a flash and he merely smiles at you gently before taking your hand in his gloved one.

"In that case, shall we get going?"

The nightlife of Liyue is in full swing and Zhongli tugs you closer, and there's something intimate in the way he presses you firmly into his side, the warmth he exudes sending pleasurable tingles down your body.

"Do forgive me for being so bold, [First Name]," He addresses you so tenderly, that you blush when you look back up from your joined hands, "You look absolutely radiant tonight."

How is it this man manages to say such an embarrassing thing so smoothly? What is his secret? He doesn’t seem like the playboys that often loiter around the downtown area of the harbor. You look away, unable to meet his eyes that reflect the lanterns and make his pupils glow.

"T-Thank you, Zhongli, you're too kind."

His eyes never seem to leave you, even when taking in the lovely scenery of Liyue at night. For the bright lanterns glitter and glow on the ocean waves, but his own pupils are glued to your being when you look in your peripheral.

“Is there something on my face?” Tearing your eyes away from the street in front of you, you turn to meet his gaze straight on.

He merely smiles.

“No.” He pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture innocuous, but leaving a burning trail where his finger tips touch your skin. “I believe we have arrived.”

Thankfully you can excuse the burning in your cheeks and neck away with the spices that the Li cuisine favors. If anyone asks, it was the black back parch stew making you look flushed and out of sorts. Never mind the fact that Chef Mao looks quite amused at the fact you’re sputtering in response to his cheeky questions about you showing up with a man to your favored restaurant.

When you look up from checking to make sure your hanfu didn’t get any stains, Zhongli is uncorking a white bottle and pouring it into your cups. At your questioning look, he replies, “Dàqūjiǔ. The Li technique ferments wheat for about two to three months. This one in particular, has a fine aroma after being fermented for a while.”

“Hoh…” You chuckle at his explanation, “You really do know everything.”

“Hardly. I cannot say I know as much as the regular scholar…nonetheless, to good fortune!”

Echoing his cheer, you raise your cup and drink.

The alcohol burns your throat, and you’re reminded of your low alcohol tolerance. Yet, your fellow friend refills your cup just as easily, and who are you to refuse him? By the time you’re on your fourth cup, your world is spinning and you’ve developed a headache.

“Ahaha…wow...everything...is...moving…” You slur incomprehensibly and slump onto the bamboo table.

“Oh dear, we best get you back. In this condition, you’re too vulnerable.”

“No way...if I go back with you...my mom….she won’t let me…!” You raise your head from the cool table, but the effort of doing that makes you groan.

Zhongli all too easily picks you up bridal style, and after bidding goodbye to Chef Mao with a hefty bag of mora, he walks down the now empty streets of Liyue.

“Won’t let you what, dear heart?” He hums, stroking your face gently with the pad of his thumb.

“Won’t let me...let...us...ugh…”

“[First Name], do you like me?”

“Mmh...yeah…” Is all he gets, but the stilted, jagged answer is enough for him. The content smile that breaks his face belies the haunting glow of his molten eyes.

-

When you step out of the door of your bedroom, you're accosted by your sobbing mother.

"Ma-Mama?! What's the matter?" You frantically ask, pushing at her shoulders.

"Oh my sweet child, oh I'm so happy for you! When were you going to tell me, you brat?!"

"Tell you what?!"

"That you're marrying Zhongli, sweetie! Oh, this is such a momentous occasion--"

You're too shell shocked that you do not hear her next words. What? Marry? Zhongli? What on Teyvat was going on--

"--Hurry up, he's waiting for you in the living room!" You're snapped out of your daze when you're ushered hastily into the room, casual robes and all, right in front of the very person you had so many questions for.

The door shutting behind you does not muffle the excited chatter from your parents and you wince when you hear your mother excitedly bantering with your father. Turning and meeting an intense gaze, you feel like you’ve stepped into an arena with a monster.

"Zhongli, why are my parents under the impression we're marrying?"

His golden eyes crinkle in delight at your blunt words, "Because we are, my dear heart."

D-Dear heart?!

"I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand?" You step back as he rises from the cozy armchair he was given. It only just occurs to you how ridiculously tall this man is, and he towers over you, like a mountain.

"I believe we share a mutual attraction. After all, last night only proved it." He leans over and you flinch as he gently cups your face with a small smile.

"We've only known each other for a couple days!" You protest, leaning your face out of his hands. His smile dips into a displeased frown, hands falling to his sides.

"Why need more time to prove what is already there?" He tilts his head. “If this is a matter about your dowry, I’m sure I can help--”

“This isn’t about mora! Zhongli, this is moving way too fast--”

“Is that so? If I’m correct, I believe that your family’s come upon some hard times, no?” And you’re left breathless, struck silent. “Not down to the pits, but just one little slip and...well, your father’s business is already taking loans, isn’t it?”

Your teeth are grinding so hard against each other to the point where it echoes in your head.

“Marry me, [First Name], and you won’t have to worry about any of that. After all, I’ve always had enough good fortune to share. Are you so willing to crush your parent’s hopes and dreams for their child?”

“I-” Your mother’s tears on her weathered face come to mind, wrinkles from stress deeply indented in her skin. Your father, weary, veiny hands covered in scars from hard manual labor, shoulders slumped from his strength sapping. And you realize with a bone chilling fear that this man, this man was threatening to destroy the very foundation of your life.

He smiles upon seeing your uncertain visage, gritted teeth, clenched fists and trembling body.

"You'll look beautiful in red and gold."

-

How numb you feel!

Having to sit there while being dressed, being fawned over by your cousins, cried over by your mother and aunties, and your father and uncles chuckling over your good fortune. All the while, you cannot bring yourself to bring even the fakest smile to your face, only being able to muster up a sheepish smile, but it is of no concern, as everyone seems to mistake it for a shy front for a person about to marry their true love.

At least that’s how your mother is spinning it to your giggling aunties. And even when the festivities are over, you know that this is not the end.

Bare fingers trace your cheeks and lift your veil as a chaste kiss is placed on your lips.

This was supposed to be a day of joy.

Said fingers begin to trail down your body, and more sobs begin to shake your body. When you think about it, this might be the first time you felt his skin touch your own. Zhongli has always dressed conservatively, even covering his hands with his gloves. Thinking about it longer makes your skin crawl.

This was supposed to be--

Zhongli hums appreciatively into your collarbone as he slips your wedding garb off your shoulders, your world collapses and dims, with only a haunting amber light as your guide.

[doppopoppo]

Bundle of Feelings

|| Uramichi Daily Headcanon ||

|| Warnings: married, minor cussing, angst, argument ||

|| Uramichi • F!Reader || 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*💙

Silence.

Everything was silent. 

The only thing that could be heard were the trees rustling outside. The curtains swaying softly and hitting the glass door. The fridge is running in the background. And the heavy breathing of two adults. Hearts pounding in their chests. Both afraid the other may hear their heart wanting to explode into a volcanic mess. 

Otherwise, silence. 

Y/N hasn’t seen her husband this mad since she last saw him interact with his father. Uramichi was red in the face, a scowl permanently settled atop his facial features. The way he was holding her hand, squeezing it tightly for mental support. She doesn’t even remember what they were even arguing about, as her father-in-law bickered about the most minuscule of things. 

Today, however, Uramichi’s anger was directed at her. She had thrown out all of his beer and cigarettes. His wife was tired of having to deal with a drunk husband more nights than she wanted. Only sleeping when he was wasted and slurring out cuss words. The heavy smell of tobacco following his trail, making her scrunch up her nose in disgust. Coughing whenever she walks by as he puffs out smoke. None of these were healthy coping mechanisms. She genuinely wanted to help her husband figure out and find better alternatives. Healthier options. One that wouldn’t harm his health. 

As a gymnast, shouldn’t he know better? 

Little did she know, her actions would cause Uramichi to have an outburst. The most the two fought over what to eat for dinner, junk food or protein filled. He began the argument by yelling at her. Then proceeded to belittle her, what can she know? How stupid can she be? 

She cried and tried to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen. “It's for your own good!” Y/N sniffled, “why can’t you see that?” She was hugging her own body. Unsure if it was for comfort or out of fear; maybe both? 

Uramichi sighed and rubbed his forehead, “I’m a grown man. I can make my own fucking choices for fucks sake, Y/N!” He’s never used such vulgar vocabularies with her before, this was a first. 

She didn’t want to change Uramichi, instead help diminish the fire inside of him. The one his father lit and kept throwing gasoline at it. 

“You won’t grow like this, dear. If you want a brighter future and to help your depression, we need to start fixing your bad habits.” She emphasized ‘we’. Because they were in this together. 

Uramichi had yet another strenuous day at work, all he wanted was to drink beer until he passed out. His wife’s cuddles no longer lulled him to sleep. Her sweet whispers felt meaningless. Only cigarettes could help him calm his mind down. Yet, she still tried to reason with him. Saying bullshit about seeing a therapist, hanging out with friends more often, or going outside that’s not the gym. 

“I know your fathers did horrible things to you. Such as forcing you into something you didn’t want to do. But you have to stop living in the past. Stop blaming your father for your future, which is your present now.” His wife tried to get close to him to bring him into a hug. 

Enraged at her words, “Oh my god, I could just hit you right now!” Uramichi threw the nearest dumbbell to him across the room. She heard a vase shatter, the one that was a hand me down from her mother. 

“What the hell do you know!? You’ve lived a nice and spoiled life, no inch of worries. No wonder you’re such a stubborn brat half the time.” His words were like a sharp knife cutting through her heart. 

She bent down over the broken pieces of vase. Shattered just like her heart. Uramichi’s eyes and mind were clouded in red rage. He hasn’t realized he broke an important item. One that was personally given to them by his mother-in-law. The woman who entrusted her daughters happiness to him. 

“Stop.” Y/N whispered. “Stop this right now!” She shouted at him. New, hot tears fell from Y/N’s eyes as she held into the broken vase pieces. She was in shock that her husband was willing to get physical over beers and cigarettes. This wasn’t what he promised to her on the day of their wedding vows. 

“You’re no different from your father, Uramichi.” She stood up. “An abuser raised another abuser. I can’t have this cycle continue.” Y/N went to put on her coat. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Uramichi was irritated that she had the audacity to leave in the middle of an argument. 

“Our child doesn’t need to witness what you witnessed your father do to you.” His wife glared at him. 

Those words flipped a switch inside Uramichi. Child? But they didn’t have any children. Then it clicked, his wife was pregnant. Was that the real reason she wanted him to stop? Why didn’t she say so in a better way then? It was too late to ask her these though, because she already left the apartment. 

The small apartment that used to be lovely thanks to his wife, now felt cold and lonely. The way it was before she came into his life. He took a look around the room and saw the mess he made. It might’ve been minor, but it left a big impact. Uramichi noticed the important vase he broke and ran out the door to catch up to his wife. Though she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and went back inside and laid down on the couch. He screwed up big time. 

When morning came, it was raining but the smell of food tickled his senses and woke him up. He slowly got up from the couch and went towards the kitchen. He found his wife in her favorite apron cooking breakfast. 

“Morning.” She chirped. “I’m making American style sausage with scrambled eggs! Go sit at the table in the living room, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Questions ran through his head as he sat at the table on the floor. The broken vase pieces are gone, but so is the vase. Y/N’s eyes looked empty, betraying the big smile she displayed. He saw his wife bring the food to the table. He quickly got up and helped her. Likewise, he went to grab some additional items to set up the table for breakfast. Was last night a dream? No it couldn’t be. 

The question was itching in Uramichi’s throat, he had to ask. “Why?” 

Y/N looked up from her place, “why what?” 

“Why'd you come back? I even broke your mother’s case.” He thought she walked out for good. He threatened to hit her. He vowed to never be like his father, and that’s exactly who he became last night. His nightmare coming to reality. 

Y/N put her fork down, “Listen, we are married, way passed the dating phase. On our wedding day we vowed to love each other until death do’s us apart. It is both of our responsibilities to make sure the other is doing okay. Physically and mentally. You’re always there for me, dear. I want to be here for you this time, in what I think will help you. I’m sorry I threw out your beer and cigarettes without discussing it with you. I just want  to see you make healthier choices for yourself.” she put her hand over his. “I found out about the baby after I made the decision a while back. It’s another reason now why I would like for you to stop, but the main reason here is you. This is about you and us helping you.” she stared at his eyes. “I don’t wish to change you, but help you. As for the vase, you can buy me another one.” She winked and giggled. “As long as we’re fine, it’s all that matters.”

It was a big change she was asking him to make. But he can take small steps. That’s what the couple decided on. To limit his alcoholic intake to certain days of the week. Same with his smoking. He didn’t have to quit, but he was trying not to be dependent on it. He has the strongest support laying next to him at night. Holding him tightly. Uramichi was truly excited to know he’ll become a father! He’s nervous, but he knew he’s not alone. He thinks about what he can do to be a better father than his was.

Author’s Note:

He needs a hug. And a raise.

Remember, who your parents are don’t define you. If something happened in the past, don’t let it define you and who you are today. It might hold you back from growing. Just remember to take care of your mental health! 💜

Enjoy!

[strayen-fx]

Red.

》 HHJ x reader

》 angst, vampirish theme

》 warnings: mentions of blood, hints of physical assault

》 2.1k words

》 a/n: short and simple, after months of writing break. Hope you guys enjoy regardless :)

“Stay away from them, my dear. Save your blood from the horrors of their fangs. Be wary of solitude, and be wary of the crowd.”

It was a day not unlike any other. My morning kicked off lazily, with me waking up almost an hour later than a college freshman was supposed to. Nothing unusual there. I did my usual morning prep, took a cup of grandma’s tea in one gulp, and went my way. I was already late for the train—I had to run after a departing bus with an exceptional speed that would put Olympiads to shame. I got in the room just in time as the bell rang for first period. I came in huffing like an old man, but it’s alright. Way better than walking through the early jam-packed hallways.

The first aberration in my daily humdrum existence happened on my way to fourth period. A student from another department stopped me on my tracks. I knew him; he was a member of the student council. Was I in some sort of trouble?

He introduced himself as Han Jisung, then proceeded to ask if I have seen his friend.

“He’s tall,” Jisung explained. “But like, not super tall. Not the towering-over-people kind. He has a mole under his eye. He’s got black—no wait, I think he dyed his hair again the other day. Anyway, have you seen someone like him? He’s noticeably handsome. I guess. I’m more handsome, though, but you know what I mean.”

The whole school would know who he is talking about. The one and only Hwang Hyunjin: champion swimmer, council member, and just a general talk of the town. The Prince. Even if I did see him around, though, I wouldn’t know. I never pay attention to the people I walk by.

I shook my head and muttered a soft sorry. I did feel bad for Jisung. He looked so worried and dejected, and I can’t blame him—not after after the incident with Seungmin. I can’t really take it against him to worry about his friends. I sauntered off to my next class, my mind still stuck on the fact that a normal person in my school has actually talked to me, and I was able to keep my composure.

Fifth period: P.E. I don’t even know why we still have this subject in college. I opted to take a stroll instead. You see, a huge, dense forest is situated right behind the main school grounds. You could say that the school itself lies within the bosom of greeneries. Unkempt bushes and rows of towering trees stretched over several miles deep, starting from the edge of the campus to god-knows-where. It is my goal to scout the whole area before graduation.

Weighed down by my personal monstrous beast, I trudged through. I walked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally reached the spot—my spot. Sheet of decaying leaves cushioned a huge gray boulder, standing at least ten feet tall, shaped like an odd piece of egg smashed against the forest floor. Against it stood a larger stone, this one dotted with moss and weathered with cracks. They were propped against each other for support, as if stopping one another from tumbling to the ground.

There was a smaller rock at the foot of the smaller stone, and I use it as leverage to climb up and sit on top of the largest boulder. It was my favorite place. Most times I could just pretend that I was alone in my own tiny bubble, at the center of that clearing that nobody else ventures but me. I don’t feel the breath of people suffocating me with every step that I take. I don’t feel my heart thumping with the sight of anyone else. I don’t need to hold back. Here, I don’t feel weird.

But today felt somehow different.

It was awfully silent. The wind felt sharper and colder. Electricity was humming in the air, leaving my skin prickling with discomfort. There was a tension in my veins that I couldn’t quite explain—it felt like an omen of an incoming disaster.

Time ticked slow. A couple hours could have passed—or maybe it has only been five minutes—when a nearby rustling perked up my senses.

Trying to keep my movements as quiet as possible, I hopped down and took up a defensive position, which wasn’t easy to do for a student with no actual weapon aside from an almost-empty bag and a worn-out calligraphy pen. My instincts told me to take cover—but my feet seemed glued to the ground. Sweat trickled from my forehead. My hands started to feel clammy.

And then, just as I was about to scamper away, a figure crashed into view from behind the nearest oak tree. I almost threw my bag towards the person’s direction, until I had a clear view of the intruder’s face.

It was Hwang Hyunjin, wide-eyed and disoriented, with his cheeks and uniform smudged with traces of blood.

“Help me.”

His voice came out as a tiny croak, as if his throat was filled with acid. He stumbled towards me, reaching out his hand for support. I wasn’t able to move an inch—and who could blame me? The situation was way too hard to process.

Hwang Hyunjin, the university prince, was hunched huffing before me, his clothes caked with mud and dried blood, his hair a nest of mess on his head. He had a cut on his cheek, I noticed. His breathing was heavy and labored, as if the mere act of standing on his own two feet required all the effort he could muster.

“Help me,” he repeated.

“What happened to you?” I managed to blurt out. My initial thought was that some random outsiders kicked his butt for stealing their girlfriends. But no—someone like Hyunjin would have been able to handle that. Plus, something in his eyes showed an elaborate fear—something only a beast would be capable of instilling. I should know.

My heart began thumping faster, a colossal drum barreling in my chest.

Just as my schoolmate was about to open his mouth and explain, a loud rustling broke the stillness of the air. Before I could process what was happening, Hyunjin grabbed my hand and bolted away, dragging me with him.

“Don’t look back!” he warned.

I did.

At least a dozen feet behind us was another male, probably as old as Hyunjin. He was sporting our school uniform, walking casually under the shades of trees as if time wasn’t of any matter. What puzzled me, though, was the fact that we can’t seem to distance ourselves from him despite the heavy efforts Hyunjin had been exerting to drag us both away from this newcomer.

I took another glance behind me, and to my surprise, the young man wasn’t there anymore. Nowhere behind us, as if he dissipated without a single trace.

Hyunjin took a sudden stop, causing me to bump my head against his back. I was about to call him out for stopping, but then I saw the looming figure a few meters in front of us.

“You…?” I began, my mind a juggle of unanswered questions. How on earth did that happen? How is he—

Hyunjin's friend, Kim Seungmin, stood before us in his dirty school uniform. He looked pale, his eyes bloodshot, but he was standing there in full grace, very much alive, giving us a toothy grin. “You’re hurting my feelings, Hyun. Why are you running away from me?”

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand went tighter. “Seungmin...”

“Friends are supposed to help each other, am I right?” Seungmin continued, faux dismay dripping in his voice. He bared his fangs, its tips dripping with fresh blood. “So help me, Hyunjin.”

I felt my body run cold. I wanted to scream, run, anything—anything to get away from this. From him. From the two of them. From everything. But Hyunjin's hand remained strong around my wrist, and my legs were close to turning jelly. I could start to feel the fullness in my mouth, the pointy ends of my incisors. Something that only happens when I'm in an extreme hunger or danger.

“Stay away from them,” grandma said. “We are the same kind, but we are different. Weaker. They see us as preys, as special commodities. They can smell your blood despite my concoctions, my dear, remember this!”

Seungmin tilted his head to one side, finally regarding my presence. “And you, over there. I’ve never tried drinking such special blood.” He grinned. “Satiate my thirst.”

The last thing I knew, a strong hand was pressing tightly around my neck, turning my vision green.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Have you heard of the news?”

“What news?”

“Kim Seungmin was safe! They found him in the forest yesterday.”

“Thank goodness! Was he hurt?”

“He had a few gashes, but he’s fine. Hyunjin found him and brought him to the hospital right away.”

Students filled the corridor, everyone bustling and hustling about the news: after his sudden disappearance, Seungmin was finally found by his best friend, Hyunjin. The latter saw him in the forest, hungry and disoriented. They went straight to the hospital to treat his minor wounds, and that was that—nobody bothered to ask how he managed to lose himself in the wilderness, or how we managed to survive seven days on his own. Nobody asked him stupid and unnecessary questions. Seungmin was safe, and that was all that mattered.

I brushed my way past the milling crowd, flinching at every accidental touch. I kept my eyes on the ground, forcing my mind into silence. I was expecting everyone to be in their respective classrooms at this time of the day, but apparently, the news of Seungmin’s return has become enough reason for everyone to wander about and neglect their individual duties. It was a grand miscalculation on my part—I hadn’t braced myself for this huge number of people.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

I just have to get back home, and then it’ll be over. My insides would stop churning once I’ve drunk grandma’s tea—that has worked for 18 years now. I can stop this. I can stop me.

I made a run towards the comfort room. To my luck, nobody was inside. I washed my face over and over, as if doing so would cleanse me from the impurity stamped on every drop of my blood. The face on the mirror horrified me—I had to stop myself from punching the glass over and over.

The moment I stepped out, I felt his presence.

He was there, leaning against the wall, lurking behind the shadows. There was a faint gleam of terror in his eyes, but at the same time, I can feel it: the hunger. Lust for meat. Thirst for blood.

“Don’t be like him, Hyunjin,” I pleaded. “Don’t be like us.”

He shook his head in resignation. “It’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Another. He kept on walking until he stood right in front of me, too close I can feel him breathe.

Too close I can see the faint traces of blood on his lips.

“I’m still hungry,” he sobbed. “I’m still hungry…”

Fear was apparent in his eyes—fear of what would happen to him, fear of what he had become. “You will be fine,” I offered, taking his hand in mine. “Trust me on this. It will be fine.”

And then I felt it, stronger this time—the hunger he was talking about. The thirst. My stomach growled in protest at the sight of Hyunjin’s pale flesh. I can smell his blood—I can feel its steady rhythm as it flowed through his pulsing veins.

I need to get home. Maybe my grandma could do something about Hyunjin, too. Maybe she could produce a stronger tea, and both of us wouldn’t have to worry about our instincts anymore.

We stood next to each other for a full minute before he broke the silence.

“We need each other to survive,” Hyunjin whispered. “If we drink the blood of our own kind, we can last for a month without feeding on others.” He freed his hand from my hold and gripped my shoulders tightly. “I need you. And you need me, too.”Hyunjin leaned down until we were staring at each other at eye level. He closed the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I allowed my monster to take ove.