#i actually need help im failing my mother tongue

[sigyn-foxyposts]

Headcanon/Theory: If Loki is Askeladen then..was Sigyn the princess?

So I felt like researching was very fun and not talked about enough folklore surrounding Loki. Like we all know how he has his own little traditions: being the tooth fairy and the vættir living under or in the fireplace. 

Some like to think that this very well know tale of a boy named Askeladen "The ashland" is actually Loki, or based on him anyways! 

After all the ashland does start out as being regarded as an incapable underachiever, but eventually proves himself by overcoming some prodigious deed, succeeding where all others have failed.

Too add further comparison, in the stories Askeladden is characterised as the runt of the family, being:

"the youngest, smallest, and weakest", yet "clever, bold, patient"

He had two brothers, who he often proved wrong whenever they teased him and when they failed in a task, their father would be surprised, since he thought his brothers would succeed. No, in fact it was askeladen.

He is also said to love the fireplace, poking around the ash all day watching over the fires while his mother nags him in doing something with his life, hence the nickname his family gave him! 

In the story: "The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body" or "The Boy Who Had an Eating Match with a Troll". He ends up tricking a giant/troll into.. taking his own life in an eating contest. How Loki is that? 

Now onto the princess part! The whole reason i am writing this. In the story titled: "The Princess who always had to have the Last Word" (Which I love so much!! Sounds like a girlboss) 

First published in 1843, this fairytale tells of a princess who is "so headstrong and obstinate", that her father the king promises her hand in marriage and half of the kingdom to the whoever who can silence her tongue. 

By the way, they're indicating that she has a silver tongue and a loud-mouth to anyone that she meets. 

By and by, the royal estate becomes so run down by people, that the king decides that if they fail, they will have their ears swayed with an iron.

(I dont really know what this could mean, but im guessing they became a slave or its a way of burning a mark into them?? feel free to share what we know about that one.)

Nonetheless, three brothers set off to try their luck with the princess. 

The youngest, called the Ashlad, picks up several items along the way, consequently being ridiculed by his two older brothers.

As the story unfolds however, it appears that it is not necessarily the things in question which prove to be helpful in the end. 

Mind you the whole time, when his brothers ask "what could you possibly need that for?"

He responds "Oh, I have things to do, and this will do,"

The Ashlads' approach to the road ahead of him reminds us to be attentive and mindful of events and coincidence on our way. Although he is initially mocked in the beginning, it turns out that doing things differently is perhaps not such a bad idea after all.

After his older brothers go in first they're ridiculed by the princess. 

"Good day," he said.

"Good day to you too," she answered and turned in her seat.

"It sure is warm in here," he said.

"It's warmer in the coals," answered the princess; the branding iron was lying there, ready to be used. 

When he saw that, he couldn't say a word, and he failed. It didn't go better with the second brother.

"Good day," he said.

"Good day to you too," she said and turned in her seat.

"It's very warm in here," he said.

"It's warmer in the coals," she answered. 

Then the cat got his tongue as well, and the iron was pulled out again.

Then it was the Ashlad's turn.

"Good day," he said.

"Good day to you too," she said and turned in her seat.

"It's nice and warm in here," he said.

"It's warmer in the coals," she answered; she did not care to be nicer to him than she was with the others.

"Then maybe I can fry my magpie there?" he asked, pulling out his first find. 

"I'm afraid she'll burst," said the king's daughter.

"Not to worry, I'll put this birch ring around it," said the boy.

"It's too wide," she said.

"I'll use this wedge," said the boy.

"The fat will drip out of her," said the princess.

"I'll hold this underneath," answered the boy, showing his broken pottery.

"Your words are all crooked," said the princess.

"No, I'm not crooked, but this is crooked," answered the boy, pulling out one of the ram's horns.

"Now, I've never seen anything like it!" yelled the princess.

"Here's one like it," said the boy, and pulled out the other horn.

"You're trying to wear me out, aren't you?" she said.

"No, but this is worn out," answered the boy, pulling out the sole.

The princess didn't know what to say.

"Now you're mine," said the Ashlad, and he got her and half the country into the bargain.

Now don't we all also theorise that Sigyn might be related to Freya or at least have been raised by Njord, one you'd consider wealthy and a "king" of the vanir? 

Just a thought! Might make a fan fiction of this in the future. 🤭

[night-market-if]

I just saw something about poly and Milo-Mal-MC?? I dont know if this is gonna be true or not, but I really hope you can have the option because, I really, really think this can be a very sweet relationship, and very necessary (at least for Milo, poor guy need a lot of attention and love), now I really excited about reading it, but other part of me are a bit afraid, making romance relationship is (in my opinion) very difficult, because you can fall very easily in stereotypes and toxic cliches, and in my opinion poly relationships are even harder because you need to pay attention to 6 bounds at the same time (Milo-Mal/Milo-MC/MC-Mal and vice versa) and unfortunately open or poly relationships still have a stigma nowadays, that means, that means that they are still not very well known and for that everyone (obviously me include) can fail in a not very realistic way

Now, with this im not trying to say you will have this problem (I mean, I dont even know if this would or would not be an option in the first place lol) on the contrary, (if happen) I have high hopes for you (not in the pressure kind, lol the bad thing about English not been your mother tongue is you can express yourself in a form you want it without looking like a robot or a scum) because I really love your story and way of writing and I really really think we all need more poly (well writing) stories.

But if I can jus say one tiny thing… as an advice you don't have to follow, there are a LOT of stereotypes and weird forms a lot of people fall when they write poly, one of them is putting the MC like the absolute pilar of the relationship, instead of a threesome (I prefer the word in Spanish "trieja" I dont know if there is a word better suited for relationships of three people in English), create relationships that are in a between poly and open relationships, I dont know if im explaining myself well enough, I think what im trying to say is, its not the same to be in a trieja relationship that a open relationship, I (personally) are okey with both of them, but if, for example, this couple was created because Milo and Mal have a super sweet badass relationship more that because there can be a very good bounce between everyone, I really, really prefer to put the "tag" open relationship having Milo two separate romances than one "poly" and in that way it could also be less weird(?) for people who are not used to polyamorous relationships, although I guess jealousy will always be there for those people :( but its true than, if this will happen, you should put a lot of options about possibles reaction MC could do or even (unfortunately) finish the relation (I really think a person can love more than one person, for that reason we can fall in love so many times lol, but I can understand that not everyone need to feel in the same way)

Im so sorry for all this text nobody ask for, I even dont know if this relation could even be real, but I wanted to express my opinion, I really courage you (if you really wanted) to try and explore this kind of love because I really think you can do something magical, but at the end is something you need to think yourself, if you will do it, there will be people who will not like it, if you will not do it, there will be people who will not like it (although probably much less) so do whatever you want xD

If you read this, thank you for your interest and patience! <3

Hey anon!

Never worry about long asks. I really love reading the different perspectives people have on how a route could go. It also helps me navigate certain moments that I may not have thought of yet.

I have not made a ton of decisions about how the poly is going to look. It's not something I've had to worry about yet because I'm not writing book 2 for a few more months. But, I can say that I think a lot of how the poly is presented, might depend on the reader. I know how I will head cannon it and gear the writing towards, but choices might actually affect how it is read. I tend to try and give decisions on who you spend time with in the game and I will be doing something similar during the poly routes. I don't believe if you are in a poly or an open relationship or if you have an understanding with another, you have to spend all your time with those other two people. I'll be giving the option for solo moments along with poly, if that is the chosen route.

As for Milo, Mal, and the MC. In reality, these three are heavy hitters. All the RO's are really. But they are heavy hitters in a way that's a bit different. I do not think their ideas and how they handle situations always align. I think they are very independent people (the route MC will start to take) and they are not very dependent on the three of them constantly being attached. They can value each others opinion and still take their own course. So, I think this will be an opportunity to negotiate something between three adults who still wish to have their own agency outside of their relationship.

I do think there will be genuine affection to see each other in the evening. I can tell you past the initial negotiations, I'm not going to put the jealousy routes between them because I'm personally kind of done with reading the rhetoric that full grown adults can't seem to work things out with each other when in a relationship. LOL! I think that there is a lot of opportunity for this to be something very deep and interesting to read. It's just a matter of convincing people it's worth their time. Which, that seems to be the harder sell. Either way though, I enjoy characters more than anything else. I enjoy deep diving into them. Putting them in situations that challenge normal beliefs (in our world or the NM) . And then sitting back and seeing what happens. I think this will be no different.

I don't know if I answered any of your questions or just rambled back at you but I hope this helps! Thank you for such a cool opportunity to discuss this.

🪷✨🪷✨ If you want to support me 🪷 ✨🪷✨

 Demo 🌿 Patreon 🌿 Ko-fi 🌿Discord

[fallinghorizontally]

I come here again hat in hand, sack hanging off a stick behind my shoulder, and praying for answers from myself lol

My anxiety is still so fucked. Feeling new symptoms that are just so fucking rude to me. Always related to my heart. I've been 2 cardiologists' guinea pig for the past 6 months and nothing has been found. I feel like I know its anxiety but I just cannot break through this illusion. Recently had a spell of panic attacks which are a lot rarer these days though. I feel like I have the answer right at the tip of my tongue like I just need an epiphany like those movies where everything falls into place when the asshole looks off in the distance when he hears the most ambiguous shit. I really wish shit was like the movies. Anyway I decided to write here again because of some dreams I've been having.

My sleep schedule has been so fucked this past week. I literally sleep during the day. Anyway, I've had really meaningful dreams these past two nights or days? idk whenever I sleep. Yesterday, I dreamt about my mom. I think we get into an argument? Something she says deescalates me or rather unlocks something in me, it makes me fall into a little boy again but not physically only mentally, I go to hug her, and I tell her how scary it was and I'm assuming what I meant was everything my step father put me through. I ask her why she didn't help me but she just continues hugging me. I woke up sobbing.

My next dream was about my father, only he wasn't actually in it. It was about my uncle, his brother and my grandma, his mother. I was in a home but it didn't belong to them, it was where I visited them at, though. I told them that I've been having trouble with school and that im struggling really bad. They begin to berate me and they become agitated and they ask what's wrong with? and why can't I try harder? Usually irl, they're very docile and quiet and reserved but not in this dream. The berating goes on for a while until I snap and yell and ask," why couldn't you say all this shit when I was a little boy? Why not try harder for me instead of watching me fail my whole life?" Anyway I started sobbing again but this time I cried harder when I woke up.

After I woke up and cried a bit an then came to my senses, I quietly said wow im actually pretty fucked. Always thought I was over everything, holding no grudges. Staying stoic or whatever the fuck kind of man the world wants me to be. But im not, im soft, sensitive, and really fucking hurt and I don't know what to do about it.

[yanxua]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ┆ about me ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊

▩ some stuff abt me ig lmao

▩ ya can call me xuan and no its not pronounced as juan i will literally take a baseball bat and find you if you say it like that 😠

if you don’t wanna call me xuan you could just call me yours 😍

haha jk unless 😳

▩ im a female bi (bimyself 😔 ) and a switch (not the nintendo switch 🤨)

▩ i go by she/her or they/them bc sometimes i just want to be a guy

▩ i still interact with blogs that say fem aligned people dni bc when it comes to fanfics i don’t care what gender the reader is, i just read 💀

▩ my age? its a secret 😋🤫 but dw im not a fetus nor a boomer 😻

▩ im chinese but literally failing the subject 😔 send help

▩ fav colours are green, greyish purple and dark red

▩ does shit on a whim and may literally abandon a project half way 💀

▩ may seem like i have a lot of free time but in reality i have like 30 missing assignments ☺️😭

▩ xuan is half of my real chinese name so ya

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ other facts abt me: ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

❏ i play Genshin on Asia ar 56 57, keqing main ( dm me if u wanna play tgt 😗)

❏ i do embroidery and stuff (call me old-fashioned i dare you 😠🔪)

❏ i like anime n vtubers (niji en my love fr 😍)

-> fav vtubers r enna, aster, mysta, elira and selen

-> fav animes: kimetsu no yaiba, assassination classroom, your lie in april, horimiya, my dress up darling

❏ i play 4 instruments : guzheng - 6 yrs , ukulele 1-2 yrs ish, tongue drum - 1yr and kalimba - 1-2 yrs (6 if u count the basic ass shit i can play on a harmonica and recorder) and i might try to pick up violin for fun

one day if smn asks for it and i have the confidence for it i might upload a recording for funni 😋

❏ wont do nsfw work but if u wanna chat abt sus shit im always down 😙

ill update this when i find other shit abt myself

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊

[technowoah]

since I'm a gremlin I can ask for a c!Schlatt angst fighting with reader while he's drunk and the reader is just fed up with dealing with him and goes "IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" and just walks away and he realizes the shit he's done?

(the same anon who wasn't prepared to be heartbroken-)

Heartless

Somehow you find your way back to Schlatt again and it never goes as well as you think.

- c!schlatt x reader

- angst

- anon!requested

- part 1 to this story

⚠︎: swearing, angst, alcoholism, mentions of dying, c!quackity makes a appearance, hopefully this is sad enough yall-

An// i decided to make this a part 2 to Have a Heart! So I hope you enjoy love!

The night is still cold and dark as you begrudgingly walk back to one of the buildings that was put up to replace whatever L'Manburg was there before. 

After Dream's word you had still contemplated going back to Schlatt. He doesn't deserve what you do, but you still end up walking along the Prime Path back to the drunken man. You had no end goal and that was a problem. You probably were going to be embarrassed that you came back to him. You couldn't let Schlatt die, from either the hands of someone else or let him die from himself.

You eventually found yourself in front of the metal doors that led into endless hallways of offices nobody occupied. The offices that had wine and cigarettes for Schlatt to smoke just in case he decided to have a meeting in a room that isn't the official meeting room. 

Walking down the hallways you saw that most of the doors to each office were open and most of the alcohol and cigarettes were taken from each room. You peaked inside every room to see if Schlatt was in there, but something in you told you not to because you weren't prepared. What were you going to say? Stop drinking? Because you're sure he'll know he's not going to stop. You want to try to save him.

You slowly opened a door to reveal an office that looked an absolute mess. The small refrigerator was knocked over and all of the wine off the shelf was either shattered on the floor or gone. There were cigarette butts on the ground and lit a cigar, there were also papers and folders all across the room.

You whispered as you walked around the lit room "Schlatt must've been in here."

"Sure as hell he was!"

You spun around to see Quackity looking disheveled as ever. He had a bottle of liquor in his hand, his beanie threatened to fall off of his head and his suit now only a white button up with his dress pants still on.

"I've been running around this goddamn place trying to keep that ram man at peace! He's gonna drink himself to death." Quackity huffed while looking around the hallway.

"I know." 

"That's why you're here huh?"

You sighed at the realization. "Yes it is. I don't want him to drink himself to death. Death isn't what I want."

"Well, it's too late for that." Quackity faced away from you not wanting to look you in the eyes.

You stayed silent until Quackity spoke up again.

"You want me to take you to him? Wanna see him one last time before he dies-"

"Don't say that!" You rolled your eyes 

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's inevitable Y/N! His body is now 70 percent alcohol and his lungs are filled with smoke!" Quackity laughed in disbelief. "I don't want him to die! But its fucking inevitable. Either from someone else or-"

"Himself." You finished his sentence.

"Exactly!" He opened his mouth to speak again but apparently decided against it.

Quackity began to lead you out of the office and down the long hallway you two walked slowly not even knowing where Schlatt was in the whole building. You and Quackity made small talk.

"I hate this. I had to find this liquor and deliver it to him and now I can't find him."

"I came here to try and save him from himself and you're here feeding the problem."

"What else do you want me to do?" He grunted.

"Stop him!"

"If I stop him he's gonna be even worse so-!" Quackity threw up his hands in frustration as you two kept walking.

"I actually have something to tell you." Quackity spoke up after the silence.

"Quackity! Ah there you are!" Schlatt came around the corner behind you both and you turned around to meet the man you both have been looking for stumbling down the hallway.

"Ah you bitch! I thought I told you to leave!"

"Here we go." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey Schlatt! Here's the Liquor you wanted!" Quackity tried to liven up the situation by reaching the bottle out to Schlatt.

"He doesn't need it."

"Yeah I do, who are you to tell me what to do!" Schlatt yelled, not even taking the drink out of Quackity's hand. 

"Schlatt just calm down-"

"No! They made a mistake and they cant even do what I fucking say! They'll keep coming back to me, against my wishes!" Schlatt interrupted Quackity while flailing his arms around.

You stood still not wanting to hear him anymore. Ever since he won the presidential debate the first couple of months he's been sober with only a few drinks here and there. Now he's a full on alcoholic, only damaging himself and his presidency. It's a sad sight to see and you don't want to see it, so you can either run away and know it's still there or fix it and never see it again. 

"Schlatt I want to help." You hesitated before stepping forward.

"Same here Schlatt." Quackity agreed with you.

"You, you! Aren't any help!" He pointed directly at you while trying to keep himself upright. 

"How aren't I any help!?" You yelled back. "I've done everything for you and now you're digging yourself a grave Schlatt!"

"You think you're the best thing ever huh?! Im fucking fine! I can stand on my own two fucking feet!"

Schlatt wasn't standing up straight, he was stumbling either backwards or forward. His body threatened to fall onto the marble floor and he couldn't even stand up straight. His speech was slurring together as well you could barely understand him.

You finally responded to Schlatt. "Schlatt you're stumbling around like- like I don't even know what! I can't understand you and you just need to stop!"

"You're so useless! Not useful to me or my presidency! I can stand up straight and I'm completely fine shut the fuck up!" He yelled while leaning to the side.

"I'd rather die alone! Without you or Quackity." Schlatt yelled again

"That's what you're going to do anyways." Quackity whispered under his breath.

Schlatt kept babbling nonsense as his back slid down one of the walls as he sat on the floor. Head pulled to the side. It was a sad sight to see, you hated to see this man drink himself to death and apparently Quackity, who was looking at the ram man the same way, standing silently next to you.

"Schlatt this-"

"I dont fucking care what you think! You're the worst person I've ever met! You both made my life hell and that's why Im fucking drinking my life away so I wont see any of you're fucking faces!" Schlatt tried to stand up but failed in doing so.

He continued talking. "I am the best thing that happened to this country! I saved both of you from a tyrant! And you thank me by driving me into this state!" 

You felt your eyes threatening to spill tears the second time today.

"Schlatt that isn't me that's doing this shit!" 

"How the fuck would you know?!" 

"I can't. But Ive done every fucking thing for you! You cannot say I haven't!" You yelled back as he rolled his eyes with a rebuttal already on the tip of his tongue.

"Sure as hell I can! I have fucking proof-!"

"What proof?!" You interrupted his babbling even though he kept going.

"I- I!" he stammered not having a rebuttal this time.

"You're incapable of doing anything Schlatt let someone help you for fucks sake-"

"I'd rather die alone than sit here and be lectured by the likes of you!" Schlatt yelled.

"You are going to die alone, old man!" Quackity spoke up. "That's what they're trying to tell you!" 

"You shouldn't be giving me a lecture! Im the mother fucking president! I should be talking, but apparently its not fucking work-" 

"IF YOU LIKE SO MUCH TALKING YOU DON'T NEED ME I'M LEAVING!" You interrupted him and stomped down the hallway for the second time today.

As you walked down the hallway you heard a faint "wait" from Schlatt on the floor. You stopped and looked back to see Schlatt looking at you with some sort of realization in his eyes. Quackity was standing over him shaking his head.

"You know what? I don't even know why I helped you. Probably for power, but I don't need you for that." Quackity walked away towards your way. "Go ahead and die alone like you said old man." 

Quackity caught your gaze and he smiled and shook his head again. He finally reached where you were standing and started talking to you.

"Maybe this isn't a good time, maybe it is. But I am joining Pogtopia. Wilbur said he needs a lot of people for this to work so consider this an invitation." He gave you a thin lipped smile and walked past you giving you a good look at Schlatt, laying fully on the ground.

"Y/N wait, just hold on for a second." Schlatt said while on his side, not even bothering to look at you.

You didn't say anything and followed Quackity's path, down the hallway and out of the door. Behind you, you could only hear the distant groans and pleas of the drunken man behind you. You tried your best to help and that's all you could do. But you couldn't watch that man die.

Taglist: MCYT Imagines: @annshit @bobaducky @malfoysslutt @alec-lost-bee @egorldevi

[kireimarkeu]

retrouvailles; l.mk

THIS IS A REPOST!!!!

Summary: counting down the days until you finally see your long-distance boyfriend.

Mark is a jerk at one point. Also noticed how I put skype when they were calling through the phone and ft through laptop LOL

word count: 5.7k

Also lets pretend we can use spotify in korea ok

--Day 98

(10:33PM) Cutie: you idiot

(10:33PM) Cutie: answer my call!! You loserrrr

(10:34PM) You: omg give me a second

(10:35PM) You: ffs jshkdmj

(10:35PM) Cutie: omg what are you doing

(10:35PM) Cutie: why are you taking so long

(10:37PM) You: GIVE ME A SECOND 

(10:37PM) You: im taking food

You plop onto your bed, placing the  plate of grapes on the mattress, resulting in some to topple out of the bowl. You quickly pop one in your mouth before turning on your laptop. 

Before you could even call Mark, he was already requesting a facetime with you. You immediately answered. 

“Finally,” your boyfriend huffs when the call was finally connected. 

You hum, your hands searching for more grapes that has dropped on your bed sheets, popping them in your mouth. 

“What are you eating?” he asks. 

“Grapes,” your voice came out muffled from chewing, but Mark understands. 

“That’s what took you so long?” he frowns, “I can cut a watermelon in 5 seconds,”

“I didn’t ask,” you bite back. 

Your boyfriend automatically raises his hand to flash his middle finger while you did the same back at him. 

“What time is it there?” you ask him with raised eyebrows. 

You were studying in Korea but because of the virus, you had to go back to Canada. You didn’t know how long you would be staying, but Mark had promised you that he would make it work. 

“Um,” he looks at the clock that was a hanging next to him, “it’s 2:30PM here,” he answers, looking back at you, “It’s about 11 there, right?”

You nod.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” Mark asks. 

Lucky for you, your classes has changed to the local timing in Canada. Meaning, you don’t need to stay up at ungodly hours for your classes. 

“I think I can wake up tomorrow,”

“Do you want me to call you?”

“Please,” you pout.

Mark scowls jokingly at you, “the things I do for my girlfriend,”

You giggle innocently at your boyfriend, “I love you,” you make a heart with your hands, grinning at your laptop. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. 

--Day 90

“Babe, look up,” you call. 

Mark looks up to see you holding your phone up, obviously filming him through the screen. 

“What?”

He could hear you grinning from behind your phone.

“Smile,” you instruct. 

He grins awkwardly while you let out a snort from behind the screen. You put your phone down, typing something before looking back up at your boyfriend. 

“What did you do?” 

You look up at him, biting back a smile— to which you failed, “go check Instagram,”

Mark immediately opens Instagram to see that you had posted something on your private Instagram. Only him and the members are following your private account since your relationship is still private. 

He clicks on the bubble to see a video of him that you had recorded. When he smiles, his face morphed into a horse from of the filter you were using. Mark couldn’t help but chuckle at the funny effect. 

“Okay, that’s kinda funny,” he admits. 

He looks back up at you to see you holding your phone in front of your face again, probably trying another filter on him again. 

“Is this another ugly filter, again?” whines your boyfriend. 

You laugh, your phone not covering your face anymore, “it’s not!”

“Don’t lie,”

Your giggles got louder, “it’s not! I swear!”

“Fine,” he huffs. He straightens his back and stares at the camera, waiting for you to finish recording. 

You put your phone down re-watching the video, chuckles leaving your lips. 

“What filter did you use?”

“It’s on my insta, baby,”

He looks down on his phone again to see that you have posted another story. He immediately clicks on it to see it was an NCT filter. 

‘Who is your NCT Bias?’  Was written on top of his head.

Mark waits for the filter to show the result. He grimaced when he got Jeno. He swipes up to reply to your story to send you a message. 

markleeee99 replied to your story: ewww

--Day 87

(1:18PM) mwark: hello baby

(1:20PM) you: wht im having class rn

(1:20PM) mwark: so

(1:25PM) you: i have class??? go away loser

(1:25PM) mwark: :( I just wanna talk to my girlfriend tho :/

(1:27PM) you: later

(1:27PM) mwark: nooo 

(1:33PM) you: omg youre an idol why are you so free

(1:34PM) you: go dance or rap or smth

(1:34PM) mwark: babyyyy

(1:35PM) you: im putting my phone on dnd

(1:35PM) mwark: nooo

(1:35PM) mwark: babe

(1:40PM) mwark: did you actually leave me D:

(1:40PM) mwark: ok whatev

(1:40PM) mwark: I was about to send you something but I guess I won’t now

(1:40PM) mwark: are you still ignoring me????

(1:41PM) mwark: omg babe I was jst joking I’ll send you some gifts

(1:41PM) mwark: booo u suck :(

--Day 81

This time, it was slightly different. Instead of your usual late-night calls through the computer, you had immediately skype him through your phone when you had received a package from Korea. 

“You got me something?” you ask loudly when your boyfriend answered your call. 

“Jeez, hello to you too, babe,” he rolls his eyes, “and yea, did it arrive?”

“What did you get me? And what type of shipping did you choose? It arrived so quickly,” 

The box was pretty heavy, so you had to put your phone down to place the huge box on the counter before bringing your phone back into view. 

“Express, I paid like extra,” Mark answers, eyeing you through the screen.

You click your tongue, opening the drawer to take out a knife, “stop wasting your money, you dumbass,”

Mark didn’t reply, instead he waits for you to open the package.

You let out a sigh, “what did you get me this time?”

You open the cardboard box, a navy-blue hoodie covering the top of it. You pull it out, looking at Mark who has a smile plastered on his face. 

“Is this your hoodie?!” you squeal, putting it on yourself. 

Your heart melt when the familiar scent fills your nostrils. It smells just like Mark. 

“Canada is getting cold isn’t it? Keep yourself warm, baby,”

You lean over to take everything out from the box. Mark had given you his half-used cologne that he uses on a daily.

“I bought a new one just so I could give you mine,” he tells you, a playful smirk on his lips. 

He had also packed some of your favourite Korean snacks, and some that you haven’t tried before. Along with some matching phone cases for the both of you. 

“Now I feel bad I didn’t get anything for you,” you frown., pulling the hoodie over your head.

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “being able to see you is already enough,”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “cringey, Mark-ie,”

“Fuck you,” he chuckles, flashing his middle finger at you. 

Your eyes widen when he cursed, “my mom’s home, you idiot!”

You laugh loudly when Mark’s eyes widen in surprise, both his hands covering his mouth. 

“Y/N?” you hear your mom call from the living room, “who are you talking to?”

Before you could even reply, your mother was walking towards you. 

“It’s Mark,” you answer as your mother got into frame to see Mark. 

“Mark! It has been a while, how’s Korea?”

Your boyfriend greeted your mom politely, a grin plastered on his face. Your mom was about to reach for your phone to talk to Mark, but you frown and pull away. 

“Noo, I wanna talk to Mark,”

You gathered the gifts Mark had given you in your arms before skipping up the stairs to your room, to spend the whole day (night for him) with him.

--Day 80

“Yo, Mark, there’s some food left outside, do you want it?” you heard Johnny ask from through the screen. 

Mark turns to look at the intruder, “knock next time, dude,” groans Mark. 

“Is that y/n?” 

Johnny suddenly enters the frame with a gummy grin, waving enthusiastically at you.

“Hi Johnny, how are you?” you smile, waving back at the older boy. 

Just when Johnny was about to get comfortable on Mark’s bed, your boyfriend let out string of whines, moving his phone until you could only see his cheeks. 

“Ah, that’s enough,” your boyfriend says in annoyance, “y/n is tired, goodnight, baby.”

You  couldn’t even reply because Mark had already ended the skype call. 

You pout, opening your messenger to send a text to your boyfriend. 

(7:35PM) You: heyyy why’d you end the call? ):

(7:36PM) Bubba: sorry

(7:36PM) Bubba: johnny was being annoying

(7:36PM) You: he wasn’t tho ):

(7:36PM) You: can we call again?

(7:38PM) Bubba: sorry angel

(7:38PM) Bubba: johnny wants me to go make music

(7:38PM) Bubba: later tonight?

(7:38PM) You: oky

(7:42PM) You: love u!

(7:42PM) Bubba: love u too 

(7:42PM) Bubba: <3

--Day 76

You were in the middle of facetiming mark when your phone vibrates from a text. You raise your eyebrows, thinking it was Mark. 

(12:11AM) Johnny: hey

(12:11AM) Johnny: I need to ask you something

(12:13AM) You: yeah?

(12:13AM) Johnny: is mark okay lately?

(12:13AM) You: he seems fine to me, why? Did something happen?

(12:14AM) Johnny: I don’t know if I should tell you about this

(12:14AM) Johnny: but

(12:14AM) Johnny: youre the only one who can probably help him

(12:14AM) You: help him with what?

You look up at your laptop to see that Mark’s eyes was still glued on his phone. Probably playing some games. 

(12:17AM) Johnny: he hasn’t been eating lately

(12:19AM) Johnny: he doesn’t really tell us stuff anymore so I was wondering you would’ve known something?

(12:22AM) You: oh

(12:22AM) You: he hasn’t told me anything

(12:23AM) You: I’ll talk to him about it

(12:25AM) You: thanks johnny :)

“Hey,” you jump at your boyfriend’s voice. You snap your head to look at your boyfriend who was already staring at you with curious eyes. “What are you so busy with?”

You clear your throat, shaking your head, tossing your phone to the side. 

“I wanna ask you something,” you say.

“Whats up?”

You scratch your head, unsure of how to put it into words without offending your boyfriend. You knew he hated being babied but you still want to care for him. He was your other half, after all. 

“Have you been eating well lately?”

You could sense Mark was stunned by the random question. He looks away from your wary eyes. 

“Who told you?”

“Mark—”

“It was Johnny wasn’t it?” he cuts you off in anger. “God damn it, this is why I don’t want you talking to my friends,”

Why was he making this such a big deal?

“Mark I was just asking a simple question, why are you acting this way?” you argued back. 

He shakes his head, threading his fingers through his black hair stressfully. 

“I need to go Y/N,” sighs your boyfriend, “Goodnight,”

“Mark—” you were too late. Mark had already ended the call. 

A heavy sigh left your lips as you lied down on your bed. 

You weren’t sure if you should text him or give him space. Should you apologize? Was it your fault for bringing it up?

After thinking for a while, you decided to send him a text. 

(8:33PM) You: hi baby. I was just asking because I was worried about you. I know you hate it when I baby you, but I’m just looking out for you. I didn’t mean to bother you

(8:33PM) You: please don’t blame your friends for this. 

(8:36PM) You: I’m sorry, okay?

(8:40PM) You: I just want you to eat healthily. I’m not there to take care of you and I just want you to be healthy.

(8:47PM) You: just text me whenever so we can talk this out

(8:57PM) You: goodnight, mark

--Day 75

(12:03PM) Lovey: hey

(12:03PM) Lovey: I was thinking and realised how selfish I acted towards you

(12:05PM) Lovey: I know you were just looking out for me and I was just wasn’t in the mood because of how stressful it has been

(12:05PM) Lovey: please don’t apologize. Its my fault

(12:15PM) You: why haven’t you been eating?

(12:15PM) Lovey: comeback

(12:15PM) Lovey: I’m trying to lose some cheeks for this comeback

(12:30PM) Lovey: sorry for worrying you

(12:31PM) You: whaa…

(12:33PM) You: but you know my favourite part of your face is your cheeks D:

(12:33PM) Lovey: :(

(12:33PM) You: will you start eating again?

(12:35PM) You: im not going to force you, mark. It’s really up to you. 

(12:35PM) Lovey: im eating right now

(12:35PM) You: what are you eating

(12:38PM) Lovey: cereal

(12:38PM) Lovey: and um some left over sushi from yesterday

(12:38PM) You: ohhh sounds delicious

(12:40PM) You: okay I wont disturb you anymore, have fun eating bby

As you were about to put your phone away but there was an incoming videocall from your boyfriend. A small chuckle left your lips as you answered the call.

­--Day 73

“Yo, did you see it?!” was the first thing Mark had asked you when you answered his call. 

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, sitting up from your laying position, “see what?”

“We just posted a new dance practice; did you not see it?” his eyes widen dismay. 

You shook your head, grabbing your laptop from the table, placing it on your lap, “nope, my phone was on dnd,”

“How did you answer my call, then?”

“You’re in my favourites dumbass,” 

You type in your password before searching YouTube and clicking on the video that your boyfriend was talking about. 

While watching the video, you placed your phone resting on the laptop so Mark could see your face. Throughout the whole video, you were singing softly to the song. 

“Did you see that?! Did you see it?” Mark suddenly yells through the screen during the dance break part. 

You jump a little, “what? What? What did I miss?”

He groans at you, “the bracelet! Johnny dropped it!”

“Huh?” you press the arrow to repeat it again and you noticed how Johnny’s bracelet fell while he was dancing. 

“Wait a little more, I picked it up! Like a professional!”

You waited a little longer and your boyfriend was right. While he was getting into position, your boyfriend had swept the bracelet in his hands. 

You grin, “proud of you, babe,”

You wanted to continue watching but your laptop started lagging from the terrible wi-fi. You groan in annoyance, pressing pause, hoping it would reload but it only hangs even more. 

“God damnit, this fucking wi-fi,”

“Should I buy you a router? Or a new laptop?” he jokes. 

--Day 71

(9:02PM) You: hey wanna call?

(9:02PM) You: today was so stressful I just wanna talk to you

(10:12PM) You: ahh you must be busy with comeback

(9:32PM) You: sorry babe! We’ll jst call tmr? :)

(9:33PM) You: love u! make sureee u drink lots of water <3

-Day 67

Mark lets out an aspirated sigh as he answers your facetime call. “What, Y/N?”

You frown at the way he greets you. He was moody probably because he just finished practicing. 

You could tell from how he was laying on his bed without a shirt on, or how he would repeatedly thread his fingers through his black locks. 

“I just wanted to talk to you,” you mumble out softly, your eyes softening, feeling guilty that you were disturbing him. 

You bit your lip anxiously when Mark simply sighs, rolling his eyes slightly, “should we just call another time?” 

He sighs once more, moving around until he lays on his side, “no, no, what’s up?”

You felt a little hesitant, unsure if he was being sarcastic or not. Mark wasn’t the type to approach something if he doesn’t like it, he would just go with the flow. 

You shook your head, laying back down onto your bed, “No, you’re tired and I shouldn’t be disturbing you right now.”

Mark opens his mouth but you cut him off, “Sorry, Mark. Goodnight.”

You quickly end the call with a heavy heart, throwing your phone next to you. You knew you shouldn’t be expecting an incoming call from your boyfriend, but you shamelessly waited for his specific ringtone. 

It did break your heart a little when you didn’t get any response from your boyfriend. 

That night, you had spent your time watching Netflix with tears rolling down your cheeks. 

-Day 62

“Y/N?”

A choked sob left your throat, your hands wiping the tears running down your cheeks. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Johnny’s voice filled your ears. 

You gulp as your heart clench painfully when you hear Mark’s laughter in the background. 

“Y/N, d-do you want me to pass the phone to Mark?”

“N-no,” you quickly say out, pausing a little. Hiccups leaving your lips, “d-don’t… please,”

“Okay?” Johnny replies in uncertainty, “Are you… okay? Should I beat Mark up?” he jokes. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to smile. “How is he doing?” you whisper, but Johnny could hear very clearly. 

You assumed that he had moved somewhere else since you can’t hear the boys screaming in the background. 

“Did something happen?” Johnny asks, “I’m not with them right now, so you can tell me.”

You remember the last time you had last talked to Mark.

It has been exactly 5 days since the both of you last texted— or even called. You weren’t sure why or how it happened. 

It had taken a big toll on you— you couldn’t focus during lessons and you had spent most of the nights wide awake, thinking what had gone wrong. You had contemplated multiple times whether you should send him a text, but every time you push yourself to say something, you would always remember how busy he is. 

“We haven’t been talking for a while,” you answer painfully, “but he’s doing fine, right?”

You hope he’s doing fine.

You hear Johnny lets out an agitated sigh, “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll go talk to him, okay?”

“Just… don’t stress him out even more.”

“I won’t. Just… stop crying over him, okay?” he says, “Mark is an idiot, he’s not worth crying over.”

A small giggle leaves your lips, “you sound like a girl right now,”

-Day 61

(12:12AM) Mark: hey babe

(12:12AM) Mark: johnny just talked to me about what happened

(12:13AM) Mark: can we talk?

(12:45AM) You: okay

(12:45AM) Mark: great, I’ll call you

(12:45AM) You: no

(12:46AM) You: we’ll text

(12:46AM) You: here

You just know that you would be a sobbing mess once you hear Mark’s voice. 

(12:46AM) Mark: oh

(12:46AM) Mark: okay

(12:46AM) Mark: youre okay tho

(12:47AM) Mark: right

(12:52AM) You: mhm

(12:52AM) Mark: that’s great um

(12:52AM) Mark: i didn’t know you were feeling that way

(12:53AM) Mark: i’ve been so busy lately i forgot to text or call you

(12:53AM) Mark: and that is not your fault at all

(12:53AM) Mark: i shouldn’t be acting like that in the first place

(12:54AM) Mark: its just really hard with timezones and everything

(12:54AM) Mark: especially with the comeback and all

(12:54AM) You: what are you saying mark?

(12:55AM) Mark: what?

(12:58AM) You: are you breaking up with me?

(12:58AM) Mark: wat? no. what.

(12:58AM) You: wait so we’re not breaking up?

(12:58AM) Mark: what

(12:58AM) Mark: no of course not what are you saying?

(12:59AM) You: I DON’T KNOW 

(12:59AM) You: i thought you wanted to break up

(12:59AM) Mark: no I don’t want to what the fuck

(12:59AM) You: so we’re good now right?

-Day 51

 Soft melodies were playing in the background while the both of you were doing different things. 

You were sitting on your chair, your elbows pressing painfully against your desk, working on your homework diligently. Your phone was perched on your lamp, making sure Mark could see your face.

Your boyfriend was laying on his bed with a notebook laying in front of him, a pen in his hand while he thought of lyrics. He had his legs swinging back and forth behind him cutely. 

You exhale loudly as you re-read the same question over and over again. 

Mark immediately looks up, “you okay?”

You hum without even looking at him before you continued doing your work. 

Mark decides to leave you alone as to not distract you. He rests his cheek against his arm as he tries to think of another sentence to finish the song he was working on. 

His eyes slowly dart towards you who had their eyebrows furrowed cutely, a pout plastered on your lips, baby hairs littering against your forehead and cheeks. 

Without even realising, a small smile spreads across Mark’s lips. His breath slows down as he relaxed and stares at your figure. 

Multiple sentences that could be used as lyrics flooded through his head. He quickly sits up to write the flood of inspiration that was bursting through his veins. 

-Day 43

(2:53AM) boyfie: duuudee!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: vlive!!

(2:53AM) boyfie: quick!!!!!

(3:15AM) You: omg ok give me a sec

(3:15AM) You: I just woke up

With a yawn, you open the vlive app and click on the NCT127 page to enter the live your boyfriend was doing. 

‘Hi’ you type in the comment section. You stare at your boyfriend, scanning his facial expression to notice your comment. 

Exactly 5 seconds later, a huge grin spreads across his lips as he looks up at the camera to wave. 

It eased you to know that he was waving at you, for you. Maybe you were being selfish, but you were glad that Mark was yours. Although it does get on your nerves when you see your friends post about how much he loves your boyfriend. 

‘mark is so handsome’ you typed. 

Unfortunately, Mark didn’t notice your comment, but Donghyuck did. Donghyuck nudges your boyfriend, who immediately responded, turning to look at him. 

His friend showed him your comment, which your boyfriend immediately smiles to. 

‘I love mark lee so much!!!’

A few seconds later Mark creates a small heart at the camera before looking away with crimson red cheeks. 

-Day 38

“So you and Mina, huh?” you say bitterly, rolling your eyes. 

You were referring to the interaction between the two when Mina was leaving music bank. You might’ve been slightly jealous of the chemistry between the two, especially when all the fans would ship the both of them.

Mark can only watch you in amusement, a small smile playing along his lips. 

“Is she better than me?” you say sarcastically, clicking your tongue, 

You envied their friendship. Someone who was merely a friend was able to see your boyfriend so easily. 

His face softens, “you know she’s not like that, baby,” his tone was soft, easy to persuade you. 

Baby. You wanted to scoff at that. He only used that term when he was trying to win your heart. 

You huff, crossing your arms violently. “You’re always with her!”

He chuckles, looking down at his phone before looking back up at you quickly.

You pout at the boy through the screen, “you love me more, right Mark?”

He sarcastically rolls his at your question. What kind of question was that?

His face scrunches in disgust, “Firstly, I don’t even love Mina that way, babe,” he tells you, “and secondly, the only person I love you, alright? So stop being jealous you wimp.”

“Wimp?” you scoff, “and you’re my boyfriend?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Just as you were about to respond to him, your phone vibrated with a notification. You look down and gaped. 

_happiness_o wants to send you a message.

“Mark…”

You unlocked your phone to see the message that Mina was trying to send you.

“You told her?!” you exclaimed, looking up at your boyfriend who was stifling  his laughter. “Mark! Why would you do that?!” you whine, throwing your phone next to you. 

“In my defence, I didn’t tell her to send you a text,” he says, “I was just talking about how cute you were being!”

-Day 22

You were laying on your side, deep in a slumber while Mark stares at you lovingly. 

Your cheek pressed cutely against your pillow which made your lips pout cutely. The little pieces of hair adorning your temples and cheeks only made Mark want to push it back against your ear. Something he would do every time you were sleeping with him. 

He suddenly got an idea and fishes out his phone, searching a filter that he had saved for this particular moment.

He clicks on the filter, waiting for it to load for a moment, before adjusting the angle so the filter could scan his face properly. Once he was sure it won’t budge, he presses record. 

‘your soulmate is sleeping right now’

A sad smile adorns his lips, looking at you through the screen. He flips the camera, zooming into your sleeping form then ending the video. 

Mark was quite hesitant to post it since he was never the type to post about his relationship with you. But these past few days has been hitting him differently. 

He missed you so much, he swore he could go crazy. He had spent another unreasonable amount on you again. He couldn’t even sleep because you were always stuck on his mind.

He bit his lip anxiously before posting the video on his Instagram story. He noticed how your phone vibrated right when it was uploaded— you had his notifications on.

-Day 15

“So it’s gonna be forever~” you sing loudly, pointing your hairbrush to Mark who was laughing loudly through the screen. 

“Or it’s gonna go down in flames…” he sings off tune. 

While you were busy singing and dancing from all Taylor Swift’s song, Mark had stealthily recorded you with his phone to upload them on his private Instagram. 

‘idiot. But my idiot’ he captioned before tagging you and posting it on his page. 

“Sing with me, Mark!” you shout, looking at your boyfriend. “Cherry lips, crystal skies, I could show you incredible things,” you sang, pointing at Mark. 

Your boyfriend blushes when he realizes you were singing to him. 

You cough loudly before clearing your throat after blaring out lyrics to Taylor swift. You reach for your cup of water before gulping it down. 

“What song should we sing to next?” you ask, scrolling down through you and Mark’s playlist. The both of you had shared one account ever since he found out the both of you shared the same music taste. 

“Should we do a rap?” he suggests. 

You smirk up at him, “oooh, because you’re a rapper, huh? Okay, okay.”

You thumb press on ‘Beauty and a Beat’ by Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj. 

“I’m a better rapper than you, Mark Lee,” you shout at your boyfriend before rapping to Nicki Minaj’s part. 

It was so adorable at how you stumbled over some words, or when you had your eyebrows furrowed trying to rap to the lyrics.

At this moment, Mark thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You had your hair tied up in the ugliest bun he has ever seen, but you looked so adorable, especially in the huge t-shirt you were wearing. But most importantly, the huge grin plastered on your lips and tint of red adorning your cheeks, puts a smile on Mark’s face.

Right when the song has ended, you let out a tired sigh, lying against your bed. 

“Am I better than you, Markie?”

He bit back a smile and nodded, “you should replace me in NCT, babe,”

You pretend to think, “I should, shouldn’t I?”

-Day 7

You were talking about Mark about your friend who had pissed you off earlier today.

He shrugs, “honestly, I saw that coming. I never liked her,”

You groan, throwing your head back, “I know right,” you stress, “I should’ve listened to you,”

Mark rests his cheek against his palm, “so what are you going to do?”

You pout, “I don’t know. What should I do, Mark?”

Your boyfriend hums, thinking for a while, “I think it’s best if you cut her off. She doesn’t deserve you, babe.”

You let out an aspirated sigh, frowning. “she was just a close friend…” you trailed off sadly. 

“I know, baby,” he coos, “but your mental health is important too.”

Your eyes widen cutely, “I love you,”

That caught your boyfriend off-guard, his eyes widen in awe. “w-what, don’t be weird!” he sputters out.

“You’re weird!” you bite back. 

-Day 3

“Mark,” you call out, your boyfriend immediately humming. “I learnt a new tiktok dance,”

He raises his eyebrows. He has never downloaded Tiktok but he knows how much you love the app. Most of the time the both of you were calling, you would be scrolling through the app, sending him links of videos that you found funny. 

It was a secret: Mark never actually watches the video. But you do not need to know that. 

“Show me, baby,”

You stood up, adjusting your laptop in a decent position. You reach for your phone to play the music before you started dancing. 

Mark recognized the song as Savage. It was a song that Taeyong would constantly play. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in bewilderment, amazed at how good you were at dancing.

“Woah, woah,” he gapes when you started throwing back. 

When the song ended, you ambled towards your laptop, “how was it? Was I good? Was I as good as Taeyong and Johnny?”

He rolls his eyes at that, “do you do it to other people?”

“What?”

“The throwing back thing,”

Ah. He was jealous. 

You shrug, looking away from his intense gaze, “I don’t know. I was planning to ask some of my friends about their opinion.”

“Y/N,” he says sternly.

“I was joking! Jeez. You’re such a party pooper.” 

-Day 2

You laid on your side, your arm supporting your head. A movie was playing on your laptop screen but you could only stare at Mark’s face. 

He was busy laughing at one of the scenes but you couldn’t focus from his handsome face. 

He was wearing the ugly black glasses that he chose a few weeks ago, but he still looked so good in your eyes. His black hair was styled messily from laying around.

“Babe, are you watching?” his eyes widen cutely after sensing how quiet you were being. 

“I am,” you mumble out, but your eyes never leaved your boyfriend’s screen.

“Okay,” he whispers, resting his body as he continued watching the movie that was played on the screen. 

At this moment in time, you wanted to tell Mark how much you love him. You wanted to smother him in kisses.

“Mark,” you called. You realise how he had paused the movie that was playing to listen to you. “I love you,” you tell him. 

Mark was frozen for a second, confused yet flustered by your sudden confusion. He smirks, playing the movie, “weirdo. I love you too, you cutie.”

-Day 1

(11:01PM) bub: babyyyy hiiiii

(11:01PM) bub: wanna call ;)

(11:05PM) bub: hello why r u not replying

(11:05PM) bub: it’s only 11 there

(11:10PM) bub: I know youre not asleep babe

(11:10PM) bub: arghhh

(11:10PM) bub: are you asleep????

(11:10PM) bub: :(

(11:10PM) bub: well ok gn bb I’ll talk to you tmr

(11:10PM) bub: love youuuu

D-DAY

You were laying on Mark’s bed restlessly, waiting for your boyfriend to reach his dorm. When you heard the door unlock, a grin spread across your lips when you saw your boyfriend walk in. 

“Hi Mark,” you greet, waving at your boyfriend.

Mark looks up at you and nods, “hi y/n,” he says back before turning the other way to go to the bathroom.

You bit back a smile quietly, giving him a minute to realise. You quietly stood up by the bed to amble towards your boyfriend.

“Wait,” he pauses, turning around slowly, his eyes widening at the sight of you walking up to him, “w-what? Is this real? y/n?”

You smile at him, spreading your arms, waiting for him to tackle you in a hug. “I’m here, baby.”

“Oh my god,” he breathes out before rushing towards you to pull you against his chest. “You’re here, oh my god,”

You rest your head on his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You’ve missed the moment for so long. For more than 3 months, you had to live without Mark’s presence.

He pulls you away, his hand gripping your shoulder tightly. “How— what are you doing here?!” he exclaims. 

Your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much, “to see you, of course!”

“You surprised me!” he exclaims, pulling you in for another hug, “oh my god, you scared me so much, I love you so much. When did you get here? You didn’t answer my texts yesterday!”

“I love you too and I was in the plane, I couldn’t text you back,” you reply, however your voice was muffled by the black cotton shirt he was wearing. You pull away, looking up at him, “are you not going to kiss me?” you asked abruptly.

He looks down at you with wide eyes, “w-what. That is so sudden, don’t say that!” he stutters out, looking away from you. 

You pout at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what? I came all the way here, didn’t get enough sleep just to see my boyfriend but he won’t kiss me?”

He scowls at you, his arm dropping to rest around your waist. He leans down to connect both your lips. You felt your heart spark when you felt his lips graze against yours. 

You didn’t even realise you were pulling him down even more to kiss him deeper. Mark’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer. 

“Ah, the kids have finally met,” you heard someone say from behind you two. 

Mark and you pull away breathlessly, his lips tinted a bright shiny red. The both of you turn around to see Taeil standing at the door. 

Your boyfriend whines, “Go away, Hyung,”

[bakugohoex]

Soft boy Jean trying to bake a cake for his s/o but he stuffs it up and tries to hide it, but in the end his s/o helps him remake the cake together

“make a wish”

paring: jean kirshctein x female reader

cw: kissing, language, fluff

word count: 1700+

a/n: i wrote this at 2am, i need sleep but we move, if i don’t wake up for my lesson then i’m fucked (morning me tell me if i do wake up on time right here - i woke up on time but im lying in bed) hope you liked it i needed to write some attack on titan shit and jean’s is my fave

summary: in which jean finds out it’s your birthday and decides to make a surprise cake, with limited resources, he tries but ultimately it turns into you finding out, in your oblivious state you end up helping him make a cake for yourself

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist 

Your voice was cold as you spoke to your class, you were all nearing the end of the training corps. It had taken a toll on a lot of people, but you had remained strong and resilient to what would occur.

You knew you had worked hard enough to reach the top ten, but you were always going to join the survey corps. You would kill the titans and even to your friend Jean’s reluctance you would give your life defeating them all.

What nobody had really expected was to see Sasha smiling as she walked towards the group that you would call your friends. She had a piece of paper in her hand and you were confused at the girl. She was never normally this happy after training she was always bitey for food so what had made her go all nice.

“I finally found it Y/n.” You tilted your head in confusion as Jean looked between the two of you. “Y/n, your birthday’s in two days, why didn’t you tell us?”

You rolled your eyes, “I just don’t think birthdays mean that much in the grand scheme of things.”

“But cake.” Sasha seemed more upset about the lack of food than anything else. You rolled your eyes walking back to the garrison, you wanted clean clothes due to the sweat that encased your current clothes.

Jean’s obvious crush for you was known, they watched him as he admired you walking away. He didn’t care if you were sweaty you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Even with his obvious flirting you were oblivious still believing the boy had feelings for Mikasa.

“I’m making her a cake.” Marco looked at the boy confused.

“You do realise you don’t know how to bake.” Connie spoke out loud what Marco and everybody else had been thinking.

“I’ll work something out.” Sasha seemed to be the only happy one as Mikasa hadn’t paid attention only irritating Eren to make sure he didn’t get too dirty.

Later on, after everybody had had dinner, Jean snuck out he knew how to bake a cake, he’d watched his mother, how hard could it actually be?

Careful of not waking anybody up, he creeped outside knowing where the kitchens were. He prayed there was everything he needed not wanting to have to try and found it anywhere. He walked towards the building, seeing a battered canteen it was silent and hopefully nobody would catch him.

He rolled his sleeves having still worn the uniform they were made to wear, as he got to work trying to remember what his mother had done many years ago. It wasn’t working as he put it to bake he sat on the counter wondering if he had done it right, he had all the ingredients but having a theory and no practically experience was a recipe for disaster.

Once the cake had finished he looked at the sunken cake already knowing it had failed, he had hope that it might’ve just sunk and tasted better, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, kept going through his head.

His mother would know what to do, he cut into it taking a bite before instantly spitting it into the bin. Not only having wasted the ingredients on a shitty cake but he had no idea how to make you something to show his feelings.

He signed lowering his head before he heard a cough. You were standing in front of him, his eyes widened as he removed his hands from his face. “Y/n what are y...you doing here.”

You always thought his stuttering was cute, it happened a lot around you, but you always assumed it was because Mikasa was nearby. The embarrassment Jean felt was heavy and you could sense it from a mile away. He tried hiding the cake, but you had easily spotted it as soon as he covered it with a tea towel.

“I heard Sasha in her sleep talk about you making a cake, I wanted to help.” You cheerily smiled at the boy; you didn’t know who it was for, but you assumed his mother due to visiting the Trost District in a couple days.

Jean had a sense of relief wash over him, at least you didn’t hear the frustration he had. A small brush crept along his face as you came closer leaning against the counter taking the same fork he had used to eat the cake. You cut a bit with the side before eating it, “that’s fucking gross.”

He laughed as you went to go spit it out, “what the fuck did you put in it?”

“I...i just remembered what my mother did.” He spoke out the ingredients and how much he put in it before you heard the last part. “...and about 200grams of sugar.”

You looked at the container that held the ‘sugar’ opening it before dipping your finger in it, you tasted it the salt making your mouth scrunch up. He tilted his head confused, before you bought a different finger into the salt bringing it to his mouth.

“Taste it then.” You mutter, he obeyed opening his mouth as he sucked on your finger, it would’ve been flirty if his face didn’t instantly turn sour.

“I added 200grams of salt.” You nod laughing.

“Come on let’s bake another one.” You washed your hands getting rid of both your saliva’s face your fingers.

Setting out the ingredients you showed him how to make a cake your mother had taught you how to make. She had always wanted you to marry someone from the inner walls but instead you turned and signed up for the training corps.

Making Jean help you along the way to make sure he was a part of it, you showed him how each part did different things. He listened intensively asking questions when needed and doing what he was told.

It finally went into the over as you saw some icing on the side, something somebody probably left by accident. You passed it to Jean, “write a message on top, I’m sure your mother will love it.”

“My mother?” Jean’s face fell in confusion.

“Oh, I assumed it was for her.” He looks down as he doesn’t say anything.

You didn’t know what to say to him, he was silent thinking hard, you noticed how his face would scrunch up or how a blush would erupt. He was probably thinking about Mikasa to even care about you.

You had been licking the spatula and Jean stared imagining so many lewd thoughts he wanted you and needed a way to confess properly.

The timer went off as you yawned, grabbing the cake you both waited for it to cool before he looks at you intensively.

“Turn around.” You knit your eyebrows before doing so.

You heard as he signed before he touched your shoulder, you turned back around seeing Jean holding the cake, the icing writing a message you had never expected.

‘happy birthday y/n

i love you

jean’

It was simple and caring, his name barley fitting on the cake but he had tried. He had been thinking all along about what to put on the cake before realising he should just admit he liked you.

The love part was true as well and not realising he had wrote it his face went into a heavy blush. “Y...you love me.”

You were the one stuttering now, Jean put the cake down, “I do.”

“I thought you liked Mikasa.”

“It was a crush that I got over as soon as i saw you.” He admitted, he looked directly at you as you tried to not meet eye contact.

A silence grew as you didn���t know what to say the words finally falling from your lips, “i love you too.”

That’s all he needed to hear to walk towards you bringing you closer to his body, he cupped your face, your breathing heavy at the excitement you were feeling. Your hands went to cup his nodding to tell him to go for it. His lips attached to yours, the taste of the batter lingered in your mouth.

He pushed you against the countertop, his hands moving from your face as it moved to your legs lifting you onto the counter top. Your heights becoming the same, your hands remained on his face bringing him closer the way you moaned making his tongue travel inside of your mouth. Spit and saliva mixed as you craved more, his hands on your back making you arch forward.

He wanted your body on his own and as the kiss deepened, your breathing became heavier, the consistent kisses between trying to get air before going at it again with the long passionate kisses were repetitive. You didn’t want it to stop, but as your breathing got heavier he finally let go. You were both out of breath having not kissed someone in a while.

The kiss had felt new almost as if it was long awaited, he watched and admired your breathless state, your dishevelled hair and tired eyes. “Let’s have some cake.”

You nodded as you remained sitting on the counter top, you had already put everything away and washed up the only thing left being the forks you would use to eat the cake. He held the cake standing in front of you, he brought a box of matches out. “I haven’t got a candle.”

You laugh as he lit the match putting it up to your face, “make a wish.” You blow softly as he feels your breath on his finger, cutting up some pieces he brings it to you, smiling as he eats the cake you both made.

“Now this is a cake.” You laugh as his salt cake had gone in the bins. You both had been relatively quiet so didn’t expect anybody to come in.

“What’d you wish for?” Jean asks after finishing the cake, it had been a small cake so you both ate it easily without any hesitation. Knowing you’d end up losing it from training anyway.

You both walked outside watching the moon, Jean’s hand creeping into your own as you entangled your fingers together. He smiles as you finally answered, “my wish already happened.”

He understood as you smiled up at the boy, you gave him a small kiss on his lips, filled with happiness of a future. He smiled back walking you back to your room, he’d never admit it, but this was probably the best nights of his life. He had finally gotten you and it was as if everything had fit into place, you were together and not even the Titans could ruin that for you.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage​ @jennammaee​ @cathy8taffy

[sass-and-suspenders]

Glacial Pace

GIF from plutoandpersephone

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

It would be an understatement to say that Rafael’s day was busy. Hectic or chaotic would have been more accurate descriptions, but even these words failed to capture how crammed Rafael’s schedule was with court appearances, end-of-year meetings, and drafting motions. The fact that today was the last day before Christmas vacation provided Rafael with little comfort; if anything, knowing that he was so close to freedom made the hours pass by at a glacial pace.

When he finally walked out of One Hogan Place that evening, Rafael resolved not to look at, or even think about, search warrants and summations until the new year. He didn’t even make it halfway down the block before you appeared at his side, falling into step with him. You were the newest addition to SVU, having transferred from Hate Crimes a few months earlier. And, considering you were always the one who visited his office when the squad needed something, you were also the harbinger of more work.

“Hi, Counsel-”

“No,” Rafael cut you off before hastening his pace. It wasn’t that Rafael disliked you (quite the opposite actually) but, after the day he just had, he wasn’t going to let anyone postpone the start of his Christmas vacation.

You jogged after Rafael, deftly dodging piles of snow and ice on the sidewalk. “But Bar-”

“No,” Rafael repeated. “There are a dozen other ADAs in that building who can get you a search warrant.”

Rafael sped up again, his pace nearly a run at this point. He could hear the scolding his mother and abuelita would give him if they saw him running away from you, but he didn’t slow down.

The next thing Rafael knew, he was on his back staring up at the sky.

An instant later, your face appeared above him. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Only my ego is bruised,” Rafael grumbled, wishing that the ice-covered ground would open up and swallow him.

The corner of your mouth twitched, but you refrained from laughing (Rafael considered this a small Christmas miracle). You proffered a hand, but Rafael winced as he reached up to grasp it.

“Looks like your ego isn’t the only thing that’s bruised.” You knelt beside him to examine his wrist. After a few moments of prodding him, you declared your diagnosis. “It’s sprained.”

“Oh, really? And where did you go to medical school, Detective?” Rafael said wryly.

“Nowhere, which is why we should get you to a doctor.”

Not wanting to spend the start of his vacation in the ER, Rafael began to protest but you shushed him as you hailed a taxi and then again when you herded him into the backseat. Rafael’s assertions that he was ‘perfectly healthy’ continued at the hospital but became more infrequent due to your constant shushing, leaving you and Rafael to fill the silence with other topics.

This impromptu trip to the ER was the longest Rafael had ever spent alone with you. It should have felt awkward, sitting side-by-side in uncomfortable chairs as you drank lukewarm coffee and made small-talk, but it didn’t. It felt natural being with you. Of course, the location and subpar coffee weren’t ideal, but these things were due to his earlier actions. Actions that Rafael felt increasingly guilty about as the clock edged closer to midnight.

“I’m sorry I walked away from you.”

“It was more of a run than a walk, actually,” you said with a small smile on your lips, indicating that there was no malice behind your words. “Why did you run away from me?”

“I…” Rafael paused, realizing how inane his reasoning would sound out loud.

You remained silent, fixing Rafael with a milder version of the stare you used when interrogating suspects.

“I had a long day and couldn’t handle doing another search warrant,” he finished lamely. The full force of your stare would have also caused him to blurt out some embarrassing secrets, like when he called his teacher ‘mami’ in the third grade.

“How come you thought I needed a search warrant?”

“You’re the one the squad always sends when they need something.” Rafael shrugged his non-injured arm.

“Downside of being the new kid, I guess,” you replied.

Rafael didn’t need to know that you volunteered to drop by One Hogan Place for the squad. And he certainly didn’t need to know that you harboured hope that the sharp-dressed, sharp-tongued prosecutor would ask you to dinner.

“So, why did you come see me tonight, Detective?”

“To give you this.” You reached in your coat pocket and pulled out a small, flat box covered in red and green tartan wrapping paper. “I know we already did Secret Santa with the squad, but I saw this and thought of you.”

Rafael murmured a thank you as he accepted the gift, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading in his chest. Carefully, Rafael unwrapped the gift with his good hand and chuckled when he saw what was inside: a felt ornament in the shape of a blue NYC deli coffee cup.

“I have no idea why this reminded you of me,” Rafael grinned. “Thank you; it’s perfect.”

Before you could respond, a nurse called out Rafael’s name.

“A doctor can see you now. Please follow me,” the nurse said to Rafael. “Your partner can come as well.”

“Oh, I’m not-”

“We’re not-”

You and Rafael spoke at the same time, a faint blush on both of your faces. The nurse tapped his foot impatiently.

“I’d like you there with me,” Rafael said. “If that’s all right with you.”

You nodded, your blush deepening, and collected your things.

As Rafael followed the nurse with you in tow, a part of him couldn’t help but think what it would be like to be your boyfriend.

And this time, it was harder to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional  @madkingcrowley @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan  @misssirenlove @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32 @thatesqcrush @southern-magnolia​ @evee87 @sweetsummertime99​

[dashedwithromance]

Slithered Here From Eden - Princewitch

KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS!!! I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW SPOILERY THIS FIC IS. THE HEIGHT OF SPOILERS!! THE PEAK OF SPOILERS!! THIS IS A VERY LOUD WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DONT WISH TO BE SPOILED THANK YOUUUUUU

anyways here is my first princewitch fic!! i hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any ideas for fics for those two. im a little nervous to put this out here - ive written only cressworth and original stuff for a while, so im kinda nervous this wont be in character or will be weird in my style. anyway, please let me know if you like this, and if its something you want more of. im already working on a few others, courtesy of @duchess-of-nothing-and-nowhere ‘s brilliant ideas, but send in any requests you have!!! i hope you guys enjoy, thank you!!!!!

---

Hell was, well, hell.

Her husband was busy doing whatever kings of Hell did in their spare time, which she was thankful for. She didn’t wish to run into any of the Wicked, but Pride was close to the top of the list. Not the worst offender, however. The Prince she’d once tentatively called an ally had claimed that spot with his spectacularly humiliating betrayal. 

The worst part was that she still didn’t understand. His motives, his feelings, his aims - all were shrouded in mystery, one that seemed to taunt her at every twist and turn. Bastard. 

Contrary to her preconceptions, her rooms were actually rather beautiful. Similar to the style of the house Wrath had rented in Palermo, but it felt different. Darker. Her quarters were styled in black and gold, with serpent scones lining the walls. The fire flickered in a menacing fashion, though she’d long since learned it had more bark than bite. 

Shadows crept along the floor until they curled at her feet like a cat, announcing the presence of the one demon prince she wished to see the least. 

“What do you want.” Emilia barely gave him a glance before he walked him, arrogance pouring off him. As if he owned the damn place. 

Infuriatingly beautiful as usual, he wore a dark suit, flecked with golden patterns, not unlike the tattoo she knew adorned his shoulder. Her attention flicked to the wicker basket he held gingerly in his hands. Covered with a soft blue tea towel, it looked like something plucked off the streets of her home, not something that belonged within the obsidian walls of the kingdom where wickedness ruled with abandon. 

Silence was his only reply as he looked her up and down. The gaze threatened to set her alight; with rage or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure. Once, the bed that loomed behind her would’ve offered a taunting distraction and a fragile but desperate wish. Now, it only annoyed her, reminding her of the moments she’d failed so magnificently at seeing through his façade.

Still no response. They hadn’t spoken since her wedding, and their last words had been less of a conversation and more of throwing of well-deserved insults on her behalf. He’d told her that she knew nothing of his motivations, and to assume he wished her harm was foolish. She’d told him a few carefully chosen expletives, complete with a hand gesture that would’ve had her mother wringing her hands. Wrath had spent the days prior skulking outside her quarters, never saying a word, only letting his shadows pollute her already foul mood. She might’ve had the slightest amount of sympathy for him, had he not betrayed her, lied to her, married her to his brother and thoroughly pissed her off in the process.

He placed the basket down on the table at the other side of the room. Looking up, Wrath raised a carefully groomed brow. Apparently, princes of Hell had beauty routines.

His mood was undetectable through his face, but the shadows that followed him gave it away, if only slightly. They were the same dark as a summer night; dark enough for comfort, but not the soulless black pitch she’d seen him wear so often. An interesting combination for a prince who seemed to care not a whit whether she lived or died after he’d gotten what he wanted.

Wrath pulled back the cloth covering the basket to reveal – food. A carefully curated selection of her favourites, smelling like they’d been plucked off the serving plates of the Sea & Vine.

She nearly salivated at the sight – the food she’d eaten in Hell had been a sore spot for her. Though nothing was wrong with it, it lacked the love of homemade food. The flavour that came with knowing that someone lovingly made every single bite. There were no laughing families who cooked here, no fathers to taste-test, or sisters to tease while they made sangria side by side.

  “How on earth did you find this?” The words slipped out before she could correct herself. ‘Earth’ was perhaps not the right term, though she couldn’t truly tell where she was. Under, felt more accurate. Below.

He looked at her as if she was missing the obvious – and she was.

The food smelt like she was used to because it was what she was used to. The same recipes, made with the same care as every meal that came from the Sea & Vine kitchens.

Panic enveloped her faster than joy.

“Did you hurt them?” She hissed, desperately searching his appearance for any sign of violence. He was wearing black, that much was true, but either he cleaned up exceptionally well, or there was no blood to be found.

“Hurt them?” Wrath’s tone was even, but she could hear how he scoffed. The nerve, “No. I even paid for it.”

Her heart still beat fast enough to burst from her chest, so he continued, “Relax, witch. No harm has come to them, nor will it, if you comply with my brother’s terms.” There was no audible threat in his tone, but she knew it went without saying. Comply, be Pride’s blooded wife, or her family would receive the same fate as Vittoria. It hurt to even think about, however brief the thought was.

She was going to throw something right at his beautiful, awful face. Maybe the basket, once she was finished devouring her favourites. Wrath would certainly look ridiculous enough with a basket slammed over his head, if he didn’t kill her first.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you fear.” Emilia blinked, unsure how to respond. He seemed to be lingering, if demon princes could ever linger. Why wouldn’t he leave?

She nodded, restraining a biting retort about how she was sure that fact was a deep disappointment for him. Remembering the odd rules of demonhood, she thanked him.

Still, he wouldn’t leave. Just stood there, watching her with those golden eyes that peered into her very soul, reaching inside and setting her alight. His gaze was unnerving.

Her patience, which had thinned dramatically since becoming a co-ruler of Hell, waned, “Are you waiting for payment?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. A short, biting sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I could smell your foul mood from my own House. Perhaps this will appease you.”

Appease her. As if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t tricked her, lied to her by omission, made her into an even greater fool than the one she was.

“Perhaps if you deigned to be truthful, I would be more polite.” Lies, but worth a try. If only he would tell her something, anything by way of explanation. Even if it was brutally cruel and benefitting a member of the Wicked. Anything but the agony of anticipation.

Apparently this evening was full of more surprises, because Wrath then pulled out a chair, and gestured for her to sit down, like they weren’t sworn enemies. The thought of a biting retort was attractive, but the smell of food was too much. The scent of all her favourites, food she’d spent hours labouring over in the past, wafted towards her like an irresistible gift.

The basket held everything she dreamt of. Wrath laid the table with his harvest as she tried not to gape at the sight. Twin glasses of sangria, somehow still delightfully cold. The comforting smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeated the air. Plates piled high with a mix of all her favourite things: a selection of antipasto, a side plate of bruschetta, a bowl of pasta, and a small dish of cannoli. If she closed her eyes, and forgot the presence of the prince in front of her, she could picture being back home, surrounded by her family and loved ones. If she thought hard enough, she could faintly smell Vittoria’s favourite perfume, the one she made for herself.

When she opened her eyes, the dream faded away, and there was only Wrath sitting across from her. Despite all the effort she presumed he must’ve taken to fetch the food, he sat watching like he thought it was attack him. Or she would. A laugh escaped her lips, almost hysterical, at the situation. Her, Queen of Hell, sat with her husband’s brother, another demon prince, as they ate food from her family’s restaurant. Comical, if disturbing.

“It won’t bite,” She said, eagerly helping herself to a plate. His eyes flickered with the promise of his bite, and she fought to keep any sign of her reaction off her face. Now was not the time to think of his kiss, or goddess forbid, his tongue. Watching carefully, he followed suit, piling his plate high with a mirror of her own. If she didn’t know the strength that lurked beneath that bronze skin and manicured hands, she would’ve called it sweet.

The food was – the food was heavenly. The taste of home, the love of her family, the promise of safety offered in those few bites brought her more joy than she thought possible. She wanted to stretch out the meal forever, as long as time would permit. If this was the last time she would taste such heaven, she wanted to remember it.

Despite her anger at the demon sitting across from her, curiosity embedded itself in her mind. How could he have known? How could he have known this was exactly what she needed, what her soul craved? Just as he’d done with the orange blossoms after Lust, he’d somehow known her mind and soul needing nourishment, and brought it as a gift to her door. Perhaps there would be a price to be paid, someday, but for now, her happiness was enough.

It was ridiculous and Nonna would’ve scolded her dearly, but it was the first semblance of normal she’d had since signing her name over to Pride. The meal sent flashbacks of the time she’d spent after Lust had invaded her mind; the days she’d spent lying in bed, a stranger in her own body, while Wrath sat like a comforting guardian demon. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d delivered her meals thrice daily, and never left her side unless to fetch her clothes from his mysterious source, or to give her privacy if she’d asked. He’d even brought her reading materials, though they were filled with battle strategies, not the steamy romances she craved. At the time, she’d thought it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, Wrath was different. Now, she only felt the white-hot flush of shame. Her appetite faded, and she pushed the plate away.

He catalogued her change in mood with a barely perceptible nod of his head. Truly, she had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes she thought he was terrified for her, her witch-blood and mortal heart acting as a beacon for all those whom Pride had made an enemy. Sometimes she thought he wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and she begged him for release. Sometimes she thought her presence disgusted him to a never-ending degree. A mystery.

“You need to be careful,” He broke the silence with a warning, as if she treated Hell like a stroll along Sicilian streets.

“It would help if you told me anything.” She hated the petulant near-whine of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. She had nothing and no-one in the world, but she needed an ally. Or, if she couldn’t have that, information would have to do.

“I’ve already told you too much.” Lies. Complete lies.

Her questioning had bored him, she assumed, as he stood up to go, leaving the remnants of their meal scattered around them. Wrath cast one last look at her before stalking out, taking the shadows with him.

Just as she was about to curse his name, she spotted a bouquet of orange blossoms on the dresser.

Bastard.

---

Let me know if you want to be added to my KOTW tag list!!

Tags: @shadowturtlesstuff @otome-azarada @chococannolii @beccalovesbooksstuff

[weeb-writor]

Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash, leaving him a single father

Hello, gonna be very honest I forgot how to read properly and read a request wrong and wrote a 3000 word fic for it, woohoo! But i mean at least you guys get a fic from it, lol. Italics are flashbacks, bold is reality trying to pull him out of his head, and the regular text is reality. The actual request should be up tomorrow. Reader is neutral and I didn't specify the birthing process! Hope you all enjoy.

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

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Bakugou’s S/O dies in a crash leaving him a single dad, he has flashes backs of your life together.

TW: Death, depiction of a car crash and blood. Kinde heavy angst

Words: 3052

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

“I am so sorry sir but there's nothing we could do for them, w-” The doctor went on but the words slurred together in Bakugou's mind. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you were both supposed to grow old together. Supposed to send Kaori to her first day of school together. To bully the shit out of her first significant other. Go all out on each and every one of her birthdays. To give her at least 3 more brats to hang out with...to cry as you sent her off to college. This isn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to protect you, to be your hero. Everything you both had promised to each other was slipping through his grasped fist and the flashbacks were not helping either.

“Watch where you are going, Pomeranian.” You said to him.

“Pomeranian? The fuck, watch your mouth shitty extra!” He roared back at you.

“I think you’re the one who needs soap in his mouth, you're cursing every other word.” You cocked a brow at him.

“Whatever you god damn extra, get outta my way i'm gonna be late.” He backed off shocking his small group of friends.

“What the heck bakubro! If I said that to you I would be dead! You’re caught by the balls already!” Denki said pouting

“Whaddyah just say dunce face? I am not and it doesn't matter. I went easy cause they're so insignificant I wont see them again.” He said with a shrug as they walked into the training yard where their class was meeting.

“Alright, today we have a few helpers from other classes to help you with physical combat skills without the use of your quirks. Pair up with them, if you can actually beat them the first go than you pass. If you don’t, then well you fail, and will do supplementary training with me after every class.” Aizawa said, zipping himself into his sleeping bag.

“Hello class 1-A, Im Y/N. I am in charge of everybody you're about to fight, we've all trained in various types of Martial arts, and uhh you're probably all gonna lose but try your hardest alright?! I've got match-ups based on your physical abilities, so let's begin.” You said getting everyone into their pairs.

“So much for never seeing them again, huh?” Sero said laughing at the fuming bakugou.

“Yeah you’ll be seeing a lot more of me Pomeranian boy, but for now let me wipe the floor with you.” You said getting into a fighting position. He remembers how he lost that fight, terribly he might add. You only offered to help him after the loss, ignoring all his cries of protest. He didn't only lose the fist fight, he lost his heart to you. He had hoped you would never give it back to him, but here you are giving him his heart back. He hated these images, he wants them to stop.

“Bakugou”

“Go on a date with me.” You said as you and bakugou walked back to the dorms together after a sparring session.

“What!?” He yelled at you a deep shade of red.

“You know, on a date, and then you know if all goes well like 2 more before you kiss me and ask me to be officially yours because i'm not easy, you know?”

“Who asks like that!” He continued to yell.

“What did you want some flowers too, bakugou.” You giggled at him.

“You damn, dumbass! Fine but we're going now!” He said grabbing your hand and pulling you away.

“Wait but we are sweaty and I wanted to look nice! You're such a tyrant, Bakugou!” You sang as he pulled you away but slammed into his back as he came to a halting stop.

“Katsuki...call me Katsuki.” He said looking to the side with a blush. This moment was precious to him, your stupid giggle always brought brought blood rushing to his cheeks and made his heart race. As precious as it was, he begged his mind to stop, he didn't want to see what he couldn't have anymore… he wants to forget.

“Bakugou!”

“You know, if i knew you were so messy I wouldn't have moved in with you.” Bakugou yelled to you as he put up one of your many blankets that were always littered around the house.

“Sorry not Sorry, Kat, it's your fault for keeping this damn house like an ice box all the time.” You said as you shoved some more takeout into your mouth.

“And why did you order takeout, i wanted to cook instead of eating that shitty and so unhealthy food.” He nagged you some more but you only giggled. He smiled, that had become his favorite sound.

“Because Mr. Pro- Hero some of us are college students barely staying afloat! It's my last semester so let me live, you ass! Also you are so much like your mother babe, it's kind of funny.” You said to him. His head was bulging in irritation as he sat next to you.

“I can't believe I want to marry you…” He said shaking his head with a sigh. You put down your takeout and stared at him with wide, teary eyes.

“You want to marry… me?” You said to him, he chucked at you before placing a black velvet box in your hand.

“Yeah, so say yes and put the ring on.” He blushed looking away from you.

“You jerk, this is how you ask me? And like an idiot of course I'm putting on the ring with no hesitation.” You giggled around your tears, admiring the ring you had just placed on your finger.

“Yeah, as I recall, you asked me out the same way. Whaddyah want some flowers?” He teased you with a grin. You looked at him with burning passion before your lips met, engaging in a fiery dance of passion. Stop, stop. Please just stop, he begged his brain. At the moment he thought it was perfect, it was so you and so him. Now, he wished he did it on tv or yelled it from the rooftops. Maybe then it would have shown the universe, or god, or whatever was taking him from you just how much he needed and loved you. Just maybe it would have permitted this outcome.

“Bakugou!!”

You and bakugou stared down at the little 6 pound baby. She was sleeping peacefully for the first time since the girl came home, which was 4 day ago! Maybe it was because you had just taken her to meet her grandparents and she didn't want to deal with her grandparents much like her father.

“Give me that baby!” his mom said swopping the baby into her hands. You only giggled at her excitement but Bakugou threw a fit.

“Mom! She's a fuc-freaking newborn! You’ve got to be gentle and support her head! You’re gonna hurt her, it's dangerous” He shouted at his mom.

“Oh hush you ingrate. If that was true believe me kid you’d be dead by now, would've saved me a lot of trouble. Now come on little Kaori, I know you've got it.” She said looking down at Kaori.

“What's she got?” You asked curiously. The blonde did not respond, only blew a little stream of air on the baby's nose and then turned her towards you and the blonde next to you who was still pouting. The baby stirred before waking up giving you all the meanest mug you had ever seen come from a baby.  She stared at bakugou and then at you before going back to sleep.

“She’s got the bakugou bitch face or the bakugou glare or even the bakugou mean mug. However you want to call it but that doesn't matter cause she’s got it.” His mom said placing the sleeping baby in the basinet you guys had brought.

“Did that brat just glare at me!?” Bakugou whispers, causing you to burst into full belly laughter.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” he said to you trying to hide his small smile that was brought out by your laughing.

“Nothing, I just love you and I believe you just said H-E double hockey sticks so we're getting takeout on the way home, love.” You said kissing his cheek. He only stuck his tongue out at you before mumbling a quick ‘i love you back’. It's getting more painful now he's drawing closer to the day he knew his mind was counting down to. As much as he wanted to relish in the memory all he could think of was how Kaori wouldn't remember you or your melodious laughing. How he should have said I love you more clearly in that moment. He wanted it to stop, he wanted the flashes to stop, the memories to stop but they wouldn't and he knew because they were telling your story.

“BAKUGOU!!”

“Come here, dumbass I wanna cuddle!” Bakugou yelled from your bed.

“Hold on I just wanna call your mom and make sure Kaori is okay. It's the first time Kaori has been away so long. She’s only eleven months, she's probably scared without us.” You said with the phone in your hand pacing.

“Babe, if you are so worried you should know I called my mom while you were bathing. Kaori is chasings around my mom's fat cat. And my moms gonna call when they are putting her to bed so we can say goodnight. Now, get over here and quit worrying I want to cuddle you.” He said finally getting you relax enough to lay down, you rested your head on his chest.

“You're such a good dad, you were worried enough to phone your mom.” You said breathing in his caramel scent.

“Of course I did, I worry about you and Kaori whenever yall are out of my sight. I love you both too much yet not enough at the same time.” He said to you kissing the top of your head.

“Katsuki I want us to always be this way, I want to always be with you and kaori smiling. I love you both too much too.” You said back to him straddling him to meet his eyes.

“I want some more brats and a cat and a dog. I want everything with you. And I want it for forever” He said looking up at you with passion. He needs it to stop, he can't relive the same nightmare. He didn't want the image of you dying in his hands to replay, but that's where his mind was heading, wasn't it?

“Bakugou!? Can you hear me!?”

“You know when people said you become boring when you have a baby I didn't believe them but were totally boring. We just did 10 over the speed limit to pick up Kaori.” You said taking a glance in the mirror to see her cute little grumpy face.

“Baby I realized we were boring when we went to that baby store on our day off to look at baby stuff and we went “ ohh” and “awhh” to every third object we saw.” He said back to you with a chuckle. You giggled at him and your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, it was a second too long because when you opened them you slammed into a car ahead of you that had just been in an accident causing a pile up. Behind you a semi rammed into your suv doing terrible damage to the car and everyone inside. Bakugou was the first to wake and quickly fought to get himself free. Once he did he was all over you but you were in far worse shape and the metal of the car dug into you, slicing you open, and locking you into place.

“Noo.. Kat get Kaori first.” you whispered to him.

“Y/N, i'll get you out first, you're right here. Then we’ll get kaori together.” He said tears spilling from his eyes.

“Katsuki, please get Kaori first. Please, i'll try to get loose myself” You plead with him, he thought about it but you were more stuck than her and you were bleeding heavily from the metal cutting into your abdomen.

“Katsuki Bakugou! Her first, then me! I’ll wait for you, promise.” That was all he needed to hear, his heart ached for his little girl who was crying softly more shocked than hurt.

“It's alright baby we're gonna get you safety and then dadas gonna come get mommy and we’ll all go home cuddle.” He said as he pulled the baby from her car seat, recognizing ‘home’ and ‘cuddle’ she clapped at him. He planted gross, wet kisses all over her face before dashing to the place where he saw all the flashing lights congregating. It was a pretty big pile up so there were a lot of ambulances. He took the first one open.

“This is Bakugou Kaori, she’s eleven months and has no allergies to anything or any medication. I'll be coming back with Bakugou y/n who has a pretty deep gash in their abdomen and isn't allergic to any medication either.” He said as the EMT took his baby from him. He almost didn't want to leave her but he knew you were waiting on him, so he dashed back to your totaled car where he saw people crowding your figure as they had just pulled you out.

“Y/N!” He said dropping to the ground taking you from the girl who was holding you.

“Come on, you're bleeding a lot we’ve got to get you to the ambulance.” He said tears cascading from his eyes as he tried to lift you while simultaneously slowing your bleeding but as he lifted you not only did you scream, blood rushed out of your gash at a very alarming rate.

“We can't lift them, they're losing too much blood, the ambulance got to come down here….They’ll die if we take them down there.” Someone said as Katsuki placed you back on the ground. He wanted to yell at them and tell them they were wrong but he knew they weren't. As well as he knew the ambulance wouldn't fit down here, it was hard for him to fit through the cracks of the cars. He had to try though for you, for Kaori, and for himself.

“You're all hurt, go get to an ambulance and get some help, idiots.... And please, I'm begging you, make one of them come down here.” The group of people nodded as they raced for the ambulances.

“Told you I’d wait on you, Kat.”

“Yeah, you did such a good job, baby! You are so strong, love. They went to get help, everything's gonna be alright.” He whispered to you clutching your body closer to him.

“Who are you trying to convince me or you.” You laughed coughing up blood.

“Stop laughing, dumbass this isn't funny.” He gritted his teeth at you.

“Alright then stuffy, onto the serious business. I want Kaori to grow up knowing what love is, so tell her all our cheesy stories. I want her to grow up knowing she is so loved by you so tell her everyday from me and you that you love her more than anything. I want her to know she can come to you for anything so don't be such a hardass to her when she starts to rebel a little…. I don't want her to forget my face or my voice too much, so as much as it might hurt at first show her all the pictures and videos we took over the years. And when she's old enough to understand what happened tonight tell her she doesn't need to go to my grave if she ever wants to talk to me, I'm always watching over you both, promise.” You paused to throw up some more blood. “And now for you my love, I won't say anything to cliché. Like ‘i want you to find love’ cause we both know I am the jealous type but if it happens don't worry I'm not turning over in my grave. I want you to keep following that dream of yours if anyone can be the Top hero and a single dad it’s you, Kat. I want you to indulge yourself and eat takeout sometimes that stuffy diet of yours isn't fun. Be sad for as long as you need but just don't hold it all inside and try to continue on like everything is fine. It's okay to cry, to need a break or some help or both really. Lastly, Bakugou Katsuki, I love you and I am so sorry we didn't get that always and forever we wanted.” You said using the last of your strength to caress his cheek. He sobbed as he grasped your hand and held it tighter to his cheek.

“I love y-” he tried to say but stopped as he realized you were already gone. You didn't get to hear it back from him… the scream that ripped from him was pure anguish in its finest form. He should've been quicker to say it. He should have said it more often. He just should have. And now he was begging his head to stop playing these flashbacks to stop driving the knife further into his heart, he had a daughter he was trying to live for. He just wanted it to stop.

“DADA DADA”

Just like that he was drawn from his head. He looked around to see his friends and family staring at him in concern and his daughter at his feet with fat tears rolling down her face. He quickly picked her up, cursing at himself as he probably just scared her.

“What are you crying for you, little brat?” He started but paused as fat tears of his own rolled down his sunken cheeks “Everything's gonna be alright soon, so we shouldn't cry for too long okay, Brat.” He said as he hugged Kaori tighter than he should have. Somewhere in his mind he did believe it. That he and his daughter would be okay but for right now he was trying to stay afloat in the waves of suffocating flashbacks.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break.   The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all.   5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch?   5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you   5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls   You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants.    5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read   5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me   5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209   You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him.   Now’s the perfect opportunity.   “Tempering chocolate?”   “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.”   Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.”   “Do you want to help me or not?”   “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?”   “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.”   “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?”   “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!”    At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately.   “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?”   He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise.    Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day.   “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot.   “Which is easier?”   “They’re all the same,” he deadpans.   Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves.   “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too.   “I know.”   “Do you want me to help or not?”   “When I ask for it.”   Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?”   “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—”   He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?”   Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!”   “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!”   “Fine, fine.”   You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement.   But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.”   “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?”    You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.”   “How do you know that?!”   “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?”   “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.”   “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.”   Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.”   “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!”   “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.”   “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!”   “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs.   Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!”   “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!”   It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever.   The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees.    A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t.   “What the hell…?”   Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!”   He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.”   The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now.   The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again….    But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.”   The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?”   “I don’t know. We have to test it.”   The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull.    “Mother fuc—”   “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder.   It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone.   You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch.   “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look.   “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.”   “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?”   “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.”   One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap.   Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.”    It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry.   You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious?   “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.”   “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.”   “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.”   “That’s helpful.”   “Hey, I’m trying.”   Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he.   “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.”   The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.”   “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?”   “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge.   “Let’s bet on it then!”   “Fine. How much?”   You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.”   He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.”   //   It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest.   You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered.   “You want me to make this?”   Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?”   He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.”   “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.”   Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge.    While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes.   Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat.   You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.   He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards.   But he sighs after a moment, hands halting.   It’s your turn to smirk.   “Not so easy, is it?”   His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.”   You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too.   After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two.   “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.”   “I’m fully aware.”   “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.”   Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either.   “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?”   Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?”   “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.”   “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions.   “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.”   “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again.   “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too.   Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster.   You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now.   You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates.   “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.”   “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.”   “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.”   You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands.    You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?”   The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware.    Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle.   You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease.   You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.”   “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind.   “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.”   Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now.   You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it.   You know you don’t hate him so much anymore.   “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment.   Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did.   But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered.   “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.”   You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his.    Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?”   “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.”   “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.”   It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control.    You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is.   “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.”   Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered.    All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided.   “I—”   “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.”   “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?”   “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.”   “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums.   “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.”   You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming.   “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.”   Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?”   “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.”   “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed.   Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower.   Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…”   “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly.   “It was a stroke of luck.”   “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.”   “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.”   “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort.   But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.”   “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.”   “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!”   The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will.   As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls.   “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.”   “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.”   Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

[sentient-stove]

My Personal Beef with Chiron: An essay because I AM that bitch.

@theultimateyeeter @falling-oceans @reallydelicate-cycle  you three showed interest in this essay via contacting me or other ways, so this is for you.

To say that I have a deep hatred for Chiron is to undersell my point.  When I was thirteen, my mother gifted me a Kindle and asked what books I wanted on it, I said “Greek Myths”  because that’s what I thought Percy Jackson was called at the time.

I got the actual mythos. (even though she literally was reading the lost hero at that time and knew what i meant by greek myths. she was a bit of a bitch, but you know, it be that way.)  You know the ones, with Jason and the Argonauts, Demeter wandering the earth with Misery while in search for her daughter who had been captured by Hades, or perhaps the original Perseus, who used Medusa’s head to kill a fearsome sea creature and take Andromeda for his wife.

When I was reading this, I was introduced to Chiron, a mighty centaur who taught the heroes from the time that they were babies to adulthood, training them in everything from swordsmanship to healing.

So this is the teacher that I was expecting when I picked up my first ever copy of Percy Jackson. (In Italian I might add, we were living in Milano at the time, so I read Harry Potter and Percy Jackson in my second language before my parent tongue, but go off me.)

This was not who I got.  I got a sorry excuse of a teacher who sent literal children to die.  I got a centaur who withheld important information about demigods, which often led to serious injury.

I don’t believe that Chiron didn’t know who Percy’s father was.  He should have known the second he lay eyes on him.  The Chiron from the myths was able to tell who a demigod’s parents were from a single glance.  AND that was from over 2500 years ago.  Why wouldn’t he have more experience now?  And even if he couldn’t figure it out immanently, shouldn’t have been pretty fucking clear after Percy literally manipulated water to drag Nancy Bobofit into a fountain?  Or the fact that he gave Percy a sword that was traditionally held by a child of the big three?

And that’s not where it ends.  Chiron mentions that he practically raised Luke at camp, he of all people should have seen Luke’s betrayal from a mile away.  You cannot convince me that he doesn’t suffer from albus dumbledore syndrome, it’s practically his main affliction.   He has important information and then refuses to share it.

LIKE HIS OWN PARENTAGE.  How did not one fucking person at camp realize that his dad was Kronos?  Because he didn’t tell them and apparently he only teaches the old myths when he’s not at camp, because if you picked up a single book at camp that was the original myths, you could have found that out.  For all his preaching about needing to know modern myths, he sure isn’t great at making sure that people know.

He also refuses to give any information about the final prophecy because ‘it’s not time.’

Bullshit.  The Chiron I know would have given names and numbers for people to analyze.  He was first and foremost a teacher, destiny be damned.

Or like how easy he is to defeat in combat.  Would you want that training your kid as a mortal parent?  A centaur who’s leg got crushed because he somehow didn’t realize that an entire building was about to come down on him?  Like in the myths, Chiron was the demigod’s teacher because of his prowess in battle.

He’s pathetic and I think that he should put down his fucking pinochle game with Dionysus,  get out there and actually start teaching again.  Chiron ought to use his experience to prevent demigods from those untimely deaths that he so mourns, not help enable them.

Not to mention, the Chiron of myth sent out ADULTS on quests, ONCE he was done teaching them everything he knew.  This Chiron doesn’t tell Percy he’s a demigod until a fucking Minotaur is on his heels (even then it’s Grover who tells him)  and then he sends him on a quest with no training whatsoever. 

What the hell dude.  What the hell.  You’re not teacher, you’re a washed up mentor who needs to actually get off his horse ass and do some teaching.

stars above and seas below, I hate him so much, I could probably keep ranting, like how he clearly knew who Jason was and didn’t tell anyone, or like how he knew that the Argo 2 was bound to fail in preventing Gaia’s awakening (long story)  

If he had literally taught just a bit of the original myths to the kids he was ‘training’ they probably would have had better success rates and survival stories.

man, now im just upset even more.

[anakinthetrashking]

How’s the Heart?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871853/chapters/65565265

Somehow I made it and it is FINISHED!!!! This is my fic that I wrote for @batfam-big-bang​ !!!!

The biggest of shoutouts and THANK YOUUUUS to my incredible betas: Ace, Skye, and Em!!! @toomanyfandoms21​, @timmydrakewings​, and  @geekinthecorner​ !!!! I’ve never actually had a beta before, but for this i had 3??? You guys were so kind and patient with me and my last minute tendencies. Thank you for all your suggestions and edits!!! [heart eyes]

and then!! ARTISTS!! you guys really put your heart and soul into the pieces you made and i just,,,, want to cry,,,,THAMKKKKK YOUUU!!!! keep being awesome! im love u: Butter, Dean and Lucy!!!!!! @heybabybird​, @greenbean-riverdean​, and @houser-of-stories​ !!!!!

Its a Tim-centric 3+1 Three times Tim is helped or comforted by his family, and one time where he's doing pretty alright. (TW: Depression, Anxiety, Suicidal thoughts, etc! full tags on ao3)

1) Here I am to Share the Fear (Tim & Damian & Dick) Bruce is back and everything seems to be going well- so of course old fears pop up again. Damian notices his absence and tries is best in his own way to offer some comfort.

2) Fly Towards the Calm (Tim & Steph & Cass) Steph notices that Tim's failing at basic self care again, so she declares Movie Night. She and Cass try to remind Tim that he needs to take the time to care for himself and not just continue pouring himself out on behalf of others.

3) Night Will Come But Not to Stay (Tim & Bruce) Turns out catching the Clench and loosing his spleen have more lasting effects than they thought. Tim tries to ignore and push past his new found limitations, Bruce notices that something is off and is there for the inevitable breakdown.

+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale (Tim & Alfred) A rare event of relaxation, the Waynes have a picnic at the manor. Alfred worries about his family, but for now, it seems like everything is alright.

Read it under the read more or on AO3 !

Here I Am To Share The Fear

Too much. Everything was too much.

Bruce was finally back, and Tim was glad that everyone was so happy - despite them all being wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG.

He shook his head and put a light smile on his face, trying to focus on the conversation in front of him, but Dick was so loud. And there were far too many people in the mansion - in the same room - Tim swallowed and grit his teeth against the feeling of his organs crawling up his throat.

There were eleven people in the room.

Ten roses in the flowered centerpiece on the buffet table.

Nine cups scattered about the room.

Eight candle flame shaped light bulbs in the chandelier.

Seven white socks (why was Dick only wearing one?) 

Six voices in variating clarity.

Five… Five? Five fingers on each hand.

Four windows, none open.

Three lamps, all unlit.

Two doors.

One exit. Viable exit, at least.

Zero people looking at him. Perfect.

It was time for him to go, so he took his exit as quietly as possible, noticing the volume of the crowd drop as he walked out. No one stopped him. No one seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Good. That- that was something he could deal with.

As he fled to his room, he couldn’t help but notice how alive the manor was. So many lights were on, even in empty rooms. Little things littered the place as if people actually lived here. A book on the table here, ready to be picked up and read from where they left off. A suitcase full of clothes there, waiting to be unpacked. Doors open instead of closed and locked. Bed covers turned down, ready to welcome them home.

Tim reached his door and saw the life that had flooded there as well. Posters, pictures of family and friends covered large portions of his walls. Little trinkets given to him were lovingly placed around his desk. It was more than he could take, so he ran. He ran and ran through hallways and past open doors until the warmth of the occupied portion of the Manor turned to the chilly halls of the guest wing. Back in the furthest unused room is where he finally stopped, willing his heart rate to slow down.

The room looked like something out of a book, everything covered with sheets and layered with undisturbed dust, no signs of life. The evening light cast the room in cool tones of blues and greys, shadows soft and hazy. The attached bathroom was much the same, cold tiles sucking the heat from his feet.

Sitting down, he hugged his knees to his chest, letting the lines of the sink cabinet dig into his back. Tim stared for a while, trying not to think, and letting the clock tick a rhythm into his head.

The clock sounded so loud, and his breath seemed even louder. Nothing felt ok. Exhaustion pushed at the edges of his vision while panic seemed to well up inside of him and claw into his throat. Everything felt like it was closing in on him so he pushed back, laying on the floor and stretching his arms and legs as far as they could go. The cold seeped into him and he vaguely wondered if that’s what it felt like to die. To let your warmth bleed out into the universe. Death… was a calming thought. As humourless as that was, it forced a short laugh out of his throat.

Death would be preferable, he thought, to whatever feeling this is.

Bruce had been back for a month, and for a little while the triumph of bringing him home had been, well, satisfying. Relieving. Exhilarating.

But now, somehow, he was left feeling empty. Hollow. Carved out. His skin was pulled taut over his bones and there was nothing inside. Each day was an empty victory. A consolation prize. An uphill battle against an unseen enemy.

Eating, drinking, getting dressed, sleeping, showering, all done out of the necessity of existence. But most of the time he didn’t feel like he existed at all. Just a doll or a robot - there, but not really. Tossed aside until needed again. Some sort of empty, semi-existent thing. It felt too much like being five again and waiting by the phone for that occasional Sunday call from his parents.

A single tear slipped out, unbidden. It left a quickly cooling trail in its wake.

Everything is so stupid. Tim thought, frustrated by his own stagnancy, willing himself to just do something, instead of just lying there considering the logistics of several stupidly lethal ideas. He was working on kicking out the thoughts when he was distracted by the sound of light, purposeful footsteps. Damian. With footsteps like that it meant he was trying to be considerate. Creepy.

“What do you want?” Tim sighed.

“Drake.” Tim could feel rather than see the curt nod Damian gave him. “Pennyworth brought out those blueberry scones you seem to favor. However, you were not present. So I…” His self-assured tone faltered.

Tim turned to look at him for the first time. “You came looking for me?”

“I would hardly call it looking. You frequent a few spots and the conclusion was obvious by the number of people that are currently within the Manor.” Damian sat cross legged on the floor, pushing a scone into Tim’s hands.

“But why would you…?” Tim sat up, arching an eyebrow.

“It is only natural to know your enemy, Drake. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” Damian sniffed and waited for Tim to take a bite. Then he continued. “Then you will best know how to poison them.” A (dare Tim say it) friendly smirk showed itself on Damian’s face.

Tim snorted, and for once they seemed to have gained a sort of mutual understanding.

They lapsed into silence again. Damian shifted, obviously wanting to say something but didn’t know how. The expression on his face looked so scrunched that Tim almost wanted to laugh.

Instead he asked, “Is it still unbearably loud out there?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “With Grayson in the room? Obviously.”

Somehow Damian seemed even more frustrated. There was a good chance that any moment now he would jump up and leave, but not before throwing out an insult to cover his wounded pride at having to retreat. In his own way, he was trying to offer an olive branch, and as tired as Tim was, something in him couldn’t let that opportunity pass. He could almost hear Dick’s voice in his head, telling him that if he would just talk with Damian, have a conversation, maybe they could find common ground.

For once, he could see the clumsy effort that the brat was making, and he knew deep down, more than anything they both yearned for warmth. Not the sort of warmth that contrasted the grounding feeling of the cold tile beneath him, but the warmth of human connection. The numbness that had been growing in him twisted at that thought and he decided to take a chance.

“It’s nice to have everyone around, but…” he glanced over to try to gauge a reaction, “I can’t seem to settle into it.”

A sort of recognition, reflection, sparked in Damian’s eyes at that, and some of the tension began to leave his body. Tim continued.

“I guess it’s just that there’s always been something. If I do well enough in school, maybe my parents will take an interest in me. If I become a better Robin, maybe Batman will go back to normal. If I bring Bruce back, maybe we can all be happy again… But it never works. It’s never enough, and now- now there’s just… nothing.”

A few moments passed, and Damian’s own internal battle ended as he found the words to reach out in return.

“I, too… Mother’s time was very limited. I trained and studied hard for any extra moment of time or nod of approval she could give… and after Father denied me, it was much the same, trying to rework standards and limits for his approval. Not having something specific to work towards does indeed seem… disconcerting.” Tim searched his face and found sincerity there, though his eyes seemed to be distant as he turned away.

Damian once again found himself at a loss for words, so he thought about what Grayson would do in such a situation. A hug was… out of the question, but- he lay his hand in-between the two of them, palm open. This, he supposed, he could do. Tim took it, surprising them both. Damian’s hand felt almost unbearably warm after the cold of the tile floor.

They sat again, together, in silence. It was more companionable, though still awkward and stilted in ways neither knew how to fix.

“There’s nothing more I can do for this family. There’s nothing I can think of.” The silence stretched before them, and Tim hesitated to put his fear into words.

Finally, he whispered, “ There’s no excuse for me to stay now.”

Damian’s face whipped around to face him. “As usual, you are wrong, Drake.” He scoffed, “Don’t you know you can’t choose who your family is?” pausing, he let go of Tim’s hand and stood up, turning to leave. “You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

Quick but light footsteps sounded out in the hallway.

“Grayson!” Damian called, “Come fix Drake before Father requires his assistance again!” Nodding to Tim he left without another word.

Dick then came skidding around the corner into the bathroom, one socked foot sliding out against the tile. “Tim! Are you ok? What’s wrong? Why are you here of all places?”

Overly warm hands, distant eyes, honest feelings? Tim let out a deep sigh. “You should be more worried about the little gremlin. I think he’s got a fever.”

Dick tensed as if to sprint off again, and Tim held in a sigh of disappointment, knowing that Damian would be the priority, yet again. But instead of running off, Dick simply pulled out his phone and sent off a text, settling down into the spot on the floor that had been recently vacated.

“Bruce is on it.” He glanced out the doorway as if he could still see Damian storming past. “Did he-?” The question of his behavior went unsaid but not uncommunicated.

“No, we had a completely civil conversation. One might even call it a heart-to-heart, by our standards.”

“Therefore, he must be sick?”

“Other signs, too. But yeah.”

The buzz of an incoming message confirmed it, but Dick put his phone away instead of typing out a reply.

“A heart-to-heart, eh? I always knew you guys could get along if you just tried talking.”

“Don’t you dare say I told you so,” Tim shot a glare at Dick who was failing terribly at trying to look affronted at the very thought,  “but it does seem like we are a lot more alike than I realized.”

“Who would’ve known?” Dick teased.

“Never mind, just say I told you so next time.” Tim grumbled. “Anyway, it seemed like he was really trying, and that he wanted to help in some way. I guess I just couldn’t ignore that.”

“Yeah.” Dick had his proud big brother face on. “I'm glad you guys are finally getting along. What did you talk about?”

“Oh, you know, feeling worthless without having something to focus on, questioning our places in people's lives, the usual. “  

“That does seem to be a common theme in our family.”

“He called me family,” Tim murmured. “Or, well, he implied it. But for him, that’s basically saying it.”

“Tim, that’s…” Even Dick looked astounded.

“Unbelievable?”

“No, not unbelievable.” He chided. “But definitely surprising.”

“That’s one way to get me out of a bad mood, I guess. I was so surprised that it jarred me right out of my own downwards spiral.” Tim closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “Most everything still sucks, but that’s a bright spot, at least. My therapist keeps telling me to look for those. I guess I have another one to add to the list.” He turned his head to share a small smile before standing up to stretch. “That and Alfred’s blueberry scones. I sure hope there’s some left.”

Dick matched his smile with a blinding one of his own and reached over to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“You know, if you ever need to talk-“

“I know.” Tim bumped his shoulder into Dick’s. “Thanks, Dick.”

Fly Towards The Calm

“Think fast!” Stephanie’s entrance was about as subtle as a stampede.  She must have been hanging out with Jason lately. As the door behind her swung closed, she tossed a tightly, carefully wrapped package at his face. He caught it with one hand as he finished reading the last paragraph of the proposal he was looking over.

“Evidently I’m the Wayne family errand boy now,” she whined as she jumped up to sit on his desk. “I drove the brat home from school and got enlisted by Alfred to deliver food to your sorry butt.”

“You could have said no.” he muttered. Peeling back the folded wax paper revealed a tuna fish sandwich, exactly how he liked it, though a bit squished from being thrown across a room.

“Refused? Alfred? Are you joking?” she asked, over dramatically taken aback. “Besides, I was rewarded with my own delicious sandwich and not one but two cupcakes.”

“Two?” his eyebrow raised. 

“Well, he only gave me one, but generously allowed me to snatch a second. I didn’t eat yours because I’m nice.” She dropped the rest of his lunch on his now closed laptop.

“Indeed, I shall never be able to repay your kindness,” he said around his own mouthful of sandwich.

“You got that right. Anyway, Cass and I are gonna have a night on the town tonight, wanna come with?”

Tim hummed in agreement.

“Great! I’ll text her. You should probably get a nap first though. Come on, you can eat on the way.” She popped the last bite in her mouth and hopped off the desk.

Gathering his things, he glanced at her in amusement. “Alfred put you up to this, too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

Looping her arm in his, they headed to the door. He noticed a slight hesitation in her steps and turned to find her looking at him funny. But she just shook her head and let whatever it was, be.

Until they got in the car, of course.

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she sped down the road she asked, with a tone he couldn’t quite decipher , “Did you use my dry shampoo?”

His mind ground to a halt. Of all the questions he thought she’d ask, that was not one of them, and for the life of him, he couldn’t reason out why. They constantly borrowed each others’ things without issue, and for that matter, so did the rest of their mismatched clan. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he needed that nap after all.

 It had been a minute, maybe he should answer the question.

“Got my own bottle.” He said carefully, “Seemed useful.”

“Hmm.” God, now she sounded like Bruce. How many odd habits had she picked up from them? 

“Tim…” she sounded soft and hesitant, as if he were fragile. He hated when they did that. “When’s the last time you took a shower? Or ate a full meal?”

He contemplated it with a hum. “Patrol,” he said finally.

Stephanie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel for a moment. “Has it been bad lately?”

“What? …Oh.” Oh. “Not… really? It’s just been numb. Quiet. A bit like the way everything is muffled when you’re underwater.” A bit like drowning, he left unsaid.

She nodded and made a sudden U-turn. When he looked at her in askance, she shrugged. “We’ll patrol together another night. I’ll update Cass when we get to my apartment, but go ahead and text Alfred now. We’re going to have a self-care night with movies and facemasks and whatever other dumb indulgent Pinterest crap I can think of.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue but found he was too tired to care and yawned instead. “Nap first?”

“Shower first. Then nap.”

[BREAK]

He woke the moment she opened the door and turned his head to meet her gaze as she poked her head in with a grin.

“Ca-“ he broke off in a yawn, “Cass!”

With a quick glance behind her, she continued into the room, holding out a steaming mug. Tim sat up in bed, gleefully accepting it as she sat down next to him.

“Coffee,” he sighed in delight.

“Coffee.” She agreed with a solemn nod.

The silence was comforting as they sat there, leaning against each other, Tim soaking in the rare precious moments where he wasn’t rushed, or pulled this way and that. Reaching the bottom of the mug, he set it aside, wrapping his arms around his sister instead.

“You are a blessing upon humanity,” he said, “we don’t deserve you.”

She laughed and tightened the hug. The moment felt just like flying free above the streets of Gotham, and the thought of staying in for the night felt right. Cass pulled away just enough to look at him face to face, an amused twist to her lips.

“You smell like a Steph!” Squeezing him once more, she slipped away and was halfway out the door again when she turned as if she had just remembered something. “Oh!” her smile turned sly, “Decaf!”

“Hey!” He jumped out of the bed to catch up with her, but when he rounded the hall into the living room he was stopped in his tracks.

It seemed that somewhere in between dropping him off at her apartment to take a nap while she met up with Cass and “gathered necessary supplies”, and returning with said supplies, the original objective had been lost.

“It looks like you brought back half the manor’s supply of blankets and robbed a concession stand… and is that the old DVD case? I thought I got rid of that.”

“Yeah. Me and Dick saved it! Having everything digital may be convenient, but having a physical folder of DVDs just feels right!”

Tim suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and decided to leave the debate of Digital vs. Physical for another day.

“Anyway, you’re up just in time to help us set up the blanket fort!”

An hour later found the living room unrecognizable under the piles of pillows and draped sheets. Tim and Steph stood in the kitchen sorting snacks and discussing the night’s activities.

“-and then there’s this green tea and honey one that’s really great, very soothing-“

“Steph, you don’t have to explain them all to me, you know I’ll always let you test your facial concoctions out on me,” he cut in.

“Of course I know that. I’m not rambling about them for my benefit- I’m rambling about them for yours”

A head tilt was his only reply.

“Ok, let me try to explain this in a different way.” she put down her phone to look at him. “Tonight, Cass and I are going to attempt to teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“I know-” 

“Not in the way that you’ve done or that you know. Your version of taking care of yourself is to fool the cameras, the public, to fool Batman into thinking that you’re at your best.” she shoots him a look. “You’re not. You’re running on fumes and you can’t fool your family.”

“Taking care of yourself is NOT finding the lowest number of hours of sleep that you can ‘function’ on.” She makes quotes in the air with her fingers. “It is not replacing a meal with a power bar, even if the calories are the same! It’s not only taking showers when you have to leave the house, or shutting yourself in to do casework all the time!” her hands fly up in the air and she huffs. 

Taking his hands in hers she looks him square in the eyes before saying more softly, “Self-care is eating full, balanced, Alfred-cooked meals as often as you can. It’s doing your laundry every week and brushing your teeth twice a day. It’s taking naps even when you would literally rather be sorting through the 5-year backup of paperwork in R&D. Or better yet, getting a full 8-10 hours of sleep regularly! It’s looking in the mirror and saying to yourself, everyday, ‘I am good enough. I am worthy of and deserve all the love me friends and family try to give me.’ 

And tonight! Taking care of yourself is having a spa night with Cass and I while we watch anime movies and eat copious amounts of junk food, because we all know that patrol burns an extra 2,000 calories anyway! Plus, we can look at the Affirmations board I have on Pinterest! Cass likes practicing saying them while she beats up bad guys. Says the look on their faces is priceless.”

“Funniest one, I said, ‘I aspire to be a blessing and an inspiration to others.’” Cass recites popping her head out from the mass of blankets, “Guy completely stopped! Then I punched him.”

Night Will Come But Not To Stay

“I cant- I can’t do this anymore! I won’t do this anymore!”

“Promise?”

“…What?” his tears paused for the barest moment, before overflowing again. Bruce was crouched in front of him, tear tracks staining his face.

A moment ago Bruce had been standing with his back to him, untouched by Tim’s words, or perhaps instead, disgusted? 

But perhaps that conclusion was wrong. As Tim searched his face now, it looked more like he was the one in pain and exhausted beyond belief.

His lips were moving, and Tim struggled to catch up.

“What?” he repeated, softly and sniffly, a cord of self-disgust lashing out within him at the pathetic sound of it.

Not just tear tracks, it seemed. Bruce was still shedding tears as he repeated himself.

“Do you promise? That you won’t do this anymore?”

Tim’s mind felt like sludge as he tried to piece together how that request could possibly fit into the context of the last few minutes.

They had been training, not so long ago. Bruce had reached out to Tim first, this time. Offered to train together like they had in the past. Tim had jumped at the chance. He should have known better.

It had been going fine, at first. Great, even.

But his insomnia had been worse than usual this past week, and his other symptoms had been acting up, too. In response to the lack of sleep, maybe, or just the continued pattern he had observed, gradually worsening over time.

Honestly, it was probably a great big mix of things.

But he hadn’t been willing to cancel - not the first thing that he had actually been looking forward to in… too long to think about.

So, he’d shown up anyway, his body begging him to just rest.

They’d warmed up and started sparring.

Well.

It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes of sparring, and his body went from begging to outright rebellion.

He went down and couldn’t get back up.

And for some stupid reason, Bruce had decided to yell at him to get up.

So, he yelled back.

Yelled.

Screamed.

He’s not even sure what all he said, just that this last added bit of disappointment piled atop the ever-building terror of symptoms and lit the fuse that exploded within him and stole the earth from under his feet. It ripped through him and tore out his throat, multiplying as his view was constrained to the back of the man he respected most, seeming to be utterly unmoved by it all.

His obvious confusion and continued silence spurred Bruce to try to explain.

“Promise me that you’ll stop running yourself into the ground. Please.” He tilted his head to try and catch Tim’s eye. “I know you’ve been struggling, and not just lately. Alfred said you’ve seemed like you’ve been having an especially difficult time for quite a while. He said he had been meaning to bring it up to me before… and that he had tried to talk to you while I was gone, but that he couldn’t get you to stay in one place long enough to broach the subject. I know something’s going on. Tell me about it. Let me help.”

“Something’s going-? Help?” his laugh was incredulous and desperate as he dug his fingers into the mats beneath him before forcing them to relax. “No. You can’t- you can’t help me.” He scoffed. “Was this-“ he waved his hand around to try to indicate this situation that he couldn’t find words for, “this, supposed to be helpful?”

“Well,” Bruce looked a bit sheepish, “when you get stressed, I know you tend to internalize all of it. Direct it all at yourself. I thought if you had something outside yourself to direct it at instead… It had worked for-“ he cut himself off. “Well.” He said again, letting it rest a moment before continuing at a different angle. “What do you mean I can’t help you?”

“I mean, you can’t. I- I already researched it. There’s nothing- I mean, I sure had enough time. I had thought, with how tired I am, that maybe it’d help with my insomnia. You’d think so, right? But no. No. I’m still awake, but now I’m lying there, and I can’t do anything. Because I’m too tired! I’m so tired, Bruce. I thought- I thought I knew what tired was.”

“Tim, you’re not making sense. What’s going on? Why are you so tired?” he shifted to sit down and lifted his arms to give Tim a hug but stopped short, holding there, offering.

Tim fell into his arms and Bruce gathered his son as best he could.

“Turns out The Clench has permanent effects that the cure couldn’t reverse. They’re only just beginning to research it, but I’ve been tracking symptoms. Chronic fatigue and pain, nerve damage, migraines- other things they aren’t sure are connected. There isn’t a cure, and it’s gradually been getting worse. I’ve tried the suggestions though it's hardly any change: diet, exercise, rest, the basics. But it’s all just maintenance, and I can’t-“  he went limp as his eyes filled with tears again. “I can’t do the things I used to be able to. I’m barely making patrol- the rest of the day I’m in bed. I can’t do classes. I had intended- I was going to finish High School, or maybe get my GED. But I have to lay down after taking a shower. I can hardly think anymore. I have to drag myself out of bed to go to the bathroom. I used to be able to do everything, and now I can’t do anything! I can’t help you anymore! And you can’t help me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bruce pulled him closer to his chest and rested his cheek on his head, rocking them back and forth. “It’ll be ok. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, it won’t! It’ll never be ok again! Can’t you see? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think! I can’t think, Dad! What use am I now?” his voice broke and Bruce felt his heart break with it.

“Tim,” he gathered Tim’s hands in his own from where they were clutching his shirt, and planted a kiss on his knuckles, smoothing over them with his thumb. “Son, listen to me. You were not born into this world to be useful.” He stopped him before he could interrupt. “I know you like being useful. I like being useful, too. But I need you to listen to me. You are more precious to me than all the stars in the sky. Nothing will change that. When I say, “We’ll figure it out”, I’m not talking about a cure, or some way to make sure you are, quote unquote, “useful”. I mean that we’ll figure out a way for you to live a happy life. A successful life in whatever capacity that it may mean for you. When I say “it’ll be ok”, I don’t mean that I have a fix, I just mean that no matter what, the others and I will be here for you, however you need us. I mean that no matter what happens, you have a place here. You are my son. I love you.” Bruce cradled Tim close again, and their tears mingled where their cheeks pressed together.

“It’s ok. I’m here”

(+1) Fair Winds, Another Tale

Despite still being in the middle of setting things up, the picnic mood was already in full swing. Large blankets were being weighed down by pillows and baskets of assorted snacks. Tables were being laid out to hold the main meal, soon to be a large potluck. No matter how much Alfred insisted on being the one to cook it all, each attendee persisted in bringing something to share. He faintly wondered if they would run out of table space again this time ‘round.

With the majority of the tasks already accomplished, and the remaining tasks hijacked by the ever-enthusiastic young people, Alfred found himself with nothing pressing to do. He made his way over to where Tim sat, transferring water bottles and pop cans from cartons to coolers.

“As much as I appreciate the help, I do so wish they’d stop flinging cutlery across the lawn.”

Tim looked up to watch Steph and Duke and Jason for a moment, trying to suppress his own smirk at the sight of them gleefully tossing said cutlery to each other.

“I mean, it's just plastic, right?”

Alfred sighed as he sat in a camping chair set up next to the coolers. “Yes, but that’s not quite the point. The job is getting done, though, I suppose.”

They sat a moment in pleasant silence, watching as their family milled about, more relaxed than Alfred had seen in years. He hated to break the quiet, but with the entire family around lately and as busy as ever, he had hardly had a decent conversation with any of them. He worried about all of them, of course, and their shared inability to ask for help, but Timothy was an especially quiet lad, when it came to facing problems.

“How are things?”

“Well, all the drinks are already chilled, and we have plenty of ice.”

He shrugged a little at Alfred’s pointed look. “I think they’re ok.” He fiddled a bit with the boxes and tied a fresh garbage bag to the back of a cooler. “Not great, but ok. The weight, the fog… It’s lessened, somehow?”

“Your medication is helping?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a big part of it. But more than that, the way that I think about things now, it’s- I mean, obviously, it’s taken months, and ‘better’ isn’t a word that I’d use- but there’s been progress. And for once? It’s like I can let that progress just, be? I’m not sure how to explain it, really.” He leaned back to stare at the sky. “ I’m still working on things, and putting effort into it, but I guess I’m not expecting things to be fixed completely and immediately.”

Alfred hummed in response encouraging him to continue.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s still frustrating to no end. Trying to ‘let go’ of perfectionism and the control issues… Sometimes I feel more like I’m chopping off parts of myself with the issues rather than just ‘letting them go’. But I’ve been finding new ways to define myself, and it’s been more manageable lately. I can work with manageable. And when it’s not, I have people who make it bearable.” He looked off to where Bruce was welcoming their first guests. “That’s more than enough for me.”

“Master Timothy,” Alfred waited until Tim met his sincere gaze, “I am so proud of you.”

The small smile Tim shot at him reminded him so much of the shy grins that were common when young Timothy had first entered their lives. Alfred’s heart ached for the many children whose smiles he had seen stolen over the years. The moment was cut short as Jason stormed over demanding,

“Tim, Steph is insisting that the 2005 Pride and Prejudice is better than the 1995 version. You have to tell her she’s wrong.”

Steph came bounding over with Duke. “What's wrong with you? Do you hate Kiera Knightley or something?”

Jason took a dramatic step back with his hand on his heart. “You should know better than to ask that question! But the 1995 version is still the better version. It's more faithful to the books! The delivery is stunning! The banter is unsurpassable! And it has Colin. Firth.”

Duke breaks in, “I mean, he’s got a point. They took the time necessary to keep as many details as possible from the book. Elizabeth’s take down of Darcy is unparalleled. When it comes to banter that’s definitely the one to watch. Also, the 2005 Mr. Bennet is kinda creepy, not gonna lie.”

“See? Duke here is a man of taste.”

“But the aesthetic!”  Stephanie cried, “The finger twitch! Darcy looking like a sad puppy in the rain! Elizabeth kissing Darcy’s hand!!! 2005 is a masterpiece! Tim, you tell them!”

“Don’t look at me, I think they’re both great. Besides, I like Jane Eyre better.” Tim says.

The other three stop and stare.

“You know, that makes sense.” Duke said with an assessing look. “Personally, my favorite is the Count of Monte Cristo.”

Jason threw up his hands in defeat. “You guys aren’t even talking about Jane Austen anymore!” They all turned as another car came up the drive. “Oh thank god, Babs is here! She’ll take my side.”

Their conversation faded into the distance as they paraded back across the lawn, dragging Tim into their argument as they went.

Bruce  watched them fondly out of the corner of his eye as he approached in turn.

“The Kent’s are here, save Clark. Lois says he tried a new recipe and wanted to run it past Martha first. Diana’s running a bit late, but for the most part it seems that everyone else will be here in an hour or so. How are things coming along?”

Alfred knew he was asking about more than just picnic preparations. “All is well, Master Bruce. For once, all is well.”

[too-much-sunshine]

Fangs for the Hospitality

Chapter 3

Summary: After Roman leaves his family reunion mad at Remus, his car breaks down. The huge snow storm forces him into the forest hes always been told to stay away from as a child. Who will he meet? And why are they being so nice? Most importantly, why are his teeth so sharp?

A/N: My self-indulgent magic/vampire fic! Let me know if I need to tag something or you wanna be tagged!

Relationship: Familial DAM, Eventual Roceit, Eventual Intrulogical

Warnings (per chapter): Panic attack, self-deprecation (Roman), and being quite confused (also Roman)

Word Count: 2817

Catch up!: Master list, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Read on AO3!

The door slowly creaked open to reveal a small face with large peering eyes. The child only opened the door enough to see their face, and small hands wrapped around the edge. They seemed to be only 7 or 8 years old. There was so much curiosity in their wide eyes.

“Hello! I’m Patton. Who are you?” The small child asked, still hidden mostly by the door.

“H-h-e-ell-o m-m-my-y n-n-ame iss R-roman. I n-need sssome h-help.” Roman slurred, swaying back and forth in place.

“Patton! Close that door right now!” An older sounding voice yelled from further in the house. Roman thought he also heard some frantic footsteps as well.

This “Patton” turned around, opening the door more, and yelled back into the house.

“But dad! This guy said he needs help! He can't talk right! I wanna help him!!” As Patton said this they opened the door the rest of the way and wrapped their arms around Romans waist.

Roman could no longer comprehend what was going on really. He was quite sure if he stayed standing any longer, he would finally pass out. He couldn't feel anything anymore, which was probably bad. Everything felt like it was slow motion as another face showed up through the door. It seemed like this new person was trying to talk to him but everything sounded like it was underwater.

His vision was definitely getting worse. He tried to blink away the dark ring around what he was seeing, but everything was getting too heavy. He was feeling very, very light headed. With the last of his consciousness he pulled a few words together.

“I-i-im s-s-sor-ry-y.” and everything went black.

~~~

The world came back to Roman very slowly. He felt warm. So, so warm. He was glad he made it home. He vaguely remembered that his car had broken down at one point. The weird part was that he didn't remember how or when he had gotten home. But he did remember being very cold, and now he's not.

With his eyes still closed Roman shuffled around a bit. He was feeling more relaxed in the warmth around him then he remembers feeling in a long time. He let out a contented sigh, burrowing into the blankets around him further. The bed was so soft.

Wait.

He didn't own a bed. He slept on a couch, with a scratchy wool blanket. And last he checked his heater was broken. What was going on?

There was a small chuckle to the left of him that surely did not help his confusion and trepidation. It did help to raise his heart rate though. Slowly Roman opened his eyes to see a dark bedroom. He could see a flicker of light to the right of the bed he was still lying in. It seemed like a lit fireplace, which was adding heat and light to the room.

After blinking around trying to garner his surroundings, Roman realized all he was really looking at was the dark ceiling. He tried to push to sit up in the bed to see around more. But this proved to be much harder than he was originally anticipating. He still felt very weak. What happened?

“I wouldn't suggest that darling, you are still recovering from being frozen solid.” A voice from his left stated, causing Roman to startle back against the bed. He had completely forgotten there was someone else in the room. His breathing and heart started to speed up significantly more, freezing in place. The voice chuckled again.

To say Roman was scared would be a bit of an understatement. He didn't know where he was, how he got here and who was talking to him. Though at the moment he was sure he couldn't speak back anyway.

Finally the owner of the voice from the left came into view. They walked over to peer over Roman on the bed. Roman heart was beating out of his chest as looked back at the person above him. He stayed frozen. He was pretty sure he didn't know who this person was. Which definitely made this situation worse since he was in a house he didn't know, with a person he didn't know.

In the dark room it was quite hard to make out any definite features of them. They looked to be shorter than Roman, and a little leaner too. Which Roman distantly heard a voice that sounded like his mother say that wasn't hard to pull off with his slightly thicker size. This person also had darker hair and a slim face.

They gazed at Roman and searched his face, which Roman was sure just showed his fear. The stranger seemed to have some pity on him as they backed up and finally spoke.

“Well aren't you a pretty little thing? Showed up right at my doorstep.” They said with a smirk.

Roman felt his face grow a bit warmer. This person was just making Roman more and more confused as time went on. He opened his mouth to respond to find he couldn't speak a word. The words got caught in his throat and he couldn’t make a sound. This wasn't the first time this had happened, nor the most inconvenience. But it was still quite embarrassing. Roman tried to speak again but only ended up looking like a fish out of water.

This happened when Roman was too anxious. So much so to where he just shuts down. It happened quite a bit as a child, especially after getting yelled at for a while. Or after he would freak out too much. Remus and him had even learned a bit of sign language to help him during these times. Sadly this still happens actually quite often to the poor stage hand. He was surprised he lasted as long as he did at the party.

The party! That's right he was at a party! Then he...left? Maybe? Why did he leave? And that still doesn't answer where he is… How did he get here then?

Seeming to realize that Roman was a bit lost in thought, they spoke up again, breaking Roman out of his own dissociation.

“Cat got your tongue? That's alright I can get you something to write with. One moment please.” And with that the stranger walked out of the room.

Roman took this time to try and calm his racing heart.

‘Its okay. It's okay! This is fine Roman...just breathe...They would have hurt you by now if they wanted to…’ Roman thought to himself over and over. ‘Do that thing Remus taught you. Look for five things...was it five things or six? I don't know! I’m fucked! I’m going to die and no one will know where I am and..and...and…’ Romans breathing got worse as he tried and failed to calm himself down.

Tears were starting to gather in his eyes as he started to hyperventilate. He realized that he was having a panic attack but he was too far gone to help himself.

‘You really deserve this dumbass. You're the one who got lost or something!’ Roman kept thinking to himself as he continued to breathe too much. Tears were streaming down his face, and he couldn't even move his arms enough to wipe them away.

Just as his vision was going a bit dark around the edges the door opened back up again. Distantly Roman realized that a person was in the room which really didn't help his panicky state. There were only two people in the world that wouldn't make him worse when he was in this state. He tried to back up in the bed but he was too weak to even move more than an inch.

“Hey hey hey it's alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down.” The stranger said as they slowly walked to the side or Romans bed. “I’m going to help you okay. Listen to my voice. Breathe in for me. Breathe in for four seconds. Come on it's okay try again. There ya go, hold for seven second. Now release for eight. There you go, let's do it again.” They kept speaking in a soft murmur guiding Roman though the exercise.

Once Roman seemed to be breathing a bit better, the stranger spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, we are not used to having visitors around here. Here is the pen and paper, let me help you sit up a bit.” They said softly.

Roman was still freaking out a bit, so he was having trouble putting a full sentence together. He nodded his head anyway so he would finally be able to sit up and look around. Once he was finally sat up the stranger placed the pen and notebook in his lap, looking pointedly at Roman.

“I think you are just as confused as I am. So how about we go back and forth asking questions okay?” They asked. Roman nodded, signally for the stranger to start. “Okay, who are you?” They asked.

My name is Roman Prince.

   Where am I?

“Hello Roman. You are currently in the guest room of my house. The house itself is in the... forest. How did you get here Roman?”

As they spoke they seemed a bit reluctant to give out the information. This did not help Romans nerves about the whole situation. He felt this person was being very nice, and for what reason? He wasn't used to free kindness.

I

Roman paused his shaky writing, not knowing how to answer the question he was asked. How did he get here?

I don’t know… I was at a family reunion in the countryside. Then I left because...I don't remember...and then my car broke down and now I’m here. Which i'm sorry about. I didn't mean to interrupt or impose I can go if you want me too.

Roman showed the journal to the stranger, who looked at it confused.

“You do know there is about 3 feet of snow outside right now right? Even if I wanted you out, I couldn't let you in good conscious. You'd freeze to death. Well...again.” They said.

Wait.

I froze to death?

Roman wrote, significantly more pale than before.

“Ah ah that's two questions in a row, but I’ll answer. You did not literally freeze to death sweetie. You are very much alive. During the storm you showed up on my doorstep confusing it for death's door. My...son was a bit too friendly with you and you passed out right as I came to the door. Sorry if he scared you. He's not used to people coming to the door. But after you fainted I took you inside. You were hypothermic and soaked to the bone, so I decided to warm you up. Lucky I did because as soon as I took you in, the snow started back up again. You're lucky I’m nice, not everyone in these woods would have done the same.” They warned. “Now it's my turn. How old are you darling?

Man what was with all these pet names? Roman was starting to breathe funny again and this time he wasn't quite sure why.

I’m 25. Why?

“Really? You don't look a day over 20.” They smirked at Roman as his face started to heat up again. “My my you are quite easy to fluster.”

A bit flustered Roman started to write back quicker than before.

My family would disagree about my looks, but thank you I guess. But you didn't answer my question. Why ask about my age?

“I just wanted to make sure your parents were looking for their lost child.” They smirked.

Roman gave a small smile back at that.

Even if I was that young, I can guarantee she wouldn't come looking for me.

The stranger was giving Roman an odd look while reading what he'd written. It made Roman realize that they were on the topic of himself for too long. He wanted to change the subject to literally anything else. Most people didn't like when he talked about himself and his family. He always over shared and drove everyone off.

Sorry. I think I got off track talking about myself. Sorry, I tend to talk too much. Where is your son?

The stranger gave him a slightly concerned look, clearly noticing the change of subject, but gracefully let it slide as they answered the question.

“It's okay hon, I did ask about you after all. Anyway, which one son do you have in mind? I've got two. But I’ll assume you mean the one you met. Patton should be sleeping right now. It is the middle of the night.”

At that Roman blanched. How long had he been here? Ruining this poor person's night and probably next day. Even their poor kid was involved in his mess.

I’m so sorry. You should be asleep too not worrying about me. I’m so sorry.

Roman fanatically wrote to the kind stranger. They seemed a bit confused by his sudden change in pace.

“No no, it's fine. I don't sleep much anyway... “

Still I’m sorry that I’m here. I was just so lost I didn't have a phone and couldn't stay in my car so I decided to go into the woods after seeing the light of your house.

“It seems you've picked up a bit of your memory. Barring the fact there no way you should have been able to see my house from the road, if I didn't want to help you I wouldn't have. It's okay for you to be here. Okay?”

It's not okay though. I shouldn't be here imposing here taking up your space. I’ll leave as soon as you want me too.

The stranger seemed to be taken a bit back. They paused and looked passed Roman, lost in thought. After Roman started thinking that maybe he should just stop talking forever and leave through the window, they finally spoke up again.

“What if I want you to stay here?” They asked, still not looking completely at Roman.

Roman froze, very confused by the question. Stuntingly he wrote a very elegant response.

I- what?

“Hon, I don't want you to leave yet. You can't even walk yet. It's okay for you to take up space. Besides it might be nice to talk to someone who isn't less than 8 years old. Will you at least stay till morning?”

Roman looked into the strangers face as he finished speaking, his eyes starting to sing a bit. Nobody had ever wanted him around before. This random stranger was getting weirder by the minute. After a moment Roman wrote back.

As long as I’m welcome I’ll stay if you want... Who are you?

“Oh where are my manners! My name is Janus, it's a pleasure to meet you Roman.” Janus smiled at Roman in the dim light, the little light there was reflecting on their sharp canines. Romans eyes widened a bit, then he squinted to try and see better in the dark room. It didn't help.

“Why don't you try and get more sleep Roman. I’ll bring you something to eat in the morning to gain your strength back. If you need me, call me. I’ll hear you.” They started to walk to the door when they paused. “And Roman, I trust that you keep to your room. This house is quite old, don't want you getting hurt anymore then you already are. Goodnight!” Then they finally walked out of the room.

‘What did I just get myself into? I must be tired...I think I’m starting to see things that aren't there...’ Roman thought as he shimmied back into sheets.

Roman closed his eyes, not realizing how tired he was until he was laying down again. He was asleep again within minutes of Janus’ departure, slipping away into pleasant, warm dreams.

~~~

Janus closed the door behind himself as he walked out of the room. He let the friendly smile he was carrying before slip off his face, replacing it with a small scowl. He pressed his back against the door and listened until he was sure Roman had fallen back asleep.

Maybe he got himself into more than he should have. But he couldn't just let this guy walk away after being able to walk into the woods. Plus he looked to be dead on his feet.

Janus let out a sigh and spoke a small incantation under his breath. The guest door glowed a soft yellow around the edges, signifying that the spell had worked. The door was now not locked, but would let Janus know if anyone opened the door.

With that Janus walked down the hall leaving the man to his sleep. He's gonna have a lot of work and paperwork to fill out with this one.

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@primaveradoodles

[witcher-ot3]

Sims 4 (Im)Perfect Strangers Characters

Okay, probably no one cares, but hey, may as well share. So, I’ve been making some folks from (Im)Perfect Strangers, and I figured hey, maybe someone else cares enough to want to see lmao

Triss So, obviously we know what Triss looks like in canon. But because I started with Netflix!Triss, my version is a bit of a combination of game and netflix canon. Also, because I have the mods that make it possible, yes she has hairy legs and arms and no, she is not ashamed of it. Idk if her eyes are quite so noticeable, but I like the idea that mages feel ever so slightly Off to lay folk.

Adda the White Adda the White is Foltest’s daughter niece and in my version of things, she was raised by the Priestesses of Melitele with Triss and Roche looking in on her/mentoring her over the years. She’s had pretty limited contact with Foltest himself. She wears the traditional headcovering of the Priestesses (aka a hijab). She also has sharper than normal teeth, a lingering result of the striga curse, along with slightly heightened senses.

In her priestess garb, I think she looks a bit like this:

Anais La Valette Yeah okay, she has a game model, but the Witcher 2 kid models are creepy. SO, Anais, as we know, is a rowdy, rambunctious kid. She likes fighting and rough playing and she is not afraid of demanding what she wants. Loudly. 

Boussy La Valette Unlike his sister, Boussy is more of an introvert. He likes his own company, but mostly, he likes to keep busy doing something that makes him think. (I doing my best to portray him as autistic, btw). He also does not believe in casual clothing. If you’re gonna get dressed, you should put effort into it, that’s his philosophy. He probably learned to tie his own bowtie at like 7 just so he could wear it without other people getting in his space to tie it.

Rinn Originally created by the wonderful @franzwantscoffee​, Rinn is our favorite Scoia’tael spy. She’s pretty young as elves go - well, most of the Scoia’tael are, honestly, but Rinn is around teens/early twenties in the human equivalent. She wears clothing that helps her blend into the forest and is so good at sneaking that it takes inhuman senses to be able to detect her when she doesn’t want to be seen.

Sylvar Amongst the Scoia’tael, no one has worse scars that Sylvar. He typically wears a red mask over the lower half of his face to help cover them, but the burn scars he bears are extensive. He joined the Scoia’tael after the house his mother and he lived in amongst humans was set on fire - with them inside. He managed to escape, but his mother did not. Only elven medicine was able to save him and help him regain mobility after the incident. Because of this, Sylvar, unsurprisingly, does not trust humans. He wants to believe in the Free Pontar Valley, but it’s difficult when trying to sleep with humans in the vicinity leads to nightmares and panic attacks.

Taredd Taredd is remarkably short amongst elves, to the point that he was often teased about being a dwarven bastard. He does not enjoy reminders of his height (which, of course, means that Sylvar has to remind him every so often, just because). Anxious and clever, he took a page out of Cedric’s book and self-medicates with alcohol to keep his mind from being too overwhelmingly busy. He’s probably the best tracker in the Scoia’tael.

Maeral Maeral is punk as hell, the cleverest commander in Iorveth’s Scoia’tael, and an all around badass. Her squad is all women and to be honest, she doesn’t have much time for men. Iorveth is an exception because he lets her utterly destroy him at chess. She trusts him unequivocally, but her team is also a strike force. They’re the ones who go in first, the ones who play the distraction, the ones most likely to die. She trusts Iorveth because he trusts her to do what she needs to on the ground to bring as many of their people home as possible.

Imadia Imadia is old, even for elves, and unlike most elves humans have seen, she shows signs of her age. That’s how old she is. She is also old enough to take no shit whatsoever and she likes a nice pop of color in life. Things are bleak enough without wearing drab and depressing clothing. Besides, as a medic, she is typically removed from the fight and doesn’t have to scrounge for “gently used” armor like the rest of the Scoia’tael. In addition to serving as Iorveth’s medic, Imadia and Iorveth have known each other since before the Conjunction of the Spheres. When he attended the elven university equivalent, she was his thesis advisor. His faith in her advise has survived since then, and even though her biting tongue might bruise his ego, when he’s in over his head, she is the first person he goes to.

Kythaela (also known as Ky) Ky is a very upbeat and bright person, rarely ever seen without a beaming smile. She came to the Scoia’tael with her father, Ayluin, but he eventually turned traitor, trying to sell the Scoia’tael out to the Temerian guard. When he was discovered, he fled, and Ky attacked him in anger. In the scuffle, Ky managed to stab her father through the heart - and then broke down crying under the weight of everything. That was how Iorveth found her and came to believe in her innocence. Of everyone in the Scoia’tael, Kythaela and Rinn are probably the closest. They’re of a similar age and despite their very different demeanors, they make a terrifying and effective team. Ky is part of Maeral’s all-women unit.

SPOILERS FOR (IM)PERFECT STRANGERS!!

Zeda In Between Two Fools Chapter 4, we discover that Kythaela is pregnant with a dwarf’s child. Epic sex ed fail in the Scoia’tael, btw. Zeda hasn’t actually been born yet in what I’ve written so far, BUT he’s going to play a significant role in the future. As a half-dwarf/half-elven child, this baby is TINY and came out with a full head of hair. I think as he grows up, he’ll also probably grow body hair, unlike elves, because dwarves are very, very hairy because I say so.

Because this was super fun, are there any characters that y’all would like to see visualized? Maybe I’ll do Luka next...

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.