#i just think it would be funny if she tweaked out worse sometimes

[dailykugisaki]

Day 327 | id in alt

Both the first and the last survivor of idle transfiguration.

[paddockletters]

unseen | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader  request: yes / Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone feels out cause that freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific author’s note: Hope you liked it!... as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The memories of my school days never really left me. Every now and then, they’d come creeping back — a careless comment someone made, or the way people used to whisper when I walked past. I could still picture the sneers, the cold stares, and the cutting remarks. The bullying wasn’t always physical, but the emotional scars felt just as deep. Being the quiet girl who loved math, cars, and physics made me an easy target. I didn’t fit in with the other girls who were into makeup and parties. I was more interested in tweaking engines and dreaming of Formula 1. That difference marked me.

It all began in middle school when I started to realize just how out of place I was. My grades were high, my social skills not so much. Every time I raised my hand in class, there’d be snickers. Every time I’d walk down the hall with my oversized glasses, someone would mutter a snide remark. The bullying wasn’t brutal, but it was consistent, gnawing at me bit by bit. High school wasn’t much better. The teasing continued, though by then, I had learned to keep my head down and drown out the noise by focusing on my dream of working in Formula 1.

Fast forward a few years, and here I am — an engineer for one of the top F1 teams. The transformation was surreal. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself. Who would’ve thought that the same girl who spent her lunch breaks in the library, sketching out car designs, would one day be standing in the pit lane at Monaco?

But something even crazier happened along the way — I met Jude Bellingham.

It wasn’t some grand, love-at-first-sight story. I wasn’t starstruck when I first saw him. In fact, I didn’t even know who he was. We met at a charity event, one aimed at inspiring young athletes and professionals from underprivileged backgrounds to chase their dreams. Jude was there as the football star, while I had been invited to speak about my journey into F1. He seemed genuinely interested during my talk, but we didn’t interact much that day. It wasn’t until I received a DM on Instagram a few days later that things really started.

“Hey, I loved your speech at the event. I’m Jude, by the way — football player. Would love to grab coffee sometime if you’re up for it.”

I remember staring at my phone, thinking it was a prank. A football star wanted to get coffee with me? It felt like a joke. But I responded, and we met. Coffee turned into long dinners, long dinners turned into walks in the park, and those walks turned into a relationship.

Jude wasn’t what I expected. Sure, he was famous, but he was also kind, funny, and remarkably down-to-earth. He never treated me like I was less important than him. If anything, he seemed fascinated by my work. He’d ask me endless questions about the F1 cars, the strategies, the engineering behind the speed. I’d tease him about football, asking if he really knew what went into designing the perfect car. We just clicked.

Still, going back to my hometown was something I hadn’t done in years. The memories were too bitter. But Jude wanted to go. He wanted to see where I grew up, to meet the people who had shaped me, for better or worse. So we planned a trip. I was nervous as hell, but Jude? He was excited.

The car ride to my hometown felt like an eternity. As Jude hummed along to the soft rhythm of the music playing through the speakers, my mind was far from the road. I hadn’t been back here in years, not since I’d left for university. The thought of returning had always been… daunting. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts of the past. Or, more specifically, the people who had made my life a living hell when I was younger.

I glanced at Jude, who was focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel, the other on my leg, giving me an occasional reassuring squeeze. His presence grounded me, but that nervous pit in my stomach kept growing the closer we got.

“You’re quiet,” he said, glancing at me.

I forced a smile. “Just... thinking.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, his tone soft as he asked, “About?”

“About how weird this is going to be. I haven’t been back here in years, Jude. People… they remember things. They remember who I was.”

“And who you were is exactly who I love. You know that, right?” he said, giving my thigh another squeeze.

I chuckled softly, leaning back into the seat, trying to push the anxiety down.

“I know. It’s just that, back then, I was the awkward girl who couldn’t fit in. Now I’m walking into town holding hands with Jude Bellingham. People are going to freak out.”

“They’ll freak out because you’re a freaking Formula 1 engineer, not because of me,” he said, grinning. “I bet half the people in town have posters of you in their garage next to their Ferrari die-casts or something.”

“Oh please,” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “No one from my town cares about F1.”

“They should. You’re a genius.”

Jude’s words were always so simple, but they held so much weight. He had a way of making me feel seen, really seen, in a way no one else ever had. That’s what made everything with him feel so different. He wasn’t just the football star that millions of people idolized; he was my Jude, the one who asked me about race strategies and remembered the names of the engineers on my team.

We arrived at the town square just as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the small, familiar streets. The sight of it brought back a wave of memories — good and bad. It was strange how everything looked smaller now, less intimidating. The buildings I used to walk past with my head down, trying not to be noticed, now seemed so ordinary.

Jude parked the car, pulling his baseball cap down over his head as we stepped out. I could already see a few people glancing in our direction, their eyes widening with recognition. They weren’t just looking at him, though. They were looking at me.

“Hey, you okay?” Jude asked, stepping closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Yeah, it’s just… surreal.”

We started walking through the town square, hand in hand. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. But they were everywhere.

“Oh my god, is that… Jude Bellingham?”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl who used to go to school here? She’s, like, a big deal now, right?”

“I heard she works in Formula 1. How did she end up with him?”

I bit my lip, feeling the familiar wave of insecurity creeping in. But Jude seemed unfazed. If anything, he walked a little taller, as if daring anyone to say something negative. He pulled me in closer, planting a kiss on my temple as we crossed the square.

As we walked into the shopping center, we decided to stop by a café for a drink. I could already feel the buzz of recognition in the air as people realized who Jude was.

Jude sat across from me, casually sipping his drink as if we were anywhere else in the world. He had his cap pulled low over his face, trying to avoid drawing attention, but it was hard not to notice him. He was Jude Bellingham after all.

The stares had started the moment we walked into the square, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had this effortless calm about him, the way he handled attention, fame. Meanwhile, I was doing my best not to feel like I was under a spotlight, even though I knew people were whispering and pointing, probably trying to figure out why he was with me.

I caught a glance from a group of teenagers at the table across from us. They were huddled together, looking our way, giggling and whispering. I sighed, already feeling a bit on edge.

Jude noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just... weird being back here.”

“I can imagine,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in that soothing way he always did. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

I took a deep breath, glancing around the café. “It’s fine. Just... a lot of memories, you know?”

He squeezed my hand, his gaze soft and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” I said, surprising myself. I had never really told him the full story before.

He knew bits and pieces, but I had kept most of it to myself. Maybe it was time to let him in.

I looked down at our intertwined hands, thinking back to those years.

“I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I was the one they picked on. The ‘geeky’ one. I loved math, engineering, all the stuff no one else thought was cool. I spent more time in the library than anywhere else. They made fun of me for it—my glasses, my clothes, the fact that I never fit in.”

Jude’s expression softened. “Kids can be cruel.”

“They were,” I agreed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “It wasn’t just teasing though. It got pretty bad at times. I used to dread coming to school. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield. I just wanted to disappear, you know?”

Jude’s grip on my hand tightened slightly. “I hate that you went through that.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn’t matter anymore.

“It’s in the past. I got out. I became an F1 engineer, so jokes on them, I guess.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to act like it doesn’t still hurt. It’s okay to feel that.”

I looked up at him, my throat tightening with the emotion I hadn’t realized was building up.

“It does, sometimes. I mean, I know I’ve made it, but coming back here... it just brings all that stuff up again.”

He stood up then, coming around the table to sit beside me. Without a word, he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re brilliant, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. They didn’t see that back then, but it doesn’t matter. I see it. The world sees it now.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and words wrap around me like a blanket.

We stayed like that for a few moments before pulling apart slightly, Jude resting his forehead against mine.

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here,” he said softly. “You’re you, and that’s more than enough.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Thank you. For always knowing what to say.”

Jude grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you did bag me, so I’d say you’re doing something right.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he teased, flashing that trademark grin.

As we sat there, talking about everything and nothing, a few more people came up to us. A couple of them recognized me from school. I could see the surprise in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe the girl they used to tease was sitting here with a world-famous footballer.

“Hey, I remember you,” a girl of the group said, her voice laced with nostalgia. “You were in my physics class, right?”

I nodded, offering a polite smile. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow,” she said, glancing between me and Jude. “I heard you’re doing big things now. Formula 1, right?”

“Yeah, I’m an engineer for one of the teams.”

“That’s… amazing,” she said, looking genuinely impressed. “I always knew you were smart, but I didn’t realize… well, you know.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, but Jude jumped in, his arm draping casually around my shoulders.

“She’s a genius. She’ll never admit it, but she’s probably the best engineer in F1 right now.”

I blushed, nudging him playfully. “Stop exaggerating.”

The girl chuckled awkwardly, clearly a bit starstruck by Jude’s presence. “Well, it’s great to see you doing so well. And… with him. That’s pretty cool.”

After she left, I turned to Jude, who was grinning like he’d just won the Champions League.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jude grinned. “See? People notice. They’re impressed, as they should be.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in to kiss my temple. “But I’m also right.”

As we walked through the shopping center, I could still feel people glancing our way, some whispering, others taking quick pictures on their phones. But for the first time, I didn’t feel like the awkward, out-of-place girl from school. I felt like someone who had earned her place in the world, someone who had worked hard and made it.

A few more people came up to Jude, asking for pictures or autographs, but he always made sure to include me in the conversation, making it clear that I wasn’t just the girl on his arm. I was someone in my own right.

At one point, a young girl, probably no older than ten, approached me shyly. She held a notebook in her hand, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly, “are you the F1 engineer? The one who works with the cars?”

I blinked in surprise, glancing at Jude before nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Her face lit up, and she held out her notebook. “Could I have your autograph? I want to be an engineer one day, just like you.”

My heart melted, and I took the notebook from her, scribbling my name with a quick message of encouragement. “You can be whatever you want to be,” I told her, handing it back. “Just keep working hard and never stop believing in yourself.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Thank you!”

As she ran off, I turned to Jude, who was watching me with a proud smile.

“See?” he said softly. “You’re a role model.”

I smiled, leaning into him. “I guess I am.”

As we walked, Jude nudged me with his elbow.

“You handled that like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it all the time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

He laughed. “You get used to it.”

Jude looked over at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced up at him, my heart swelling with affection. “For what?”

“For being you. For everything you’ve accomplished. And for putting up with me,” he teased, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “It’s not always easy, but I manage.”

As we left the shopping center and headed back to the car, I realized something important. This place might have been where my story started, but it didn’t define me anymore. I had moved on, grown, become someone I was proud of. And with Jude by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next, even if it meant coming back to the place I once tried so hard to leave behind.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Deep Purple - Highway Star 1972 Video HQ" on YouTube

We have these cars tweaked back in the day we're going to thousand miles an hour right now we have them in our garages I'm thinking of fixing them up and he says why not it might just be us so we're going to do it and we're going to do this idea and we're going to put murals on and we want venues to call us and Mac has one and although we might want to do it we need to have some ground that is more neutral unless it's in the LA area and he says it's out there since San Bernardino and they know where it is and it's not that bad it is near the open air though and it's not where we are but it is we're there so he says we have a couple more one of those downtown and it's orpheum and we agree and he wants front stage and security of his and a bunch of people and we say that's fine and that's good and we're going to do this and he's been out there before and it's been fine so we're going to head and we're going to set this up

Deep purple and yes the whole band and we're going to do our cars up nice some will have murals and they're all Bradley GT2 and they look very hot they look like a lotus on steroids that's what it looks like and they sound incredible this kid made the best car on Earth the fastest car on earth I can't believe it's going to go faster than thousand miles an hour and he says that the new ones would go faster because they're more aerodynamic and the air brake and the push is in the back is better and I said where has that work instead of just make a foil and the foil is like in a coil oh really it is in the middle she got to close your trunk good so it's kind of funny the way he talks is very basic the giant stock that way and we've been looking forward to getting him a little bigger but it doesn't seem to be happening he needs oxygen and food and to clear the meds out and it's taken forever we're going to get our thing done here and we're going to do it asking our fans for support

We're going to get in there and help even though I'm part of the band I'm in there you can see me

Bja

I guess we might be the band on the run they don't want to see this stuff and we want to show it and see what happens it's a good idea it's a sounding and we're going to run it like that

Trump

Finally

I'm in the band and we're going to be doing sound checks

Jenna

I'm a member of the band too and we have to do the checks too this is an incredible idea and boy this is an incredible car this thing will blow the doors off any of those cars we saw at the show and he wants us to drive by and he wants us to harass them they're hypercars and those are super cars but they call them hypercars Mac knows the difference but a lot of them don't we're going to show them there's a place to race too and we're going to win and by collie we really have to

Trump

It's about time to do something positive and he's been yelling at us I do see why this is a great idea there's a few more coming up that we can do but we really have to see what happens with this we can get in a lot of trouble

Dan

So far I've been doing nothing but drilling ourselves into the ground and it's been getting worse and worse and now it's very bad

Garth

I want to see what this is and see why they're doing it and he says they're doing it for themselves and I poked in and they'll have to act weird and try and do things and all that other stuff so I get that

Mac

Our son can't go out there at this time but this is a great idea. Hera is going to go out there is a bunch of characters and she'll have her troop too one of them is going to be Kat von d and a few others and she's had some girl dress up like her a little and her son is wondering why but he doesn't want to know sometimes he closes off things but she's upset about it but he's working with her and he says it's a lot of loss of people who are doing the job to help me but I see things could have been a lot worse but then again it's that our sensors might be turned down too low and she said wow this is odd I thought the same stuff so she sent it to us in a minute a lot to hear it and said I am saying it for a good reason that they said that you're trying to look like her for a reason and I don't know what it was and it's something personally I think but this is important so she said that's why I said well I get it later so she smiles and says good and she put it in the way you said it and we got it right away

Olympus

[artantiquarian]

hmm yes ramble is go.

On placement: Concurrent with canon. It just happens where the camera doesn't point, so to speak.

On how she started this life: A strange Human(?(it isn't. technically. Agave's weird.)) encounter! It... maybe this can tie into some wider stuff I'm working on? I dunno.

Conceptually, this idea and thought complex is slightly alien? Maybe? It's definitely a massive swing for Brykr.

Brykr's background is just basically your friendly neighborhood young woman, with a little extra pointy and fur. She likes riddles and puzzles, she sometimes tries to bake things (likes sweets, kind of hit or miss on making them(not to like, an extreme comedic extent)), and she's pretty cheery.

She's running raw and disassociating heavily when she encounters the kickstarter figure (not a mentor, not really? idk. there's not extended teaching, only some ideals that she can hang onto, maybe?)

I think part of the original idea was that she just needed something to do. I... Funny thing here, I haven't read Don Quixote. I SHOULD, but. [neurons diverge aggressively]

Part of her starting motivation in my head was having an objective, any objective, basically. With that at hand she could at least feel like progress was being made.

On Gnoll Knights: A [Knight-Errant] is unoathed, unbound, and... very extinct. Being a [Knight] means you have access to full support, the military logistics network. You have medical treatment if a high level [Sniper] puts a bodkin through your plate armor, you have replacement kit if you lose any to Skill Bullshit, enemy action, or just wear and tear. A [Knight-Errant]... doesn't. They can sign with a company or a kingdom...

But that'd bind her elsewhere. She needs that freedom to actually search and travel.

I might be able to square this by saying that Knight-Errants aren't really Knights by the classical definition? A [Knight] is sworn to a cause and has all these bits about it? (Knights don't even historically exist IRL?! ARGH! (I learned this while indulging my history interests)) (man at arms isn't a good definition either since while it was a title the backer for mounted heavy cavalry-)

Knights overall might receive a small tweak in my schema? A little break from canon. Maybe. Idk.

Some other class probably would've been easier to square.

Outside Help: Other Gnolls noticing that this entire tribe got the salted earth treatment (figurative) is a good and very sharp question. Hadn't thought about that. Maybe some artifact or skill. It'd make sense how this group would be able to do this and get away with it (probably more than once?). I think that could play into the isolation of Brykr's journey, maybe.

Figure out if I want to do this?

Figure out what extent it is. Do people remember, but it doesn't want to stick in the front of their thoughts? Do people suffer from reduced recall and memory decay?

Might be some interesting interactions in the endgame. Might also explain Lost Civilizations everywhere; the results of this kind of skill being discovered, cultivated, and used on mass scales to scrub memories, if not physical evidence, of places from existence.

If I do do this... God, that'd feel so horrifically isolating. Physical relics only, every gnoll gives you a weird look?

On Party Members: Yup! Kinda. She picks up a Drake [Mercenary] assigned to her by someone she helps, just in time to get pulled out of trouble. Maybe a Gnoll [Shaman] who was a fellow survivor? Or someone who had a skill that let them remember the destroyed tribe...

Subplot thoughts include mutual counselling (they make eachother worse AND better!)

I think extra party members are going to be limited though. I kind of want to keep it to Brykr and maybe one other, or two (tops).

On Skills: include just... passive spam, more or less. A little extra steadiness here, an iron jaw there, faster hands, faster feet, heal quicker, harder armor-

Brykr I think is going to overall lack a lot of flashies. Just no-nonsense stuff that lets her tough it out and drag someone into it.

Probably Big Flashies will be capstones of like, [Gateiron Guard] (Sekiro Parry, complete with shiny visual and twANG~!(allows for parrying almost anything even if it'd normally smash through)) (I'm a sucker for that shit sue me. :P) or [Questor-Mantle] (Reduces damage taken before armor and physique considered above a certain cap) (this allows her to survive certain special attacks(this will become necessary))

There was at least one thought of her screaming in frustration at the voices at night about what the fuck she was supposed to do after hitting her second dead end.

Other Things: In the same vein as LANCER declaring a 'mud and lasers' vibe, I think I might adopt 'grit and spellcasters'? or something. Idk. Brykr's quest will end with the payoff... but I think emotionally it's not going to fix her. Act 3... Mmm. Maybe finding acceptance of no-purpose? Declination of further improvements, and just... going back?

My uh, very sensible, normal special interest of cold arms and armament will be indulged just a little.

brykr may be inexperienced but she's going to consistently be wearing good armor and that's going to even out the balance

polearms are cheating. combine that with being a gnoll which is, what, average six foot and physically Human+, and...

try and moderate the number of fights I write in? I want to keep those special...

i think thats it.

eppy...

im die thank you forever (no really thank you for reading this if you got this far im sorry this happened but im too tired to turn back now)

...you actually wanna-

aight.

The backing track: Canon timeline, more or less. But somewhere decidedly not the main storyline. Working title of Fight That Windmill (somewhere in the beginning I had Don Quixote thoughts).

A Gnoll [Knight-Errant], freshly remade in the trauma of losing functionally her entire tribe in a mysterious and horrific attack during the night.

As might be expected her objective is revenge, but the idea is to play around with it a little. She has no combat experience but what her Skills are whispering in her ear, and little clue as to who did the job.

With nothing else, her focus goes onto becoming more capable as a fighter. Thus, she goes on some adventures, unearths at least a few fallen civilization monsters, and escapes several battles by the hairs of her tailtip.

That's... the basics of it I guess.

Oooooo alrighty, i have some questions:

When is this placed? Is it in the past or current Innworld timeline?

Because Brunkr was by my knowledge the first Gnoll Knight unless, like most Gnoll history, the knowledge was destroyed by the constant war with drakes and their nomadic lifestyle. How did she become a [Knight-Errent]? Knights have to be sworn to something I think to become Knights. Whether that be a person, a concept, or a quest.

Ooooo does she gain a crew that follows her on her adventure? Are they Gnolls or a mixed species group? Because Gnolls are known to be pretty cool with other races on average compared to other cultures. So it could go either way. And Gnolls as a tribal species would definitely want to investigate an entire tribe disappearing over night.

Some skills i think would be cool:

[Knight's Oath]: strengthens her or gives her cool perks in moments where she's fulfilling her oath to avenge her tribe

Oooo actually, what is her oath?

[Home of the Vagabond]: high level skill, idk what it does but it's a cool concept. Maybe a dimensional space, or it gives perks anywhere she rests and makes into a temporary home, or it's a skill that works against her unless she keeps moving giving you an in-story reason why things keep happening to her and she can't rest until her quest is completed. For example, the more she wanders and the closer she gets to her goal the more memories or power she will gain from her lost tribe but the moment she settles she starts to lose her connection with them. Or something.

[Gift of the (insert tribe name)]: inheritance skill from her tribe, a skill that can only be used when dying to impart something to the last person left. A memory, a gift, a skill, etc.

Also can she do magic? Or is she affected by growing up near the magic sucking crystals?

Idk, if you ever want to talk more about it, I'd love to listen

[folkloreguk]

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

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taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.”

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH10

And we’re back to our regularly scheduled mischief. Kind of. I’ve tweaked this part a little bit to suit what’s coming up in a few chapters. The middle of this story looks a lot different than before, and I’ve spent the most time on it (been stuck at the “halfway” point of this rewrite for 3 months, but we’re getting there) All of our characters are about to go on their own journeys. For better or worse ;)

Previous     First     Next     AO3

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Chapter 10: Kids in the Dark

“Hey, Nino, got a second?” Adrien asked the following morning as their classmates shuffled into the courtyard.

Nino perked up, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Sure thing, dude. It’s been a while since we’ve had some guy time. I’ve just been super busy helping Alya with her deputy duties. I miss you, bro.”

“You mean Lila’s class representative duties?” Adrien corrected.

“Well…Lila’s busy doing more important stuff, so Alya has been picking up some of the slack, and I’ve been helping her out,” he said. “Besides, Marinette used to flake on some of her stuff too when she was busy.”

Adrien suppressed a sigh. Things were worse than he thought. He should have helped Chloe yesterday. Someone needed to put Lila in her place, but more than that, Marinette deserved justice. Every day Lila found new ways to turn everyone against her even in her absence, and Adrien wasn’t going to sit by anymore.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about Lila,” Adrien said. His stomach tightened into a knot, but he wasn’t chickening out this time. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that Alya does all of Lila’s work for her? I mean, we elected Lila to lead the class, but it feels like she hasn’t really done anything herself. Even if Marinette had other stuff to do sometimes, she still did a majority of the work herself.”

“Well, Lila’s doing global stuff that’s way more important than our class. She leads by example,” Nino said.

“Well, if she’s too busy to be class rep, why would she run?” Adrien asked. His methods were a little around the bush, but hopefully he could convince Nino. They were best buds after all.

“Dude, do you want Chloe to be class rep again? You weren’t here when she was in charge, so you have no idea how bad it was. If Lila hadn’t stepped up, we’d have all been stuck with her. Sorry, but nuh-uh, no way am I going through that ever again.” Nino shook his head emphatically.

Given the choice, Adrien had picked Chloe, but now probably wasn’t the best time to admit that. He understood why no one else wanted Chloe in power, and in most cases, he could agree with them. But Lila wasn’t exactly the step up everyone thought she was either.

“Couldn’t someone else who has more time have run? I mean, most of us would prefer anyone over Chloe,” Adrien said pointedly.

“Bro, I get you and Chloe have known each other since you were kids, but I don’t think you fully understand how deep she’s sunk her claws into everyone here,” Nino said. “She digs dirt on people to keep them from defying her, and if that doesn’t work, she just gets her daddy to threaten the teachers. No one else here can overthrow her. Lila is the only one with an outside advantage because she knows celebrities and ambassadors and stuff. She’s got Chloe beat, and that’s why she’s everyone’s hero.”

It was hard to argue with him there. If Chloe were nicer, then this whole process would have been a lot easier. Anyone looked like a saint compared to her, and after yesterday… Lila could gain all the praise in the world because now she was just like them—another one of Chloe’s victims.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was no easy way out here. If he exposed Lila, then Chloe would claw her way back to the top and make everyone miserable again. If he didn’t expose Lila, then she’d just continue to use everyone and drag Marinette’s name through the mud. He’d tried to convince Chloe to be nice once before, but that didn’t last longer than a day. If he could just get Alya to see the light, she could take down both Lila and Chloe…

“I know you and Alya are busy, but is there any way we could all meet up for juice this afternoon? There’s something I want to talk to you both about.”

♪♫♪ Kill Em With Kindness ♪♫♪

“You said you wanted to talk?” Alya crossed her arms over her chest.

The bench along the Seine was abandoned this time of day, which was why Adrien liked it—he didn’t want anyone interrupting. Considering Alya parted ways with her best friend over Lila, she had clearly fallen deep into her web. This conversation required precision, and Adrien wasn’t taking any chances. He was going to speak his mind.

Nino took the seat beside him without a second thought, gesturing for Alya to do the same. She hesitated, searching Adrien’s expression with a skepticism that said she didn’t entirely trust him. This conversation wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Yeah. It’s about Lila…” He clasped his hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “There’s something you should know.”

“Let me guess. She’s a liar?” Alya cocked a brow. “I know you’ve been by to see Marinette several times. I find it funny how you’ve never mentioned this until now.”

“Look, I know I should have come forward sooner, but Lila is a liar. I can prove it,” Adrien said.

“Oh, can you?” Alya barely masked her cynicism.  

“The day she came here, she tried to convince me that she was the descendent of a fox superheroine to impress me, but Ladybug showed up and called her out over your blog post,” Adrien explained. “She and Ladybug had never met before, and truthfully, I don’t think they really even like each other.”

“Can anyone else confirm your story?” Alya asked.

“Marinette can. She was there,” Adrien said.

“Oh, we know that Marinette follows you around.” Alya smirked. “But ya know what I think? I think Marinette is just trying to turn you against Lila because she tried to tell us a similar story before too, but she had no proof.”

“Why would Marinette do that?”

“Trust me, dude, there’s a reason she doesn’t want you hanging around Lila,” Nino said.

Alya elbowed him hard, and when Adrien seemed confused, she rolled her eyes. “Even if you are telling the truth, can you blame me for being a little suspicious? Lila has been here for months, and you’re calling her out on something that happened on her first day? And only after you’ve been hanging out with someone who tried to prove her guilty with the same story?”

“It does seem kinda suspicious.” Nino rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. “Sorry, bro.”

“But I’m telling the truth! That really happened.” When they weren’t convinced, he added, “Okay, fine. You’re right. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I just didn’t want to start trouble.”

“So why start it now?” Alya asked.

“Because people are getting hurt, and I’m tired of looking the other way,” Adrien said.

“What people?”

Adrien bit his tongue. Alya was too defensive. Even if he did point out how Lila was using everyone at school, she’d find a way to justify it just like Nino had earlier. This was Lila’s power—convincing everyone that they enjoyed being manipulated.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I am telling the truth. Marinette isn’t the enemy here,” he said.

Alya took a step back and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I find it a little hard to trust you when you’ve been hanging out with her,” she said. “And after Chloe’s little stunt the other day… don’t tell me you three are working together.”

“No, we’re not.” Adrien held up defensive hands, and when Alya crossed her arms over her chest, he added, “If you don’t believe me that’s fine, but please, look into it. Don’t believe everything Lila tells you. Be a journalist. Investigate.”

Alya eyed him, lips pursed, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll look into your story, but if I don’t find anything, I want you and Marinette to apologize to Lila.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien said.

“Come on, Nino.”

As Alya stalked off, Nino searched Adrien’s expression. His eyes bore all of his confusion, torn between his girlfriend and his best friend. Much like everyone else, Nino wasn’t sure what to believe, but so long as there was doubt, Adrien couldn’t lose hope.

“Nino!”

“Catch you later, bro,” Nino said.

“Yeah. Later.”

♪♫♪ Walk Me Home ♪♫♪

“I’m so excited that you’re finally coming to my house! You have to sit in my massage chair.” Macy squealed as she and Marinette walked arm in arm.

Eliott trailed behind them, things in their group having gone back to normal after the previous day’s events. Marinette was wrong about him. He had Macy’s back even when she couldn’t see him, and they gave her hope that not all friendships were so fragile. When two people trusted each other, nothing could pull them apart.

“We should invite Martin too. I didn’t do well on our last chemistry exam.” Eliott ran a hand through his hair. “Besides, he seems happier when he’s with us, even if he is quiet.”

“He usually waits for his chauffeur out front. Let’s see if we can catch him.” Macy picked up the pace, but she froze the moment they reached the front entrance. “Oh no.”

“What’s the problem, Martin? You said you would do my homework for the entire year,” Gabrielle snarled. “Were you lying?”

Thomas held Martin by his shirt collar, but his eyes bore a fierce determination even if his hands were shaking.

“I-I don’t want to be your puppet anymore,” Martin said, face blanched and eyes wide.

“He’s standing up for himself,” Marinette gasped.

“Kind of. He’s about to get his butt kicked,” Eliott said, but Marinette was already marching down the steps. “And so are we.”

“Gabrielle,” Marinette called.

“Oh, look, little miss thinks-she’s-all-that is back to save her pet hamster.” Gabrielle stepped between Marinette and Thomas. “This doesn’t concern you, street rat, so why don’t you run along back to the sewers?”

“Not until you let my friend go,” Marinette said, undeterred despite how Gabrielle towered over her.

“And just what are you going to do to stop us? You’re as tiny as a mouse, and there’s no one around to save you now.” Gabrielle leaned into her face.

“She’s got us,” Eliott said. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Macy squared her shoulders beside him.

“Two more cowards? I’m shaking.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “You think you’re all high and mighty because you won a design contest and got some free tickets? Please, I could ruin your whole life with one phone call.”

“So, do it,” Marinette said. “You talk big, so let’s see you follow through. Make the call.”

“Uh, Marinette, is this such a good-” Eliott held out a hand, but Gabrielle’s glare silenced him.

“Don’t tempt me!”

“Are you going to ruin my life or not? Because if you’re not, then there’s nothing stopping me from helping Martin.” Marinette nodded to him, still dangling in Thomas’ grasp.

Gabrielle’s jaw clenched, but before she could reply, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Marinette?” Adrien stood timidly at the base of the stairs, his bodyguard holding open the car door.

Upon seeing him, Gabrielle faltered, jolting away from Marinette as if she’d been shocked. Macy clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle a squeal as several of their schoolmates stopped to stare in awe.

“Adrien? What are you doing here?” Marinette asked as he climbed the stairs to meet her.

“It’s Friday. You said you were going to visit your friend’s house, so I thought we could ride together.” He glanced around at the scene before him. “Is everything alright?”

Marinette turned to Gabrielle, whose eyes burned through her. Their classmates whispered to each other, all seeming to wonder if Gabrielle was going to show out in front of Adrien Agreste, but even she knew better than to tempt the most beloved boy in Paris. Attacking Adrien was effectively social suicide, and Gabrielle wasn’t going to lose her reputation now. She averted her gaze, red hair flipping over her shoulder as she spun around to face her boyfriend.

“Nothing. We were just leaving,” she grumbled, and her group disbanded.

Thomas set Martin down on his feet before following Gabrielle to their limo.

“Friends of yours?” Adrien cocked a brow.

“Not exactly.” She turned to Martin. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” Martin straightened his glasses. “You must think I’m weak.”

“Not at all. I thought it was very brave of you to stand up for yourself,” Marinette assured him.

“Sorry you had to save me again. I wish I had the strength to defend you too.” Martin curled his shoulders. “Thank you, Marinette. I promise I’ll try to be stronger next time.”

“You’re already strong where it counts.” She touched his chest. “In here.”

His cheeks flushed, and he glanced up at Adrien, eyes widening again. “You’re-”

“Adrien Agreste!” Macy latched onto his neck with a hysteric giggle.

“Macy, be cool, remember we talked about this?” Marinette coached.

“Let him breathe.” Eliott pried her arms off and extended a hand. “I’m Eliott, and this lunatic is-”

“Macy Chanteur!” She broke free of Eliott’s grasp and stuck out a hand for Adrien to kiss. “I have a poster of you on my wall.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows raised.

“She’ll calm down,” Eliott said. “I think.”

“It’s cool. I’m used to it,” Adrien chuckled. “But please don’t treat me like a celebrity. Any friends of Marinette’s are friends of mine.”

“Adrien just called me a friend!” Macy squeaked, and Eliott placed his hands on her shoulders to restrain her.

“My name’s Martin. Martin Michel.”

Adrien turned to the small boy and smiled. “Nice to meet all of you.”

“We were actually about to go to Macy’s to talk about my designs for you-know-who if you want to come, Martin.” Marinette offered.

“Uh, sure.” He nodded.

“I hope it’s alright that Marinette invited me, Macy,” Adrien said. “We only just met, and I’d hate to intrude.”  

“You can come over whenever you want, Adrien.” She tried to boop his nose with her finger, but Eliott swatted her hand away.

“Great. We can take my car.” Adrien gestured to his bodyguard standing dutifully on the sidewalk.

“I’m going to ride in his limo!” Macy wheezed.

“Try not to hyperventilate.” Eliott guided her down the steps.

Adrien fell into step beside Marinette. “Your new school is huge,” he remarked.

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for Macy and Eliott, I would totally get lost,” she said.

“They seem nice.”

Marinette’s gaze softened on them as Eliott seated himself and Martin between Macy and Adrien. “They are.”

“So, what was all that on the stairs?” Adrien asked as Macy gave the driver her address.

“Gabrielle,” everyone collectively moaned.

“The Chloe Bourgeois of the school,” Marinette explained, and Adrien nodded in understanding. “She’s got more bite and brute strength, but ultimately, I sense that she has less power.”

“That was incredible how you called her bluff,” Macy said. She seemed to have regained some of her composure, though she still stole frequent glances at Adrien when she thought no one was looking.

“When you deal with the daughter of the mayor of Paris, you get used to empty threats and power pulls.” Marinette shrugged.

“I was sure we were going to get our butts kicked. It’s funny, I usually avoid trouble, but the past couple days have felt good,” Eliott said thoughtfully. “You’ve helped all of us become a little more confident, Marinette.”

“I just don’t like to see my friends get pushed around, that’s all.” Marinette insisted.

“Isn’t her modesty adorable?” Eliott said to Adrien.

“Marinette deserves every ounce of praise, I know it.” He agreed. “She’s amazing.”

Marinette’s cheeks burned. Adrien praised her a lot, but she was just as unprepared for it each time. Macy wasn’t the only one on the verge of passing out in the car. Was it possible to die of happiness?

“Speaking of amazing, we need all of the details about Clara.” Macy leaned across Eliott.

“Clara?” Martin cocked a brow.

“Nightingale. She’s asked Marinette to design for her!” Macy reminded him. “Oh, it was so tempting to throw that in Gabrielle’s face. I don’t know how you resisted the urge.”

“Well, I want to make sure she likes what I come up with first,” Marinette said. “No sense bragging if she hates everything and asks someone else.”

“How are your designs coming along?” Adrien asked.

“Well, I have a few ideas-”

“Show us!” Macy and Eliott demanded simultaneously.

“Nothing is final yet. I’ve just been playing around,” Marinette said as they pulled into the gates of a large house.

“You should sit in my meditation room. It’s totally tranquil, and it might help you get ideas. Can you imagine? Future-world-famous fashion designer sketching her breakthrough piece in my house!” Macy said as they climbed out, then casting a smile to Adrien added, “Do you think you could design my wedding dress someday?”

“Slow your roll, Macy. You just met,” Eliott chided, tugging her up the front steps ahead of the group.

“Your friends are lively,” Adrien said to Marinette. “I like them.”

“Well, Macy and Eliott have been friends for a long time,” Marinette explained.

“Since they were kids,” Martin added. “Their parents are old friends, and they’ve been in the same class every year.”

“That’s awesome. I hope you and I can be close like that someday.” Adrien smiled at Marinette.

If Adrien said any more nice things to her, she’d have enough butterflies in her stomach to give Scarlet Moth a comeback. Why did he have to be so sweet and handsome, perfect, smart, talent-

“Well…” Macy snapped Marinette out of her trance. She held her arms out and twirled around as her butlers opened the front doors. “Welcome to my home.”

[mk-wizard]

Top 10 Good Reasons TF Needs to Change its Status Quo

When I say status quo, I mean Transformers needs to stop making shows/comics/movies that are about Autobots vs Decepticons, Autobots are always good and Decepticons are always bad, Optimus can do no wrong and is Primus’ gift to the world, Megatron can do no right and is doomed to fail at everything, nobody can be a better Prime than Optimus and no one can be a worse evil than Megatron, etc. I think you get the picture. Here are 10 EXCELLENT reasons as to why Transformers needs to change its status quo so that the rare diamond that is Rescue Bots is not a blue moon case.

1- Fans WANT to know more about Transformers culture. - Instead of keeping us guessing how things work and what the lore us, just come out and tell us. It would be a compelling story. Plus, the world building would be impressive. Star Wars did it and it was better for it.

2- After seeing Netflix She-Ra and Steven Universe, the new generation will not be satisfied with the bad-guy-bad and good-guy-good formula. - Kids have higher standards after being exposed to better storytelling. If Transformers wants to stay in the game, it has to reach this high standard not go below it anymore.

3- Fans are tired of being told the same story. - Don’t get me wrong. The classic story is a great one hence why we keep watching it again, but that’s just the thing. If we want the same story, we’ll just watch the same story again. Don’t give us a constant reboot that’s slightly tweaked, but ultimately is the same story.

4- Storytelling needs to parallel real life to an extent. - Yes, I know that cartoons and Transformers especially are for escaping reality, but the status quo that a character is good by way of their faction, which is not a far cry from nationality or religion, seems feudal and gives some bad implications. If you’re going to expose kids to a story which they are going to take something from, give them the right lesson. Show them the difference between a nation (an entire faction) and terrorists (a specific group that just happens to be of a said faction).

5- It is high time we gave other characters in the lore time in the spotlight. - Transformers has gotten better at this in the recent years as we are starting to see Bumblebee come out more as an individual and even a leader. We have seen that Optimus doesn’t need to be the main for the story to be interesting, so let’s do that more with others.

6- It is ok for good guys to be bad sometimes. - One of the reasons I fell in love with Transformers Rescue Bots is because Heatwave was very compelling. He is an Autobot and heroic, but he is not above doing “bad boy” things like being a showoff, teasing his friends, holding a grudge or openly showing reluctance to be the nice guy. It’s ok to show that not all good guys are saints. It makes them relatable and interesting.

7- Fans are sick of turning to fanfiction for variety. - Not that there’s anything wrong with fanfiction. It’s all good clean fun, but it’s a bit embarrassing when the only variety there is in a media is when it isn’t even official. Like... shouldn’t professionals who are PAID to write have broader imaginations? Plus, fanfiction (even very well written) just doesn’t compare to an official polished piece.

8- Rodimus deserves another chance. - My brother made an incredibly good point about Rodimus Prime that I didn’t see as a kid, but I see now. He wasn’t badly written or a bad Prime who whined all of the time. His story was too advanced at the time for the times. He was a young leader who had an enormous pair of shoes to fill, but when he would do his work, he did it well. He deserves another chance to have his story told and properly by an audience who is more open minded.

9- It is ok to have settings that aren’t war related. - As Rescue Bots showed, you can have a compelling Transformers based story that doesn’t involve war or some great evil. You can show them having more down to Earth struggles and having less violent jobs. Yes, I admit rescue work involves a lot of action, but the series is more educational and humorous than it is some action show. Heck, there aren’t laser guns and the show is still great.

10- We want to see female and feminine positive Transformers. - So many girls watch and play with Transformers so why not create a Transformers series made for girls or that explores feminine plot lines like family or romance? Or have a female-centric narrative? Being a girl and a feminine one isn’t weak, stupid or yucky. And it doesn’t mean it can’t be funny, interesting, badass or enlightening. Or even appealing to boys. Think of all the boys out there who watch Sailor Moon because they really like the plot and characters for the right reasons. Speaking of which, if you watch Sailor Moon, you’ll get the gold standard example of female appeal, female-centric and female narrative in a series. Having a Transformers series that celebrates females and feminity would be the ultimate Valentine to female fans. I say this as a female fan myself.

PS: I made a list giving 10 more reasons Transformers needs to change its status quo if you want to see it.

[rvmmm21]

. you’re gonna spaghet it .

summary : a home-cooked meal and a baking show is too much to ask for. but only when the person asking is seungwan.

small note : i'm tentatively back. and here's the worse news. you get this pile of 'what-the-fic-is-this?!' before i start clonking you over the head with my leg of yandere ham.

think of it as your pre-christmas coal in your stocking.

(this sat in my drafts for so long its not even funny. if i had a cent for every second i spent thinking about whether i wanted this out here, i'd have accumulated enough for the plane ticket, the lawyers and the hospital fees to fly over to SM to clonk them myself.)

just for tumblr. if you want to read this but in pretty, it’s here.

tw : tickling, probably many grammar errors because i do not know how to write anymore, and my cretinous knowledge of how tv recordings work.

[irene x white-winged dove!wendy]

. . .

[6:15pm] A mischievous smile tugs at her lips when she sees how Seungwan struggles.

. . .

Bae Joohyun blithely watches her girlfriend titter around the kitchen preparing vegetables for the chopping board. When the sound of water beginning to boil reaches attentive ears, she secretly smiles at the melodious hum of a happy tune.

Everything is going as planned!

However.

Pangs of guilt are beginning to tweak at Joohyun’s conscience. Because what she really wants to do is not to be a good girlfriend and offer a hand at stirring the pot. She doesn’t even want to sit patiently and wait to hear Seungwan sing out for her when dinner’s ready.

No. Joohyun wants to play. And she knows who she wants to play with. Even though it’s going to be a complete setback to the lovely night she’s sure her Wannie has planned out for them.

It was Seungwan’s idea to cook tonight, then eat together while they watch their favourite TV program. Pfft, ‘their favourite’. What Joohyun really means is she’ll happily watch the season finale of the unorthodox cooking show her girlfriend is currently obsessed with.

. . .

“It gives me ideas, unnie,” Seungwan had explained when, about a week ago, Joohyun had walked in on a very experimental game of muffin-making.

The latest episode of “Baking for the Seoul” flashed through Joohyun’s memory.

“Don’t the ingredients have to be… in the bowl, though?” she asked incredulously, eyes searching for any part of their countertop that was actually visible.

“Hm?” Seungwan looked up, wiping the frosting off her nose… with the wrong hand.

Joohyun raised an eyebrow. “And which one are we putting in the oven, your sludge mix or you?” She inquired, now searching for any part of her girlfriend’s face – that was actually visible.

When the girl in question stayed concentrated, apprehension bubbled in her gut at the state of that exceptionally thick bowl of frosting. She surreptitiously strained to peer behind a thoroughly battered Seungwan, trying her hardest to not actually step foot into the kitchen.

Her girlfriend has this… ‘thing’ about work space. Especially the kitchen.

“Wan-ah,” Joohyun’s tone was equal parts warning and concern. “You didn’t get any on your wings, did you… that frosting looks too thick and last time you got yourself all mucky, remember we had to – ”

“It’s fine it’s fine, look! I’m being careful!” Seungwan quipped cheerfully, pirouetting round to give a worried Joohyun a glimpse of her wings which were nicely folded through each designated slit in the back of her sky-blue jumper.

The latter breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them; all white, fluffy and – most importantly – clean. She inwardly shuddered at how much of a nightmare that bath was. Thank god she’s behaving this time, she thought.

Although momentary relief didn’t stop her from contemplating an alternative method of keeping her mind at ease.

But the thought of having Seungwan wear her wing guards in their own home tugged at her unpleasantly. It was bad enough she had to have them on when they were out in potentially stressful situations. So she wouldn’t accidentally hurt herself or anyone around her… which had unfortunately happened once or twice before. It was clearly a burden to go about so obviously restricted, and despite Seungwan’s insistence on having grown used to them, Joohyun could always feel how upset she’d get whenever she was helping to do the clasps up behind her.

Definitely no wing guards then. And if that meant Joohyun would be bruising her knees for hours on end trying to keep dense baking mix and her messy baby bird two separate entities, then she’d happily do it.

Whatever kept Seungwan chirping.

Plus, her little chef looked damned determined, so she thought it appropriate to slip in one last passing remark before plucking a banana from the rack. “Yah, Wannie! Let me know if I’m gonna have to pick out birdie feathers from my cupcakes, okay?”

Seungwan grumbled something along the lines of a ‘hm, yeah whatever unnie’ in response.

Joohyun just laughed, heading back to their room and leaving the mastermind to her latest trial.

> > > > > 

[7:00 p.m] Seungwan doesn't know which she finds more horrifying: what Joohyun intends to do to her or the fact that they're going to have to have take-away two nights in a row.

. . .

It should’ve been a simple mission.

Retrieve a fresh packet of spaghetti from the topmost shelf.

Her attempts are… laughable. She’s clearly doing her best.

Though she doesn't realise it yet, she’s still being watched. From the living room, Joohyun is watching. And she isn’t laughing. Hands ball into unconscious fists as a tight wave of numbness washes over her at how adorable Seungwan looks.

Just… like that: both wings tucked against her back, beautiful and neat as their owner. Strained muscles from reaching for something Joohyun already knows she’s going to have to help out with. And the tiny grunts when fingertips barely graze the edges of the packet.

Seungwan looks so soft, so frustrated. So vulnerable.

A small spike of inexplicable adrenaline leads Joohyun to head over to the huffing, moon-hopping girl.

She really needs to teach her little dove that being this cute comes with a price.

. . . 

When a lithe body slides up behind her and presses against her back, Seungwan’s wings give a gentle flutter to mimic the stutter in her heart. She sighs affectionately at the pair of hands resting low on her hips.

The task is almost forgotten. Almost.

Unnie’s here to help, Seungwan thinks… ever so mistakenly.

“Hyun – ahh,” she’s interrupted by a slight shiver when the tip of her right wing is stroked between a finger and a thumb, delicately running across pure, downy feathers. A tried and tested (Bae Joohyun-certified) method of getting the girl absolutely weak.

Judging by the sound of strained breaths filling the space between them, it’s working.

Alas, dinner hasn’t been cooked, the sun’s setting and Seungwan’s time-management brain is screaming at her to get a move on. She points to the shelf, trying her hardest to block out the dangerously wonderful feeling. “Could you – could you please get that for me?”

Instead of complying, Joohyun chuckles, moving her hands from her back to glide them lightly up and down her sides. She isn’t surprised that Seungwan is already shivering, terribly overwhelmed from that alone.

Her smirk twitches when she feels the smaller girl squirm.

Seungwan has always been like this… so responsive, so susceptible to touch. Her touch. She’s jelly in her clutches, and even Joohyun has to admit that sometimes she really doesn’t deserve to be.

Sneaky hands grow bolder, finding their way under the hem of Seungwan’s fleecy jumper to continue tracing teasing lines against soft, sensitive skin.

“But it’s so cute to watch you struggle, baby,” Joohyun coos, beginning to rest more of her weight into Seungwan’s hips, keeping her trapped against the kitchen counter.

“U-unnie,” Seungwan tries, half-heartedly writhing against Joohyun’s hold, torn between wanting to cook dinner and wanting to be dinner. “Not – ah… not right now… it’s already late, we have to – ”

“And you smell so nice. Is this new shampoo?” Joohyun presses her nose into her nape, cutting her short, nuzzling into that pleasant fruity shampoo scent. She then pauses to nudge Seungwan’s legs suggestively ajar with her knee before leaning in to whisper into a ruby-tipped ear. “ Should I give you a reason to shower again later, hm?”

The younger’s eyes widen at the sinful implication.

Gosh, really? Right now? In the kitchen?

The kitchen. The place she cooks and handles food? (Sure, Joohyun will – once in a blue moon – dice the odd carrot or something, but that certainly does not��give her the right to be making any unauthorised, hormonal messes for her to clean up). She must be off her rocker if she thinks Seungwan’s going to allow her precious workstation to be tainted by what she can already foresee to be copious amounts of bodily fluid just because someone can’t keep it in their pants.

It snaps something inside her. And – with all the strength neither of them knew she possessed – Seungwan wrenches out from under Joohyun’s weight with a firm “YAH! Stop fooling around!”, sending the older woman stumbling a few steps back.

For a second, they’re just as stunned and disbelieving as each other; Seungwan at her own apprently dormant Herculean strength –

– and Joohyun at the sheer audacity.

Then again, could this be any more timely?

God, Joohyun could kiss herself.

She straightens her blouse, putting on her best ‘I-can’t-believe-you’ve-done-this’ expression, and turning to lock the now slightly (and rightfully so) terrified-looking Seungwan with a stare. This is the best part. The part where she just glares, secretly gleeful as the other girl absolutely crumbles with apprehension.

The part where Seungwan thinks it’s her fault.

“Uh oh,” she tuts, sporting a grin to match that mischievous glint in her eyes, “someone’s in trouble, aren’t they?”

Seungwan is, of course, at a total loss for words, but she fumbles around anyway, desperate to justify whatever the hell she’s just done. It’s almost too much for Joohyun to handle, watching her dig her own grave like this.

Finally, Seungwan tries to back up, only to let out a sharp gasp when she trips over her own feet in her haste. She’s on the floor in seconds with Joohyun immediately following. There’s hardly a chance for her to get her bearings before she’s stuck on her back with a weight straddling her hips.

Seungwan goes wide-eyed. She might as well kiss the prospect of a candlelit dinner bye-bye… for tonight, at least.

“My clumsy, clumsy Wannie,” Joohyun mocks, holding herself above the smaller girl on her hands and purposely tangling their legs together. “Tonight was very thoughtful of you, baby, but I’m postponing our dinner plans to tomorrow night. I think we should order in, don’t you?”

“Ah unnie...” Seungwan groans, failing to ignore the way Joohyun’s predatory expression crayons her cheeks a soft pink, “we had take-away last night! I don’t wanna eat chicken aga – ”

“Then let’s get pizza,” Joohyun offers unhelpfully. She’s clearly got her own agenda that she’s determined to follow through with. “Okay? Hm, let’s see… you have to the count of five to agree with me or…”

She pauses to savour the panic in those deep brown eyes. “I’m going to have a very tired little birdie to take care of.”

That satisfied smirk leaves nothing to the imagination. Seungwan can practically read her fate on her girlfriend's rosy lips before they delve into hers, causing her eyes to roll back as they melt hotly into each other.

Seungwan hardly notices Joohyun lacing their fingers together until her eyes flutter open and she finds herself held down, arms stretched securely above her head. Joohyun adjusts her grip so she has both wrists pinned under one hand and the other free.

Ah, fuck, not again. Seungwan laughs emptily, fidgeting with high-strung premonition. When her one final struggle proves useless, she resorts to asserting herself with her voice. “Yah, unnie, I’m cooking tonight. Stop being annoying or you’re not getting fed.”

Ah, too easy.

Joohyun contemplates elaborating further. But she’s said enough. Besides, Seungwan doesn’t even deserve a response to that. That was a threat, wasn’t it? The prospect of starvation is a serious threat that should be promptly dealt with. And what do you do when you’re faced with a threat? Be that a burglar, a murderer or a very flustered Son Seungwan.

Tickle them. Obviously.

Joohyun leers over her, wiggling her fingers in anticipation. “Five…”

Seungwan’s eyes blow wide, and – with miserable luck – she renews her efforts at breaking free once again. “Hyun! Seriously?! You – I can’t believe you’re d – ”

“Four.”

“HYUN!”

“Three.”

“Okay! Okay! Let’s get pizza tonight! There, happy?! You can even choose the flav – ”

Seungwan hears a scoff above her. “Nope. Sorry Wannie. I made that decision. You’ve changed nothing.”

“YAH, YOU TRICKED ME YOU BIRDBRAIN! LET ME UP. YOU’RE SO DEAD!!”

One click of a tongue and Seungwan has never retracted any statement faster in her life.

“Okayokayokay! Sorry that was super mean! Please I – ”

“Two…”

Too late. She’s dead. She’s one hundred percent about to be on the list of the unfairly deceased.

Seungwan whines hopelessly. “Unnieeeee, you’re not being fair!”

It’s a ditch attempt, but one Seungwan doesn’t intend to miss. “OKAY SERIOUSLY I MEAN IT, GET OFF!”

Joohyun snickers. “One.”

With five fingers and wicked intent, she dives in.

. . .

A pair of pretty wings and an even prettier face make for an impossible choosing.

Even now, as she has Seungwan flat on her back with her eyes screwed shut and tears streaming down her face, she wants to flip her over so she can be blinded by white insulation. So those feathers can brush against her as she drives their owner to the brink of sanity.

She wants to feel her dove respond to what she does to her.

“Hyu – Hyun, p-please!”

Joohyun smirks down at her victim, who’s weakly pawing at the front of her blouse in what she can only assume is an attempt to get her to stop.

Pathetic.

Seungwan never fails to struggle. But then again, she never fails to forget that Joohyun, too, is much, much stronger than she looks.

All that tiresome squirming is easily dealt with. Only a fraction more pressure from Joohyun’s fingertips, and Seungwan’s arms fall to either side, limp and useless just like the rest of her. The only indication she’s even conscious is the violent trembling and – when she’s able to muster up the lung space – the occasional plea for mercy.

Even the laughter is silent.

Joohyun loves it this way. She loves having Seungwan all sweaty and flustered beyond belief; whenever and wherever she pleases, the younger girl is reduced to a quivering mess, trapped beneath her cruel dexterity.

So instead of getting the pasta boiling for a romantic dinner, Seungwan is graciously letting Joohyun have her one-sided fun while she’s forced to cough, splutter and laugh so hard her insides hurt. The reflex to try to buck Joohyun off or twist out of her clutches nips at her incessantly.

Although she really shouldn’t worm around like that, because it’s only making Joohyun’s job easier with how her jumper rides further and further up with every inch she wriggles away.

It almost makes Joohyun think her little songbird wants to be tickled.

“Aw,” she coos, playfully tweaking unintentionally exposed ribs. “So cute, Wannie. You want it here, too?”

Seungwan is breathless from the tickles before she’s even processed what Joohyun’s said. Those tantalising touches never linger on any part of her long enough for her to develop a resistance to them. Not that she could even if she tried. She’s as sensitive as Joohyun is skilled. And Joohyun strikes with dreadful precision, switching between light skittering and then deftly kneading her fingers into every spot that wrings Seungwan’s lungs for all they’re worth.

The smooth tile is cooling against her feathers, even if her wings are twitching beyond her control, trying their hardest to flip her over to give her some shot at escaping. She barely manages to crawl a few inches away before there’s a firm grip on her ankle, all but dragging her back because Joohyun sure as hell isn’t done with her that quickly.

Trying to get away? She cocks an eyebrow, scooting up to sit on Seungwan’s butt, pinning her hips to the floor.

“Oh no, my poor birdie’s flipped herself over,” she feigns concern, gently resting her palms on Seungwan’s wings, stilling their fluttering and holding them steady. The sight of them unfolded, outstretched from the struggle and completely exposed has Joohyun catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Did you hurt yourself here, Wannie? You need unnie to kiss it better?”

Seungwan shrieks at a pitch that’d have every dog in the neighbourhood cowering when she feels a pair of pillowy lips settle on that excruciating spot right where the arch of her wings meet her back, where she absolutely cannot stand to be touched.

Even under normal circumstances, Seungwan had made her swear to never spring upon her like that. And of course, by virtue of that alone, it quickly became one of Joohyun’s favourite places to touch her.

Luckily she’s too distracted now to protest.

The ‘kisses’ aren’t any less torturous than ten fingers going all at once.

Poor, tired Seungwan hardly has the energy to writhe as Joohyun continues to press her hellish butterfly kisses all along the length of those oversensitive appendages, nosing into her feathers and ruffling them gently with her breath. The younger’s expression contorts into silent agony when she feels the fingers return, this time digging into her armpits. 

Fresh tears well up in the corners of her eyes as she lays there, flailing like a fish out of water, face down with zero leverage to combat her girlfriend’s merciless onslaught.

She’s as defenceless as a turtle on its back (or rather, a dove on its tummy). Her squirms are getting weaker, the laughter more strained, but it’s all so rewarding to her loving tormentor.

Seungwan is kept laughing till the hollow ring of the doorbell sounds through their apartment.

. . .

[An hour post stuffed crust pepperoni pizza with extra cheese]

 Joohyun enters their room just as her girlfriend is getting dressed for bed, freshly showered… again. She lets out a low chuckle when Seungwan catches sight of her in her peripheral vision and hastily pulls the loose necked pajama t-shirt over her head.

“How was dinner?” she asks, arms folded and leaning against the door.

Seungwan rolls her eyes and releases her hair from its bun. “Too much cheese. We need to drink lots of water tonight or we’ll be pufferfish in the morning.”

“Aw, is someone grumpy?” Joohyun gives an uncharacteristically exaggerated pout and the latter hides a shiver.

Good god, please someone save her.

“Unnie, of course I am. We’re going to eat reheated carbonara sauce tomorrow no thanks to you,” Seungwan bluntly retaliates. “You’ve had your fun, now can you stop talking to me like I’m five, please?”

Naturally, her request falls on selectively deafened ears.

“Yah, seriously,” she punctuates the severity by manually unfolding her trembling left wing and pointing at it. “Look. I’m still shaking because of you. Now you're done, I really – ”

That’s all the grumpy talk she’s allowed before Joohyun jump-tackles her onto their bed, pinning her to it and watching sheer panic etch into deep cinnamon irises.

“When did I say I was done?” she asks, suggestiveness tracing the edges of her tone. She hovers above her, bringing a hand up to cup her face.

Seungwan hisses a laugh. “Unnie, I have a limit too, you know. You can’t just keep finding excuses to tickle the crap out of – ”

She chokes on a gasp when she feels a hand – the one she’d been as good as tortured under not two hours ago – trailing down her stomach… slipping past the elastic of her panties and –

– it just reminds her why she’ll always let Joohyun have her fun.

Because no matter how much she laughs, screams, cries or begs, there’s always a reward. Much sweeter than anything Seungwan thinks she could ever bake. Their sex life is anything but stagnant, however this is, more often than not, Joohyun’s way of making it up to her afterwards (much to her approval).

Or maybe she just wants to drive Seungwan to the brink of losing her voice so she won't have to hear the nagging about the next episode of Baking For the Seoul.

Which, by the way, came out tonight. And Joohyun made them miss it. She had better be praying they’d be able to find a copy online somewhere.

Either way, it’s so much more gratifying after an eternity spent howling your lungs out on the floor. Seungwan’s full attention is lasered down to where Joohyun is now softly caressing her under the thin cotton barrier. The warm ache beginning to settle in between her thighs prompts her to try to squeeze them together, but Joohyun catches on and wedges her knees in between them, spreading her even further.

“Ah,” she raises a smug brow as she leans in to press her lips to the base of her ear. Her own eyes darken with lust in response to her little dove writhing helplessly below her. “Be a good girl for me, okay, baby?”

It’s late. Seungwan can barely keep her eyes open. Oh, but she aches so badly.

“Still grumpy, hm?” Joohyun murmurs questioningly, hot breath fanning over Seungwan’s neck and echoing goosebumps over her skin. She glances down at the bulge of her hand stretching the fabric, fingers already coated in slick. Her index finger rubs against Seungwan’s clit. “Feel good, Wannie?”

Hopelessly turned on, it’s all the other girl can do to whimper in agreement.

The pleasing sound of those soft whines escaping right into her ear turns Joohyun’s grin into something downright wolfish. She gives the swollen bud a few more leisurely strokes before retracting her hand completely, leaving Seungwan squirming in anticipation with whatever energy she has left.

Joohyun tastes the arousal on her fingertips. “Mm, I love how small you look right now, in my hands. So small and needy.”

Seungwan pants out a quiet “please, unnie”, clasping a shuddering hand over Joohyun’s and guiding it back down to the heat in her panties. She rolls her hips up into her palm, silently begging for her reward for being such a ‘willing’ participant in the one-sided games they played today.

After letting her gaze linger for a second, Joohyun shifts so she’s lying next to Seungwan. She slips her hand back in and squeezes firmly, revelling in the hoarseness of the girl’s voice. Velvety lips delicately map out her shoulder, and Seungwan has to fight to keep her eyes open to drink in the image of Joohyun pressed up against her, right hand cradled under her neck, propping her head up so they can both see the other one teasing her down her underwear.

It’s when Seungwan turns away to frustratedly pout at the suspense that Joohyun smiles and gives her a quick peck on the nose.

“I’ll continue if you promise not to pass out this time, okay baby bird?”

She bites back a snort watching Seungwan nod like she’s ever been able to stay awake after.

Then she has to bite back another because since when has she ever not continued even after being fed these empty promises, time and time again.

Anything to keep her precious Seungwan happy.

[palettepainter]

Character design practise with my own interpretation of Powerloader’s family 

I’ve always thought PL would come from a family with a younger siblings, him being the oldest. These where all random designs that popped into my head while I was thinking about what headcannon to work on. I’m only really proud of the second, third and fourth design in this - may tweak the other two a bit. I put some brief notes in the drawing but incase they aren’t clear I’ll leave some notes on each characters personality below

(left to right)

-I’m thinking on naming her Chikara or Gado, honestly her design I like the least so I may just scrape her or give her a complete redesign, it just feels to meh to me. She was designed as the second oldest sibling after Powerloader, she keeps the other siblings in check and does most of the house work when her mums not around. I imagine her as an officer/boxer, she’s the kind of person to take charge in the face of chaos. It’s very rare she snaps but sometimes she’ll loose her cool and get angry, mostly at her brother Haka/Hono

-Hakka/Hono is my favourite design! I feel as though I nailed the design I had in my head perfectly for him! He’s also got a more developed story in my opinion. Hakka/Hono is the third oldest sibling, his quirk is landmine where he can turn anything into a small explosion based on touch. He was pretty close with Higari until he left for the main city to study at UA. With how busy his life became studying at UA and what happened after Ectoplasm lost his legs Powerloader gradually began to forget to write back home. After Powerloader left for UA things gradually went downhill for the family: their father died leaving their mother in a bad emotional state and no one around to run the family business. Hakka/Hono drops out of school in favour to care for his mother and younger siblings, as well as try and keep the family engineering business running. All the kids had to grow up fast to help out, and Hakka/Hono felt as though Higari had ditched them for a better easier life in the city. When his calls and letters became non existent Hakka/Hono ends up getting physically and verbally angry, he lashes out at people and even his own siblings, which leads to him running off to go vent his anger out in some place private. One day when Hakka/Hono has gone to a nearby dumb to let out his frustrations he ends up turning a broken down car next to him into a bomb, which detonates right next to him, leaving left side of his body permanently scarred. The hospital bills for his recovery make him feel more guilty, he blames Higari for his own mistakes becasue he’s embarrassed with himself, ashamed that he only made things worse for the family. 

He ends up bullying his older brother when he comes round to visit, pushes him around a lot and is very sarcastic with him. The only person in his family he gets along well with is his youngest sister

-Taiho and his twin sister Kowasu/Chikara are two halves of a whole. They are always together and both work as engineers for the family repair business. They’re the main driving force that’s keeping the business running and the two have actually come to like the job a small bit. Taiho in his spare time likes to practice stunts with his quirk, as a kid he wanted to be a stunt performer, but after his dad passed away his dreams had to be put on hold so he could pull his weight around the home - Taiho also has a small part time job in demolition, his quirk makes him perfect for the job, and it’s extra money.

His sister is more laid back but tends to be the leader when the two are out repairing cars or support gear. The town they live in is in the country and is fairly small, so the community is very friendly, the most they repair is cars, bikes and sometimes household appliances. Despite the twins both coming off as care free and funny, they’re both pretty bad at being honest with their own feelings and opinions. When their father died and they had to be the ones taking care of their mother they felt as though they had to push aside their own feelings. If they feel sad or frustrated like Hakka/Honno, they go somewhere private to let it all out

- Yosetsu/Suru is the youngest of the group and is the most chipper, but that’s only becasue she feels as though she has to be the innocent/perfect/all is fine kid of the family. Being the youngest she naturally didn’t/doesn’t have to pull as much weight as everyone else, but she feels guilty when everyone is putting in all their effort and she’s not. She wants to be an engineer for the family business and thus has grown a hobby of tinkering and inventing in her spare time. She basically lives in the family garage where she spends most of her time building and taking apart random machines. Hakka/Hono is the one she’s closest too, Hakka/Hono took her under his wing after their dad died, it was the big brother in him and - with Higari not there to be the big brother - Hakka/Hono had to take up that place

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/COPY/TRACE MY ART OR OC’S!!!

[rpgwrites]

The Path We Take - Chapter 21: Jokes and Mockery

Many thanks to @pip-n-flinx for betaing. 

Many thanks to @ripley95things, @natsora, @pigeontheoneandonly, @fromathelastoveritaserum, @missmeggo929, and Musi (discord) for reading this chapter beforehand and giving me their opinions and suggestions. I really appreciate it!!

I’m posting the whole chapter on here because this can also be read as a one-shot. 

Story Summary:

A cold feels innocent enough. Ryder has them all the time while she was back in the Milky Way. But when things doesn't add up, and a cold went from bad to worse. What if its connected to the Archon somehow? Ryder wishes she never met the Archon. This might change her life for the long run.

Chapter 21: Jokes and Mockery

Read it on AO3 

“Ready to go back?” Asher asked.

They were walking around the Nexus. Harry had said it would do him some good, but Amber could see how the walk was tiring him out."

“Back to the med bay or back to work?” Ryder joked.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Asher mocked between deep breaths.

Of course Ryder knew what he meant, but when she saw the opportunity she had to take it.If their roles were reversed he would do the same thing.

“Seriously though,” he nudged her at her side. “How do you feel about going back?”

Ryder felt happy. In the first time in months, she felt much better about dealing with her diabetes than she had before. She had a great chance of getting her sugar right. Ryder could win this.

“You make it sound like I was away from work for months. But,” she nodded and took a deep breath, “yeah, I'm excited.”

Asher was smiling, but she wasn't sure why, “You deserve this.”

They'd been walking behind an Asari and a human woman. Ryder wasn't listening to their conversation until something caught her ear

“So, a friend sent this sample. It is so sweet,” the brunette said.

“Oh? How sweet Janette?” the asari asked, needling for more details.

"It’s so sweet it’s going to give me diabetes.”

Ryder stopped. There’s no way what she heard was correct. People couldn’t be that stupid.

Anger engulfed her. Ryder didn’t know why but it felt like she insulted her in a way she wasn’t insulted in her life before. To say this, was unacceptable to her ears. 

But her limb was moving without her permission and her hand flew, punching the brunette whose name was apparently Janette. Everything was moving fast, the impact of the punch took her a few paces back. The asari looked shocked. And her brother rushed to her side.

“What-“ the asari started to say but the look of recognition stopped her in the tracks. “You’re the Pathfinder.”

Ryder opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't entirely sure what, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Sorry about that.”

Did Asher just apologize? What the hell? Why would he do that?

She swiftly turned around, “You do not apologize for me!”

Janette rubbed her injured cheek. “Why the hell did you punch me?”

There was no need to look at them. Ryder could feel the eyes on her and for a moment she was speechless. Why had she punched her?

She ran the situation in her head over and over again.

It’s so sweet it’s going to give me diabetes.

But why did that bother her? Scratch that. Why the hell would someone say that? Was this a joke? Because they couldn’t be serious.

There were so many things to compare how sweet a thing can be, so why compare an illness to it? An illness that’s been there for many years. One that people struggle with every day.

Something that can slowly kill you. That you can’t beat no matter how hard you try. Something you can’t escape no matter what you do. That meant living with horrible complications.

Did the brunette think this wasn’t serious? Did she think people that dealt with this did this to themselves? That they wanted this? Who would want this?

Amber Ryder did not do this to herself.

The more she thought about it the angrier she got.

“What the hell is wrong with you that you would use an illness to describe the sweetness of something?” Ryder didn’t know how long she said nothing, but it was time to do something.

The brunette’s blue eyes were bewildered. She wasn’t sure if Ryder was serious or not. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, “Oh, that’s nothing. It’s just something people say. I meant nothing by it.”

Ryder was going to explode. She meant nothing? It made matters only worse.

“If that bothers you,” while the brunette spoke Asher hid his face in his hand, “then you’re sensitive, Pathfinder.” She snorted.

Despite having only met Ryder moments ago, the asari had a much better read on the situation. She placed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “Janette, you need to shut up now.”

“I’m not backing off!” Janette was mad, and Ryder didn’t understand why. She insulted her. Ryder was anything but sensitive. “She punched me.”

“I have a valid reason.”

“Amber,” this time her brother spoke. “You need to cool off. Walk away.”

“I’m not going to take a damn walk.” All of them were looking at her hands and when she looked down she understood why. Her hands were engulfed with blue, she was flaring. She took a deep breath and got a hold of her biotics.

“C’mon,” Asher said as if she said nothing, “we have to get back.”

While Asher got a hold of Ryder, the asari got a hold of the brunette – Janette. She didn’t want to back off, cool off. And neither did Janette.

“This is not over! You’ll hear from me again.”

****

Neither Ryder nor her brother said anything until they took the tram ride. The silence was eating away at her.

“What the hell was that?” Asher asked.

Ryder could feel the tram moving and she held onto the railing. She was never this thankful that nobody else took the tram with them. “What?” she shrugged. “Was I unreasonable?”

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose, and Ryder had to wonder if it was because of what just happened or a headache. “It’s not that you were unreasonable. This is so unlike you.

“Oh, so what? I should just let her insult me?”

Asher frowned, confusion was clear on his expression. “What? She didn't insult you. That wasn't directed at you.”

He didn't see it. What Janette said sent a stab through her chest. It wasn't what she said but what it represented. Was that how people saw it? That this was just a diet and nothing else? Did she actually think one could get diabetes like that? It was ridiculous. Janette mocked something that changed her whole life.

“And what she said afterwards wasn't?” she threw back. She didn't agree with him, at least not fully, she knew it wasn’t directed at her but it showed her opinion of diabetes. Ryder also didn't want to start another argument with her brother.

“You punched her!”

“I had reason!”

The tram doors opened and they walked out in awkward silence. When they got to her brother’s bed they stopped.

“Are you really leaving like this?”

“Like what?” Anyone could hear how irritated she was.

“You’re mad.”

Asher was right, but at this point, she didn’t know at who or what she was mad at anymore. But was she really mad at him?

“I have to go,” she lied. She needed to do something. Get her mind off things and then she can have a clear head again. Right now her brother wasn’t helping.

“Look, Amber…”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said before her brother could say anything else. She wanted to be alone. Talking about something she didn’t even fully understand wasn’t something she wanted to do.

Asher had nothing else to say so she made her way to leave. “I’ll see you before the Tempest leaves. Enjoy therapy.”

****

Ryder needed to see Lexi later in the day. They needed to be sure that everything was working as it should. She was still sore from the surgery, but the pain meds helped.

They made a couple of changes to the program, and might tweak it further in the future. Ensuring that the implant supplied the correct doses was still hard work. This wasn't the cure Ryder had hoped for.

The implant made just as much insulin as it was programmed to, no more no less. SAM could help make the changes but Lexi needed to approve them. Too much insulin wasn’t good for her. Not for anyone. 

The extra insulin injections would go to Erna and her daughter. The Tempest should still have insulin just in case of something happening. But she’d freely give it to someone who need it.

Ryder was still getting used to that. Going from having to stab oneself with a hypodermic needle multiple times a day, to not stabbing tender flesh was amazing. It was like one of her wildest dreams came true.

It gave her motivation. It gave her hope. Maybe things weren’t that bad after all.

****

“Long day?” Jaal asked. They were snuggled up on the couch. They would leave the Nexus the next day. Ryder had some business in the morning but afterwards, they could leave.

“Yeah, it was.” She looked up to him smiling. She wanted to forget the day’s events. Sometimes the first days were rough, and today was no exception.

She had to meet with a couple of people, tie some loose ends and catch up on some paperwork. Then there were the arguments she had.

It took more out of her then she cared to admit.

“Pathfinder,” SAM’s voice rang in her head, “Lieutenant Harper is looking for you.”

“The day isn’t over yet.” She sat straight and Jaal shot her a questioning look. Ryder ignored it and focused on SAM, “Tell her where we are.”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

This better had to be an emergency. This day was starting to give her a headache. 

Cora came rushing in. “Ryder,” she was relieved to found her, “There you are.”

“What’s the emergency?” Ryder looked for any signs of what was going on, but nothing gave her any indication.

“No emergency.”

Ryder cocked her one eyebrow suspiciously. “Did you tell yourself that?”

“I was at a meeting with Tann.”

Oh no.

“He wants to see you,” Cora continued.

Oh crap. This can’t be good. Never before did Tann wanted to see her immediately. That was not a good sign.

“Now?” Ryder kept her face as natural as she could. “Did he say why?” It didn’t necessarily mean it’s bad, right?

“Yeah,” her second looked awkwardly at Jaal. “He said something about you assaulting someone.” Cora’s words were unsure as to if she wasn’t sure she had all the details.

Ryder couldn’t help to wonder how he found out. Did Janette go to Tann? Why the hell would she?

Jaal was the first to speak up, “Did my translator catch that right? Did you assault someone?”

Ryder shrugged as if this happened every day, “It’s no big deal. She had it coming so I punched her.”

Jaal and Cora just blinked and she wondered what they were thinking but went on regardless, “How does Tann know about that?”

“She’s one of Addison’s people,” Cora explained.

“Well, that’s not good,” Jaal took the words right out of her mouth

“She probably made it worse than it was.”

Cora was right, but that wasn’t the problem. She and Tann argued just a day before her surgery. Not to mention she was already on thin ice with him. But this was something she brought on herself. There was no one else to blame.

Ryder pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the last thing she needed right now. “This is the day I’m getting fired.”

When she looked up neither of them had serious expressions.

“He won’t fire you,” Jaal said.

“At least not before we get to Meridian,” Cora added lightly.

“That is not funny.” But there was no seriousness in her voice. They were probably right, but she still felt uneasy. “I should probably go.” Ryder didn’t know if she had the energy to deal with Tann of all people. But she started walking anyway.

“For what it’s worth,” Cora stopped her in her tracks, “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

I hope you’re right.

****

“Tann.”

“Ryder.”

It was a standard, neutral greeting. Neither party gave any indication of how much they didn’t want to have this meeting.

“Do you hate me, Ryder?”

For a second Ryder thought of telling Tann exactly what she thought about him but that would probably count against her. “Uh… why would you ask me that?”

“Why else would you assault people you just meet? It’s your first day back and you’re already giving me trouble. Unless you have a valid excuse for your poor behaviour.”

Ryder felt like she was a kid being scolded by the teacher and she had no good answer. What was she going to say? How is she going to explain to her boss why she punched someone when she didn’t understand it herself?

Ryder had been insulted many times before in her life. She wasn't always calm about it, but she had never outright punched someone in the face for insulting her. Janette didn’t even talk to her, so why did she feel the need to confront her with her fist. And why did she flare?

Flaring was something she did when she was surprised or beyond mad. Why had she gotten so mad?

It was as if she didn’t just defend herself but all diabetics in Andromeda and The Milky Way. She needed to stand up for them. It was the only physical thing she could do. So without giving a thought, that’s exactly what she did.

And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t regret it at all.

“It was just a small disagreement.” That was putting it mildly. And it took her everything to tell this lie. But what else could she say?

His big eyes told her he was sceptical. They studied her, looking for something flaw in her explanation but Ryder straightened and kept her face impassive, refusing to give him anything. 

“Very well,” Tann continued. “Then you’ll have no problem apologizing to her.”

“Hell no! I’m not apologizing to her. That’s crap!” With each word her voice rose.

“That’s quite the reaction for a little disagreement.” If Ryder wasn’t here she wouldn't have believed Tann could be sarcastic. And she couldn’t be sure if her ears deceived her. “Unless something else happened.”

Tann was acting far too suspicious. He was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew there was more going on.

“Yes, Director.”

****

When Ryder arrived at the Tempest the night cycle had already started. She wanted to do nothing more but to climb in her bed and sleep her worries away.

But she was a diabetic. She couldn’t skip her dinner and snack. Besides, she would probably suffer a low in progress and that was the last thing she had the energy for.

After dinner, she could spend some time with her crew and hopefully go to bed early for a change.

When her door opened in front of her Jaal was standing in the middle, waiting for her. “Uh… why are you in my room?”

Jaal immediately changed his demeanour, “You said I’m welcome anytime. I’d thought I would wait until you come back.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. “I’m just surprised.”

There was a lot of unsaid between them. After agreeing she would tell him everything she couldn’t go against that.

“Did you get fired?”

Ryder laughed. She couldn’t help it. But somehow apologizing to Janette seemed worse than getting fired. “No, but I need to make amends.” Ryder sighed. Tomorrow would be a headache of its own.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

“I need some coffee first.” With Jaal’s hand in hers, they went to the Galley. Hopefully, the coffee would give her the courage she needed. 

[beerecordings]

Umm is it possible to ask for different ipliers/septic egos accidently walking in on a Jim Jim religion meeting?

hahaha okay okay a goofy piece for a funny prompt. credit to the anon who suggested that the Jim twins would think JJ stood for Jim Jim, an idea which then progressed into us all joking about the twins starting a JJ-based religion (posts about it are tagged Jim Jim Jameson lol). so here’s a slightly crack fic but still a funny and sometimes cute look at the way the Jims interact with the others. a quick piece, slightly ridiculous hahaha <3

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

“Burgers? Who wants burgers and who wants hot dogs? Cheese? Who wants cheese? You know what, Derekson, just get me a list of everybody and what they want.”

“Wilford, sir, that’s not a spatula.”

“No? Then what is it, my dear boy?”

“Looks like somebody’s Wall-E DVD, Wil.”

Chase chokes on his soda and tries not to laugh aloud, though all he ends up doing is spitting Dr. Pepper out of his nose.

“Chase!” gripes Marvin, shoving his lawn chair away. “Gross!”

“He’s out of his fucking mind,” wheezes Chase, trying to keep it down.

“They all are,” hisses back Marvin, but he’s laughing too. Chase can see it in the shine in his eyes.

“Hey, shut up, man,” laughs Bing.

“You shut up,” shoots back Marvin.

“No, you.”

“You are two to one here, Bing-a-ling,” teases Chase, grinning.

“Aw, come off it,” chuckles the robot, sitting back. “Pass me a beer, will you?”

“You can’t drink liquids, Bing.”

“I like the aesthetic!”

“Wilford!” Edward is boxing Wilford away from the grill, trying to keep him from using Eric’s glasses as his second impromptu spatula. “I am grilling, you are absolutely one hundred percent banned from anything involving fire.”

“Now, see here, Bim,” growls Wilford.

“I’m Edward, Wilford. Google, tell Wilford he’s not allowed on the grill!”

On the other side of the space between the three houses, a head with shining black hair turns only slightly, and a smooth voice sounds.

“Wilford,” calls Google. “I have yet to see the darkness. Do you think he is in pain, stuck in his room?”

Wilford’s eyes flicker, distracted, even a little unnerved. He puffs himself up after a moment, dropping Eric’s glasses into the grass as if they were never in his hand to begin with. “What, my blackbird, stuck in his bedroom? I shall carry him if I have to. And we will sit on the grass and drink this cocaine soda everyone is always raving about!”

“For the last time,” groans Edward. “There’s no cocaine in Coca-Cola anymore!”

But Wilford is already hurrying off towards the house behind the peach trees, whistling to himself as he goes.

“Thank you, Google,” calls Ippy, sighing deeply, and across the yard the android raises a hand in silent acquiescence, his attention still on Jameson’s rapid signing. Something about American tea, as far as Chase can tell. He laughs and sits back against Bing’s legs, sprawling his own boots out in front of him and finishing his soda with a quiet sigh. There’s beer for his brothers but, like the residents of these three houses, he won’t have any. He’s supposed to be happy while they’re visiting this mess of a – would you call it a family? – and he won’t let old habits get in the way. He casts his eyes quietly around the yard, almost sleepy with the comforting laziness of the little vacation. Jackie is the center of Shep and Host’s attention, telling an enthusiastic story about a burning building that turned out to be a drug front he busted back in Brighton, Henrik is exchanging a birdie back and forth with Bim as they wait for Ippy and Eric to come back for doubles, and Marvin is right here, kicking Chase’s foot for fun while Google discusses Earl Grey in a monotone behind them.

“This is weird,” says Chase.

“Yeah,” says Bing.

“But not so much in a bad way,” adds Marvin, and they exchange grins over sodas and beers, warm in the sun and the scratchy California grass.

“Okay, I got everybody’s order, right?” calls Ippy, flipping a burger. “Host, you – oh, no, here you are. The twins, where are the twins? Hey, who knows what the twins want? Where are they?”

“I saw them going down into that little, uh, door?” says Chase, pointing at a pair of wooden doors sticking out of the earth by the third house.

“Oh, yeah, an old shelter,” sighs Ippy. “They hang out down there sometimes. I should get them, maybe, uh – ”

“Aw, no sweat, doc,” says Chase, clambering to his feet. “I’ll see what they want. You focus on getting the meat just right.”

“Thanks, Brody.”

Chase tweaks Marvin’s ear teasingly as he passes and steps towards the doors across the way, setting his feet and pulling them gently open. He steps down into the concrete basement and finds that it’s actually been decorated quite nicely for an underground bomb shelter – thick rugs are layered across the floor, leaving a little patch of space in the corner for a heater, and a pair of electric camping lanterns surround the twins where they’re sitting in the middle of the shelter, working on –

“Um,” says Chase. “Is that Jamie?”

Both twins let out shrieks of surprise and the first leans hurriedly down to blow out the candle of his lantern. It is, however, still electric. He groans in despair and flops down onto the rug, hiding the papers and pictures that litter the floor in his arms.

“Intruder!” wails the second, covering his eyes with his hands. “Jim’s fortress is breached!”

Chase is too distracted to reply by the pictures of his brother, which he now sees are not just littering the floor, but also covering the walls. Some of them are hand-drawn, hurried stick figures with mustaches and black hats, while others have been printed off from the internet, showing Jamie’s smiling face in sepia brown or grey and white.

“Uhhhhhh,” says Chase. “I, uh. What is this?”

“Nothing,” promise both twins, grabbing each other for support.

“Chase! Chase!” Feet patter down the stairs, bringing wild laughter with them, and Jackie and Shep appear with Jackie’s hands wrapped around the biggest toad Chase has ever seen, struggling in his hands. “Look at this fucking toad!”

“He just snatched it right off the ground,” howls Shep, who has always found anything Jackie did to be hilariously funny.

“I thought you’d appreciate more than Henrik, who slapped me for trying to make him pet it,” giggles Jackie, shoving it into Chase’s face. “He’s perfect and he – what the hell is all this?”

Shep and Jackie go just as quiet as Chase did, staring around the walls.

“Did you marker a mustache onto your puppy?” asks Shep, pointing at the stuffed animal in one of the Jims’ arms.

“Why does your computer have a livefeed of Jamie eating a hot dog?” asks Jackie a little more dangerously.

“Okay, fine, you have caught Jim!” cries the first one. “Jim is celebrating the great Jim Jim with knick-knacks and cute pictures.”

“His name – ” Shep pauses to sigh and smack his own forehead. “Boys. We have talked about some of these obsessions. The last thing you ‘celebrated’ was that three toed-sloth you saw on Planet Earth.”

“She was perfect!” howl both twins in sync. “Perfect, she was perfect! She just wanted a mate, Silver Jim, she just wanted a husband! She could swim, Silver Jim! She was a sloth with three toes!”

“Are they going to like, uh. Hurt and/or kidnap Jameson?” asks Jackie, touching Shep’s arm.

“What, the twins? No. They’re harmless. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, not on purpose. They once tied a string around one and then it died because they didn’t know how to feed it and they cried until Eric brought them popsicles, but that’s just the twins.”

Jackie steps politely over the babbling twins and carefully turns off the livefeed of Jamie.

“Jim likes JimJim!”

“Why is he leaving tomorrow?”

“Freedom of worship, Silver Jim! America!”

“Okay, okay,” cries Silver, waving his hands to quiet them. “Sh, boys, it’s okay, hey. Don’t fuss. Look, Jackie found a toad!”

The twins sniffle and turn their attention to the toad, instantly excited again.

“Oh! Like in Frog and Toad!”

“Like in Rango!”

“Like in the Princess and the Frog! But a toad! Can Jim have it, Mr. not-quite Jim Jim, please?”

Jackie shrugs and hands them the toad. “What are you going to call it?”

“Jameson!” cry both twins at once, happily petting the toad’s head as it croaks.

Jackie, Chase, and Shep exchange glances.

“Well, we’re heading out tomorrow,” says Chase.

“And I’m driving back to my apartment in the city,” adds Shep.

“Pretend we never saw this?” Jackie suggests.

“Yep,” answer Shep and Chase together, and the three of them turn and head right back up the stairs, passing a confused Ippy with two plates of hot dogs, who gives them one odd look and then continues down.

“Boys!” he hollers a moment later, and Chase, Jackie, and Silver all burst into laughter and hurry away, sitting down around Jameson, who wants to know what exactly is so funny?

“Nothing,” they all promise, ignoring Google’s eyeroll and Jamie’s indulgent smile. “Just another obsession of the Jims, haha.”

“Well, they go through three of those a week,” sighs Google. “Don’t get too excited. Whatever it is, they’ll be over it in a couple days.”

Perhaps that is usually true.

But not this time.

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

“Okay,” says Ippy, surveying the room besides the kitchen, blinking slowly. “This has officially gone too far.”

Host laughs rich and low, covering his mouth and leaning against the doorway, apparently endlessly amused by this newest interest of the cameramen’s. Eric giggles weakly, glancing around, but there’s a light of alarm in his eyes too, and it only makes Host laugh harder when he senses it, halfway collapsing against the doorway.

“Why is typewriter Jim laughing?” complains the second Jim, pasting another picture in a scrapbook labeled ‘the greatness of JimJim.’

“Is this a fucking cult?” asks Host. “I’ve seen worse but this one is certainly the cutest.”

“Jim is not cute!” protests the second Jim, while the first asks, “Oh, Jim, would you like to join Jim?”

“No, honey,” laughs Host, striding away. “I leave more patient men than I to deal with this.”

“Host,” grumbles Ippy, before sighing and turning his attention back to the Jims. “Boys, this isn’t a cult, right?”

“What’s a cult?” asks the second.

“Jim thinks the word doctor Jim is looking for is religion,” pipes up the first helpfully.

Edward turns around so he can swear without them hearing. Eric laughs again, relaxing the more he looks around and stepping over to sit down with the twins.

“Come on, Ippy. They’re just having fun.”

“Worshipping Jameson is not an appropriate way to have fun,” protests Edward.

“They’re scrap-booking.” Eric holds up the little book, which is, admittedly, rather well-made for a Jim project.

“And making a documentary!” exclaims Jim, holding his computer out to Eric, where iMovie is open to several very shaky shots of Jameson sitting on the couch or talking with the others or, on one screen, cooking omelets and turning occasionally to smile at the eagerly narrating twins.

“And making a documentary,” repeats Eric fondly, ruffling his hair. “It’s just arts and crafts.”

“There’s a poster of Jameson made out of sticky notes on the wall!”

“And look how good they did at putting the notes together!”

“Thank you, sweater Jim,” say both the twins politely, smiling.

“Eric, it’s creepy. They don’t need to learn to be obsessing over other people.”

“You let them stalk Mark for two months.”

“Oh, yeah, cause that was hilarious,” laughs Ippy, throwing his head back. “He was so confused. Fuck Mark!”

“Fuck Mark,” repeat the twins eagerly.

“No! Don’t swear, guys, I know you’ll start doing it at work if I let you do it at home,” sighs Ippy.

“Jim would never swear in front of the petting zoo animals!” cries the first Jim.

“And Jim would never swear while helping with the news!” adds the second, indignant.

“See how responsible they are! Ip, let them be. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get too creepy. Like, uh. The hairs in this scrapbook aren’t actually Jameson’s, are they?”

“Yes, from Jim Jim’s mustache,” answer both twins, beaming.

“Well, why don’t you let me have that,” suggests Eric, carefully unstapling the plastic bag with a few stray dark hairs at the bottom.

“You two will be the death of me,” says Ippy, shaking his head.

But they do look damn sweet when they’re smiling that big.

“Okay, but no filming Jameson when he’s not looking anymore.”

“Okay, doctor Jim,” promise the twins.

“Jim will do it when Jim Jim and doctor Jim are both not looking,” whispers the second.

“They’ll never suspect it,” agrees the first in a hush. Eric laughs, tidying their scrapbook materials a little.

“You could even learn BSL like Jamie, maybe,” he suggests.

The twins light up like fireworks.

“BSL!” repeats the first one, clapping his hands together.

“JIM CAN SPEAK AS THE GREAT JIM SPEAKS,” screams the second at the top of his lungs, and this is enough to startle Bing, who was about to ride his skateboard down the stairs. He yelps in alarm as his board slips beneath him, and a moment later he comes crashing hard down the stairs and lands in a heap of sparking parts at Ippy’s feet.

“The death of me!” repeats the doctor furiously, waving his finger around accusingly. “All of you! This whole house! This whole clearing! I’ll die at thirty-four! You’ll have to bury me! Have fun with my funeral expenses, you complete bastards.”

“Bastards!” repeat the twins.

“Look bastards up in BSL!”

“Look Jim up in BSL!”

“Look everything up in BSL!”

Ippy has the distinct feeling he’s being made fun of, just a little, but even Bing is laughing, and all he can do is try not to smile as he heads back out the door.

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

“Can’t you move a body a little more quietly?”

Wilford hauls the heavy tarp across the pathway and grunts, flicking a little blood off his fingers. “Well, you could help!”

“Why would I do that when I have you to do it for me?” purrs back Dark, following him down the pathway towards the car.

“You just like to feel like you’re manipulating something,” scolds Wilford, pausing just to boop Dark’s nose. In protest, Dark vanishes back into the void and leaves Wilford with nothing but a sulking shadow drifting around his feet.

“And now you’re a smoke kitty,” coos Wilford, dragging the body farther down the path.

“Just hurry,” says Dark, re-appearing in a masculine form this time. “You know I prefer for the twins to stay sheltered and I don’t want them catching us again.”

“Catching what?” asks Jim, standing in the trees with his camera.

Wilford swears colorfully and Dark dissipates back into shadow on instinct, spitting out curses of his own.

“Now, see here, Iplier,” says Wilford. “It’s quite rude to be sneaking up on a fellow.”

“That’s Jim, Wil.”

“Oh. What in the name of Burt Reynolds are you two doing out here so late at night?”

“Oh! We’re filming for a documentary for Jim Jim.”

“They mean Jameson,” Dark tells Wil.

“Who’s Jameson?” whispers Wilford.

Dark sighs very deeply.

“He is the great Jim!” cries the second Jim, rising from the bushes like a Peanuts character on Halloween.

“The great Jim,” repeats the first Jim solemnly.

“He’s that little old-fashioned…” Dark waves his hand, trying to find the right word. “Jackson. You’ve met him.”

“Oh, I know who you mean. The British chap with the truly excellent mustache. But he’s not even out here, what are you filming?”

“Well, he is not here. But Jim has heard is very fond of hedgehogs. So Jim is trying to find some!”

“Are there hedgehogs in America?” whispers Wilford.

“Fuck if I know,” answers Dark irritably.

“Would you like to join Jim in the search for hedgehogs and ultimately the eternal worship of the great Jim Jim?”

“Don’t look so hopeful, you little miscreant, you know I avoid engaging with you at all costs,” growls Dark, but the twins just giggle.

“They used to be afraid of you,” teases Wilford.

“Shut up,” snipes Dark. “I could make them afraid in about two seconds.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“But you won’t.”

“The real question,” interrupts one of them – Dark can’t tell them apart. “Is what are Dark and pink Jim doing out in the forest late at night? Jim is a very good reporter, you know. Jim uncovers mysteriousnesses.”

“I think you mean mysteries,” says Dark. “And we’re, uh.”

Wil and Dark glance at the body in between them.

“Returning a lamp to the store,” finishes Wil.

Dark closes his eyes. His exasperation has set in so deep he can feel it in his broken spine. He’s going to kill Wilford. But then again, he thinks that about three times a day and never seems to make good on his threat.

“A lamp,” says Jim.

“A lamp,” repeats his brother.

They stare down at the wrapped corpse.

“That checks out,” says the first.

“Jim is an investigative journalist so Jim can tell,” agrees the second.

“Just get out of my sight,” snaps Dark, advancing on them with shadow cloaking his set shoulders, and the twins shriek in equal parts fear and excitement and go darting back into the underbrush.

“You’re it, Mr. Dark!”

“Run, Jim! Run!”

Dark crosses his arms over his chest and turns to glare at Wilford.

“I could scare them if I wanted to.”

Wilford just smiles and picks up the body again, pausing only to give Dark a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I know you could, little ghost. Hey, should we be worried they appear to be worshipping Jacksepticeye?”

“Should I be concerned you told me you worshipped the Pillsbury dough boy while you were drunk last week?”

“Oh, no, the body is slipping! Let me just – ” He picks it up and slings it over his shoulder, sprinting towards the car and away from any further questions. Dark rolls his eyes and drifts back into the shadows, following peaceably after him.

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

Google blinks awake to a pair of eyes staring back at him.

Check that. Two pairs of eyes.

“Boys,” he says levelly. “I’m charging. This had better be an emergency.”

Jim and Jim exchange looks.

Carefully, they push a crumpled pamphlet with Jameson’s face drawn on it in crayon beneath his nose.

“Join our religion?”

Google gets out of bed in one swooping motion, drags them both out of the house, and, ignoring the shrill cries of “why, cruel computer Jim?” and “persecution! Persecution! Persecution!” dumps them both bodily into the lake.

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

Everybody gets to hear about it at one point or another. The Jims’ amicability for JJ, taken a little too far, is occasionally annoying, but nevertheless remains largely harmless. In the name of the great JJ, they pick up more than one of his hobbies – taking care of injured animals, painting with watercolors, dressing in black and white – and develop rudimentary BSL that actually turns out to be really helpful on the days when the twins are distressed and won’t talk out loud. Most of them learn to tolerate it with amusement, though Host never stops thinking it’s one of the funniest things they’ve ever done and Google makes sure they learn the consequences of being too irritating. Bing and Eric bring them craft supplies and trinkets from the store that remind them of JJ, while Ippy entices them to eat their vegetables and sit still through examinations with made-up stories about how tough and healthy Jameson is. On Christmas Eve, as a reward for being good all year, Ippy asks Jameson to Skype with them for a little while, and he’d never seen the twins so excited and yet so well-mannered at the same time, even managing to use first-person pronouns for themselves once or twice, eager to impress JJ.

“Good signing,” he congratulates them, looking soft and snuggly in the Christmas Eve pajamas he and his brothers all exchanged for the night.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” sign the twins eagerly, and Ippy chuckles, blowing on their hot chocolate to cool it before he brings it to them.

“You must have been dedicated,” says Jameson, and when they don’t understand, he substitutes the word “good.”

“Good!” chirps Jim, clapping his hands together. “Good! We have! We have!”

“You will tell Santa to bring us gifts, then?” asks his brother eagerly. Ippy smiles and takes a sip of the chocolate, checking the temperature carefully.

JJ laughs. “How will I tell him? Did you write letters?”

“Yes, we did. But I bet he will believe it if Jim Jim puts in a good word for us!”

“That’s sweet,” chuckles JJ, keeping his hands slow. “But I think he will listen to you too! I’m just little old me.”

“Yeah,” says Jim cheerfully. “God.”

Ippy spits the hot chocolate out and races over to slam shut the computer before he can see Jameson’s reaction.

“Boys!” he hollers. “Too far!”

Iplier hears a thud as, up the stairs and narrating this story to himself, Host laughs so hard he tumbles right out of his bed.

[maraudersandlily20]

This prompt is oddly specific and also not, but it's a brain-worm I haven't been able to get rid of--Tonks giving Harry a tattoo.

Teddy really liked playing airplanes. When Harry was over, it was all Teddy would talk about. He watched tv shows, he read muggle books, and he colored pictures that his grandmother had printed out. Harry would watch him in the yard, pretending to be different airplanes for hours. He knew the names, their speed abilities, and even their recognizable emblems. It was rather endearing.

On a hot summers day, while Teddy imitated airplane noises, Harry was sitting against a tree, his eyes partly closed. It was a lovely day and Andy had been desperate for Teddy to get his wiggles out, as she called them. So, Draco and Andy stayed and made dinner and Harry was left with the young one. 

He was six now, growing taller by the day. Harry would always tell him that he wasn’t allowed to grow anymore, which made Teddy squeal with laughter. He looked a lot like Remus when he smiled. It made Harry nostalgic.

Teddy would ask about his parents on occasion. He didn’t have any memory of them, other than feelings. So, when he got curious, he asked. They were always silly, ridiculous things, like what did Remus eat on his sandwich or did Tonks know how to whistle. But Harry tried to answer seriously for every question. He remembered how he had been so curious about his parents and their lives but hadn’t been given access to that until he was much older. 

However, in an odd way, Teddy didn’t really consider Remus and Tonks his parents. He didn’t call them mum or dad, and no one else spoke of them with those titles. He had grandma Andy, uncle Harry and uncle Draco, and a plethora of other adults who acted as makeshift guardians. He knew that his parents were his parents, but naming them by their titles of parenting never seemed to stick to Teddy. So, he called them Remus and Tonks, like everyone else. 

Teddy raced over to Harry and collapsed onto his lap, laughing. Harry gathered him into his arms and covered his face with kisses, proclaiming that he had finally shot down the mighty plane in the sky. They settled quietly, Teddy playing gently with Harry’s fingers, flicking them up and down.

“Harry?” He said, his voice bright.

“Yes love?”

“Did Remus like airplanes?’

Harry thought for a moment. “You know, I’m sure he did. He never got to ride in one though.”

“Did Tonks?”

“Maybe, you’ll have to ask grandma Andy.”

Teddy hummed in acknowledgement before starting anew with questions. “Did Remus like painting? Because I like painting a lot.”

“No, he wasn’t very good at art. But he was good at reading. He read almost every book you could ever think of! He was very smart. Your uncle Sirius was good at painting. He liked painting a lot.”

Teddy knew about Sirius, a bit, but his experience with the older Black man was limited. He knew he was Remus’ special friend, but that he had died before Teddy was born. Teddy liked looking at pictures of him, saying he thought he looked nice. 

“Maybe uncle Sirius gave me the ability to paint,” Teddy said, as if coming to a solid conclusion.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, maybe. What else do you want to know? About Remus and Tonks?”

“Did Tonks like soda?”

“They did. They loved sweets of all kinds. Sometimes, grandma Andy would get so mad at them because of all the sweets they hid under their bed.”

Teddy squealed. “I do that!”

“You do?” Harry exclaimed. “Well, then you must be punished.” His tickled his godson, laughing as Teddy tried to squirm away from him. He finally broke free, but he was smiling widely. 

Teddy stood before him, moving between his legs and squishing Harry’s cheeks between his chubby little hands. “Did Tonks like being able to change into a boy?”

It was a question that Harry always approached with caution. He knew that Tonks’ preference on gender was fluid at times, liking to change pronouns on occasion. Teddy had been understanding of the whole thing, but Harry never wanted to say anything wrong.

“I think they did. Tonks sometimes felt like their body didn’t fit them right. And when that happened, they presented as a boy, like you.” He poked Teddy’s stomach. “But sometimes, they liked looking like a girl. Or, on occasion, they didn’t like being either. They were lucky to get to choose, huh?”

Teddy patted Harry’s cheeks, eyes squinted in concentration. “Do you think Tonks would be mad at me because I only like being a boy?”

Harry felt the surprise on his face. “Uh... Well, no. You know, Tonks never really got mad at anyone, except for Remus. Tonks always said that everyone should feel free to be who they are, whatever they are. So, I don’t think Tonks would be mad that you only liked being a boy. If being a boy makes you happy, then that’s all they would want.”

The little boy nodded, as if the question had been worrying him for some time. “That’s good. I want Tonks to like me.”

“Tonks loved you a lot, little man. No matter what you looked like, they loved you. Okay?”

Teddy nodded. 

“Did Remus give good hugs, like you and uncle Draco?”

Harry smiled at the sudden turn. “He did. He gave big bear hugs, and sometimes he would squeeze so hard that if felt like you couldn’t breathe.”

“Did he give good presents? Grandma Andy said that Tonks was always really happy with the presents he gave them.”

Harry laughed. The questions that children came up with always surprised him. “He did. He and uncle Sirius gave me some of my favorite books that I own. He liked giving people chocolate, just like Grandma Andy did. And he often gave Tonks flowers or sweaters. Tonks loved it. So yeah, he did give good presents.”

“Did Tonks ever give you presents?” Teddy pressed, squishing Harry’s cheeks hard together.

“They did. Do you want to see?”

The boy nodded emphatically as Harry gently pushed him back. With swift fingers, he pulled his shirt from where it was tucked to reveal a small tattoo. It was a picture of a Willow Tree and it waved back and forth on his skin, as if moved by some breeze. There were moments when little birds would fly about the branches before settling. It was beautiful.

He remembered Tonk’s laughter as they pressed the needle against his skin. “You know, when I gave Remus his tattoo, he cried like a baby.” Harry snorted. 

“In my defense,” Remus piped up from the corner where he sat reading a massive novel. “it wasn’t my idea to get the tattoo. I never understand muggles’ incessant need to inflict pain upon themselves. 

“You have a tattoo?” Harry asked. 

“A moon,” Tonks chirped.

“Tonks thinks they’re very funny. It moves through the entire lunar cycle, and is in fact beautiful. It’s on my right shoulder, and it hurt almost as bad as shifting.”

“Come now, ripping your body apart must hurt worse,” Tonks countered, to which Remus just raised his eyebrow. 

“Why tattoos?” Harry asked them, drawing their attention back.

Tonks shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think I like the idea of adding something permanent to yourself. I was able to shift and contort my features however I wanted. But tattoos are something that you can’t shift away. They stay no matter what I look like. To have that feeling of permanence on my skin makes me feel a little more connected to myself.”

Harry understood that. It was partly why he had decided to get a tattoo in the first place. He wanted a reminded to himself that he was alive. He would spend countless hours trapped in his own head, but if he had something on his skin, something to look at and rely on that wouldn’t ever change, maybe he’d feel a little bit less lost.

“Why a willow tree?” The question came from Remus, but he was still looking down at his book. 

Harry shrugged, drumming his fingers against his bare chest. “I feel like the whomping willow at Hogwarts has seen, first hand, much of my growing up experiences. I figured it was a good homage to everything I’ve learned.”

Tonk smiled, wiping some of the excess ink away. “And, anyway, I didn’t tat the actual willow on you. I tweaked it a bit, made it more... whimsical. You don’t need the spikiness of the willow.”

“I don’t mind,” Harry said. “I like the feeling of permanence, especially something like a tree. It’ll refuse to die until it’s forced. Like me.” They laughed and Harry couldn’t help the light feeling that spread over his chest. “Besides, next time I’ll probably get something cheesy, like a snitch or a lighting bolt.”

“Or a dragon,” Tonks offered.

“Or a pair of antlers?”

They spent the remainder of time imagining new tattoos and where they would go. They laughed until their stomachs hurt and the willow tree was finished. Harry felt it was a symbol of peace and promise. He loved it.

Teddy’s fingers traced the branches of the tree, eyes wide in mesmerization. “Tonks gave you this?” he asked, his voice soft.

“They did.”

“They were good at drawing. But on skin.” Harry nodded as Teddy looked up for confirmation. “I want to be good at drawing like that.”

“If you practice, maybe you can.”

“Grandma Andy would let me?”

This made Harry pause. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe. If you really wanted to. Grandma Andy wants you to be happy.”

Teddy returned to his seat on Harry’s lap, pulling his godfathers arms around him. “I can’t wait to get pictures on my skin,” he stated, sighing in contentment at the idea.

“Oh yeah?” said Harry with a laugh. “What picture on your skin would you get first?”

The little boy grinned up at Harry, looking so much like his father that it almost hurt, and said proudly, “An airplane!” A bark of laughter left Harry’s mouth at the answer and he held the little boy even closer. 

[quidfree]

For prompts: any OCs, maybe something like fake relationship? Sorry if you don’t have OCs I’m curiois

i have so many ocs for my original projects that narrowing it down for this was a nightmare buuut here we are anyhow- something v short and dumb

-

“i just don’t see why van and viv couldn’t have done this,” joa says for about the thousandth time when they get there, aware that he’s been stuck on this refrain since two weeks ago and that his partner is near his boiling point but entirely unable to stop complaining. it’s like something in him thinks if he just points it out one more time someone will take notice and put an end to it.

“van and vivienne could have done this,” ezra says, in the voice he uses when he thinks he’s being extremely patient and long-suffering. “but this was your mission, and if you would have preferred to be here with fucking corlett it is not too late for me to trade places.”

“dude,” joa says. ezra shoots him a look.

“you can’t call me dude. we’re madly in love, if you’ll recollect.”

ezra is funny like that; the pissier he gets the more clipped his vowels get, like those rich new england types that had sometimes swung through california on holidays, all east coast condescension. privately joa thinks ezra has more in common with that crowd than he’d care to admit.

“dude, even if we were really-” he waves his hand vaguely “-i’d still call you dude.”

“you call your girlfriends dude?” ezra inquires, shrewdly.

“thought the whole point was the not being a girl thing.”

“corlett,” ezra threatens, so he shuts up. normally ezra wouldn’t do that to him, or at least would never concede defeat, but when ezra’s really angry there’s no scruples to his revenge plans. as much as he feels ready to drink himself sick with nerves and discomfort at the two of them crashing this stupid wedding, having corlett on his arm instead would ensure he died of liver failure before the bride even hit the aisle.

he doesn’t like how antsy this has made him. ezra doesn’t say it but it’s obvious he thinks joa takes some issue with the gay thing, which isn’t true- he’s normally the most adaptable of them to whatever era they get stuck into; he was the first to know about van, and that’s a whole different ballpark. it’s not the couple he cares about, it’s the acting.

all the lying, sneaking bits of the job- subterfuge, vivi would say- he gets it, but he doesn’t like it. even when it’s shit he knows, is good at, like charming strangers or blending into groups, he feels bad for the people he involves. he knows it’s stupid- it’s not like he’s usually hurting anyone, and the whole point is that they’re helping. van finds the whole exercise fun, and vivienne thrives in it; even ezra, who never does anything but play himself, commits to the bit unflinchingly. he’s the only one who gets nauseous each time they make him do some extended charade. he doesn’t know why they couldn’t just go around killing people without lying about it to boot.

normally ezra knows this kind of thing about him, but if ezra has one fault it’s that thing about missing the forest for the trees. when he’s prickly about something he loses his usual invasive-cum-insightful observational skills. that this particular bout of acting is making him more nauseous than usual is neither here nor there.

despite what viv claims, joa is not entirely convinced that ezra can’t read minds, because just as he thinks this, his hand is grabbed with all of the affection of a snake winding around his arm to cut his circulation off. 

“c’mon, suck it up.”

he only just manages to turn his wince into a half-assed grimace, which earns him a foul look.

“i can’t feel my hand.”

“shut up and look like you love me, bride number one is heading this way.”

she is, inexplicably, looking delectable in a pearly white gown, blonde hair piled in curls atop her head. once their presence registers she smiles at them distractedly, eyes scanning them without recognition. it kicks him into work-mode, smile blooming wide and familiar as he extricates his hand from ezra’s to clasp hers.

“miriam! i’m joa, elena’s cousin- tia grassi’s son? and this is my partner ezra. it’s so nice to meet you, you look beautiful.”

“oh, joa, of course,” miriam says, warmly, relaxing as she gestures them in. “it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

“i’m surprised they have you manning the door,” ezra comments, gesturing to the entrance they’re stood under. “thought that was what the guys in suits were for.”

“sure, sure,” miriam laughs, self-effacingly. “i’m not really playing valet. it’s just we’ve been waiting on the last cake delivery and i’m trying to get the guy through to the back before anyone accidentally tells elena. she’s convinced something’s going to go wrong.”

“sounds familiar,” joa says, with a knowing smile towards ezra, who just about curbs his eyeroll. “also sounds like something you shouldn’t be worrying about on your wedding day. where should we direct him?” 

miriam’s brows raise in surprise; he tries to broadcast sincere helpfulness her way. 

“oh- really? you’d do that?”

“of course. i know how elena gets.”

this sells it; she sighs a little in relief, shakes her head. “you’re a savior. the hall, through the back- it’s just down the ramp and to the left. are you sure?”

“what’s family for?”

only once she’s out of earshot does ezra shoot him a look, eyebrows quirked with amusement.

“what’s family for?”

“fuck you, it worked.”

“your customer service act gives me the hives,” ezra says, although he’s smiling  even as he reclaims his hand in an only marginally less painful grip. joa’s stomach re-knots itself. 

for all that he hates the lying the job involves, there’s something especially discomfiting about roles like these- ones where they keep their names intact, where the stories they construct keep big chunks of their lives unaltered. to the wedding guests they’re still joa and ezra, longtime friends and constantly travelling free-lancers; they may not be time-travellers and there may be some additional intimacy implied, but this joa and ezra have the same back and forth, the same inside jokes, the same dynamic. it makes the lines even blurrier and the lies even more uncomfortable. 

“you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“maybe i am.”

“you’re not. you’re a consummate professional and there’s an agency supervising us and also if you do i’m throwing your mini-fridge out of a window.”

“you wouldn’t like me sober.”

“you wouldn’t like anything sober. i’d tough it out.”

“remind me not to ask you to host my bachelor party.”

“i hate weddings,” ezra says, sourly. joa grins, heartened by his bad mood. viv calls them bad friends for always cheering up at each other’s misery. van calls them disgusting.

“hey, c’mon. this might be fun.”

“oh, sure. i love spending an entire evening pretending to care about two strangers’ impending divorce.”

“oh, c’mon. what about your moms?”

“they’re divorce lawyers. they’re outliers.”

"okay,” joa draws out, just to make him scoff. “themed missions, though. exploding wedding cake? that’s fun.”

“it’s also one of fifteen assassination attempts we’re handling tonight.”

“glass half full, honey.”

ezra flushes an unflattering but extremely charming shade of splotchy red. “half full of arsenic, if case files are to be believed.”

joa sighs, rocking back onto his heels. “talk about cliché, dude. even the cake bomb is more original.”

“messy, though.”

“hey, you love buttercream icing.”

“not mingled with my intestines, i don’t.”

“here comes the truck. are we doing salt lake city sixty five?”

“you read my mind,” ezra agrees, smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “you want the driver?”

so maybe this whole thing won’t entirely suck, joa thinks, smiling back. when ezra’s distracted his hand’s not even that bad to hold.

by the time the afterparty is in full swing, he’s kind of having a good time. foiling assassination attempts always puts him in a good mood, and the service was nice, for what it’s worth- he’d wondered how it would work with two women, but it was sweet in the end, just a couple of tweaks to the sermon and a lot more bridesmaids. he’d cried. ezra had hidden a laugh and complained at length about christianity. dinner had been nice too, although he’d had to eat in quick bursts what with the constant leaving to go thwart ploys to kill the bride. they’d done it under the guise of sneaking out for quickies, an excuse which had earned them surprising amounts of goodwill at their table. gay weddings, and all that.

regardless, they’ve handled attempts numbers one through fourteen and he’s feeling good. the work balances out the awkwardness- sure, he gets queasy when ezra is calmly explaining their meet-cute to strangers, but five minutes later he’s holding a stall door shut while ezra knocks someone’s face into a toilet and it calms his nerves. besides, whoever organised the wedding decided on an open bar for the night, and he’s been downing his fair share of drinks while ezra’s back is turned, which has pushed him into bright magnanimity. ezra will cover for him if he overdoes it, anyways- he still owes him for how coked out he got at that disco in the seventies. 

ezra has launched into a spirited debate of twenty-thirties midwestern politics with some elderly relative; he sips his rum and coke, tuning out the familiar fast-paced scratchy speech to gaze around the room. the music is nice, for the era. so are the brides, currently waltzing merrily around the room and blissfully unaware that this night’s happy ending will set into motion a series of events leading to the discovery of the cure for cancer, or that someone with a penchant for theme has employed fifteen different mediocre hitmen to stop that from happening.

the little themed cocktail umbrella would make a sweet addition to his collection of mementos. as he twirls it he thinks that he was expecting this to be harder, or worse, the whole couples pretence. really dating ezra has just been the exact same as not dating ezra, with some additional niceties thrown in for their audience’s sake. he doesn’t mind the niceties- ezra’s hard to be nice to on the regular, so it’s neat to have him cornered, and besides watching him struggle not to break composure throughout is fun. it’s weirder when it’s ezra’s turn, because ezra’s lying is always half true by default, and it makes him wonder which parts are the lies. 

he’s a little cold in his linen jacket and his drink is gone, so he follows his thoughts and drifts back towards ezra, drapes himself over his back. ezra stiffens like a corpse but doesn’t miss a beat in his sentence, because of course he doesn’t. he’s warm, though, and besides they’re playing pretend boyfriends, so he thinks he’s entitled to some shared heat without it being weird.

“maybe joa could be of use,” ezra is saying currently, obviously trying to throw him under the bus. “joa, do you remember who it was we saw that time with cousin esther at the thing in santa monica?”

“oh, sure,” joa says amiably, chin now resting on his bony shoulder. “rafael.”

the middle-aged couple make noises of recognition; ezra snorts in silent laughter, the movement making his shoulders jump. it’s a lucky guess primarily founded upon the statistics in his actual family. his cousins have shit luck- three of them with the same name has left them with some abominable nicknames. his previously name-dropped tia grassi is the only person stubborn enough to call them all rafael, just in different registers of disappointed suspicion.

ah, his tia grassi. funny woman. mildly terrifying. her fourth wedding had been an event, though he can hardly remember the second half of it, seeing as she’d refused to cater to the child-havers amongst the family and not left any of the punch alcohol-free. all he really remembers is her wedding dress, the cream-coloured version of her default pantsuit with the horrible bow. it’s funny- from where he’s stood there’s a woman right in his line of vision dressed in an orange abomination that looks exactly like the kind of thing only his tia grassi would subject some distant relative to on the day of their wedding.

wait. fuck.

“corazon, my tia grassi is here.”

"no, she’s not.”

“i’m serious, she’s walking right towards us. lady in the orange. fuck, she must be pushing a hundred.”

“shit,” ezra curses, sparing a nod for the couple he was talking to. “excuse us.” 

“she’s following,” joa warns with mild fascination, as they bee-line towards the garden. 

“great,” ezra says, glancing disbelievingly over his shoulder. “why the fuck is she following? and why is she even alive in this decade? how old is that woman?”

“ageless, i don’t know, she probably thinks i’m family,” joa mutters, glancing back. “which i am. just deceased family. she’s not gonna let up, you know.”

“you and your fucking bloodhound relatives. look, we can’t leave, they’re still going to try and do the thing with the fireworks.”

“well, we can’t stay either, or i’m getting marty mcfly’d out of existence, and i’m kinda partial to existing.”

“how is she even following us? scent alone?” ezra mutters, just a shade hysterical, as they wind their way past the bar. “we might have to pull a vermont.”

“oh, dude, no way,” joa says, immediately nauseous. “c’mon. it’s a wedding.”

“you were fine with it when you were beating that guy’s face in with the floral arrangement earlier!”

“yeah, and he was trying to ruin the wedding. this would be us, ruining the wedding. we would be the wedding ruiners.”

“we could choose someone neither of the brides like! they’d be grateful!”

“dude, i am not killing any guests at this wedding.”

“the only other option is worse!”

“no option is worse than murder, ‘zra, that’s kind of murder’s whole thing.”

“yeah? you rather kill hitler or fuck him?”

“always with the ultimatu- woah, woah!”

his second woah gets swallowed, which is probably for the best; ezra’s planting one on him with real determination. his brain short-circuits a bit or something; he doesn’t think to push him off, just lets him at it. it’s usually what works best when ezra’s on a mission, and also as it turns out ezra’s pretty good at the whole kissing thing, and also his nerves are singing and his blood is boiling and he is maybe, potentially kissing back, distractedly and then with intent, their bodies slotting together against the tacky fake rosebush as plastic thorns dig into his back and ezra’s sharp-nailed fingers dig into his shoulders. alcohol has made him warm and fuzzy, but there’s nothing drink-sloppy to it- just continuous, almost familiar ease, and his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

ezra pulls off first, with a nasty sound, head whipping around wildly as joa registers absently that the fireworks were going off in real life too.

“i can’t believe that actually worked.”

“three cheers for latent latin homophobia,” joa says, on auto-pilot, because right, his aunt, and time travel rules, and something. maria joseph and jesus, he’s just kissed a man.

“that and you not being violently sick on me,” ezra says, turning back to face him with his usual frown slotting absently into place. he looks awkward and irritated with his awkwardness and also extremely well-kissed. joa is struck with the realisation that he is entirely fucked in the head, because he finds the picture supremely enticing.

“dude,” he starts, because to be honest they have been skirting around this particular issue for a while and it’s hard to find a time and place to discuss it when it’s not weird or a capital offence. ezra is all narrow-eyed suspicion and coquettishly heaving breaths, which is not helping him focus but definitely helping convince him to labour the point. “i think we should probably- oh, shit, wait, the fireworks.”

he’s running before ezra can so much as cuss, and he gets there just in time, tackling the man right into the bushes and out of harm’s way, voice raised to an apologetic, casual slur even as they grapple for the gun.

“oh, my god, i’m so sorry, i must be drunker than i thought-“

the element of surprise wins him the fight; he manages to slam the guy’s forehead onto a marble lion a couple of times, sound drowned out by the fireworks above.

“honestly,” a slightly out of breath ezra is reproaching nearby, all fond reprobation, and then again once he’s shoved through the bushes himself, losing the affect. “honestly.”

“it’s fine, it’s fine,” joa says, wiping bloody knuckles on the guy’s shirt. “that’s fifteen, right?”

“it’s not fine, it’s fifteen minutes early. if coda is going to send us on these chickenshit gigs you’d think they’d get the fucking timings right.”

“it’s fine, he’s out,” joa repeats, shoving upwards and brushing bits of bush off his clothes. “viv’ll be angry about the suit though.”

“right, like she’s in the costume dep’s good books either after that stunt she pulled with the velvet dress,” ezra snorts, abruptly the voice of reason. “i can’t believe he was fifteen minutes early. that’s twice this week they’ve done this to us.”

“maybe we threw it somehow,” joa defends, rolling his shoulder. “you know the timeline warps the calculations.”

“we didn’t throw anything. twice in a week, seriously. what the fuck do we pay fees for if they can’t even get the timings right? this wouldn’t happen if we had a union.”

“‘zra, there are only ten of us. we are the union.”

“isn’t that a depressing thought. what were you saying earlier?”

“oh, that,” joa says, and then feels sick again. “hey, are you thirsty? i’m pretty thirsty actually.”

“don’t be an asshole.”

“i don’t know, honestly.”

“you’re not doing so hot on the non-asshole front.”

“oh, madre de dios, stop channeling your mom.”

“tu puta madre. i’ll give you passive aggressive.”

“fine,” joa breathes, in one big burst, annoyed and queasy and charmed all in one. “are we- like- ugh, dude, you know what-“

“specify.”

he pauses, exhales. “well, it just feels like maybe we should-“

“probably not.”

“right, but you’d like-“

“does it matter?”

“well, yeah, obviously. it’s just with work, it’s like... you know?”

“sure.”

“not that i...”

“sure.”

“although i don’t actually know if...”

“sure.”

“only then it’s like, overall- i think i want to kiss you off-duty.”

“mazel tov.”

“but would you mind?”

“did the tongue-fucking earlier not broadcast that enough?“

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.”

“a lesbian wedding. that’s their expertise.”

he considers this point.

“hey, you wanna...”

“well, the body,” ezra says, albeit reluctantly. he doesn’t like mess.

“oh, sure,” joa says, thinking. “i guess maybe newark ‘02?”

“yeah, whatever,” ezra shrugs, but there’s a suppressed pleasure in the way he clears his throat. “blue’s your color, you know that?”

“my mom used to say. can you take his feet?”

“jesus, the shoes. hey, did you have some of that cocktail thing earlier?”

“yeah, a couple. there wasn’t extra poison again, was there? because last i saw the res-mac the mormons had it and i so do not want to go to their rooms again.”

“watch the stairs. no, and fuck those guys. i could just taste it earlier. the sour cherry’s not bad but the sugar in this decade tastes weird.”

“the rim is the best part, what the hell?”

“your palate is deranged.”

“you eat pickled fish, jackass.”

“fifteen minutes early. what a schlep.”

“kvetch.” 

“vete a la chingada.”

“don’t i have you for that now?”

“jesus, dude, we’re at a wedding.” 

“funny. so, bar?”

“you have blood all over your cuffs.” 

“like anyone’ll notice. dude, you know they do 360s on ice in this decade?”

“no shit.”

“yeah, right?”

“why the hell are we still standing around not drinking?”

“viv is going to be so mad she missed this.”

“good for her. i’m still pissed about the fucking plath thing.”

“oh, my god, dude. you’re such a hypocrite.”

“name one time-”

“seriously? abbie hoffman?”

“fuck you.”

“holy shit, i think i see my aunt again.”

“are you kidding me? is she part-K9?”

“you’re supposed to be cute about it and kiss me again.”

“i’m not going to be cute about it, i hate that woman. you kiss me since you want to be so cute.”

luckily for the both of them, joa has bad taste. he complies.

[general-rusty]

Hazbin AU Swap

Alastor the host to hell's 6th most popular radio station, out got of him apartment to see the ruins from his balcony. He clears his throat and started to sing.

Chasing Happiness ♪ At the end of the journey there's happiness ♪ ♪ And to find it, how often I’ve tried ♪ ♪ But my life is a race ♪ ♪ Just a wild goose chase ♪ ♪ And my hopes, they were just a lie♪ ♪ Why have I always been a failure ♪ ♪ What could the reason be ♪ ♪ I wonder if the world's to blame ♪ ♪ I wonder if it could be me ♪ ♪ I'm always looking for hope♪ ♪ searching them with my tears♪ ♪ My schemes are just like all my dreams ♪ ♪ Ending every year♪ ♪ Some fellows look and find the sunshine ♪ ♪ I always look and find the rain ♪ ♪ Some fellows make a winning sometime ♪ ♪ I never even make the game ♪ ♪ Believe me ♪ ♪ I'm always looking for hope♪ ♪ Waiting to find the happiness♪ ♪ In vain ♪

In the streets of Hell

A Demon falls from the sky and lands on the ground. "Oh, I’m alive. I’m alive!" He said

A motorcycle runs him over and stop to drop off a leatherjacket wearing Niffty. "Heh. Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff." A male raccoon demon said.

"Yeah, yeah, listen. Keep this discreet, hear me? I can’t let it get out I’m offering my services to creeps on the street. It was a quick cash grab, ya got it?" Niffty said

The Raccoon scoffs, "Whatever you say, slut!" He laughs

"Ouch, ooh, such an insult!  Let me know when you come up with something creative to call me you sack of poorly packaged horse shit. Tell the mrs' I said hi. Schnookums." Niffty quipped

The motorcycle rides off

Niffty brush the dust off of herself. A hooded demon grab the cash out of Niffty's hand "Yoink!"

"Hey!" Niffty shouted

"Up yours, midget!" The hooded demon shouted. A rock falls onto the hooded demon.

Niffty gasps, "Oh my god! My money! Dang it!" She shouted

Up on Ms Cherri's ship.

"HAHAHA! THOSE WEAK SINNERS WONT DARE TOUCH MY TERRITORY OF DESTRUCTION! A WISE DECISION, THE POWER OF MY EXPLOSIVES ARE UNMATCHED! NOW ONE, ONE COULD COMPARE TO THE LIKENESS OF I!" Ms Cherri laughed. Cherri now wears a ugly red pantsuit.

"Gee, that is pretty good, boss!" One of Cherri's cherryboi yuppie minions said

"Yeah! You really showed them what for!" another Cherryboi said

"I loved it when you blow them up them with your grenade launcher." said a Cherryboi

"I wish she’d shoot me with her grenade launcher." cried a Cherryboi

Another Cherryboy pat his Cherrybrother's back.

"IN A FEW DAYS ILL DESTROY THE ENTIRE EAST SIDE OF THE PENTAGRAM! HELL WILL BE RUINED! AND EVERY ONE WILL FEAR THE NAME OF MS. CH-" Ms Cherri yelled.

"SSSLUT!" A wise guy shouted.

"DAFUQ!? WHO SAID THAT! WHAT DID YOU SAID SHITTY EXCUSE FOR A FRUIT!? SPEAK THE FUCK UP!" Cherri threatened.

A explosive egg bot was YEETED through the windshield and explodes in front of everyone.

Pentious now in patches and his top hat is a now flat cap, jumps through the hole in the windshield, "You looking for a fight, filthy whore? why won't you take your little whore house nonsense of my territory before I sssmasssh it." a support beam falls on to a cherryboi. "more..." Pentious threatened.

"OH YOU WANNA GO GRANDPA!? I HOPE YOU LIKE GUNPOWDER BECAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU WILL GET!" Cherri shouted while her Cherrybois surround Pentious.

The morning report. Two demons were at the desk. A oppressive suited man with white combed to the side hair and a gasmask for a face. And a frail white blonde woman with red eyes. "Good afternoon! I’m Tommy Trench." Tommy announced.

"And I’m Kate Killjoy. Chaos at a pentagram city today as a turf war is raging on the east side. Between notable Queen pin Ms Cherri Bomb and self-proclaimed wise guy Pentious." Kate reported.

"That’s right Kate! After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!" Tommy reported.

"Those two seem to really be going at it, huh?" Kate repiled.

"Looks like they’re fighting tooth and nail for that hot spot!" Tommy pulls a tooth and nail out of the mug, place them on the desk, and smash them with his fist.

"And I’d sure love to get my hot spot nailed by him." Kate giggles.

Tommy chuckles, "You sure are a big pussy whore, Kate. Or should I say-" Tommy pours coffee onto Kate's crotch -Burnt Pussy."

"Not again!" Kate cried. Kate curled up in pain.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the host of Hell’s 6th most popular radio, who’s here to discuss his brand-new passion project! All that and more, after the break!" Tommy crushes the mug. "Suck it up you little bi-"

Backstage.

Alastor now a lot more tender and tweak like, and Husk which is wearing a withered red and black leisure suit. "Okay. You remember what to say?" Husk ask.

Alastor took a deep breath. "Okay! Let’s do this!"

"Look at me, and I’ll mouth it to you." Husk said.

"Come on, Husker! I know all of the currant slang terms! I just feel like we need to- I don’t know, make things sound more glamour and darb-" Alastor gasp, "Oh! What if I-"

"-sing a song about it?" Husk said.

Alastor chuckles, "You knew I was gonna say that."

"Because you're like a book. But please don’t fucking sing. This is serious." Husk stated

"Well you know, I’m better at expressing myself and my goals through song! It's my job after all." Alastor said.

"But this isn’t like the radio, Al." Husk

"Okay I’ll just have to resort to my impeccable improve skills." Alastor said with a southern bell accent.

Now with Tommy Trench.

Alastor walks up to Tommy. "Hi! I’m Alastor." holds out his hand.

"Tommy Trench." Tommy drops the cigarette and stomps on it. "I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that's a horseshit lie. You can put that away." Alastor pulls his hand back. "I don’t touch the mixes. I have standards."

"Yeah? How’s uh- how’s that working out for ya?" Alastor asked while a support beam falls down onto a crewman. "Can someone help me!" the crewman screamed in pain.

"Look, my time is money, so I’ll keep this short. We’re not here because we wanted you here, you’re here because Rodney couldn’t make it for his dating show."

Alastor looked past Tommy's shoulder to see Kate rolling her eyes.

"You might be some radio bigshot, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I’m too rich and too influential to give a flying fuck about what some tux-wearing F list radio host wants to advertise." Tommy got into Alastor's face.

"But I-" Alastor stuttered.

"-So don’t get funny with me buddy, or I will fucking end you." Tommy threatened.

"And we’re live!" A crewman shouted.

Tommy ran back to his seat and Alastor walks to his seat. "Welcome back! So, Alex-" Alastor interrupts, "It’s Alastor."

"Whatever. Tell us about this new passion project you’ve been insistently pestering our news station about!" Tommy grips the handgun in his jacket.

Alastor clears his throat, "As most of you know, I have been here in Hell since 1933, and if you remember life wasn't easy back then, but as you can see life is a lot worse here than it was there. I always tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home, and you are my people. We-" Tommy shoots a bug with that handgun. Blood splashes onto Alastor's face. "We just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence! So, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through… redemption? Well I think yes. So that’s what this project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!" Alastor announce.

...

"Y’know? ‘Cause hotels are for people passing through… temporarily."

In a dive bar in the hick part of hell. A bear demon laughes, "Is this guy for real? He thinks, you hear what this city boy thinks? he-' short laugh "-Oh, he’s nuts."

The camera man spoke up. "Stupid nig-"

Husk uppercuts the camera man.

"Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do. Maybe I’m not getting through to you." Alastor said

Husk sighs "Oh no."

Alastor snaps his fingers to bring his jazz band in.

♪ We have a dream ♪ ♪ We wish to tell ♪ ♪ And it’s just ball ♪ ♪ ‘Cause you’re one of a kind ♪ ♪ A charming demon belle! ♪ ♪ Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell ♪ ♪ (Take it, boys!) ♪ ♪ (Boo!) ♪ ♪ Inside of every demon is a cause ♪ ♪ We’ll dress ‘em up and give them a smile! ♪ ♪ (With a smile!) ♪ ♪ And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool ♪ ♪ With some old redemption flair ♪ ♪ And show these guys some proper class and style! ♪ ♪ (What’s in style?) ♪ ♪ (Oh!) ♪ ♪ Here below the ground ♪ ♪ I’m sure your plan is sound!  ♪ ♪ They’ll spend a little time ♪ ♪ Down at this Happy Ho-- ♪

Random demon: "Shut the fuck up! That is shit!"

Everyone laughs uncontrollably.

"What in the nine circles makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good just… because?" Tommy and Kate laughs.

"Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause, and she’s shown incredible progress!" Alastor shouted

"Oh? And who might that be?" Tommy asked.

"Oh, just someone named… Niffty." Alastor replied.

"The porn star?" Kate asked.

Tommy slowly turns around pointing that handgun at Kate. "You fucking would, Kate." Tommy turns back around. "In any case, that’s not even an accomplishment. I’m sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube."

"Oh, I beg to differ. She’s been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for 2 weeks now." Alastor replied.

"Breaking news!" Shouted a crewman

Tommy pushed Alastor away. "We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let’s go to the live feed!"

Shows Niffty kicking Cherryboi ass.

"Di Mi!." Alastor whispered.

"Dee Me indeed! It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than-" gasp "-porn actress Niffty! What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid right now." Tommy said

Tommy and Kate laugh. "Ratings!"

Alastor gasped, "Don’t look at this!" He tried to hid the window on the greenscreen.

"Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival. Tell us, how does it feel to be such a total failure?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah? Well- how does it feel that I got your pen, huh? Dick?!" Alastor shouted.

Tommy went silent.

Alastor nervously laughs, "Sorry." Put the pen back.

Kate runs away while Tommy got the flamethrower

Back in the streets

"Hey thanks for the backup, Niffts!" Pentious shouted.

"You kiddin'? This is the best action I've seen in ages!" Niffty replied.

Pentious throws a egg bomb. "Where have you been anyways? I thought you died or something."

"Oh I wish! I've been staying at this dirty hotel on the other side of town. Some guys let me stay rent free if I play nice His words, not mine. These assholes are no fun! I’ve been clean for two weeks!" Niffty answered.

"Holy crap." Pentious replied.

"Well, sorta clean. As clean as you can get with a shitload of Bolivian marching powder." Niffty replied.

Cherri whips and ties Niffty up in a vine.

"Oh, harder mommy!" Niffty moaned.

Cherri gasp, "Daughter?!"

Niffty raise the brow in a "Da fuck?" way.

"You douches have no style! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most style." Cherri pop her collar up.

"Or the side that ain’t 6 feet under." Pentious replied.

"Speaking of style, what's up with the colors, it's red this and red that. Is it that time of the month?" Pentious quipped.

"Oh, well, that’s none of your goddamn business, now is it?" Cherri shouted.

"Oh yeah we're not suppose to talk about that." Niffty quipped.

"I’m going to blow you to bits!" Cherri threatened.

"Hm! Kinky!" Niffty quipped.

"Oh, not like that! creep!" Cherri replied.

Cherriyboi shoots at Niffty with a vine net gun.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" Cherri threatened.

"Y’know, you really gotta watch what comes out of your mouth. I’ve been making these sex jokes the whole-" Cherri pulls out a smg "-TIME! And it’s obvious ya ain’t catchin’ on-" Niffty kicks Cherri, takes her gun and shoots at the Cherryboi. "-I mean, it’s just SAD!

"So think you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble for this?" Pentious asked.

"Eh, what’s one little brawl gonna cause?" Niffty asked.

Back in the newsroom.

Alastor and Tommy are going at it fisticuffs, while the flamethrower is blowing fire to the right of the desk.

Kate runs into view of the camera while on fire. "Why won’t anyone help me?!" She screams.

Back in the streets. "Glad ya haven’t changed. You know you’re my favorite gal to party with!" Pentious shouted.

"You know it, you slimy snake. You ready to finish this?" Niffty asked.

"Hell yeah, baby." Pentious answered.

Niffty, Pentious, Ms Cherri, CherryBois, Alastor, Tommy, and Kate yelling in a 4 screen split.

In the Limo driving to the hotel Niffty was playing with the window

Husk carving a wooden steak and giving Niffty the death stare.

Niffty looks up to Husk, "What?"

"What? What?! What were you fucking doing?!" Husk shouted.

Niffty sighs, "Look I owed my snake buddy a solid! Isn’t that a “redeeming quality"? Helping pals with stuff?" Niffty shouted.

"Not with turf wars that result in genocide!" Husk shouted.

"Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred, plus didn't you caused a Genocide." Niffty snickers.

Husk throws the wooden steak at Niffty which pierced throw the window.

"Aw come on, I had to! My credibility was on the line-" Niffty sighs "-I mean, what kind of reputation would I have if people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona."

"Your credibility? What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like fucking clowns!" Husk shouted.

"No no no, hon. Clowns are funny! I made you look… uh, sad! And pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms, or legs… Uh… oh, with progeria! Great! Now I’m bummed thinking about it! This thing have any liquor?" Niffty asked.

"Can you please just try to take this seriously?" Husk asked.

"Fine, I’ll try, just don’t bitch to your mother while you're fucking her." Niffty quipped.

"What was that you trying to be?" Husk got up and pulled out his knife.

"Whatever pisses you off the most. Is there seriously no liquor in here?!" Niffty shouted.

"I’m gonna kill her." Husk sat back down.

"Too late, hon. Wait, would that make me double dead? And where exactly do I go, to double Hell? Sorry, you’re stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it." Niffty laughs.

"Fucking bitch!" Husk mumbled.

"Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt? Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down here." Niffty said.

"You’re one to talk." Husk quipped.

"Hey! This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me, and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!" Niffty pulls out a letter with stains.

"That was really not swell y’know, Niffty" Alastor said.

"Not Sweel?! After that trainwreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel. All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!" Husk shouted.

"Does that mean I don’t have a free room anymore?" Niffty asked.

Husk pulls the knife out again.

"Ah, well, shucks." Niffty snaps.

"Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Husker. It’ll be okay!" Alastor reassured.

At the Happy Hotel

The three open the door. Husk sat down on to the couch to look at his hands, his mind goes back to the war.

Niffty went to the fridge to get a beer. "It’s probably a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here." Niffty laughed, but then it became nervous laughter, and then she just stops.

Alastor went out to talk to his boss. "Hey Boss. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must want that kale paid back. But um, the interview isn't sitting pretty and... I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Boss. I think you're right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets long." Alastor went back in.

A knock to the tune of Come On Eileen was on the door.

Alastor opens the door to see Charlie in her demon form.

"Hell-"

Alastor slams the door, and then open it again to see if he just saw that.

-o."

Alastor slams the door again. "Hey Husker?

"What?!" Husk asked.

"The Musical Demon is at the door!" Alastor nervously answered.

"Holy shit what?!" Husk drops the knife.

"Uh, who?" Niffty asked

"What should I do?" Alastor asked.

"Well, don’t let that bitch in!" Husk shouted

Alastor slowly opens the door.

"May I speak now?" Charlie asked.

"You may-" Alastor said.

"Charlie, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure. Excuse my visit, but I saw your riot on news and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance! Why, I haven’t been that entertained since the Great White show of 2003. Ah so many bodies." Charlie introduced

"Stop right there!" Husk pointed a M16 at Charlie. "I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you spunky, quirky, musical harlot!" Husk threatened.

Charlie laughs slightly, "Hon, if I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already...." spooky demonic stuff pops up and then goes away. "No, I’m here because I want to help!"

"Say what now?" Alastor asked.

"Help!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Um, you want to help?" Alastor asked.

"With this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do! This hotel! I want to help you run it." Charlie exclaimed.

"Uh… why?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades! My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!"

"Does getting into a fist fight with a upstage reporter count as entertainment?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Absolutely, it's reality.  After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!"

"So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?" Alastor asked.

Charlie laughs, "Ha no. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners! The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this! There is no undoing what is done!"

"So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?" Alastor asked.

"Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure." Charlie stated.

"Right?" Alastor nervously asked.

"Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I…" Charlie exclaimed.

With Husk and Niffty.

"Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?" Niffty asked.

"Wait, you’ve never heard of her before? You’ve been here longer than me!" Husk shouted.

"Only for a decade." Niffty replied.

"The Musical Demon, one of the most powerful fuckers Hell has ever seen?" Husk stated.

"Eh, not big on politics." Niffty answered.

"Some fuckin' time ago, Charlie was let out of Lucifer's castle she rampaged the fuck out of everything and then she started podcasting her carnage through fucking songs people started calling her, the music demon.. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Strange song and dense numbers would play on the radio paired with terrifying screams and cries for help. She'd force victims to join in and those who wouldn't or couldn't got the worst of it. Sinners started calling her the Musical Demon. (How fucking original!) Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled her to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: She’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos the likes of which we can’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased." Husk annoyingly exclaims.

"Bash ears much?" Niffty silently laughs, "She looks like a cinnamon roll princess!"

"Well, I don’t trust her!" Husk spat.

"To be fair, do you trust anyone?" Niffty asked. "Anyone."

Husk went to Alastor.

"Al, man, listen to me. You can’t believe this girl! She isn’t just a happy face! She’s a dealmaker, pure evil! She's Lucifer's daughter! She can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do. And we don't want that." Husk stated.

"I know she’s bad, and I know she probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t.  It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in. I would be like them back then. Just trust me. I can take care of myself." Alastor stated.

"Alastor, whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!" Shouted.

"Don’t worry, I picked up one thing from them. “Ya don’t take shit from rich folk!”  Okay, so… Charlotte. You’re sketchy, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached." Alastor nervously said.

"So it’s a deal then?" Charlie asked.

Alastor takes a gulp before he shakes her burning hot hands. Her hand burns Alastor's hand like a hot stove. Alastor cries in pain.

Charlie let go of Alastor hand and went to Husk.

Alastor went to the fridge to get something to cool his hand.

"Smile, my boy! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!" Charlie stated. "So where is your hotel staff?" She asked.

"Uh, well…" Alastor points to Husk and Niffty with his good hand.

Husk growls.

"Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that." Charlie stated.

"And what can you do you quirky cutie?" Charlie asked Niffty.

"I can finger you to heaven." Niffty replied.

"Maybe not..." Charlie said.

"Your loss." Niffty stated.

"Well this just won’t do! I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!" Charlie snaps, which cleans the fireplace and light up a fire in it. Charlie then pulled out a tall and dark demon from the fireplace. Charlie then shake it a little to get rid of the soot which reveals our white and pink Spider Boi Angel Dust.

"This tall friend is Angel!" Charlie said.

"Hello, my name is angel, it been along time since I saw any guy... IS ANYONE HERE GAY!? sorry, that was rude... OH MY! this place is disgusting, it really need the fabulous touch, which is weird cause I'm sure at least one of you is gay..." Angel went all around the room with his 6 arms cleaning and remodeling everything.

Charlie snaps again.

A gray female demon was at a bar talking to a male demon, "Okay that will be $50 for a hand- wohhhhhh" All kinds of demonic shit goes around Vaggie "¿Que demonios?" Vaggie notices Charlie, "YOU!"

"Veggie sweat heart glad you could make it!" Charlie exclaims and then hugs

"Don't you veggie me! I was working!" Vaggie pushed Charlie away.

"Good to see you to!" Charlie laughed

"What do you want?" Vaggie asked.

"Well sweaty I'm doing some charity work and I took it upon my self to volunteer your Service!" Charlie answered.

"Are you joking!?" Vaggie asked.

"No, I don't think so! I thought you could be the new face of this fine establishment!"  Charlie points to a pole. "With your fine smile and "past experience" this job was made for you!" Charlie stated.

"IM AINT DOING NO CHAIRTY WORK DO I LOOK LIKE SOME KIND OF A FUCKING JOKE!?" Vaggie shouted.

"Maybe, but don't worry,I can make it more rewarding, if you wish." Charlie projects all of the cute good times they had back then.

"What!? you can think you can buy me with a wink and some good memories!? Well you can!" Vaggie got up to the stage

"Hey hey, heyheyhey! NO! No pole dancing we're meant to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of… casino, brothel, man-cave-" Husk ranted.

Niffty jumps on Husk. "Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this." Niffty pointed to Vaggie. "Hey." Niffty flirted to Vaggie

"¡Vete a la mierda!" Vaggie said.

"Sounds sexy." Niffty flirted.

Alastor went up the the stage, "Hello there my scantily dressed friend! Welcome to this fine or at least with your help soon to be fine hotel!" Alastor introduced himself.

"I lost the ability to love years ago, so unless you got cash you're not worth my time." Vaggie stated.

"So, what do you think?" Charlie asked.

"This is the Bees Knees!" Alastor bellowed.

"It’s… fine." Husk stated.

Charlie went in for a hug with Alastor and Husk, "This is going to be very fun!" Charlie clears her throat and push Husk away. ♪ You have a dream ♪ ♪ You wish to tell ♪ ♪ And it’s just laughable ♪ ♪ But hey sir, what the hell! ♪ ♪ ‘Cause you’re one of a kind ♪ ♪ A charming pal! ♪ ♪ Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell ♪ ♪ Inside of every demon is a waste ♪ ♪ But we’ll dress ‘em up for now with just a smile! ♪ ♪ And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool ♪ ♪ With some old redemption flair ♪ ♪ And show these simpletons some proper class and style! ♪ ♪ Here below the ground ♪ ♪ I’m sure your plan is sound!  ♪ ♪ They’ll spend a little time ♪ ♪ Down at this Hazbin Ho-- ♪

A explosion outside blast the door off and hit Angel.

Everyone walked out to see what was happening

"Ha! Well well well, look who it is harboring the musical freak! We meet yet again, Charlie!" Cherri shouted.

"Do I know you?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, yes you do! And this time, I have the element of- surprise!" Cherri maniacal laughs "I’m so evil!"

Charlie snaps to bring up her goat goons to destroy the ship.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa!" Cherri started to scream as the goats started to destroy her ship and murder her Cherrybois.

Two of the goats grab Cherri and threw her at the wall. "Oh, that hurt!" Cherri screams.

The Goats took control of the ship and pilot it into the cracks where they came from.

The ship explodes when it got into the crack.

"Well I’m starved! Who wants some cake? My father once showed me a wonderful recipe for cake! In fact, they named it after him! You could say the kick was right out of Hell! Yes sir, this is the start of some real changes down here!" Charlie laughes

"The show starts! Now... Stay tuned." Charlie snaps changing the sign from, "Happy." to "Hazbin."

[spaceskam]

for @youaremyworldlois ❤️️

ao3

“Do you wanna come stay with me? There’s room.”

“No, no, I don’t wanna get your dad sick on accident.”

“Okay,” Liz said skeptically, “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know, thank you, but I think it’ll be fine,” Alex sighed. 

He was huddled in bed, trying not to pout too much about the situation for the last week. Starting Monday, classes would be solely online which sucked since he was a guitar major and there were few things more anxiety-inducing than being in a small apartment and practicing for hours on end. However, it was only made worse by the fact that he was stuck with his stupidly hot roommate that apparently didn’t have anywhere to go home to either.

“Stay safe, love you!” Liz told him.

“Love you too.”

The call ended and forced Alex to see that it was already 2PM and he hadn’t gotten out of bed. He decided to climb out of bed and face reality. He put on pants and a shirt, knowing damn well his roommate would probably be roaming around. He wasn’t even sure that guy even slept.

For the first two years of college, Alex had lived in a dorm with random guys that always made him uncomfortable. He hated living with strangers in just one room with no semblance of privacy, especially when he had no idea what they would do if they knew their roommate was gay. Then, whenever dorms would close, he would have to couch hop since there was no way he could go back home. 

So, after his sophomore year, he started looking into off-campus apartments. He had a good amount of money saved up and all he had to do was find a roommate. It proved harder than expected because Liz already lived with her boyfriend and Maria lived back home, so he had to actually look for someone he could be comfortable with.

That’s when he found Michael.

Or, actually, Liz found Michael. He was her boyfriend’s brother and apparently a genius that doubled as a giant puppy. He was in a frat and had lived in his frat house for a while before deciding to move out so he could focus better in school. They’d met and Alex had laid out all his concerns and Michael had taken them all in stride, happily agreeing to whatever as long as he had a place to rest his head.

They’d been living together for about six months by the time schools were beginning to shut down and, the closer it got to when UNM would be closing, the more Alex got anxious. Living together for six months didn’t actually mean they hung out ever. Most days, they never even saw each other and he could count the number of conversations outside of ‘I’m going to the store, you need anything?’ on one hand.

But now, according to the fucking CDC, he was going to be stuck alone with him for the foreseeable future.

“Good morning,” Michael said, not even looking his way when Alex stepped out of his bedroom.

“Is it morning?” Alex asked. Michael looked up from whatever the hell he was doing at the coffee table and smiled.

“For you it is,” he answered happily.

That was another thing about Michael. He was so painfully heterosexual that he didn’t seem to have any idea what the hell that smile could do to someone like Alex who basically fell in love with any guy who gave him attention. It was the worst and it would the main reason Alex had no problem keeping his distance from him.

“So, quarantine,” Alex hummed, looking in their newly stocked kitchen for something to eat. He decided on toast and popped two slices of bread in the toaster. “Are you, like, gonna go home?” Alex already figured the answer was no since he didn’t go anywhere to Christmas, but he figured he should ask.

“Nah,” Michael said, “You?”

“Nope,” Alex answered, “So I guess we’re stuck together.”

Michael gave that overwhelming little smirk and licked his lips, cocking his head in Alex’s direction. “I guess we are.”

Alex turned to face the toaster and tried to think of how he was going to survive like this. Why did he have to be so hot and so straight at the same time? It just wasn’t fair.

When Alex had first met him, he’d thought that maybe he wasn’t straight. It was just a vibe he gave off and the way he sat in his chair. However, when he asked Liz about it, she’d basically laughed and said he was the straightest guy she knew. Then, when Alex inevitably let him know that he was gay, Michael just said ‘cool’ instead of coming out as anything other than straight. It was even further confirmed whenever he’d text Alex to make sure it was okay to bring a girl over. Which, that only happened about six times, but still. All girls. Straight, straight, straight.

Not like he’d have a chance anyway.

“What exactly are you doing?” Alex asked, holding a napkin under his toast as he walked towards the living room. Might as well get used to talking to him.

“A puzzle,” Michael answered. However, when Alex got closer, he saw what looked like the base of a miniature house.

“That is not a puzzle,” Alex laughed. Michael laughed right alongside him.

“Yes, it is! 3-D puzzle, it’s a replica of the Neuschwanstein Castle.”

“The what?”

“Sorry, did I pronounce that wrong? I didn’t Google it.”

“I have no fuckin’ idea,” Alex said, shaking his head. Michael gestured for him to sit on the other side of the coffee table.

“Wanna build it with me? Maybe we can actually bond for once?” he suggested. Alex huffed a small laugh and agreed, carefully sitting down across from him and placing his toast on the napkin on the table. “So, Alex, you come here often?”

“Is that how we’re gonna bond? Because I think I might have to go back to my room.”

“No, stay,” Michael laughed, “Help me build this thing.”

So Alex did. It was kind of weird actually spending time with him, but it turns out Michael wasn’t so bad for a straight guy. He was funny and a whole lot better at building than Alex was. 

When the castle was halfway built, Alex felt a socked foot graze his calf. Every hair on his body stood up in alert, eyeing Michael in shock only to see him straight up steal the rest of his toast by shoving the entire thing in his mouth.

“Did you just eat my toast?” Alex scoffed. He was actually pretty thankful for the distraction because he would’ve hyperfixated on that little touch for hours. Who was he kidding? He was going to do that anyway.

“You haven’t touched it for five whole minutes,” Michael said, his cheek puffed out and stuffed with bread, Alex laughed, genuinely laughed.

“What is wrong with you? Were you never taught manners?”

“No,” Michael answered innocently. Which, honestly, just made them both laugh harder. “Also I lived in a frat house with, like, 10 other guys for two years. We consume or we die. You’re, like, the cleanest and most respectful guy I’ve ever lived with.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Want me to make you some more toast?” Michael offered. Alex smiled and tried not to become too obsessed with his charm, shaking his head.

“No, but I will take you up on a pot of coffee.”

“On it!” Micahel said, standing to his feet and showing that he was in nothing but a ratty old t-shirt and tight boxer briefs and socks with little koalas on them. Alex tried—and failed—not to watch him walk to the kitchen area and slide on his socks towards the coffee maker.

This was going to be a long couple of weeks.

-

“Hey, I hate to be that fuckhead, but could you turn your music down? I have a lesson.” 

“No problem,” Michael said, turning his music down. Alex gave him a thankful smile and then quickly went to go to his online guitar lesson at his setup in his room.

He had his sheet music in front of him on his stand and his laptop propped up beside it, easily connecting whenever his professor started the video call.

It was weird, trying to take notes and adequately tweak them via video. He was used to being shown in person how to correct his finger placement or his posture. This was just... He wanted to go back to normal.

“Keep up the good work,” Dr. V said. Alex could tell, though, that he was just as irritated with the lack of hands-on teaching. Working with one teacher one on one really created a close bond of trust and familiarity. Alex could fuck up with Dr. V and not even think twice about it. They were like family.

And now it was fucking weird.

“I sent you scans of that more contemporary piece considering it’s less crucial for you to work on your performance pieces. Have fun with it, play around, show me what you come up with next lesson,” Dr. V added before saying his goodbye’s. Thankfully, that was Alex’s last class of the day.

“You’re really good.”

Alex nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened his bedroom door to see Michael loitering a few steps away. He looked like he’d been there for a while.

"Were you standing there the whole time?”

“Huh? No, I, uh, I was gonna ask what you wanted for dinner and then I heard you were still playing, so I was waiting so I wouldn’t interrupt you. And, well, you’re really good,” Michael said, his fingers tapping against his thigh as he rose up on his toes and dropped back down. His curls sprung with the movement.

“Thank you,” Alex said, trying to smile despite the fact that made him uncomfortable. As stupid as it was, he didn’t really like having random people hear him play. It was different when he was actually performing. Whoever was there came to see him and wanted to hear him. But, like this, it felt like he was simply being annoying.

“You know, I always wanted to play guitar,” Michael said, biting down on his lip just a little bit and Alex had to wonder why the hell he deserved that.

“I mean,” Alex started, looking around before being forced to look back at Michael due to the lack of scenery, “Maybe I can show you a thing or two sometime? I don’t just know classical.”

Michael split into a happy grin and bounced on his toes one more time. “Sounds super fun.”

“So,” Alex said, “Dinner?”

Michael blinked a couple times as if suddenly realizing where the conversation had originated. It was the cutest thing.

“Oh, right.”

-

“We need to do this more often, I think it’d help my fucked eating schedule.”

“Well, we can, if you want.”

“Cool,” Michael said all happily. They were making breakfast together like some sort of domestic couple, bustling around the kitchen to concoct something edible. Eggs, toast, and apparently Michael also needed waffles with those things. 

Alex got to work on the toast and waffles while Michael made the eggs.

“Don’t put any pepper in mine, please, pepper makes me wanna gag,” Alex mentioned. Michael gave him a bewildered look.

“Says the guy who put, like, an absurd amount of Tony’s on his fried rice,” Michael scoffed. Alex grinned. He remembered that?

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Is it really?” Michael asked. Alex laughed and swatted in his direction. Michael grabbed his arm instinctually and tugged him closer. It caught Alex so off guard that all he could do was stare with wide eyes. Eventually, Michael seemed to realize that was a little fucking weird and let go, taking a step back. “Do you want me to put Tony’s on your eggs?”

“Yes, please,” Alex said, clearing his throat in an attempt to not sound like that was weird. Which, it was weird. And absolutely not at all good for him brain that seemed to think Michael was more and more lovable each day.

A couple minutes later, Michael got his attention again.

“Try this, tell me if it’s enough,” he said, holding up a fork with scrambled eggs on it. Alex looked between it and Michael’s eyes a few times before realizing he was just going to feed it to him. Is this what they did at the frat house? He would really like to know.

But, instead of questioning it, Alex opened his mouth and let Michael feed him the bite.

“Good?” Michael asked, smiling all proud of himself. Alex almost forgot what he was asking about.

“Yeah. So good.”

-

“I’m gonna go insane.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Alex hissed, covering himself with his blanket to try and stifle his words despite the fact that Michael was taking a shower and couldn’t hear him, “He’s so fucking cute and nice. Who allowed him to be both? It’s a goddamn crime.”

“Alex, his niceness is why you let him be your roommate in the first place,” Liz pointed out with a laugh.

“Yeah, so?” Alex groaned, “It’s overwhelming. Do you know what he does for fun? Puzzles. And then, last night I guess he ran out of puzzles, because I woke up at, like, three in the morning to get water and he was building a house of cards. Not just a house, a fucking castle. What the fuck is that? Why am I attracted to someone who builds card castles?”

Liz laughed even louder, “Alex, maybe it’s the quarantine. I mean, you’re stuck with him, so you’re bound to catch some feelings because they have nowhere else to go.”

“Okay, but he’s a straight guy that I once saw wash his hair in the kitchen sink on one side and defrost chicken on the other.”

“Ew,” Liz said.

“I know! And yet I look at him and want to put my head through a wall to stop feeling like a pile of goo,” he groaned, “Sometimes I think he is just instigating it.”

“What do you mean?”

“A couple mornings ago, he pulled me close to him and fed me a bite of eggs. Like, who does that? The more I think about it, the more I think he’s messing with me,” Alex whined. Liz was silent for a moment.

“Michael isn’t the type of guy to just, like, mess with people. Especially not his roommate,” she said cautiously. Alex didn’t know what to respond. “Maybe ask him not to do stuff like that? Ask him not to lead you on?”

“Okay, but I’m not going to ask him not to lead me on because then he’ll think I like him,” Alex argued.

“But you do.”

“But he doesn’t know that!”

“Hey, Alex?!” Michael called from the other room, very quickly making Alex panic about what he could’ve overheard.

“Yeah?!” Alex yelled back.

“Can you get me a towel from the dryer?! I washed them to take a shower and then I forgot!” he called. Alex gulped hard and looked upwards, letting out a quiet, strained noise.

“Yeah, gimme one second!” he yelled, “Okay, Liz, I gotta go, He needs me to get him a towel.”

“Seriously, Alex, you need to ask him—“

“Nope, bye! Talk to you later,” Alex said, hanging up before she could try to pressure him into having an adult conversation.

Instead, he went and fetched a towel and then knocked on Michael’s bathroom door. The door opened only a few inches, but it was enough to see a soaking wet body that was tanned and covered in chest hair and Alex realized he was beyond help.

Instead of risking saying anything embarrassing, he just held out the towel. Michael flashed a smile, a ringlet already forming against his forehead that dripped water onto his nose. How was he even real?

“Thank you,” Michael said, winking before he closed the door again.

Alex decided then and there that it had to just be hormones. He was going stir-crazy with nothing but hormones and a hot guy. That’s it. Because there was no goddamn way he looked that good. Alex had to be exaggerating in his head.

He just fucking had to.

-

“Okay, you promised me over a week ago that you’d teach me some things on the guitar and you still haven’t.”

“Okay, okay, come here,” Alex said. Michael smiled like a kid in a candy store and bounced on his toes before meeting Alex on the couch. 

Alex had been a little bit better about keeping his distance and giving himself a reality check daily after the amount of wet skin he’d seen during the shower incident. That was really only two days ago, but still. He was reminding himself that he only felt so attracted to him because he had no other choice in the moment or something. Now, however, that was hard to remember when he was sitting so close.

Still, Alex handed over his guitar. Michael looked at him expectantly. It was almost too much to handle.

“Okay, so these things are called frets and the strings are numbered one through six going from this end to this end,” Alex said, pointing at what he was talking about. Michael nodded along. “Okay, so put your index finger on the first fret, second string. Middle finger on the second fret, fourth string. Ring finger, third fret, fifth string.”

Michael slowly did just that. When Alex reached to adjust his finger and hand placement, he let him. He listened well and molded to whatever Alex suggested.

“Okay, now strum,” Alex told him, listening to the sound it made, “And that’s C Major.”

“Oh, shit,” Michael laughed. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes.

For the next few minutes, Alex walked him through chords: A minor, G Major, F Major, the basics. He explained how to hold the neck of the guitar so it wouldn’t cramp up his hand and how to not press down too hard, but also not too light to get the best sound out of it. They walked through them and switching chords. Alex explained how it got easier with time and with calluses. 

“And now basically you can play 90% of pop songs,” Alex said. Michael’s eyes went wide and he laughed.

“What?”

“Yeah, most pop music is made up of just those four chords or variations of them. Sorry to disappoint,” Alex told him. Michael shook his head.

“Show me another one,” he asked. 

“Okay,” Alex agreed. He leaned a bit close again, talking and guiding Michael through the finger placement for D Major. But then Michael moved his hand off the body of the guitar and to Alex’s cheek, leaning.

For a moment, Alex was frozen and feeling more confused than he had in a long time.

“Sorry, do you not want to?” Michael asked after a few seconds of kissing Alex and Alex just not kissing back.

Logically, Alex should’ve explained that he was confused. He should’ve said that he thought Michael was straight and that, if he was indeed straight, he shouldn’t be doing this because this was mean. He should’ve been an adult. 

But he had been stuck alone with him for three weeks and all sense of logic seemed to fly out the window.

Alex moved the guitar to the coffee table with one hand and grabbed Michael’s neck with the other. He pulled him in for a much more heedless kiss that the first one. Michael made a soft noise of approval as his hands went to pull Alex closer by his hips.

Things moved fast. If it were a normal circumstance or a normal situation, Alex would’ve thought it was too fast. But this wasn’t normal and Alex couldn’t contain himself. He’d been thinking about this for days. Weeks. Probably even months.

He let Michael kiss down his neck, he helped strip them both down, he happily melted when he was finally being touched by someone that wasn’t himself.

He enjoyed every second.

-

Alex wished his horny brain had warned him that the next morning would feel weird.

He woke up first and laid there, frozen on the couch for thirty minutes because he was too scared to moved. Michael was laying on top of him partially, his head on his chest and his thigh draped against his hips. It was the first time Alex had ever actually seen him sleep and so he was too nervous to wake him.

In that hour, though, he was able to plan what he was going to say. He was going to assure him that it didn’t mean anything and that things happen. It was just circumstances. They could still be roommates. Going down on a guy didn’t make anyone gay. He had it all planned and fully expected a breakdown the moment Michael woke up and realized what happened. 

Only, again, he couldn’t have predicted what actually happened.

Michael woke up slowly, shifting a little bit and stretching his legs out. He didn’t jump or scream. He rubbed his thumb all the way from Alex’s nipple to his armpit and made a sweet waking-up sound before raising his head.

“Hi,” he said sweetly, his voice a little deeper than normal. It was jarring and Alex was trying to find the beginning of his speech. He was only more thrown off when Michael kissed his jaw and put his head back on his chest, seeming comfortable in their placement.

“Hey... Uh, maybe we should talk?” Alex said awkwardly. Only then did Michael seem to react, pushing himself up a little bit. He took in whatever expression happened to be on Alex’s face and sat up completely. Alex followed suit. “So, um, I’m sorry about last night. We’ve just been crammed together and stuff happens. I hope this doesn’t make it awkward between us. We can still be roommates.” Micahel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and, with each sentence of Alex’s speech, seemed to become more and more offended.

“What?” Michael asked, rubbing his face.

“I-I mean, don’t worry,” Alex assured, “What happened doesn’t make you gay and I hope you aren’t, like, weirded out by me.”

“Alex,” Michael said, voice matching the offended look as he held his hand up, “What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you acting like I wasn’t a fully engaged participant? Like, I did that on purpose, it wasn’t an ‘oops, tripped and fell onto your dick’.”

Alex gulped, shifting a bit as he began to feel offended. So he wasn’t wrong. Micahel had been leading him on.

“Okay, well, you can’t just act interested in me because you don’t have any girls to hook up with, that’s just—“

“Alex!” Michael said, cutting him off and looking at him with genuine hurt, “Why do you think I’m acting? What the fuck?”

Alex didn’t actually know what to say to that. He stared at him blankly, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t make this situation worse. But he figured he’d already ruined a soft morning by accusing him of things, so he might as well just say what he was thinking.

“You’re straight,” Alex said. Michael huffed a laugh, falling back into the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

“Why the hell do you think that?” Michael asked. Alex sat up pin-straight, looking at him in a whole different light by that one little sentence.

“You... You’ve only brought home girls,” Alex pointed out weakly.

“That’s just not true,” Michael said, looking over at him with amusement rather than anger. Alex relaxed a little. “Ari was a guy, you just didn’t see him, and Dylan was non-binary, you just didn’t see them either—and that’s just since we moved in together. You never saw anyone I brought over, Alex, don’t assume based on names I say and the way I look.”

Alex felt his face flush and he started feeling more than a little embarrassed. In fact, he was so embarrassed, he kind of wanted to cry. Or lay on the floor. Preferably both.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. Michael sighed and shifted closer, his hand pressing into Alex’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m honestly more concerned with how many allegedly straight guys you’ve hooked up with that you had a speech prepared,” Michael said. Alex laughed a little.

“I was the only gay guy in my high school, I got pretty used to it,” he admitted.

Michael clasped his hand over Alex’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. Alex melted into it, hoping that it meant he hadn’t embarrassed himself for life.

“I’m bisexual,” Michael said so confidently that it almost made Alex cry just by that alone. He was so sure of himself. 

“So does that mean you were flirting with me?” Alex asked when he got to courage to raise his head. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Wow, thanks for noticing.”

Alex groaned, “God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Just, you know, head’s up, next time we hook up, I’d prefer to have the speech be at least an hour after I wake up,” Michael said. Alex groaned louder. “What? No cute remark about me saying next time?”

Alex held back a smile and glared at the boy in front of him.

“I already know there will be a next time because we are still going to be stuck alone in this apartment for at least a couple more weeks. It’s after that that I’ll have questions,” Alex said.

“So confident for someone so embarrassed,” Michael teased. Alex raised an eyebrow that said ‘am I wrong?’ He got a kiss instead of a response. “Here, to balance out your embarrassment, I’ll admit a thing. The only reason I brought that many people over was because I wanted to see if you’d get jealous and make a move.”

“I don’t get jealous, I just get confused.”

“Noted,” Michael laughed, nudging his nose against Alex’s. It was so much touching, so much affection. Alex couldn’t remember a time anyone had done that to him in a non-platonic way. “Point is, I liked you the moment I met you.”

“Liz insisted you were straight so I kept my distance until I couldn’t because I didn’t wanna catch feelings.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.”

They both laughed for a few seconds before it slowly died down through Michael giving him full heart eyes. It made Alex’s heart go a little haywire.

“Okay, so now that we talked, can we have a redo of last night where you don’t think you’re getting head from a straight dude?” Michael asked. Alex flashed a smile and nodded.

Who knew something good would come out of this?

[itskateak]

(Preface: this is a really long post as I typed it as I was watching the movie so this is unedited, pure thoughts as I was watching this movie.)

I just started watching the new Cats movie and I’m already having issues with what’s going on

Why did Munk spider man his way down a wall

What’s wrong with Misto

Why don’t they just crawl on their knees Jesus Christ if they weren’t on their toes it would be better

“Are you mean like a minx” that’s not in pitch

ThatS NOT HOW JUMPING WORKS

The choreography is going good though- I knew it would. I’ve worked with that choreographer before.

WHY IS THIS NOW A POP REMIX

I have so many questions

Music is too fast. Tempos are everywhere.

Singing isn’t too bad. I can understand the words better.

Munk is a little too feminine for my taste at the moment but I like his design.

ROMANTICAL CATS (heart hands) IS THE MOST ON BRAND MISTO THING YET

Macavity speaking and singing his own song is disgusting

WHY DO THEY HAVE HUMAN TOES AND FINGERS

Why is everyone bullying Misto

AND HUMAN NOSES

Munk there’s a rhythm to the Naming of Cats. You can’t go off it whole everyone else is on it.

You guys can’t keep a tempo can you

HIS name. HIS.

Munk that’s a little sexual. NO YOU ARE WITH DEMETER STOP

stop cutting the scene up. Just let them dance.

AH REFERENCE TO ORIGINAL CHOREO. I SAW THAT

Misto is on brand except he’s not Misto yet storytellers

Also I’m liking the idea that Victoria is new to everything and the plot is they’re introducing her to the wild and the whole heaviside layer thing

THATS NOT THE MELODY MUNK STOP

they have human eyebrows too what

Munk that note is too high for you

Is Jenny twerking excuse me

JennY IS SUPPOSED TO BE MOTHERLY STOP THAT

that’s also not the melody

The human mice are going to cause nightmares

Wait is Jenny lusting after Munk

Why does he actually look interested

Munk do you have an English accent or American. Please decide.

Jenny that’s not the right notes

HUMAN ROACHES NO

WHY DO THEH HAVE HUMAN FACES

The skiN UNZIPPED OH NO

no one needed that undershot of cockroach crotches

Mm meow

huh what Tugger what was that

Okay Derulo is not bad at all

I’m missing the Tugoffolees banter though

This Tugger is a little gayer than the original

THE NEUTER JOKE OH MY GOD

Tugger is reminding me of Dr. Frank N Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Why does he have an English accent though

VictoriaaaaAAAAA? (The TOES)

Jenny’s humor is eh. Don’t see the reason of putting that in.

The ending is pure Tugger though

Not a bad rendition

Grizz isn’t as rough as I imagined her looking

Oh her VOICE

HER VOICE HITS HARD

Who is this cat singing about Grizz (the first) her voice was nice

NO. WHY THE SHORTNESS ON “that”

Munk why did you grab that queen’s head

Edward Hyde is that you?

Jenny stop trying to be the comedy relief you’re too awful at it

Bustopher please STOP singing your own song

PLEASE KIDNAP HER IDRIS ELBA

THANK YOU

I wish they spent more time dancing since that’s really the point of the show and the draw to it.

Bustopher wearing heels? I’m for it. Gay legend.

“Thanks Tugger” stop this whole sequence please

Bustopher is supposed to be a very prim and proper cat. What happened to him

Still can’t get over Idris Elba being in this

THATS NOT THE MELODY OF MUNGOJERRIE AND RUMPLETEAZER

What have thEY DONE TO THE MELODY GOOD GOD

AND THE RHYTHM THEY DESTROYED THE SONG

Oh. Hey that’s pretty neat choreo though

“I bought that for her myself” “hey” “what?”

My brain is rebelling because it’s not right at all in anything I remember

Did Misto just pull a whole femur from his hat

STOP THAT. MISTO LOOKS LIKE A CLOSETED TWINK STUCK IN A STRAIGHT RELATIONSHIP

is he wearing eyeliner

GROWLTIGER IS BACK

I don’t actually know his song so this is new to me

Jenny and Bustopher being comedic relief hurts because they’re not funny

Munk “where have you been?!” Is there a love triangle happening. What happened to Demeter

Also his voice in Deuteronomy is actually really nice

“Sits in the suuun” that was beautiful oh god

Deut looks more like how I imagined Grizz would look

IS THAT DAME JUDI DENCH

I bet she regrets ever saying yes after this.

What cat is randomly wearing a crow skull around their neck. Is that a witch’s cat

JUDI DENCH CAN’T YOU ACTUALLY SING? WHY ARE YOU STRUGGLING

Why are you singing Munk’s line

Oh the Jellicle ball is next let’s go Andy show me that awesome choreo

Asparagus are you okay

Tempo doesn’t exist in this movie does it

Neither does rhythm or time keeping

IS THAT MY BOY SKIMBLESHANKS

Twirly boy Munk

Munk really just wants to be topped doesn’t he

WhAT WAS THAT TWITCHING AND THE PANTING

Andy I love you man but the traditional and classic choreo would’ve worked just as fine

Skimble and Munk being gay

what happened to Plato and why is there something going on with Misto

TUGGER YOU HAD A MOMENT YOU COULD HAVE INTERRUPTED

Ah okay I understand why that happened. No mating dance or slumber party

Cats wearing shoes disgusts me more than the toes

POINTE WITHOUT POINTE SHOESSSS GROSS

honestly? Jellicle ball is disappointing. They just cut the ten minutes of amazing dancing down to like four.

I don’t like the heavy breathing. That’s not something that was ever necessary.

Okay, the end worked okay with the big synchronized dances.

I’m ready for this Memory rendition. Already getting chills.

Those are very human hands

Oh keep with the rhythm I beg of you

Ooh altered verse

Wait that’s jennifer Hudson???

Oh we just removed a whole verse, bridge, and chorus didn’t we.

Sweet moment? See I like Vic reaching for Grizz

Vic gets a song??? Ooh intrigued

I like her voice

I’m going to cry this song is sad and I’m glad she gets a story

Though it’s kind of “you think your life is hard? Mine’s worse” feeling after Memory

Awww I’m gonna cry what a sweetheart what a lovely dear protect her

Ugh meaning of happiness. I hate this song no matter who sings it.

Wait what happened to Rumpus Cat song :( the battle of the pekes and the pollicles

What do you mean you’re about to make the choice

We still have Gus’s song, Misto’s song, and Skimble’s song.

They got Ian McKellen to do this?? How much was he paid

“Cross paws” no stop

Why is Gus singing his own song please don’t

Munk’s face bugs me for some reason

His song always makes me cry for some reason but this is kind of goofy and cute and I love it

Misto in the background is just strange for me

Is he forgetting the words sometimes and mumbling to fill in because goodness

Misto’s so eager to please what a bottom

“Macavityyy” I hate it

Munk starting Skimble’s song has the same energy as Tugger doing Misto’s songs

I’m glad they’ve kept this song the same as it was

Skimble is SO gay oh my god what a classic twink

Oooh I like this addition of the train getting started via tap

I’m actually really liking this rendition and the tap dancing on the the rails

Though the tap continuing when no one is tapping or the rhythm being wrong is uh not good

Such an iconic song and I love the changes in scene

Oh skimble that note was not good

WAIT OKAY THAT WAS MACAVITY’S DOING WITH THE LEVITATION

Oh hi Taylor Swift

Use more breath. Stop doing the pop voice thing. Stop it.

Is Bombi a drug dealer

MISTO BEING TWEAKED ON DRUGS IS THE FUNNIEST GODDAMN THING IVE EVER SEEN IN THIS LIFE

I can say though that what they’ve done to the song is exactly the vibes it needed. Sultry and pushing the boundaries.

Sad there’s not a Demeter.

SORRY MUNK WHAT WAS THAT

I actually rewinded to see what happened there with the martini glass

OKAY MAN NEEDS TO BE TOPPED OH MY GOD

“Green house glass is broken” was changed and that makes me sad

This was a good song for Taylor to show off her vocal prowess but she just didn’t

Why is Macavity naked

Why is he singing his own damn song

PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON

Munk you’re still tweaking out a little

Oh here’s the sleeping orgy

What’s with this drama now with the choice thing

We don’t have Munk’s fight with Macavity. Robbed

VICTORIA YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO GET MISTO OUT THERE. IT HAS TO BE TUGGER

If there are no 23 spins, I’ll throw my phone

Munk that’s gay and I’m here for it. Encourage your twink Misto

“Please don’t make me do this” has phantom vibes

Munk that was a lusty look

Where’s the “ooh ahs”

This is weird without Tugger singing it and being an ego for Misto

Tugger come on. Please save this number.

Victoria I swear to god I will beat you

Why do they have one person on the melody in this. And Derulo going through the stratosphere

WHERE IS THE DANCING >:(

That trombone is playing absolutely nothing in the music at all

DON’T YOU DARE KISS HER

oh here’s the fight music

WHY DID WE UNZIP SKIN AGAIN

oh they used the fight music for the escaping of cats

How much longer is there

Oh there’s the daylight reprise thing

I want to die

To the sun, Vic. To the sun.

Munk, Tugger, be respectful. That’s your mother.

Wait that doesn’t work in this universe because Deut is female.

Oh they gave the Asian cat patterns that resemble tiger stripes hmmmm

Why couldn’t they have just filmed an actual stage version and turned that out

Oh that “smile at the old days” was god awful

How much longer oh god

I’m tired man. I wasted 6 bucks on this

Victoria just stealing Jemima’s parts

“Like a flowER as the dawn is breaking”

Okay here it is

OH COME THROUGH QUEEN. WHOLE FILM IS WORTH THIS CLIMAX

Okay so there are some cats wearing clothes and others not. What are the rules for this universe. Are they naked or are they not.

I have not shed a single tear. Usually I have by now from this show. Not a single tear.

Deut X Grizz is still my favorite ship

Is that the intro to Til I Hear You Sing that I hear. Those F to Gm chords Lloyd Webber loves.

Judi Dench stop trying to sing for the love of god.

Ah yes show off that beautiful ballet dancer that plays Vic

Aww Munk bowing to Grizz

Oh so it’s a chandelier this time and not a tire

Where’d Macavity and Bombi go

Oh there he is. What a child. Hate that.

BUSTOPHER CONFIRMED A GAY ICON

Deut being a proud mother to Munk is cute with the hands on the shoulder

Why are we reprising the first song

Also Air balloon.

WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME JUDI DENCH

why are they all staring so intently at her too wait

Munk looks like someone is touching him inappropriately this whole scene.

Munk and Misto looking at each other

MUNK STOPPPP JESUS CHRIST DO YOU NEED TO BE REMOVED FROM THE SITUATION

The choreography doesn’t even match the beat of the song. Huh???

Misto you’re gay stop

Munk and Misto looking at each other and the shy glances away

So Grizz gets hot air balloned to death is that what I’m seeing

Oh it’s over okay

I want to cry.

It’s not as bad as I heard. Once you got used to the way things looked and just let things happen and say it might as well happen, it became a bit more enjoyable.

It’s still god awful though and let’s pray the furries never get ahold of it.