#i mean i haven't blocked them because the aus can be nice sometimes

[maximura]

Maybe Monster, Part 02

So this is the next chapter of that Gang AU I wrote in 2019 and thought was lost. I haven't made a nice post for it yet and it doesn't have a proper title because it's all still just drafts I'm trying to piece together. I kept calling it my "Maybe" story so now it'll just go by Maybe Monster. It will not make any sense unless you read Part 01.

Warnings: violence, mild swearing and typos. Words: About 7500k. Characters: Ateez and Seventeen.

****

Maybe Monster Part 02

6 months earlier. 

There was a 7-Eleven that once let San sleep out back without calling the cops. He had chased away a group of obnoxious teenagers trying to rob the place and the owner took enough pity on him to let him sleep in the small space where they usually unload all the deliveries. He got fed a few times a week, things that were perfectly fine but dented or unsold by the end of the day and would’ve ended up in the trash anyway. Not that it’s above him to dig through trash. As long as it’s still wrapped, it’s still good. 

It was going fine until the owner’s wife got wind of the whole situation and San had to move on from one 7-Eleven to another. The next one wasn’t so accommodating but at least he knew their routine and when all the food would be thrown out. If the cameras catch him digging through the trash like an overgrown raccoon, nobody calls him up on it. 

The men’s shelter was a few blocks away, it was always busy, always overrun and always so chaotic. But he hadn’t belonged there. He wasn’t a man who had fallen on hard times. He wasn’t a man who fell in with the wrong crowd. He was hardly a man at all. 

He had just turned eighteen, no longer a child of the state and therefore, completely invisible. The church refuge has been kind for awhile, until he was caught stealing food. It had only been a piece of bread but apparently you can only have it during business hours. He had aged out of their care by then anyhow, suddenly a threat to all the other children there by virtue of age. 

There was nowhere to go. Sometimes he lines up at the shelter and gets a hot meal and shower. Sometimes he shows up too late and they send him away with a sandwich if he’s lucky. Sometimes he sees the fights breaking out and just keeps walking. 

The best days are when it’s slow and there’s hot water left or the communal washing machines aren’t busy. Those days are rare. 

The worst days are always when it rains because there’s no way to escape the damp cold. 

The weather gets warmer now though and it’s easier to live and sleep under the stars without fear of double pneumonia. 

San considered himself lucky to find a low rooftop that hasn’t been occupied yet, there was a paint factory across the road and even though it had been shut down for months, there was always a faint smell of chemical lingering in the air. But now, as San lays there staring up at the dark skies, he doesn’t think about that. Instead he thinks about the mother who loved him before she died and the father who didn’t. 

They are both long gone now and he was left with nothing but scattered memories and his father’s debts. He was only sixteen then, with no real means to pay them off.

So bank took the family home. 

After that, he really had nothing at all. 

San sighs at the memory, it seems forever ago, but in reality, it’s been barely two years. Adjusting the balled up jacket under his neck he closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep. 

He’s just about to drift off when there’s a quiet scuff of boots on pavement, the sound coming from somewhere below him. 

It’s followed by the rattle of a chain fence and then a tired ‘fuck!’. 

There shouldn’t be anyone around here. San staked the area out for weeks on end to make sure. The 7-Eleven nearby, with its persistent security cameras, deters most street sleepers and the dangerously lawless Docklands a few blocks away was always the more attractive option. 

San crawls towards the edge of the rooftop, slowly peering down into the alleyway below, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. 

There’s a figure clad in a dark green jacket and hat, standing in front of the fence that usually leads to the old paint factory. The whole time San has been sleeping across the street, he’s never seen anybody try to break in. The property hasn’t been opened in months so San has no idea why this stranger would want to get inside there now. Anything of value would’ve been taken long ago. 

The Stranger turns around a few time, surveying his surroundings, before disappearing into a patch of shadow. 

San almost loses sight of him but suddenly there’s a flash of blue flame and he watches with fascination as it cuts through the chained fence like a hot knife through butter. 

The Stranger slips through the newly form hole and gets about five steps before the alarms are tripped.  It’s loud and pervasive and invasive, causing San’s hands to fly to his ears in protest. 

The Stranger runs back out through the hole in the fence as police sirens wailed in the distance. The 7-Eleven worker must have called. 

San groans. 

Cops.

Great.

He rushes back to collect the few belongings he has, throwing them hurriedly into his blue backpack before climbing down the hidden back ladder. He’s half way down when he comes unexpectedly face to face with the Stranger trying to climb up. 

“Out of the way kid!”

“Don’t call me that!” San bristles in annoyance. 

“I’m kind of in a hurry here.”

“To the roof?” San snorts in disbelief. “Stupid way to get caught but whatever.” 

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just nudges past the stranger and slides the rest of the way down. Under the cover of darkness, he runs towards his other hiding spot; a literal hole in the wall on the side of another abandoned building. It used to be an old bakery with a small front room where they used to sell bread to the public. It’s dangerously run down, unsafe and always on the verge of collapse, that’s why nobody else hides there, not even the most desperate of street kids. 

Within two minutes of pushing into the old building, San hears footsteps approaching. 

It’s the Stranger, who flashes an unexpectedly bright smile at him as he shoves into the tiny space next to San. 

“Kinda small in here.”

San just stares at him. 

“I’m assuming the cops don’t check this place?”

San shakes his head.

“Okay, good.” The Stranger says, weirdly conversational. “You’re gonna be real quite right?”

San nods swiftly. 

“Great.” Another wide grin is flashed at him and San can’t remember a time when anyone smiled at him this much for no particular reason. 

So they both sit in the darkness, cramped and uncomfortably close. San doesn’t talk and thankfully the Stranger doesn’t either but San sees the way there’s a hand resting inside that green jacket. He sees the black outline of the gun. 

In the distance, police sirens come, bringing with them a swarm of crunchy footsteps and typical voices muttering too much of absolutely nothing. Cops all talk the same. They never know anything. 

It’s the criminal detectives and forensics team that everyone should worry about. 

After half an hour of intense noises, everything fades to quiet.

There’s nothing but dark stillness when they finally climb out into the alley way. 

The Stranger hums, surprised and pleased. 

“Huh, interesting. Well, thanks kid, seeya round.”

And then he’s gone. 

San’s had plenty of weird encounters in the wild but this must be in the top three for sure. 

He adjusts the straps of his backpack and treks to another hiding place in the city. 

****

“Well?” Seonghwa asks when Hongjoong climbs back into the Honda Civic. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Drive. Slowly.” Hongjoong says, stuffing his jacket and hat into a bag under his feet. “There might still be cops around.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Yeah no shit, I heard them. You tripped the security?”

“Yeah. Ground sensors.”

Seonghwa cruises the Honda calmly onto the main roads, resisting the temptation to speed away from the few stray cop cars still loitering around, especially the one that stops next to them at the red lights. 

“That’s interesting.”

“Definitely interesting.” Hongjoong agrees as he flips the old CD player on. It plays The Carpenters and Seonghwa grimaces at the way Hongjoong starts singing along to the strains of Superstar. 

The cop next to them rolls up his window with a disgusted groan and Seonghwa smiles inwardly when they turn off the main road to drive home. 

“That paint factory hasn’t done business for eight months. Big Red bought the company then deliberately ran it dead. Ground sensors are an expensive investment to protect a few ancient machines. Which means-“

“There’s something of worth there.” Hongjoong finishes. 

“Exactly.”

“We need another way in.”

“Obviously,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Did you seriously think you could just cut a hole in the fence and walk right in?”

Hongjoong laughs and turns to his work partner with a lopsided grin. “You know what? For like five seconds, yeah I did.”

“We can’t trip the ground sensors again. We’ll have to go really high-“

“-or really low.”

Seonghwa hums in agreement. “I’ll talk to Wonwoo about getting the underground plans.”

“Yunho can get them.”

“But then we’d have to tell him why we want them.” Seonghwa groans. “He’ll talk my ear off.”

“I’ll ask him. Don’t worry.”

“Hongjoong, I really think we need to keep this one between us.”

“You still sore after that fight you two had?” Hongjoong asks. “He doesn’t hate you. I think he likes you more than he likes me!”

Seonghwa scoffs. “You must be joking right? He’s always questioning everything I say. He only respects me because you and Seungcheol tell him to.”

Hongjoong just looks at Seonghwa like he’s grown antlers. 

“He questions all of us. It’s just what he does. We just don’t take it personally like you do. His eye for detail is why he’s a good point man and you know it.”

Seonghwa sighs now. “He wasn’t like this when we first found him.”

“Well he’s not sixteen anymore.” 

“He was easier as a sixteen year old.”

Hongjoong cackles loudly. “Are you serious? You were complaining about how clingy he was back then and now you’re complaining about how bitchy he is at twenty three. Just face it: our kid just grew up.”

“Our kid?” Seonghwa muses, “I think he’s your kid.”

“Only when he’s being a bitch to you.”

“Which is all the time.”

“Whatever. Leave it to me, I’ll get the plans. But first, can you detour around that corner?”

“To the spicy chicken place again? Thought you were carb cutting.”

“I’ve had an unsuccessful night, I think I deserve spicy chicken. My mental health needs it.”

“Okay enjoy your early cardiac disease.” Seonghwa teases but takes the detour as requested and then reminds Hongjoong not to forget his side order of Pad Thai. 

Back at Headquarters later, now fed and warm, Seungcheol grills them about the failed reconnaissance venture. 

“There's no visible security personnel front or back but a huge amount of ground sensors as soon as you step on the property.”

Seungcheol raises as eyebrow at that. “That’s interesting.”

Hongjoong nods. “There’s cameras around the entire perimeter and also almost 180 degrees of security camera coverage from the 7-Eleven across the street. It’s not even deserted. There’s a few street sleepers nearby. It‘ll be difficult to get in and out of without someone noticing.”

“Drop in from the air?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “Distance between the rooftops is too far. Even for zip lines.”

“Underground?”

“Yeah, looks like that’s the only way in.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, chewing through the information. 

“Get the underground plans from Wonwoo. I want a team meeting and plan about this by the end of the week. Red can’t just take my shit without consequence. I want what’s in that building.”

Hongjoong nods, ignoring Seonghwa’s ‘I told you so’ smirk. 

“Which team? Soonyoung is in Japan with Jihoon. Jeonghan and Mingyu are still in China helping out Jun. Hansol is stuck in New York. Unless you want to call in Heeseung?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, “No, I want to keep this between the four of us. It’ll be too dangerous to manage if more people know.”

They’re dismissed with the wave of a whisky glass. 

“I’ll go talk to Wonwoo now.” Hongjoong says, as they exit the business floor of their Headquarters and head towards the living wing. 

“He hates you. I’ll go talk to him.”

“He hates everyone. It won’t matter who asks.”

“Fine.” Seonghwa relents.

They find Wonwoo in the kitchen, heating a glass of warm milk in the microwave. He nods a greeting before going back to peering at his rotating glass of milk. 

“Hey, you got a minute? We need-“

There’s a hand held out in their direction. It doesn’t lower until the microwave finishes and starts beeping its countdown. 

“Okay, so-“

The hand is held back up, silencing them again. 

They wait until the other man takes a sip of milk and sits down at the big wooden table like he runs this whole place. Which he kind of does. 

“Can we talk now?” Hongjoong asks. 

Wonwoo eyes the doorway. 

“I checked already.” Seonghwa says by way of answer. “Yunho is still out on mission. Jongho is asleep. Mingi is in the gym. And Mufasa is pacing around his office in his Armani suit.”

Wonwoo cracks a smile at that, finally nodding for them to talk. “Go on.”

“It’s about Red. He’s hiding material at the old paint factory on the edge of town. The only problem is the ground is bugged with sensors, there’s no air entry options and there’s street level cameras everywhere. We need underground plans by the end of the week. Seungcheol wants a meeting but just strictly the four of us.”

Wonwoo takes it all in, sipping his milk quietly, waiting for them to finish. 

“Okay.”

It’s all the older man says before shuffling to the sink to wash his glass and waving them goodnight. 

Hongjoong sits back in relief. “That went well? Maybe the milk was really good.”

“Maybe it’s laced with Xanax.”

“Or he suddenly developed a soft spot for us.”

They both look at each other with a grin. “Definitely the Xanax.”

****

There’s a red Honda Civic parked next to San’s hiding hole. He had a decent sleep and when he woke up, there it was, perfectly positioned for him to car jack. 

It’s a 2001 model at best. Not likely bugged with screeching alarms, judging by how ancient it looked, except for the tires. The tires and hub caps look strangely new. 

Stranger still, nobody has come to claim it in over two hours. 

Time is of the essence. Seize the day and all that Latin motivation. 

San has his father’s old crowbar and figures he can at least sell the shiny new hub caps for some money. It’d be nice to buy decent food again. 

He’s gotten two off when there’s a hand that closes around his shoulder. 

It startles him like an electric shock and his body reacts by spinning around to swing the crowbar at some unsuspecting ankles. 

But if he’s quick, the ankles are even quicker.

And now the ankles are laughing at him. 

By the time he’s standing up with the crowbar in front of his body like a weapon, he finally sees the Laughing Ankles. 

“Oh. It’s….you.”

“Hey kid.”

“I said don’t call me that!”

It’s late afternoon and San can finally see the other man’s face clearly now. 

He’s younger than expected, with dark dirty blonde hair and really straight teeth. He’s about Sans height but broader and built in ways San’s pathetic muscles could only dream about. 

Handsome, some part of his brain whispers, but he’ll pretend he didn’t hear that. 

“Stealing is a crime you know.” The Man says, leaning casually against the Honda with his hands in his pockets, as if he wasn’t even threatened by the feral creature holding a crowbar. 

“So is breaking and entering.” San counters, offended by the casual response. 

“I guess we’ll call it even then.”

San lowers his crowbar, staring slack mouthed. “You’re not gonna call the cops?”

The Man screws up his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” San breathes, relieved but feeling out of sorts. “Why not?”

“What’s the point?” The Man shrugs. “Unless you want to go to jail? Awful free meals, very permanent shelter? I mean, it’s a pretty cool deal except for the torture, stabbings and lack of freedom.”

San shakes his head. “No, no, I’m good here.”

“You live around these parts huh?” 

San pauses. “No, just visiting.”

Something about his answer makes the Man chuckle. 

“Okay, well I’m pretty hungry. You eaten lunch yet?”

San shakes his head again. He hasn’t had dinner or breakfast either. 

“Alright, put my hubs back on and I’ll buy you a hot dog.”

It’s the one thing San thanks his father for teaching him; how to hot wire and work cars apart before putting them back together again. There’s not exactly a lot of legal applications but for once, it proves helpful. 

“You a mechanic’s kid or something?” The Man asks, surprised at the speed and skill.

“Sort of.”

“Interesting.”

It’s the way the Man says it that has San on edge. His mind floods with images of being kidnapped and trafficked or turned into a drug mule. He’s seen it happen countless times before and would rather die than let that happen to him.

But he’s so tired of being hungry and vows to bail as soon as he’s eaten. 

They walk to the nearest 7-Eleven and he gets two hot dogs. Then a third, with cheese. It’s the best meal San’s had in months probably. He can’t even remember. 

He’s chugging a blue Gatorade when the Man gets a phone call that turns his bright face all stony and cold. It’s a short phone call with barely two words exchanged. 

“Gotta go. Stay out of trouble.” The Man says, walking away before hesitating and turning back round. “Don’t go near the abandoned paint factory tonight.”

And then he’s gone again, before San has even finished his Gatorade. 

It’s later, when he’s walking to the other end of the city, that San finds a folded twenty dollar note in his jacket pocket. 

Weird. 

****

Two days later, San’s curiosity gets the better of him and he’s back down near the paint factory again, taking care to stay hidden in shadow and well away from the front of the 7-Eleven. He knows there’s cameras. He saw the monitors that one time he went inside to contemplate buying some Skittles but not wanting to break his twenty dollar note, he stole a sandwich instead. 

Resting now, hidden in shadow on the landing beside a laundromat, he’s startled awake by a sudden burst of commotion and noise. There’s a mocking laugh followed by a flurry of angry shouting. 

Someone runs past him and rounds the corner to disappear into the shadows towards the old bakery. 

Before he can do the same, a hand yanks the back of San's jacket.

“Not so fast.”

Cops. 

Great.

“Where did he go?”

“Who?”

The hand shoves him against the dirty wall. “I don’t have time for this shit. He ran down this alley way, where did he go?”

San struggles against the heavy body caging him in but it’s futile. “I don’t know!”

He’s shoved hard against the jagged wall again, it grazes his cheek uncomfortably. 

“I think….he went behind the 7-Eleven…”

Another cop jogs up to them now, taking in the scene and pulling his partner back. 

“Don’t waste your time. It’s just a useless street kid.”

“He said he’s behind the 7-Eleven.”

“He’s probably lying, they all do that.”

There’s a loud crash coming from outside the alley way and the hand on San’s jacket leaves momentarily, only to shove him onto the ground as the cops run towards the new chaos.

It’s not until later, when the boots and voices and sirens have all faded away, that San quietly sneaks into the old bakery. 

“Oh it’s you, hey kid.”

It’s dark but the light gleams off the Man’s teeth and it reminds San of that book from school, the one with the smiling purple cat that was as helpful as it was a nuisance. 

“They gone?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure about that?”

San nods. “I checked.”

“What else did you see?”

“A lot of cops and a really big car.” San says. “Kinda weird.”

The Man looks at him sharply, the intensity piercing, even through the darkness. 

“How big?” 

It’s a strange question, San thinks. Why is the size of a car the most important question here. 

“Really big?” He replies lamely. 

“Big like a Bentley or big like a Maybach?”

“What’s a Maybach?”

There’s a pause and San thinks he’s annoyed the Man in some way, only for him to continue on in the same steady voice. 

“Was it a little bit bigger than my Civic? Or a lot bigger?”

And ah, those are some dimensions that San does understand. “A lot bigger.”

The Man nods then sits back against the wall in contemplation. There’s a sliver of light than shines across his face for a moment and San wonders who the person opposite him really is. What was he trying to steal? Who was after him? Besides cops and someone in a really big car. He can’t just be another Nobody. He must be a Somebody. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

San looks at the Man standing up now, confused by the invitation and even more confused that it’s extended to him.

“Go where?”

There’s a flash of hesitation, conflict, early regret maybe. San knows those looks well, he’s seen it on the faces of his parents and almost every adult in his life. They always leave but they never want to take him with them. 

“You hungry?”

He’s always hungry so he nods. 

“Then let’s get outta here.”

It’s an uncharacteristically cold night for June and San shivers as they walk, even though he’s wearing almost everything he owns. 

“Here.”

It’s a thick black Nike hoody. 

He must stare at it for an awkwardly long time because the Man rolls his eyes and shoves it against his chest. 

“You keep shivering, it’s giving me anxiety.” The Man says. “Just put it on, it’s just a hoody, not a bomb. God, you’re as paranoid as Seonghwa.”

“Who?”

“Ah, just a guy I know. Don’t repeat that name to anyone though, okay?”

San nods as they stop to let him put the hoody on under his jacket. 

It’s quiet for a moment before the Man talks again. 

“I’m serious about that. Keep his name out of your mouth. Things like that can get you killed out here.”

San looks across, panicked all the sudden, and wondering again, who the hell was walking beside him. Maybe this was the time to run off down one of those alley ways. 

The horror on his face must be obvious because The Man’s serious expression softens a little, not completely, but it’s less threatening. 

“I'm not here to kill you kid. Relax.”

San absolutely does not relax. 

“It’s just very important to me you understand what I’m saying right now. You’ve helped me out a few times now, so I’m going to go easy on you. I know you’re smart. I know you know these streets back to front. But I can and will find you if I need to. So if that name ever leaves your mouth and I get wind of it, I won’t be this nice. You got it?”

San nods like he’s never nodded before. His hunger long forgotten and even the promise of food doesn’t seem worth it anymore. Not from someone who might be a few breaths away from crazy.

He slows down and considers his options. He thinks about running again. There’s a patch of shadow up just ahead and he’s fast, he could make it... 

But they reach the familiar sight of the Honda Civic now and The Man motions for him to get in. He doesn't. He pauses, frozen with his fingers on the door handle. 

“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it by now.” The Man says, as if reading his mind. 

They are probably words meant to comfort him but all they do is the exact opposite. 

San always trusts his gut, it’s never let him down, but right now it’s twisting uncomfortably in knots; unsure and uncertain. 

“Uh, I’m actually not that hungry.” He says. “I’ll just go if that’s okay.”

The Man just eye rolls condescendinly. 

It all feels so abnormal to San. Even for someone not fond of human interaction, the Man in front of him is behaving in ways that just don’t make sense. 

“Get in the car.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m good, I should be asleep…”

“Why? You got school tomorrow? A job you need to be at?”

It’s a low blow and they both know it. It turns San’s uneasy fear into an angry fire that’s ready to fight. If this is how he dies, then so be it. 

But before he can even spit out an insult the Man is looking at him with another one of those smiles. 

“What? You gonna fight me?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen kid, I got shit to do later tonight. I’m craving spicy chicken wings and a cold beer. If you want to fight me, can you at least wait until I’ve eaten?”

San doesn’t even know how to respond to that. 

“Get in. I’m not asking a third time.”

So San does.

“What’s in that backpack you carry around?” The Man asks him as they drive through the night streets. 

“My stuff.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Just…stuff.”

The Man sighs and it reminds San of his father for a moment, always disappointed and always making everyone feel like they did something wrong. 

“Just clothes and stuff from my mum.” San says, hoping the answers is enough. 

“Why aren’t you ever at that shelter on the other side of town? They have showers and let you sleep there for the night don’t they?”

San scoffs. “The showers are alright if you get there before everyone else and the volunteers are around. It’s not as nice as you think it is.”

“Why’s that?”

“People fight.” San says, looking out the window at the city skyline. “They take your stuff. Some people get…taken advantaged of. I’m not going there unless I need to clean up.”

There’s a weird look on the Man’s face as his eyes meet San’s. They both look away. 

“How do you eat?”

San moves uncomfortably in his seat. The unusual criminal beside him, and San is definitely sure he is a criminal by now, suddenly sounds like a social worker.  

He think he prefers the criminal. 

“Steal it. Or trash dive.”

“How long you been doing this for?”

This.

“Nearly two years.”

It’s quiet after that. Neither talking until they pull up at a small restaurant. 

The car doors are still locked. 

“I’m going to ask you something and I need you not to lie to me.”

“…okay?”

“You know about the gangs of this city don’t you?”

“Only some.” 

“You know what I am then?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, nobody’s stupid enough to break into the paint factory. The only thing in there is probably illegal. I saw your gun before... and your clothes are too nice for someone who drives a stupid Honda Civic.”

It must the right thing to say because the Man laughs before turning serious. 

“You scared of me?”

San scoffs. “No.” 

Yes. 

“Who do you belong to?”

“I don’t belong to anybody.”

“I told you not to lie.”

“I’m not!” San says. “I’m not in anyone’s gang.”

“So you’re telling me, that in the two years you’ve been out here on your own, nobody has ever tried to recruit you?”

“Of course they tried. I didn’t say it worked.”

“That sounds like bullshit.” The Man says. “Who tried?”

San’s anger rises again. “What’s it to you? Maybe I’m just good at hiding.”

“I’ll buy you chicken if you tell me how you’ve managed to stay alone and alive this whole time.”

“Ugh, fine!" San huffs, tired and irritated by all the questions. "Everyone’s scared of the paint factory and the big car that sometimes goes there. I figure the closer I am to the danger, the safer I’ll be. Well, it doesn’t really make sense but it's true.”

“So you're just really good at hiding all the time? I find that hard to believe. Someone is always watching.”

“How would you know anything about that?” San asks spitefully.

“Where do you think I came from?”

It’s a loaded response, hanging heavily between them in the car. 

“I....hide in places people don’t go or know about. In the daytime, I stay near the university so they think I’m a student. And when I can’t do that, I sit near the bus stops so people think I’m going somewhere.”

San hates himself for saying anything at all but his gut instincts aren’t blaring out warning sirens anymore, haven’t done for the last fifteen minutes, which is the most surprising fact of all. 

“Alright.” The Man says, unlocking the car doors and getting out. “Let’s eat before I have a hypo.”

San scrambles to follow him. 

“What’s a hypo?”

****

The Man gives him a job. 

He’s never had a real job before. Not that this is a real job at all but he gets paid actual money. It’s not much but to San, holding the notes in his hand, he might as well have won the lottery. 

All he has to do is watch the paint factory and report when the big cars, the Maybach, rolls by. 

The Man doesn’t give him his name. He doesn’t ask for San’s either. It’s strange feeling but then again, San hasn’t had anyone say his name in nearly a year. 

“Names are important on the street. It’s a myth that there’s no honour amongst thieves. Honour and respect is everything to these people.”

San nods, mentally taking notes. They’re working on the Civic because the transmission sounded strange down the highway. San knows a thing or two about engines and apparently, so does the Man.

“Don’t give anyone your real name. Don’t give anyone mine.”

“But I don’t know your name.” San points out. 

“It’s safer for you that way. You’ll earn it when the time comes.” 

Earn what? 

“Do you remember the name of my friend?”

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa. Of course San remembers. It’s a nice name. 

“There’s only two people you can trust with that name. Me and him. Maybe our boss.”

“Who’s that?”

The Man laughs. “You’re definitely not getting that one. But when you meet him, you’ll know. You ever seen a MMA fighter?”

“I think so? Like um, Conor McGregor?” San saw him once on TV, fighting until he was bloodied but victorious.

“Yeah, just picture that in a suit."

“Is he nice?”

The Man snorts. “He’s terrifying. But I guess he can be nice when he wants to be. Just don’t be a brat to him. I mean it.”

It’s not a comforting description. 

“What about your friend? Will I know him when I see him?”

A strange smile spreads across the Man’s face, one that's different to all his other smiles. “Yeah you’ll know him when you see him. He looks like his name. Like a tall model in the most expensive suit.”

“A what?” San doesn't know what to picture in his mind.

“Like those billboards in the city, the black and white perfume ads. That’s what he looks like.”

“Oh…okay.” San nods like he understands but he doesn't. Maybe he should go do some billboard research tonight because he really has no idea what a model killer supposed to look like.

“I want you to be smart and careful about who you trust. You shouldn't even trust me if your gut says otherwise, okay?”

“I can’t trust you?” 

“Not if you think it's wrong. I want you to learn to trust yourself first. It’s an important skill. But you’re already pretty good at it.” The Man says with a relieved sigh, finally finished with the car's wiring. “What does your gut say about me right now?”

“I don’t know.” San shifts uncomfortably, feeling put on the spot. “You’re…okay.”

“I’m okay?” The Man chuckles. “No, report it to me. Like a summary.”

And that just makes San sweat. 

“Well, you’re....not mean to me. You didn’t call the cops. You make sure I’m not in danger. But then you get yourself in danger, which is a kind of stupid. You buy me food and gave me a job. So I guess that makes you okay.”

“That’s a terrible summary of me.” The Man laughs. “But fine, I’ll allow it.”

San shrugs, cheeks blushing for some reason. 

“Oh! I forgot to give you this.”

It’s a card that says 24 hour gym.

San isn’t sure what to do with it, he turns it over in his hand, looking up expectantly for an explanation. 

“It’s a gym membership card. It gets you into Planet Health, that big building two blocks from here.”

“What do I do with it?”

“You go there?” The Man says laughing, “You never been to a gym before?”

San shakes his head. 

“Oh, well you don’t have to use all the equipment but they have showers and you can sleep there for a few hours. It’s better than the streets.”

San nods slowly as his finger traces over the name on the card.

“Who's Kim Juyeon?”

“That’s you. Well, it’s a fake name obviously. Don’t use your real name. Not in the field. Not at work.”

“Hotels and motels need ID. Gyms barely care. But pretend to use the treadmill or something when you go, otherwise it’s just going to look suspicious. You already know about blending in, just do that and you’ll be fine.”

San is still staring at the card. Then he stares at the man. Trying to figure out the maths and motive behind it all. 

“What?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m employing you, I need you alive to do your job.” The Man says matter-of-factly. 

San nods. Of course. Of course. It’s part of the job because why would anyone just care about him for no reason.

But he doesn’t push his luck by asking more questions. Especially when the hot water pressure at the gym almost makes him cry. He spends twenty minutes in there, washing away years of street grime all at once, watching his old life swirl down the drain and finally emerging like a snake with new skin.

The gym machines are intimidating but he finds a treadmill the next day and walks very very slowly on it. It’s not so bad. 

He sleeps when he can, a few hours here and there. The job is mostly nocturnal so he occupies his daylight hours how he's always done.

The university term has started up again and in the late afternoon San makes his way down to it's big grassy courtyard. He watches other eighteen year olds with their book bags and nice clothes walking to classes and laughing with their friends. He doesn't even have any friends. It’s bittersweet if he’s being honest with himself and he tries not to resent the lives of other people. It doesn’t really work. 

The Man gave him a book to read, something about looking the part and getting some culture. The cover is old and worn and there’s a scrawled PSH on the first page. 

It’s a story of a boy shipwrecked at sea and San struggles through the first chapter, not particularly enjoying himself but he figures he was given this particular book for a reason, and he’ll finish it, even if it kills him. 

The sun is high and warm in the sky as San struggles through chapter two. And that’s when he sees him. 

Or to be more accurate: hears him. 

It’s a shrill cackling laughter, wheezy in parts, not dignified or pretty, but completely joyful. It’s the kind of laughter that could only comes from someone who doesn’t care what other people think of them. 

The sound belongs to a heartstoppingly handsome guy on his phone, talking and laughing animatedly about something to do with avocados, the movement scrunching up his face in a way that shouldn't be attractive at all but just is. His hair is dark and shaggy, half tied back messily, like he did it in a hurry, and he has a distinctly prominent nose that reminds San of someone he’s seen on TV once. 

San can’t look away. And doesn't.

He can’t remember the last time he saw someone so bright like that. He can't remember the last time he ever felt like the world spun around just one person. He wonders if any of this is normal.

The Man who employs him glints cold silver in the way a knife does but the one walking towards him now just shines warm and yellow like the sun. 

The Guy walks past now and heads inside the cafe that San's always been too afraid to go in. Partly because it’s crowded but mostly because they charge five whole dollars for just one small cup of coffee. 

He resigns himself to his coward's fate: parked on grass, reading a book he hates, watching for the guy who shines like the sun every Thursday and never having the guts to following him into the cafe.

Well, things could be worse. 

The courtyard gets busier as the university term progresses and it’s not until one day, when it’s about to rain, that San is finally forced to set foot inside the cafe. 

It’s busy. 

The crowd makes him anxious but he stutters his way through ordering a cup of Earl Grey tea, because it was the cheapest drink on the menu, and finds a poky little table in the corner to sit and wait for the skies to clear. 

He feels normal. Just for a moment. He could pretend to be another university student: he's Kim Juyeon, drinking a cup of tea in a cafe and reading a book about a shipwreck. Nobody would know he’s homeless and has no future. 

Once the rain stops, the crowds disperse quickly, the students probably rushing back to their classes, and with that, the charade is over. San goes back to being a nobody. 

He’s nursing the rest of his tea when there’s a peal of laughter, one that he’d recognise anywhere now. 

The Sun Guy bursts through the cafe doors, says sorry to everyone and no-one in particular, before making his way towards the counter. San watches him order a caramel latte and something called a chocolate eclair, whatever that is.

The Earl Grey in San's cup is gone now and he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to buy another one just to keep sitting there. Are there cafe rules he doesn't know about? He'll need to ask the Man about this later.

But to be sure, to save himself the embarrassed of overstaying his welcome, he reluctantly gets up to leave and tries to discretely catch a glimpse of the Sun Guy on his way out.

It's near the exit when they suddenly lock eyes and San shrinks back like he's been hit with lightning. He has to look away quickly but in the process he nearly brains himself on the door frame and it takes him two attempts to open it before he’s successful. The last thing he remembers is a bright amused smile directed right at him. It might as well have been a shotgun and San has no idea how to respond to that so he doesn’t. 

“What’s with you?” The Man asks when they meet up that night. 

“Nothing.” San grumbles morosely. 

Nothing but total life ending humiliation in front of the most handsome guy on campus.

The Man asks for his report and there’s still no activity at the paint factory but two Maybachs drove past. Nobody got out but the 7-Eleven worker waved to one of the cars. 

"Interesting."

The Man drives him to the gym for his nightly shower, a privilege San still can’t get his head around, and gives him a crash course on gym equipment which he doesn't listen to.

It’s nearly Four PM the next day when San makes his way to the university again. It’s a Thursday, he’s figured out that the Sun Chocolate Guy must have a specific class in the afternoon on a Thursday. 

Sometimes they see each other. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there’s people with the Guy. Sometimes he’s alone. None of it helps San get over his cowardice. He’s still resigned to just watch from afar, drinking his one cup of tea and reading a book he doesn't even like. 

He’s sitting by the cafe window one week, still cursing himself, when a cup rattles next to him, it's followed by the smell of chocolate. 

There's a presence next to him and with his heart thumping in his throat, San forces himself to look up slowly; his eyes trailing from the loose pants, to the slouchy White t-shirt half tucked in, to the soft light denim jacket. He swallows and steels himself as he reaches a veiny tanned neck, messy black hair and an amused smile. 

When their eyes meet, all he can think about is that he’s never actually had a crush on anyone until now. 

The Guy's lips are moving.

Wait.

"Um, can you repeat that? I missed it." San stammers, bright red and sweaty. 

The Guy smiles kindly. "I asked you if I could sit here?"

"Here?" San blinks at him incredulously. 

"Yeah? That okay?" 

"Oh, um, yeah. That's okay."

"Thanks."

The Guy sits down, taking a sip of coffee and small bite from his chocolate eclair with a satisfied hum. 

San just stares at him like the loser he knows he definitely is. 

"You stare a lot you know.” The Guy says as he observes him with a tilt of his head.

"Sorry." San blushes red again and diverts his gaze to the book the Guy is reading. There’s a lady with a sword on the cover; The Feminism of Joan Of Arc, it reads. 

"I didn't say it was all bad."

The Guy just keeps on reading and sipping his coffee so San figures he should do the same, except he can't even make sense of the words on the page.

“You know, we’re always here on the same days. I figure it's about time we met. Don't you?"

The Guy is still looking at his book but San isn’t sure if he's even reading it or not. 

"Why?"

"What do you mean "why"? Why not?"

"But you're...."

The Joan of Arc book is a snapped closed and those shiny eyes are suddenly on him. It's still feels like lightning. Like the first time it happened.

"I'm what?"

Way out of my league. 

"You look…busy.” San finishes lamely.

The Guy looks at him with a mix of amusement and condescension. 

"You're cute." 

"Huh?" He's staring again. 

"Those eyes are going to get you into trouble one day." The Guy says with a sad chuckle. "What's your name? You have a name right?"

"It's...Juyeon." San says hesitantly, the name sounding so unnatural in his mouth and even worse out loud.  

There's a hand extended across the table and he's suddenly shaking it. 

"I'm Wooyoung. Good to finally meet you."

San is busy cataloging the sensation of The Guy, Wooyoung's, hand when a phone goes off somewhere nearby.

He's still holding on awkwardly when there's a sharp squeeze and tug on his fingers. "Er? I think that's your phone."

Oh. 

The Man gave it to him and truthfully, San is struggling to get used to having one again.

He drops Wooyoung’s hand quickly and digs into his pocket. "Hello?"

"Hey Kiddo, need a favour. Where are you?"

"Out."

"Yeah where? I'll come get you."

“At the cafe."

"I'm 10 minutes away so be out front."

The phone call is short and San hangs up cursing life. The one day this happens and he's gets an actual call in. 

"You need to be somewhere?"

"Yeah. Sorry. It's….work."

"Why are you apologising?!" Wooyoung laughs. “It’s fine."

Reluctantly, San stands to gathers his jacket and brushes the crumbs on the table into his empty cup.

"I'm here every Thursday.” Wooyoung says, it’s quieter, almost shy, if San read that right. 

"I know." 

It escapes from San’s mouth before he can stop it. But instead of teasing him. Wooyoung says nothing. Just gives him a warm knowing smile. 

"Good. So I’ll see you next week?”

"Yeah…sure, Okay, um, I'm going to wait out front for my ride."

In his haste, he rushes out without his jacket and has to go back for it like an idiot. "Forgot this. Um, bye again."

"See you next week." Wooyoung says brightly with a wave.

When in gets in the car he lets out a groan. Why is he always such an idiot at the worst time. 

"What's wrong with you?" The Man asks, eye brow curious and concerned. It's nice that someone is concerned about him. He forgot what that felt like. 

“Nothing.”

“You made a friend?”

San whips his head across. “How do you know that?” He asks defensively.

“Because the cafe has windows?”

"I don't want to talk about it." San flushes and stares out the window. They let the topic go.

The drive to the old paint factory is quiet and they park two blocks away, walking the rest of the way through the back roads. 

“What are we doing here?”

“Just recon stuff, I need you to cover my back okay?”

“From what?” San replies in a panic. He isn’t ready to be promoted to a job like that. “Is someone coming after you?”

“Relax. Nobody is coming. We’re just going to do some walking and some measurements.”

He’s gives instructions to mark walls with glow-in-the dark stickers. And despite asking three times, he doesn’t get any explanations. 

“Geez, slow down. You’re going to choke on that hot dog.” The Man says later, when they're eating at a sleeping diner.

San slows his chewing but it feels like a waste of time. 

“I need to talk to you about something. And after I’m done, you’re not going to repeat it to anyone. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I need you to stay away from the paint factory for the next two weeks. No sneaking to look or anything. If you get caught, you don’t tell anybody you saw me or know me.”

San swallows the last of his hot dog and frowns deeply. This doesn’t good at all. This sounds final. Like another goodbye. 

“Don’t go looking for me.”

“But-“

“Don’t go looking for me.” The Man repeats again firmly. “If I need to find you, I’ll find you. There’s money in that locker at the gym. It’s yours. Use it.”

San’s mind is reeling now and it takes him agonising seconds to put it all together. 

The Man is leaving and it’s somewhere San can’t follow. Something will happen at the paint factory but he doesn’t know when. He’s going to be left alone again. 

“Geez, cheer up,” The Man says, as if he didn’t just drop a depressing bomb in San’s lap. “I’ll be back in a few weeks. You’ll be fine. You’ve survived for two years, just remember everything you’ve learned. And always trust your gut instincts okay? Even if it goes against what I said.”

San nods dutifully, unsure if he should be as sad as he feels. He doesn’t know anything personal about the man next to him but they've spent almost every day together. He doesn't want to admit he's attached to the routine but what else could he call it?

“Okay, I should go. Be good. Stay out of trouble. Remember what I said.”

There’s a squeeze on San’s shoulder and then he’s all alone again. 

****

The normally black night sky is lit up angry orange and smokey. Even a block away San can feel the intensity of it. 

It’s unreal. Like a scene from a horror movie that he can’t quite trick his mind into believing. 

The closer he runs towards the flames, the worse his gut feels. 

It’s the old paint factory. The entire property is on fire. Everything is engulfed in flames, there’s no sirens because the fire must have melted all the cameras and sensors. Across the street, the 7-Eleven is closed. It never closes. 

There’s a small section of side fence that hasn’t caught fire yet and San slips through it, pulling up his shirt to try and stop breathing in all the smoke. He runs to the nearest window where the light is still flickering but he can barely see anything and his eyes both water and burn. 

Then he sees him. The Man, crouched on the floor, next to what looks like a hole in the ground, stuffing files into his bag, seemingly unbothered by the flames creeping closer towards him. 

“What are you doing!! The whole place is on fire!!” San yells out, voice shaky with a fear he hasn't felt in a long time.

The Man whips his head up and San can only see his eyes flashing angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing here! Get out of here before they come!”

The Man forcibly pushes him back out the window with a strength that San didn’t know he had. When he reaches his hand back through the window, it’s gripped still.

“You are leaving right now!”

“But you’re going to die here!” San coughs, tears already tracking down his face. 

“Yeah that’s the point.” The Man says sadly. “Go. Go find him; Seonghwa. You can trust him but only him. Tell him what you saw.”

“But-“

“Just go. Do this for me.” 

The Man lets go of his arm and runs back through the burning building as San sees another group of men chasing him down the corridor. 

A wall collapses and San has to drag himself away. Every step full of dread and feeling wrong.

Climbing on a rooftop, numb and exhausted, all he can do is watch as the whole factory burns to the ground. The big Maybach cars speed off as the police and fire trucks converge on the area. 

And San waits. Half expecting a smiley face to pop up unexpectedly to scold him for crying over someone he barely knows. 

It’s not until nearly dawn, when there are only a handful of officers guarding the ashened property, that San gathers himself to go down there. 

But there’s nothing. 

Every building is flattened and destroyed. There’s no way anyone could’ve survived that. 

In the room where he last saw the Man, the hole in the floor has buried under mountains of debris.  

He knew. The Man knew this was coming. 

There’s quiet voices to his left. And that’s when he hears it. 

“Fuck, get him on the phone, I need to tell him.”

It’s a tall and broad man, imposing in both presence and stature, frowning at the burnt factory. There’s another standing beside him, dark and in glasses, who holds out a phone. 

“You alone? Line clean?”

“Kim’s missing.”

There’s a knowing tone to the way the man says it. A weary sadness. If he was the enemy, the response would’ve been different. 

San’s gut tells him that this must be the boss he was told about. 

He watches the two men for a few more minutes, quietly following them until they reach their car that’s parked a block away. 

It’s the one in glasses that sees him first. 

It all happens faster than San prepared for. The hands that grab him are strong and efficient. He’s shoved against the car in a headlock. 

“Talk.” The boss says, voice deep but calm. “You followed us a whole block.”

He’s bristling with an intensity that San hasn’t felt before. 

Terrifying.

Yes, this must the Boss. 

“I....want to talk...to Seonghwa.”

The man raises his eyebrow in shock and shares a troubled look with the other.

Then it all goes black. 

[silvercap]

20 Questions for Fic Authors

Thank you @thebrandywine for the tag!! :))

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

43!

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

113,038

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly just Resident Evil, haha, but I've dabbled in a couple other things over the years... nothing else currently, though!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I. My lone Genshin fic 😭😭 at 935 kudos (holy shit!!)

II. Ripping at the Seams with 670

III. *metal pipe sound effect* with 301

IV. Fracture with 290

V. Day 18: Ache with 253!

5. Do you respond to comments?

As much as possible!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

:3

You tell me: is there more angst when older Leon dies, or when re2 rookie Leon does? Personally, I'm leaning on the rookie, but 'do you believe' has the added Hunnigan and Chris angst haha

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

you're my lover is just straight up Nivannedy fluff and sweetness :)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't yet, thankfully!

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

Sometimes 😭 usually it's more of a plot relevant thing than anything else, because smut isn't always my jam--but there are exceptions!! I'm writing a crack ship re5 thing asjdjds and sometimes I do like writing scenes that involve a little sexy time, but I don't think I'd ever write it as a standalone pwp sort of thing haha

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

No...? I mean, I have a Blade Runner au on the backburner of my infinite stove, but I've never put different characters together in a true crossover. Wrote the beginning of an Eragon + Percy Jackson + something I can't remember, when I was in like. 7th grade? But that's long gone and nothing ever came of it asdjdjs

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hopefully not... 👁️👁️

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Thought about it! It hasn't happened haha, but I'm open to the idea

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'll be honest... ships are kind of cute adorable plot devices to me. I don't really have a favorite per se, but I do tend to prefer Chreon, Metaltango, and Nivannedy! I like Clairejill and I'm pretty invested in Ada/Hunnigan right now hehe but none of them really stands out as the OTP, y'know?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Not sure! I tend to jump around and abandon and revive things a lot, so it's honestly just up in the air. I'm loath to put one on the chopping block, but I have my doubts about this one (OG!) re4 fic where Leon passes out during the cabin fight

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I have a very visceral writing style by several people, and I do often get compliments on how well I've made something feel real/captured a specific feeling! Which is a huge compliment you guys are so nice 🥺 and I do like to think that I'm good at descriptive writing!! I see things very clearly in my head and it's gratifying to know I'm getting it across fully :)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to go at it without figuring out where I'm going, first. Plots are held together with a dab of white glue and some fraying string, and I often worry that I'm not putting scenes together coherently. I can do all the technical stuff just fine, but I really struggle with pacing and character motivations and foreshadowing and background etc, which I think is why I tend to write shorter fics!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's rarely worth it, unless there's some sort of narrative significance or I get to use my Latin knowledge for some silly villain 😭

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Bungou Stray Dogs!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I've always been partial to Fracture

Tagging- @fonulyn, @colesabi, @lightenupcowboy, @sunhatllama, @resident-rats, and anyone else who I forgot or wants to participate! <3

[capitaletele]

i loveee your fics so so so much omg

If i had to ask for a prompt i just love it so much when in smut theyre not experienced (with eachother or just in general) and theyre just taking it slow and trying out things and being cute its just really nice to read and i wish there were more fics like this <33

Sooooo! Thank you for the prompt, anon! :D

I love inexperience as a trope but I had never really given it any thought before for this pairing -- that's what I love about prompts, sometimes they're unexpected and they end up making me think about something I wouldn't have come up with on my own!

I can't really see Johnny or Cristal as actually fully inexperienced unless we're talking about some kind of AU where they're both teenagers or [insert elaborate bit of worldbuilding I'm sure we could come up with given time] or something. But because it seemed a little improbable, it stuck with me, and I thought about it a bunch and this is what I came up with to make it work! [Mature content!]

________________________________

Johnny tugs Cristal's panties down and looks up from where he's kneeling, an impish look on his face.

"Feel free to give me pointers, I don't mind, okay? Haven't done this in-- a while."

And Cristal is pretty taken aback because... Well. He's Johnny Rockfort, and he looks like this, what does he mean 'a while?' Is he one of those guys who won't go down on women? She didn't thought he would be -- and indeed, he's looking at her with such enthusiasm that he's clearly enjoying himself.

There's a little fumbling, sure, some stopping to rub his jaw just as it's getting somewhere that's a little frustrating, but it's not like she minds drawing it out either.

Most of the guys she's been with were for PR -- a few times she was actually their beard. None of that was conducive to mind-blowing sex. It wasn't really an issue at the time; it was fine, whatever, she didn't have time for a real relationship anyway.

Rusty as he might be, Johnny is the best lay she's had in -- she has to think about it for real, which is getting difficult as he finally settles into a steady rhythm -- a couple of years? Is that right??

"Wow," she says out loud at the realization, and he stops again, asking "Yeah? Like that?"

"No, no," she starts, and then corrects herself at the worried look on his face. "I mean, yes, like that, you're doing great, but that's not why-- Can you forget it and just go back to exactly what you were doing? I promise I'll tell you later."

She hopes she hasn't just ruined it, that he won't make it weird, but he doesn't.

"Fine," he chuckles, biting playfully at the inside of her thigh. "Keep your secrets."

He winks before bending down again, making her giggle, which turns into a moan as he goes back to what he was doing just before she interrupted, and it does get pretty wow by the end.

There's lots more moments that seem like they could get awkward -- she can't quite remember how to cover her teeth, he keeps grabbing the ticklish spot on her thigh and making her squeal, he comes just as she's about to ask him to go harder and then as they're finally about to get her off together, she gets a bad cramp and has to take a break to stretch her calf -- but somehow it doesn't matter?

She's pretty sure that any other time, with anyone else, any one of those moments would have killed the mood completely, or made her die of embarrassment and cancel any subsequent meetings.

But something about Johnny makes it okay to say anything, do anything, ask for anything, and despite all the mishaps it's good, it's good, and she can tell it's only going to get better every time they do it again.

She can't wait to find out how much better it can get.

**

The next day, they're in the car, stealing glances at each other as he drives them seemingly aimlessly through the blocks, and she brings it up again.

"So... How long is 'a while?'"

"What?"

"You said yesterday, 'a while.' How long is that?"

"I don't know? Depends what you mean."

She thinks it's a pretty clear question, but she clarifies.

"How long since the last girl you did this with?"

"Ah," he says, and frowns like he's thinking hard. "I guess... I mean, there was Lucy back home, but we were just kids. Never went all the way, so I don't know if it counts."

Cristal is puzzled. She's seen the way Sadia looks at him; whatever is going on there seemed pretty fresh. She expected to hear 'a few weeks,' or months maybe.

Then she realizes exactly what he said.

"Wait, a kid? But--"

"Yeah, I didn't really think about it like that, but I guess it's been mostly guys since then," he shrugs.

Oh. A few things recalibrate in Cristal's mind.

"What about Sadia?" she asks.

"And Sadia, yeah, obviously."

"So--"

He cuts her off: "Sadia is just Sadia. It's complicated, she'll explain it herself."

Cristal's not so sure Sadia is going to share any private information with her anytime soon, but she can sort of guess what the deal is from context now.

"So. I was really--"

"Yep!" He winks, then waggles his eyebrows for good measure. "Congratulations on popping my cherry!"

He's still grinning but his eyes turn serious, scanning her face like he's checking her reaction.

"Wow," she says. "Wow. Well, I mean, that was pretty good for a first time. Congratulations to you, Mister Rockfort. Very promising start."

"Yeah?" He might be blushing a little, or perhaps it's just the red light they're stopped at.

"Yeah," she says with feeling, lacing their fingers together on the gearshift.

"So, hey, what was your thing?" he says once they're on their way again.

She tells him, trying not to sound too self-conscious about it now that she knows she wasn't the only one feeling a little insecure last night.

He double-takes exaggeratedly.

"What?? You mean people upstairs weren't queuing outside your door for the privilege?? Thank fuck we got you out before you wasted away, fucking hell."

He squeezes her fingers gently though, like a reassurance, as if to say, we really are in this together, then.

We are, she thinks, squeezing back. Thank fuck.

[daybreakrising]

8. Name any three things about the rpc that bother you. & 9.What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?

the be honest meme

8. Name any three things about the rpc that bother you.

okay i'm gonna keep these short if possible but:

1) first one has to be the absolute utter lack of communication. not even just for anything negative, either - people just simply... don't talk to each other about anything. for example: want to explore a potential ship with someone? don't wait for a person to pick up hints or vibes, because many of us simply won't pick up on them. just approach someone with the idea. the worst that's gonna happen is they'll turn you down (hopefully politely) and then you can seek out someone else who might be down for it. simple. easy. just talk to people about things. "but i'm anxious" we're all fckn anxious that's why we're here.

and to tack onto this bc i was gonna make it its own thing but it's down to communication still: the fact you can be blocked forever just bc you briefly interacted with someone a person has an issue with. and yes, i'm adding this bc it's happened to me - is still happening to me. doesn't matter that i don't talk to that person at all anymore, doesn't matter that i haven't been in their circle for months, doesn't even matter that i wasn't even that close with them in the first place - i'm forever blocked bc of a brief association and it's ridiculous, frankly. and i understand wanting to curate your space a certain way if you want to avoid a specific person appearing in your vicinity in any way (and i'll come back to this topic for the second question, bc i stand by someone's right to choose how they curate their own space), but it again comes down to communication. blocking someone forever removes that chance to communicate. it's like you've sentenced them - but even prisoners get parole hearings. and yes, sometimes you block someone for something and then never think about them again, but when you are an instant block on any blog someone then makes? when you haven't even done anything to this person directly or weren't even aware of them? when you haven't even done anything wrong? that feels real shit, guys. don't do it to people.

2) this is a big one for me but: the way some people in the rpc treat villainous characters, or characters who have otherwise done Terrible Things. now, listen, i get wanting to explore "what ifs" and even potential redemptions, and that's fine, but unless you are going completely au (which i don't always agree with, especially if the Terrible Thing or them being a bad person is intrinsically tied to their story, but for the sake of this-) then you cannot, cannot, act like they weren't a horrible person or did terrible things, or that those things don't matter anymore. you cannot expect characters - especially anyone they might have wronged - to just change their opinions for nothing. & i detest villain apologists with my entire soul. you cannot excuse their behaviour (though you can explain it - two very different things). you cannot "redeem" them by going: hey, it doesn't matter that they did all these terrible things, because they're chill now! look at these nice things they've done! no, if you want your character to be redeemed, you've gotta fckn work for it, and you've gotta accept that it might not be possible - or that, at least, there will be characters who will never accept they've changed even if they have.

if you can't handle a villain being a villain, then don't write one.

3) nothing is "canon" unless it is actually canon. is it stated clearly in whatever media it is? is it explicitly said? no? then it's not canon. i don't care how implied it is or how "-coded" something is, it's not canon (also, hate the word 'coded' bc of how it's used, but that's another salt for another day). and someone not adhereing to what you believe is "canon" does not mean they are hating on it. we are all allowed our opinions, our own headcanons. unless something is directly harmful or problematic then let people have their hcs even if they disagree with yours. and yes, i understand that for some things, canon cannot explicitly state that a character is a certain way, for example, but that's unfortunately how the world is. even so, that doesn't give you the right to dictate someone's hcs or spew hate because they don't accept your canon.

& this applies heavily to ships. your ship is not canon unless it actually is canon. and please, please, acknowledge and understand that language means different things in different cultures. language has different meanings across the same culture, sometimes. your understanding of a word isn't necessarily the understanding that was meant and it certainly doesn't give you the right to look down on or outright hate upon anyone or anything that doesn't align with your views.

9. What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?

i do practice it, and here's why:

sometimes, it just makes sense. i typically only do this with ships, and only really with ships that i simply cannot see me seeking out with another person for whatever reason that is. sometimes you'll just click with someone and build a dynamic together that meets every need you've ever had for that particular combination of muses. sometimes it's a combination of muses you never expected to write. sometimes the dynamic only works with that one specific portrayal. and, sometimes, it's a dynamic you have very specific thoughts on that you can only trust this one person with.

and i get it, it does suck if you love a person's portrayal and want to pursue a particular dynamic, only to discover they're exclusive with someone. it's a bummer. but that's their right and you can't get salty over it. they've chosen to be exclusive for whatever reason and you just have to accept it, even if it sucks.

what i don't understand is the hate towards exclusivity. why shouldn't a person curate their space how they want? why is that such a terrible thing? "oh but it excludes people-" so what ???? you're not obligated to interact with anyone. if you're getting angry or upset over someone choosing to run their blog a certain way, maybe you shouldn't be here.

and to add on at the end bc i just know there's a chance someone will go "but you complained about people blocking you earlier. that's not respecting how they've chosen to curate their space" if i don't say this: please understand that is a very specific situation and is not the same thing at all. i already said that i understand why they did it and i take no issue with that at all. my issue is solely with the fact that it's still happening even though i no longer have any association with that particular person, because there's no opportunity to communicate. that's my problem with it.

[somerandomcryptid]

Introduction post time

Hi! My name is Cryptid, I use they/them pronouns, I have ADHD, and I am currently braining heavily about c!Dream and the dsmp in general (I have been since about October 2023 so I doubt it's leaving any time soon)

This is technically my second blog so likes, follows, and asks I send to people come from my main blog @cryptidflow3r

I don't like discourse as it stresses me out, but I might sometimes post about ccs because I do still watch and enjoy quite a few of them

I do a few aus around here the main three rn though are:

#Dreaming of death, which is an au of the fic Penpal by @calamari-minecraft-corner, it's kinda a big thing that I haven't organized yet, but I'll make a master post at some point when I've got the motivation, but the basic gist is that instead of immediately asking Wren to participate in the experiments he waits and a teenager name Cryptid (yes they're a self insert) is thrown into the mix. I lot of stuff insues. This au doesn't have spoilers really, I talk about all parts of the timelin

#One of my biggest enemies' kid is now my kid!?, which is a pretty new au as of writing this where Dream ends up adopting Sam's adopted kid/experiment creation while Sam is stuck in Pandora's. This one will probably have one dedicated fic that I'm trying not to spoil too much but I'll talk about it more if people send asks about it.

And

#Trans boy Dream au, what it says on the tin :) he's trans, and he needs a hug. This one technically can be considered canon compliant as well, as none of the main events majorly change! Just some of the stuff done and added things.

In should mention that I make a lot of self insert stuff(it’s all tagged) and that all my self inserts are minors(because I am) but they do vary in age a bit. i don’t really do self shipping on here but I do simp

I do reblog other people's self-ship stuff sometimes, and I don't tag that, so just be warned

I am always open to asks about my aus, my canon takes, and basically anything else! So feel free to stop by!

I don't do DNI's just be nice and know I will block you if you're mean and/or make me uncomfortable.

I think that's about it :3 I edit this a lot as things change, and I try to keep it up to date, it might be a bit out of date sometimes though

(last edited as of September 22nd , 2024)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

If There's Nothing Missing In My Life...

Fandom: DC Comics, Superfam

Summary: Newly-emancipated popstar and child actor, Conner (screen name: Lucky) navigates high school and stardom on his own.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Conner Kent, Lois Lane, Roxy Leech, Rex Leech, Lois Lane, Clark Kent, Hillary Chang

Additional Tags: Highschool AU, Celebrity AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Exploitation, References to Depression, Conner Kent Needs a Hug, Conner Luthor, Lex Luthor is Conner's Parent, Childhood Trauma, Self-Confidence Issues, Teen Angst, Angst, POV First Person, No Powers AU, Conner Kent-centric, Bisexual Conner Kent, POV Conner Kent, Protective Lex Luthor, Child Celebrity AU

Chapter One: Dear Diary

"You are gonna kill this whole high school publicity stunt thing!" Rex exclaimed while I sat on my balcony, soaking in the sun. I hadn't broken it to Rex that I'd actually enrolled in a real public high school. Rex would've blown a gasket if he knew, so I decided to wait until after my first week to tell him. "What are you gonna wear? Have you come up with a caption for the Face-sta-gram yet?"

"Please never say that again... And I haven't decided yet. I thought I'd keep it caj and wear board shorts. The weather's gonna be nice. Clear skies," I replied. Someone stood, blocking the sun, and I snatched off my sunglasses. "What gives!"

"Lucky, you've gotta take this seriously. Board shorts? Are you out of your mind? You're peddling unattainability. Any high school chump can wear board shorts on their first day. You've gotta go big or go home," Rex chastised me. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

I put my sunglasses on and tried to regain my cool. Sometimes I wished Rex would shut up and find someone else to bother, but I think I was his only client. "Can you move this lecture like three feet to the right?" I asked.

"You mean the left, right?" Rex questioned. I grinned. "Oh, so now you're a comedian?"

I chuckled and gave him the finger because he hated when I did that. The sun hit my skin as he stormed off. He finally let me be alone with my thoughts for a few minutes, and I started feeling homesick. I wanted to call my dad and talk to him, but that's what he was waiting for. He wanted me to give him a reason to think I regretted the emancipation proceedings. I didn't. I only wanted to hear his voice. He was my father, after all. It wasn't like I got emancipated because he was stealing from me or abusive. He wasn't any of that. I got emancipated because I wanted to go to public school and stay out late on the weekends. It didn't mean I didn't miss him. I teared up under my sunglasses and used my face towel to wipe my eyes, pretending I was dabbing sweat from my cheeks. I always thought he'd eventually break and take me to my first day of public school. Dad always told me it was too dangerous to go to public school. Instead, I'd be taking myself.

The sunlight and cool ocean breeze put me to sleep. Rex woke me up to get me out of the sun and bothered me about my first-day outfit. "Rex, go home. I will pick a fit so sick your grandchildren will print pictures of my student ID on t-shirts," I lied in the hopes that I'd be able to shower and work on one of my songs in peace and quiet. It worked.

I got cleaned up, sat in front of the muted tv, and screwed around on the guitar. Everyone decided pop would be my sound. I didn't have a choice because they thought I was too young to get into heavy sounds. I argued with them for weeks, but my dad said pop was safe, and I got stuck with the genre. I still wrote my own stuff when I got a moment to myself, but I never showed anyone out of fear they'd say I was a bummer. Most of it was my way of venting out all the negative emotions I felt that weren't profitable. In the words of my ex-publicist, whenever my dad wasn't around, "Depression doesn't sell." A few hours passed, and I went to my closet to pick out something for my first day to appease Rex. I picked a fitted white t-shirt and a pair of powder blue splash pattern wool trousers and sent him a picture. He was so nitpicky about everything, even though fashion wasn't really his forte. I figured he'd have Roxy look at it and give him a thumb's up or down.

Afterward, I made my lunch for school while heating up some leftover pizza in the microwave. It was quiet. Around this time, my dad would nag me about my wind-down routine. He did it with me my whole life to prepare me for bed, but I had gotten too old. I loved it when I was a kid, though. We'd say three good things and three bad things about our day, he'd give me a kiss on the forehead, and we'd sit together in silence and read for thirty minutes. He used to read to me, but he stopped doing that when I was eight. I wanted to tell him about my six things so badly I couldn't stand it, but I knew he'd say I wasn't ready to live on my own. It'd been nearly a month since we talked, and I felt like I could've been kinder, but I was dumb. I got cocky, and I said things I couldn't take back.

I turned the sound on the TV and flipped to the first celebrity gossip show I could find to see if my dad was doing anything. Instead, they were talking about me. "Is Lucky getting lucky? It's rumored that the freshly emancipated minor was spotted leaving the hottest-."

My phone rang. I knew who it was before I answered. "Have you ever heard of motels, kid?" Rex yelled at me. I put the phone on speaker and knocked my head against the back of the couch.

"That isn't true. Do you think my dad saw this?" I asked. I was mortified as I read the closed caption and saw some of the jokes they made.

"Your old man is the least of your problems! Do you know how bad this looks?" Rex questioned.

I hung up on him and called my dad. "Dad, what they're saying isn't-."

"I know. Is that all?" Dad questioned. I swallowed hard.

"Yeah," I replied. He was still mad at me, and I couldn't blame him for that, but it made my stomach feel empty in the worst way. "Oh! I forgot it's like two a.m. where you're at."

"I was awake... But be mindful that our time zones are six hours apart. Conner, what you've done or haven't done is no longer any of my business," Dad replied. That stung but not as bad as it had to sting when I told him he wasn't even my real dad.

"Right... Sorry. Well, I love you, Diddoo," I whispered to show him it was no hard feelings. Diddoo was my first word. I called him Diddoo whenever I wanted to say sorry for something stupid I'd done.

"I love you too, Conner," Dad replied before hanging up. At least I knew he still loved me. I rubbed my eyes with my palms to knead away the tears forming in my eyes. I wanted to tell him I missed him, but I couldn't. I couldn't bend for him this time. I had to be my own man, or he would always treat me like a little boy. It was always the two of us, but my emancipation alienated me in ways I never imagined. I thought I could do what I wanted and live on my own while still having my dad around, but I guess I was wrong.

"The sun... The sky... Leftover pizza," I listed, "Missing Dad... Rex got on my nerves today... More gossip." I stood up, washed my hands, and went to my room to read for a little bit. I did it every night, even after my emancipation, because I couldn't sleep without doing it. I wondered if my dad did it too.

[starlostjimin]

Title: spring for the first time Chapter 1/? WC: Chapter Rating: T Fandom: Stray Kids Pairing: Han Jisung/Lee Minho Tags/warnings: feelings of internal shame about virginity, societal pressure, gay awakening, assumed heterosexuality (joke's on them), magic, mind reading, innuendo, mythology (or is it?), best friend!hyunjin, workplace au, light urban fantasy au, i guess, fluff, possible smut later in the fic i haven't decided yet, currently SFW Summary: The day before Jisung's thirtieth birthday, Hyunjin tells him an old wives' tale about people who are virgins when they turn thirty. A shy accountant just trying to make it through life, Jisung brushes him off.

Until he wakes up the next day and hears things he definitely shouldn't be able to.

Or: Cherry Magic: Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard!....but make it minsung

next chapter

The office buzzed around him as Jisung tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet in front of him. On the other side of the room, the sales department was celebrating another big contract brought in by Lee Minho, the star of the office. Minho was everything Jisung wanted to be - incredible at his job, personable, good-looking, well-liked among the male coworkers and…popular among the female coworkers. Jisung thought he remembered hearing about Minho winning some athletics award in his school years, because of course he did. Jisung had only spoken with him once or twice, and while he remembered every detail, he was sure that the more popular man didn’t. They had been brief, work related encounters that had left Jisung with the speeding heartbeat that his anxiety always caused. 

“Oh, thank god,” Jisung mumbled as he watched the computer’s clock tick over to 5. Between the office being A Lot during celebrations, he’d also had his brain stuck on a joke Hyunjin had made at lunch. A stupid joke. Something not even remotely based in reality. 

And yet Jisung couldn’t shake it. 

“You’d better hurry up and get a girlfriend tonight,” Hyunjin said. 

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “What? I mean, we both know that’s not going to happen, so why all of a sudden?” 

“Don’t you know the old stories? If you’re still a virgin when you turn thirty, you get superpowers.” Hyunjin grinned. “We both know you couldn’t handle that.” 

“You’re the worst friend ever,” Jisung pouted. 

“You love me,” Hyunjin said, patting his best friend on the hand. 

It was stupid. So stupid. Only children believed in superpowers - which may have been the point, Jisung considered. Promise them superpowers so they don’t start sleeping around young. It made sense. And yet here he was, on the precipice of thirty, and he’d never even dated anyone, let alone had sex. He’d never met a girl he was attracted to, and even if he had, he was sure his anxiety would have kept him from doing anything about it. He sometimes thought it would be nice to have someone to come home to who would understand him, but opening up to someone? That was dangerous, plain and simple. Besides, he had little to offer in the dating department. His apartment was tiny, he walked everywhere, and he was pretty sure he was severely underpaid but too afraid to ask for a raise. Not exactly a prize. 

Jisung sighed and kicked a rock that was in his path. If he could be more like Minho, that would probably help. Everybody loved Lee Minho, and Jisung was sure he hadn’t gotten superpowers on his thirtieth birthday. Jisung tried to imagine himself smiling at his coworkers, expressing greetings that were more than the bare minimum needed to be polite. 

He couldn’t do it. Imagination-Jisung still stumbled over his words, still had hair out of place, still had a crooked tie. “Even in my imagination I’m a loser,” he muttered as he turned onto his street. Stopping briefly into the convenience store at the end of his block to pick up something to eat, he finished his short walk home, ready to change into pyjamas and sit in his bed with a movie playing until he fell asleep. 

His alarm blared, startling Jisung out of sleep. He wished briefly that he’d booked his birthday off like most people did - he was lucky with his workplace in that sense. But he hadn’t, knowing that 1. He wouldn’t have plans anyway and 2. He would probably, as always, have a huge stack of paperwork to get through. 

He was right on both counts. Jisung rolled over and shut off the alarm, rolling out of bed and rubbing his eyes as he headed to the bathroom to wash up. Staring at himself in the mirror, he wondered for a moment why people made such a big deal about birthdays. He looked exactly the same as he had yesterday. He woke up at the same time, he was going to put on the same suit he always wore to work, and he’d stop at his usual food truck on the way to pick up some breakfast for the walk over. Absolutely nothing had changed about him. 

Unless…Jisung cracked a slight smile at the thought. He jumped up and down a few times. It appeared flying and levitating were out. He stared hard at the sink. Turn on! He thought. Water!! He tried again. The sink stubbornly refused to turn itself on. “I guess I can rule out superpowers,” he chuckled as he put toothpaste on his toothbrush. 

“Morning, Jisung,” the owner of the food truck said as he approached. 

“Morning,” he said. 

“I’ve already got it ready for you,” the older man said, holding out a small bag. Jisung grinned. “Thank you. I guess I’m a little predictable, huh?” 

“8:00am, on the dot. I can practically set my clock by you,” the owner said with a laugh. As he tapped his phone against the pin pad, Jisung reached out to take the bag from the other man. When he did, his fingers brushed against his hand. 

This poor kid. He seems to live such a boring life. He’s young! He should be dating a nice girl. 

Jisung’s head shot up and he stared at the man, who was smiling back at him. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

“No, uh, I…just thought you said something. I’m going to have to make an extra coffee when I get to work. Didn’t sleep well last night. Thanks, bye!” Jisung left the truck, walking quicker than normal towards his office. He was sure he’d heard the old man saying something about his life being boring, but the man had clearly not been speaking. Jisung shook his head and kept walking quickly, eager to get into the safe space that was his cubicle. 

While he waited for the elevator, Jisung pulled out his phone to check his texts. As expected, there were two. One from Hyunjin, one from his mother, both wishing him a happy birthday. He smiled a tight, close-lipped smile at the screen as he tapped out a quick thank you to his mother, and made up his mind to call her later. He shoved his phone back in his pocket just as the elevator door slid open in front of him. It was packed, as always. Jisung held himself as steady as possible. The last thing he needed was to accidentally touch someone inappropriately if he got jostled by another person. 

He didn’t account for gravity. 

The old elevator shuddered to a stop at the next floor, throwing off Jisung’s balance and sending him stumbling into the person to his left. 

Oh my god, it’s him. 

The voice was familiar, but Jisung couldn’t place it. He looked up and found himself locking eyes with none other than Lee Minho. The man’s eyes were wide and Jisung worried he’d stepped on the other man’s foot. That was the last thing he needed. 

“Ah! Uh, I’m sorry, I lost my balance,” Jisung stammered out. 

He’s so cute. 

The voice again. Minho’s voice. But Jisung was literally looking at his face, and Minho wasn’t talking. It was then that he realized Minho’s hand was on his arm, steadying him. The elevator started again, jolting Jisung out of his thoughts. He stepped back, thankful for the feeling of Minho’s hand dropping off his arm. At the next floor, he rushed off the elevator, despite still being several floors away from his own. I’m going to have a great ass after taking the stairs to the tenth floor for the rest of my life, he thought to himself.

[trashyinfernomusic]

WIP Wednesday

I've been so busy, I haven't lots of time to really sit down and write - which sucks, because I've got a birthday gift I'm working on and I have fics I really need to sit down and write ;-;

Anyway, here's something from the Greek Mythology!AU I've been thinking about for a while now :D It's kinda a PJO/9-1-1 crossover because events and details are mentioned, but as of right now, I don't plan on any character crossovers! -----

The day starts off well. He wakes up, makes himself a coffee, doesn’t bother with breakfast – Bobby will probably have something for him at the station – changes, slips his knife into his boot, and grabs himself a bell pepper for the road. He makes sure to check his phone and the mail for postcards or messages before he leaves the apartment. Just in case.

It’s an easy routine, one that he’s somewhat happily fallen into post-Abby’s departure.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s dropped a half percent in body fat since his last DXA scan. Hot firefighter calendar, here he comes.

The drive is even easier than his wake-up routine. He makes good time, traffic isn’t actually all that terrible – a miracle in LA – and he’d managed to get the Jeep’s cooling fixed last week just before the heat wave hit the city.

It’s all easy. Too easy, even.

When Buck gets within one block of the station, the air shifts.

To most people, the kind of shift he’s talking about is one that’s imperceptible. A shiver down the spine, the hairs on the back of the neck rising in alarm, the uncomfortable feeling of being in an odd fog – things people explain away as an odd feeling or exhaustion or paranoia.

To Buck, it means that something is Wrong. He doesn’t mean wrong as in, oops, I got a math problem wrong. No. When he thinks Wrong, he thinks of Monster Donuts and the one-eyed daycare teacher who tried to eat him when he was a kid Wrong. Wrong is a field trip to the AACA Museum that ended with Buck driving off in one of the vintage Camaros after he’d asked the museum attendant very nicely for the keys (though that one had ended with the car catching fire when a very angry harpy decided to chase after him).

Okay, so maybe Buck’s life is a little weird. He gets it. But the weird has taught him to pay attention, to focus on the Wrong.

Ignoring Wrong gets people killed.

Complacency gets people killed. Good people.

Sometimes bad people, too, but things aren’t always that black and white when it comes to gods and monsters.

And Buck’s never been all that great at ignoring problems. He’s caused his fair share of them, sure, but ignoring a problem when it’s staring him in the face? No. He’s not great at ignoring problems.

The Mist is wrapped so tightly around Station 118 that Buck feels like he can barely see the building through the haze. It’s almost as if he wants to look away, like the building itself is too blinding, too present, for him to see. He wants to drive past. He thinks about pulling out his phone (flip phone, obviously, because a smartphone is one heck of a Bad Idea) to call Bobby and say, hey, I’m not coming in today –

He frowns, shakes the thought away, and pulls into the parking lot.

And then he immediately tries to pull out, suddenly struck by the urge to take another lap around the block. It wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

But then again, he’s spent the past few months working hard to prove himself to the rest of the 118. What would they say if he were to just not show up for his shift? He’s worked so hard recently, and he hasn’t even used his mom’s gift to do it.

It wouldn’t be that big of –

He pulls the knife from his boot and quickly slices a small cut across his palm. The urge to leave instantly dulls into a gentle prodding at the back of his mind. The familiar building snaps into focus. The fog is still there. It tugs at him, gently dulling his senses in a manner only the Mist can. He’s never really been the best at controlling it – he’s not a Hecate kid, and he’s got no affinity for illusion work – but he knows enough to protect himself from its influence.

Somewhat, anyway.

He slips the knife back into his boot and frowns. Something’s brought the Mist to his metaphorical front door. Something powerful if it’s affecting him this badly. A part of him wonders if everyone else at the station feels the effects, too.

He steps out of his car and grabs his duffel bag, quickly pulling out his recent DXA results so that he has something to crow about when he makes his appearance. Hopefully, he’ll be able to gauge everyone’s level of awareness based off their reactions.

He smiles as he walks into the engine bay. Everything seems to be normal. C Shift is finishing up their work as scheduled, Bobby and Hen are talking over by the locker rooms, and Chimney’s still not in yet, but that’s not entirely surprising. The Mist is still present, annoyingly so, but it’s not impacting normal station operations.

“I got another DXA scan,” he calls loudly both in the hopes of catching his co-workers’ attentions and finding whatever it is that’s brought the Mist into the building. Hen and Bobby turn to him. Buck waves the papers with his results in the air once he gets close enough to them. “Guess who dropped another half percent?”

“What?” Hen asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she squints at the papers. “Wait, Buck, is that blood?”

Buck glances at the papers that are rapidly turning red where his palm meets their edges. Ah. Right. That.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, his smile faltering a bit. Bobby’s own smile has fallen into a concerned frown. “I cut myself making breakfast this morning, was running late, so I didn’t have a chance to take care of it.” He grimaces, mostly for show, and purposefully glances back towards the parking lot where he’d left his Jeep. “I’m going to have to wipe down the steering wheel later.”

Bobby gently pulls the papers from his hand so that Hen can snatch the offending injury and get a better look at it. “Buck, you could have called,” he chides. “I would have been alright with you being a little late if it meant you’d take care of it properly.”

“You know I only use my phone for emergencies, Cap,” Buck replies with a shrug. “And I knew I’d have access to some awesome medical care when I got here. Not a huge deal.”

“I’d say this qualifies as an emergency, Buck.” Hen looks up, clearly about to order Bobby to go get something, but she stops when something catches her eye. “Chim! Can you get me some gauze, wipes, and some antibiotic cream?” She levels Buck with her best glare and says, “Who knows what you’ve been touching since you injured yourself. Does that fancy scan of yours check for brain cells? Because I’m a bit worried about a deficiency.”

Buck grimaces for real this time. Chimney’s already scurried off towards one of the ambulances so he’s safe from razzing for a bit, but Bobby’s already giving him the Disappointed Dad Glare and honestly, that’s worse. “No,” he says, “a DXA scan measures your body fat. You can see your percentage in every part of your body.”

“Oh yeah?” Chimney asks as he walks up to them, Hen’s requested items in his hands. “Did they measure the fat in your head?” He glances down at Buck’s cut and sucks in a loud breath. “Ouch. I hope that’s not as bad as it looks.”

It really isn’t, Buck thinks to himself. He knows his body; he knows injuries. He knows his body and injuries. It’s really not that big of a deal.

The old scar along his side twinges painfully at the reminder of a time something was a big deal.

But there’s a difference between a sword going through your side and a knife barely cutting your palm. Buck knows – he’s had both happen. He’d much rather take the knife.

“Ah, see, the fat joke would be funny,” he says quickly, hoping to change the subject as Hen begins poking and prodding at the wound on his palm with a wipe. “But we’re about a week away from submissions being due for the Hot Days, Smoldering Nights: Men of the LAFD wall calendar.” He lets a bit of smugness drip into his voice. “And I’m already at my goal weight, so it seems my head is working perfectly.”

Hen scoffs, none-too-gently scraping at a bit of dried blood on Buck’s hand with her wipe. Buck almost yelps when she literally rubs his skin the wrong way, but he bites down on his tongue before it can escape. “Do you really need to use the whole title?” she asks. “You could just say ‘that idiotic, reductive, sexist calendar that insults the dignity of this organization and furthers the myth that all firefighters are male.’ Chimney, the antibiotic please.”

Chimney wordlessly hands over the cream with a she just went there look on his face.

And Buck? Well… Buck doesn’t really have an answer for that. Neither does Bobby, who shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other.

Definitely the Mist’s fault. Mhm. Yep. That’s what he’s going with.

He internally breathes a sigh of relief at the fact that his co-workers seem to be unaffected by the Mist – on the surface, at least. His mind wanders just for a moment back to the Princess Andromeda in the early days of the war.

Back then, he’d thought the mortals were funny as they’d stumbled around in what seemed like a drug-induced haze. Now, he gets how truly fucked up the Mist had made them.

“Yeah,” he finally says, “that’s not any less words.”

“Hen, come on, it’s for charity,” Bobby cuts in with an amused grin.

“No, Bobby, you too?” Hen despairs. She hands Chimney the cream and takes the gauze from his hands without even looking.

Bobby shrugs. “Well, why not? They say a man is at his sexiest when he reaches fifty.” And it’s then that Buck knows Bobby is joking.

…probably.

“Is that what they say?” Hen asks, her voice heavily laced with disbelief. She carefully tapes off the gauze and releases Buck’s hand with a gentle pat. “That’s what they say.”

Buck wisely, in his opinion, stays out of it.

[simping-on-the-daily]

Somehow the Sanders Sides fandom is much more stressful then the others?

[newtonsheffield]

Hi Molly!! I LOVE your AUs! I actually made this tumblr account just to follow your blog. I literally am following one person and it’s you. Anywayyy Im over here just begging after another little morsel of my favorite fic Good Girls😍😍 I mean you’re the genius, but maybe a little something about the time between Good Girls and Strife. Maybe how they adjust to life in Cambridge or Anthony opening up his shop or a lazy day I don’t really care as long as my Viking and his badass princess are in it😭😭😭 also I will literally die if you respond to this because you are my icon😫

Hello!

There's so many good blogs here! You should check them out!

And also, the thought of me being anyone's icon should terrify you my friend. Last night I spent 15 minutes measuring my dog for a life vest so he can practice swimming.

But lets take a look at Anthony finding his garage

Anthony had no idea why he was so nervous. None. Kate had known this was his plan since they'd been in secondary school, but now it had come time to tell her he was ready to take this step it felt... somehow a little more monumental.

He'd been thinking about it really, since he'd finished his apprenticeship, since they'd known they were moving to London and he just felt... stuck. It was true, that he'd slowly been working on his self confidence, that his relationship with Kate, the pride her family and his had instilled in him, but sometimes it still felt like he didn't deserve what he had. When he stared down at the wedding ring on his finger and something deep inside whispered You Don't deserve her. And he just... wasn't sure how to talk to his wife about the fact he wanted to start a new business...in an economic downturn.

It had been threatening to bubble out of him all day, sat in the Sharma's living room watching Tom closely, Kate off with Edwina picking out some dress for some formal or... library convention Matty was taking her to.

"So how's things?" Tom's voice was conversational, but his eyes were watching him so carefully, over the top of his crossword.

"Um- good. Kate's getting ready to start her new job. I'm- The new house is really nice. Newton loves having a yard."

Tom nodded, "So what's the problem?"

Anthony;'s heart stuttered in his chest. "Why would you think there's a problem?"

His father in law sighed, pen scratching against the paper, "Because you've been fiddling with your wedding ring all morning."

Anthony sighed, the words pushing against his throat "I want to... open my garage, um- bit we're already going through so many changes with the move and Kate's new job and-"

"Anthony, there's always reasons not to do something. If this is what you want, you should talk to Kate about it. And I can't wait to bring the MG in. hopefully you'll have time for me."

Anthony had nodded, and it had settled in his chest.

He'd been meaning to tell Kate all day, he really had. Meaning to tell her that he'd decided not to take the job at the garage he'd had lined up for months, that he wanted to throw most of their savings behind something that could fail so easily, and as usual, Kate was three steps ahead of him.

"I've set up an appointment for us on Saturday."

Kate said it so casually, as they sat around the living room, a block of chocolate between them, Newton belly up on the floor.

Anthony hummed vaguely, too distracted by her fingernails against his scalp. "Couple's manicures?"

Kate chuckled, "Not this week. No, I noticed there's an old garage for sale and... it's pretty run down but it could be nice."

Anthony's heart stopped, glancing at his wife from the corner of his eye. "A garage."

She looked blankly back at him. "...yes? It's cool if you're not ready, but I thought it might be good to see what's out there and-"

Anthony darted forward, cutting her off with a kiss, his pulse pounding in his ears. "I love you."

"I love you too." Kate sighed, pushing his hair back. "But we haven't even seen it yet, it might be a complete wreck."

It wasn't. From the second they pulled up outside Anthony's stomach had dropped. It needed work, it had been closed for at least six months, they'd need new equipment and he'd want the concrete floors polished but he could imagine it all, the neon sign, the countertop made from the front end of an old junker. The real estate agent had barely let them inside before Anthony had scrabbled off, darting around, up the stairs to the offices, the work stations Kate's voice following him back.

"Sorry, he's a little excited."

"Your... boyfriend?"

"My husband, actually, this has been his dream for a little while and-"

"I'll take it!" Anthony called down the stairs.

And there she was, grinning up at him, "This your garage?"

"Yeah, this is my garage."

And months later, The picture of Kate sitting on his shoulders, hanging the Bridgerton Family Motors Neon sign is the first picture he pins to the wall behind the counter, and all he feels is proud.

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right - Pt 1

Part 2, Part 3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: This story is kind of an AU. Reader meets Venable when Wilhemina is light Mina (orange hair, adorable, cute, friendly) and they get together. One day Wilhemina breaks it off suddenly and they only reunite years later but Reader is met with a much darker version (dark Mina).

Also, this used to be on my Wattpad but I decided to completely rewrite it and add multiple parts

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @rainbow-hedgehog, @mrsdeanhoward, @alexajbitar, @in-cordelias-coven, @kenzbro, @loverofallthingssarah, @twistedpoeticjustice, @billiebeanhoward, @minaslittleone, @lilypadscoven, @vintagepaulson, @ninaahs, @whitelotus00, @httpfiftyshadesofgay

-Flashback-

''Are you serious right now after all we have been through?'' you try hard not to scream but it feels like your body is on fire, your lungs are burning, heart racing and your eyes watering. You cannot believe you are having this conversation with your girlfriend Wilhemina right now. After a whole year of knowing each other and eventually giving the relationship a go she is talking about moving on.

'It's for the best'' is all she said in return and then she walked out, cane in her hand hitting the floor hard and not once did she look back, she ignored your cries, you begging her to stay and please turn back around. You keep repeating this is a nightmare and you are gonna wake up any minute to her holding you in her arms. But it was no nightmare and she did walk out of your shared apartment and ever since that day you have tried to move on. But no matter what you did working, moving out of the apartment, meeting friends, getting to know new people it didn't work, Wilhemina was always on your mind, when you are asleep she would visit in your dreams, when you are driving or outside and a song plays, she is there in your memory as if she never left in the first place.

-End of Flashback-

Even right now as you are walking through the streets on your lunch break, coffee in your hand and earphones in your ears listening to music she is here again.

''I never needed you like I do right now....I never hated you like I do right now'' as you hear those lyrics your heart skips a beat and it feels like it is breaking all over again. You tried everything you could think of, start a new job in a new field, you moved to a new city but nothing seems to be able to take your mind off the redhead, clouding your mind, her touch still so present lingering on your skin, her voice still ringing through your ears and the smell of lavender following you wherever you go.

Currently, you are working for a company in California, in the social media department and to promote the brand and their work. It's mostly boring but you do enjoy social media and advertisement so you gladly took the job considering it comes with a higher paycheck and a brand new apartment. There was nothing left in your old city, no friends anymore because you drove them all away as they always talked badly about your ex-girlfriend and the feelings you still have for her. No family because you were kind of always on your own and after quitting your job there, there was nothing holding you back. The woman with red-orange hair and a purple obsession is currently on your mind again and no matter what you do she is stuck in your head, like a catchy record and it hurts. As you think about her a wave of flashbacks hit you, with no way of putting a stop to it and keeping the storm at bay.

''Wilhemina Venable, nice to meet you'' was the first few words that you ever heard her say and for a moment you were so struck that you couldn't even say anything. ''Cat got your tongue hmm?'' was what she said afterward and what got you to snap out of it, introduce yourself, and shake her hand. And when you touched her for the first time you knew you would never ever get tired of feeling her soft hands.

You would also never grow tired of looking into her beautiful brown eyes or the soft smile she would give you whenever she would see you. Back then you just finished college and you took your first job and she was your co-worker. Starting a relationship with a co-worker is sometimes frowned upon and there probably are good reasons for that but you didn't listen, not to your friends telling you not to do it and not to the other co-workers after they noticed the glances you and Wilhemina exchanged at work. But you both never let that stop you and you fell for her and you fell hard.

Although you had some crushes before, mostly on teachers in college or celebrities, you never had been in a relationship before. Every morning before work you would get up so early and make sure to put your best clothes on, you would improve your makeup skills and try different hairstyles to impress Wilhemina and you did. She would notice how often you would come around to her desk and ask her silly questions you both knew the answers to but you pretend you didn't. And eventually, she took all of her confidence and asked you out and that night was the most magical night of your life.

You went to an expensive restaurant and after she took you home and she gave you something that night that was precious and you held onto it till today. Patience. She was your first love and she made sure to not rush, to not hurt you, to be there for you and hold you whenever you needed her. After your first date, you went on some more magical nights together, before you were ready to allow her to love you and to love her in return and she made you feel things you never felt before. She would make your whole body feel beautiful and worthy, all your insecurities left whenever you were around the woman who had many insecurities herself due to her back. And that's probably what you admire most about her, the way she made you feel whenever you were with her.

Thinking about all this, you think back to the many dates you both went on, to restaurants, shopping, the movies, car dates, attending work parties together, going to get drunk together. Life felt so easy with Wilhemina around, although she was a few years older than you she was pure, she was funny, soft, kind, precious and she was innocent. She would always treat people with respect and offer help and you loved her beautiful and kind personality. You never thought that one night after being with each other for almost a year she would randomly walk out of your life and not once turn back around or try and talk about it.

Hearing the lyrics repeat, you sigh and shake your head because it is true, one part of you needed Wilhemina back in your life because no matter what you do you can not get her out of your head or heart for that matter. Part of you does hate her for leaving and walking out, you never cried harder in your life than the night she left and you couldn't function for days. All you did was cry, toss and turn in the bed or curl up on the floor in a little ball until you couldn't cry anymore but the pain never stopped. It took days and in the end, your friends who picked you up again, taught you how to take care of yourself again by eating, showering, getting dressed, and going to work and you hoped that moving and changing jobs would change something.

As you are sitting in a park, only a few blocks away from your new workplace, watching people having picnics, playing with their kids, walking their dogs, or doing exercise you realize that all this wasn't worth it. Moving away, leaving your job, apartment and friends did nothing, you still miss her and she still haunts you. You miss her gentle side, the soft Mina as you used to call her, who would hold you in her arms, who would say soothing words until you would fall asleep, and who would make you feel better after a hard day at work, hold you after a nightmare or would let you ramble about another one of the co-workers annoying you. You miss telling her about your days and how you feel because you could be free with her and be who you are and you haven't been that way in a very long time.

Checking your phone you notice your lunch break is over in five minutes so you toss your empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walk back to your office. Today has been particularly boring because all you have to do is answer people's dm's and requests on social media because currently there is no campaign going on. As you walk back to your desk you put your coat and bag away and start logging onto your laptop. That's when you hear your boss on his way to your desk and you can't help but internally roll your eyes. He isn't a bad guy or anything, he is in his fifties, grey hair, always wearing a suit and he treats you with respect and you appreciate him but whenever he would approach you it means a problem, like an advertisement going wrong or a complaint or a new major client and that means longer hours and staying in the office till midnight. Not that you mind considering there is nothing or no one to come back home to.

''Y/N'' he says as he finally reaches your desk. Looking up from your desk, you force a smile and reply ''Yes Mr. Odell what can I do for you?''. By his posture, you can tell he is in some kind of distress.

''Listen we have a potential new client and I want you to come to our first meeting with them'' he says excitedly and you question why he can't just bring his assistant. ''I can't bring Janet she is sick so I need you to get your things'' he explains and you log off your computer, take your coat and bag and follow him outside the building. It is quite chilly, so you are glad that you put a jacket over your blazer.

As the familiar buildings and streets fade into the distance, you try not to zone out like you usually would but these days your mind would often be preoccupied with daydreams or memories as if someone else was entirely in control of your thoughts.

''I have a meeting with a Mr. Pfister and Mr. Nutter'' he says absent-mindedly while looking into his calendar and talking about the company you are headed to. Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod and mumble ''Of course Mr. Odell'' before averting your gaze back to the window looking at the hectic city and people going on about their days. Your thoughts wander back to work and you try to think of a few possibilities to advertise their products, as that might not be as easy as you originally thought when agreeing on accompanying your boss.

The first thing you see as you walk into a large unfamiliar building, following your boss's steps,  is a front desk with some employees sitting there, it seems that this building is home to a few companies and different departments as they guide people into different parts of the building. You watch as your boss approaches the front desk,  ''Hello may I help you?'' a woman with blonde hair asks politely.

''Yes I have a meeting with Kineros Robotics'' he says and she looks at you, then him again, and points towards a sign. ''It's to your right just follow the signs'' she says and you notice how her facial expression changed from nice and friendly to cold and possibly scared? after your boss mentioned the company name. Reading people's expressions and understanding their underlying feelings, has always been something you are good at but you quickly shake the thought away and follow your boss.

As you walk down the corridor you see a young woman with long brown curled hair wearing a blouse with flower prints and a skirt run down the hall with a box in her hand, her heels echoing through the building. ''I'm sorry'' she mumbles hectic and nervous as she zooms past you and you give Mr. Odell a questioning expression before reaching the department.

''I'm so sorry there was a bad accident on the 101'' you hear the woman say and then you hear a sound that sounds both so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The cane tapping. For a moment you freeze, knowing this isn't just any cane tap as you are so used to a certain redhead woman expressing her emotions partly through the very device that helps her keep her balance. Despite not having heard the sound in over a year, you know exactly who must be on the other end of the hallway.

Temporarily you freeze, thinking maybe her leaving you and breaking things off with you, has ultimately clouded your senses and affected your brain and maybe you are imagining everything. After all the rational part of yourself, is trying to remind you that there is no explanation right now as to why she would be here of all places.

However, the next thing you hear is a clear confirmation that your brain is not tricking you, it's not your mind so clouded by her absence, she is here, the only thing keeping you from seeing each other is a wall and a few steps apart. As you hear a familiar voice your heart stops beating and your throat goes dry.

''Not as bad as the accident that brought you into the world'' that is all you heard and although her voice sounds more cold, harsh and raspy you are fully aware that Wilhemina is sitting at the end of that corridor. For a moment your body goes into a state of shock, your ears ringing, vision blurring, and your heart beating out of your chest.

Shortly after the girl what you assume now to be an assistant comes running back towards the corridor with tears in her eyes and her heels making the same clicking sound. She zooms past you and Mr. Odell again and all he says is ''Damn she seems feisty'' and you know it's aimed at Wilhemina and for a moment you debate whether to just turn around and pretend to be sick or needing to answer a phone call but you know you can't back out now, after all, you have missed seeing her for too long now.

All you wanna do is see her adorable orange hair, that you used to run your fingers through and untangle some knots after she had a long day, the dorky glasses that you sometimes made fun of, and beautiful pastel purple probably everywhere if this truly was her workplace after all. ''Come on'' your boss says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again and you walk into the large room.

Eyes instantly wander to the source of purple in the room and the source of darkness in your heart and emptiness ever since she left but not only does your heart stop for a moment as you take a look at her, you blink a few times, now actually sure whether this is real or some kind of nightmare.

Wilhemina's hair is a much darker shape of red now and styled into a tall sharp quiff, no sign of her usual high ponytails anymore or the lighter and orange shape it used to be. You notice she doesn't wear glasses anymore and you are convinced her eyes look an even darker shape than before too. She is wearing a dress and it's also a very dark shade of purple with matching earrings. Even her makeup is darker, and as you see her sitting by her desk you can't deny how intimidating she seems, looking at some files, her cane resting on the desk right beside her. Even the cane is different now, it has a snake shape at the top and it's not the old plain one she used to have.

For a moment you believe you just walked right into your own personal nightmare, the funny, sometimes sassy, and beautiful girl you used to love now seems like a completely different and somewhat evil person. The Wilhemina you once loved and still have feelings for, as they never truly changed, seems gone and it seems like she was replaced by a new one, a colder version.

She would have never spoken to anyone like that or treated someone the way she just treated that girl that seems to be her assistant, by the looks of it. All the staring and observing Wilhemina happened in a matter of seconds although it feels like an eternity, everything is silent for a moment, all that is to be heard is your own heartbeat and the typing on Wilhemina's keyboard.

You watch as your boss approaches her and you follow him and finally, Wilhemina looks up noticing the presence of someone else in the room and her gaze is focused on him, so she hasn't seen you yet. He tries to shake her hand and says ''My name is Mr. Odell I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister'' and she just looks at him and his hand with a slightly disgusted expression but she doesn't bother shaking his hand.

''Very well'' she says and takes a glance at you for a split second, noticing a second person in the room and her eyes wander back to her laptop thinking you are just some assistant but when she realizes who you are she immediately looks back over to you and she doesn't avert her gaze at first.

Wilhemina takes in your features for a moment, the sense of fashion, dressing smartly and formally but at the same time stunning as she always said, your hair, the improved makeup skills, and still the same details she always loved about you. She doesn't look into your eyes yet and you are interrupted when two men walk over.

One of them has brown hair and the other blonde hair and you try hard not to chuckle when you see them because they look hideous. ''Mr. Odell, nice to meet you'' they say and shake hands. ''This is Y/L/N maybe someone could show her around while we finalize the details?'' your boss suggests, taking you by surprise, and one of the two turns to Wilhemina and says ''Miss Venable would you give this beautiful lady a tour please''.

For a split second, you are convinced, she is about to kill him but you aren't sure if it's about the tour or compliment. ''Of course'' she mumbles and your boss and the two men leave and you are left there with your ex-girlfriend and awkward silence filling the room. You haven't looked up or into her eyes yet and it terrifies you, she terrifies you.

Wilhemina has no idea what to do or how to react after not seeing you for two years and the last time she did she walked out of your life and your relationship. The redhead looks at you and without looking into your eyes yet she knows the pain, she can see it and she can tell this is killing you inside, the last thing she ever wanted was to cause you pain.

You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and turn to Wilhemina and your eyes instantly lock and you look into her dark brown eyes and not leave her gaze for one moment. She takes a few slow steps towards you, her cane hitting the floor, and with every tap and echo in the room, it feels like your heart is ripped into more pieces and your past is here confronting you right at this moment.

''Mina'' is everything you can say but it comes out as a whisper while your voice cracks. Your ex-girlfriend's eyes close right away because she has missed hearing you call her that for the past two years but as she opens her eyes she reminds herself internally, who she is and that she is currently at her workplace.

''Follow me'' she instructs and you follow her while she walks down a corridor and into a room with big machines. While you follow her you can't understand what would have happened to her to turn into this cold-hearted person. She used to be the sweetest and kindest person you knew but clearly, something has changed. You cannot take your eyes off her and as she walks you into the room with machines, she explains about the work they do here and how they do it and as much as you try to focus and look at the things she shows you, you can't and Wilhemina notices.

''Do I bore you?'' she suddenly snaps in that cold voice again, her nostrils flaring and your heart feels like a knife was just thrown right into it. ''I'm sorr- sorry I-'' but you can't even think of a good enough excuse so you just look at the floor and try hard to keep your emotions at bay.

''Anyways, these are the machines and devices we use, whenever someone places a custom order we make sure to fulfill that order as efficient and quick as possible'' Wilhemina explains her voice still stern, sounding like she has given this tour so many times, she has memorized every single word.

However, you do notice her looking at you the entire time she explains and it seems like she wants you to say something but there are too many things that you want and wanted to say to her for years but you never imagined one day you would run into her like this. For several minutes the two of you stand in the rooms with machines, Wilhemina explaining and you trying hard to focus on her words intently.

''Y/N'' you hear the voice of your boss coming from the door, the two strange-looking men behind him, and you look at him, noticing the satisfied looks on their faces, indicating the deal worked well, and he says ''I'm finished, thank you, Miss, for giving her the tour'' he adds now focused on Wilhemina. ''Let's go'' he says and you walk in his direction without looking back at her and just as you are about to walk out of the door you look at her and say ''Thank you'' and then you walk out.

As you walk out of the large office building, back through the same long corridor, and past the front desk, you can't hear anything your boss is trying to say and the entire car ride back to the office you try and wrap your head around what just happened, abandoning every single word Mr. Odell is saying.

''This didn't happen wake up Y/N wake-up Y/N'' you keep repeating in your head but it's no use this is no nightmare this is reality.

[bee-snail]

Tangled's "League of Villains" AU when

I'M GENUINELY SURPRISED I HAVEN'T SEEN ANYONE TALKING ABOUT THIS BEFORE ???

I mean. Consider how many people have been fucked over by Rapunzel or by Corona who have the potential to work with alliances if it fits into their goals:

- Stalyan and her goons (probably, if you imagine that Baron died to the poison and Stalyan gets vengeful about it)

- Lady Caine and her goons, assuming she's still willing to work together with some other villains to get her own vengeance

- Zhan Tiri. Man, imagine if like 2000 years ago the lady was really just chilling doing her cool and epic science research on the magic flower and stone with her 3 kids and (backstabbing) partner and the people were against her because she was a demon, and (similarly to Varian,) kinda just accepted her role as a "villain" and got cast out for THOUSANDS OF YEARS for it, thus making her vengeful and crazy enough to actually become the heinous demon they expected her to be

- fucking HECTOR MAN. First his kingdom falls because Edmund did a stupid, then Rapunzel, Cassandra and the crew walk into his house (he lived in the Great Tree for like 25 years. that's his house. that's his home man) steal from said house, start destroying said house, throw him off a cliff, actually destroy said house, then proceed to steal the artifact he spent 25 years trying to protect, and then brainwash him into being some mindless puppet (sure, that was Cass, but she counts as Coronan and also counts as part of Rapunzel's crew in his book so he has the right to still mad about it)

- maybe even Pizzazo from the science expo episode. I dunno why. I just think she's fun and she could have a nice potential as the team's Comic Relief and Explosives Manager 👍 (because really, if she were to really be interested in science and was simply trying to find flashy ways to do some, she would definitely love to make shit to destroy things in super colorful explosions)

I didn't put the Separatists of Saporia in the list because they'd probably try to start a coup and would proceed to get stomped by the rest of the group. heh. deserved. I also didn't put Varian in because he'd probably rather chill with his dad now that he's back and everything's been reconciled.

tbh I'm pretty sure canon ZT would also try to start a coup herself but I find that it'd also be really funny if the beginning was just. Hector stealing the Moonstone after finding out Eddie let the Coronans into the Moonstone chamber (especially considering that this act of his is like picking up all the years Hector spent isolated in the Tree and threw it in the trash as if it didn't matter), kicked everyone out, and then ZT kept trying to get Hector to do stuff for her but he kept blocking her via Raw Stubborness because "fuck off demon bitch i need to rebuild my kingdom" and she can't really do shit about it, WHEEZE

possibly they make a deal like "okay fine if i help you rebuild your kingdom, will you help me destroy corona after it's done?" "sure" "oh, really? that easy?" "yeah, i was already planning on doing that anyway. these guys suck" and then the next few weeks is just them bickering over town aesthetic and castle decorations while bonding over How Much Corona Fucked Them Up, and before any of them can realize it they will have become (eugh) attached

Possibly the other villains come afterwards and they set base in the New Dark Kingdom™ and each one helps rebuild the kingdom somehow.

Since they can't afford a war (yet), sometimes they like to "prank" Corona. Pizz would love to make paint bombs to paint the whole town in obnoxiously bright paint colors that did not come off easy. Or Lady Caine and her crew fucking with the local boats to hinder their economy with other kingdoms just a little bit. Or Stalyan and her goons fucking with the royal guard, from stealing belongings to trapping some in the dungeons for some days. SOBBING THIS IS TOO FUNNY I'M SORRY

@tangled-pnumbra @razprocopto-blog Forgive me kind Tangled Gods to ping you in this feeble post, but I felt like you'd find this to be really funny too :]

update: I really should start writing my ideas in a more cohesive manner next time I make a public post

[t00thpasteface]

I'm sorry to bother you, but will you ever sell stickers of your 80s au Voryn? I've been looking to buy a bunch of tes stickers and since you're one of my all time favourite artists I've been meaning to buy some from you, but there were surprisingly few. While I'm at it, I love your work! Your style has this really nice roundness? I suppose? to it, that gives it all this really unique vibe that I've never seen anything else have. I honestly don't know how to describe it, but the way you draw the characters just feels as if you're getting to the heart of them, if that makes sense. My absolute favourites are probably your Dagoth Ur and Almalexia, they just feel so lively. Your colors are also wonderful, they're all so bright and they look so natural, not in the sense that they look like they're real or something, but in the sense that they look like they belong there, I honestly can't imagine your drawings without them there. If I haven't already asked for too much, I'd love to see your take on some of the other deadric princes at some point, especially the ones that don't show up as much, like Clavicus Vile or Hermaeus Mora

oh man, that's a LOT to chew through!

first off-- i'm certainly open to the idea! if i think of any fun sticker designs for my 80s AU i'll certainly throw some on there. i'd especially like to try my hand at evoking 80s graphic design. i know chrome block-letters are a little oversaturated but it's a cool look!

(for anyone who was unaware of it, here's the tes section of my redbubble store, with shirts, stickers, and a few other things!)

i'm soooo so immensely flattered by that description of my style, though (☆ ω☆) especially since i really do prioritize personality in my character illustrations above all else. i'm always glad to hear that's paying off!

but between you and me, sometimes that's motivated by spite; whenever i disagree with the "fanon" interpretation of a character, i just draw them oozing the personality that i think they should have... but i think the ends justifies the means there...

as for my coloring-- i've always been VERY inspired by mid-century cartoons and kids books! a lot of the kids books i grew up on were from when my mom was a kid (usually those 'little golden books'), and i also watched a lot of hanna barbera and looney tunes.

back in the 50s and 60s, printed illustrations were very limited in what colors they could use, and red was a common accent color because you could make the cutest rosy cheeks with it. as a result, that bright candy-red, which sometimes skewed a little orange because of the old yellowing paper, has been seared in my brain as the accent color. they also typically employed a dry-brush style of shading that accentuated the texture of the paper, which is why i like using such textured brushes even though i only ever do digital art.

the backgrounds for cartoons-- think Hanna Barbera-- were also very geometric, and like you said, they had a certain harmony of color and line that felt natural even if it was so stylized and exaggerated. it's hard to really let loose and allow myself to draw scenery that isn't perfectly proportional, but i'm slowly getting there.

obviously i've still got a long way to go before i can even approach the skill level of the old greats, but i do try to evoke those mid-century aesthetics in my art.

and what a coincidence... i was just thinking earlier that i ought to draw some more daedric princes. even if a lot of them do lean on some pretty well-trodden design tropes, they all have a lot of personality. i've especially been considering pinups of the female-presenting ones, predictable though that may be.

(if any of my followers out there are truly, deeply invested in seeing me draw a particular prince (or any other character), my commissions are open!)

thanks so, so much for this ask. it really brightened my whole day!!

[osmpalliumduo]

Here's a little something for the murder AU again

cw implied eating disorder ? just in case :)

-

As much as the three boys want, they don't always share the same classes. Sometimes it's just Tubbo and Ranboo, other times it's Tubbo and Tommy or Tommy and Ranboo. It was a bit of an inconvenience before, more so for Tommy really, but eventually they grew comfortable with it.

Lately they've been feeling its inconvenience again.

When it's just Tubbo and Ranboo, the two close up like a mimosa pudica, refusing to talk to anyone but between themselves. It wasn't weird before, the two were already known to just be a little bit more introverted than Tommy is, but the thing that strikes their relationship as different lately is Tubbo.

Tubbo, who tires easily and shuts down when he needs a break; Tubbo, who bumbles about even when he's not socializing with anyone but his two dear friends; Tubbo, who has never looked so pale and sick before.

When it's just Tubbo and Ranboo, they don't talk to anyone but each other. But it's different now because Tubbo doesn't bumble, he doesn't bump shoulders with Ranboo when he walks with the taller, he doesn't bounce with each step he takes to match Ranboo's longer strides.

He clings, presses his face into the taller and lets Ranboo lead the way. He isn't tired, because he still keeps his eyes wide and open. It's the same with Tommy, but it's stranger with Ranboo.

It's been two weeks and a half since the incident.

"Hey, Tubbo," Quackity taps the boy's shoulder and the brunette turns, gazing over at Quackity yet not quite looking him. "Got a minute?"

"Um," Tubbo says, slow as he looks back up at Ranboo.

"He can stay, don't worry," Quackity reassures, and gently he pulls them aside so they don't block the hallway. "I just...you haven't been doing well. It's pretty obvious at this point."

Tubbo blinks, doesn't let himself be surprised because it isn't all that shocking to be honest.

"I mean, haha, I guess the news about George hit you pretty hard, huh?" Quackity adds, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was...I was devastated too. First Schlatt now George..."

Tubbo nearly flinches at the mention of Schlatt, who wasn't the best older brother figure in hindsight yet it still set Tubbo off regardless when Schlatt had that stroke a year ago.

"And, well, you know. They say George didn't exactly just die," Quackity leans against the wall, stuffing his hand into his pant pockets. "They did find his body buried in the forest somewhere, after all. They're still trying to find who did it so I get why you're so..."

Tubbo doesn't like where he's going with this, but silently listens anyway.

Quackity laughs, like he's sharing an inside joke - it's a thing he does when he has something upsetting to share; it makes him feel better apparently, even if it seems rude, "It's just! I don't know. The way you're reacting right now, eyes glued to the floor, pressed close between your two best friends..."

Ranboo doesn't react, and even if he did Quackity can't see it anyway.

"...almost makes it seem like you're the one who killed George," Quackity finishes, his voice dropping an octave.

Suddenly Tubbo can't quite hear the blurred chatter of the students traversing up and down the halls, can't feel Ranboo pressing his arm against his, can't taste his own mouth.

Quackity stares at him, scanning the boy's expression as Tubbo's face pales, eyes widening, before his brows dip and his teeth grit.

"Don't-Don't just joke about that, you idiot," Tubbo growls and Quackity's eyebrows raise - even Ranboo is taken aback. "How can you just go around accusing someone who's- who's clearly grieving to the point they can't even eat that they're responsible for someone's murder!"

Quackity backs up, pushing himself off the wall as he rounds them, "Oh woah, chill, Tubbo. I was- Sorry. I'm sorry."

"You better fucking be," Tubbo points angrily. "Just-Just leave us alone next time when you have nothing nice to fucking say!"

Quackity gulps, nodding as he scurries off, and Tubbo deflates. He falls back onto Ranboo, eyes half lidding as he simply breathes, "Did, um, did I do good?"

"You did fine, Bo," Ranboo reassuringly pats the boy's head.

OHHHHHH MYYYYY GOOODDDD……

YOUR AU HAS MY MENTAL STABILITY HANGING BY A THREAD HOLY FUCKKKK /POS THAT MADE MY HEART START BEATING LIKE CRAZY WHEN QUACKITY SAID THAT

[chinuppoppins]

Here's a new prompt for you, one I hope you like. It's an no powers AU: Tandy and Tyrone are both idiots who are making everyone around them miserable. They're both crazy about each other, which everyone can see. The only ones who haven't figured it out are them. Somebody has to point it out before the obliviousness of it all kills someone.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Police Burtality, spousal abuse, and child abuse.

They become mortal enemies at age four.

It all starts in Miss. Erica’s preschool classroom one day during show and tell. Tandy’s hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a silky pink ribbon. She has on a matching pink sundress and is showing off her ballet slippers with pride and telling her classmates how she went shopping with her mom over the weekend to get them. She is so proud and her classmates seem to be interested, all expect for Tyrone Johnson.

Tyrone in his basketball jersey, dark blue jeans, and a hoodie that he always wore but was way too big for him raises his hand to inform her that ballet wasn’t a real sport. He then proceeds to hold up the orange ball he was holding and tells her that basketball was a real sport. Tandy just sends a frown his way, narrows her brows and opens her mouth to start the first argument in Tandy and Tyrone’s ‘rocky’ relationship.

What only makes things worse for Tandy Bowen was when Tyrone’s mom gets a job at Roxon and his whole family moves to the house at the end of her block and now Tyrone is everywhere. She sometimes sees him walking around with his dad, or even at her house with his mom for paperwork issues.

One day, after a long day in the third grade, Tyrone ends up having to go home with her. Her mom explains that Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Johnson had some important things to take care of, but Tyrone is silent on the way home. Melissa tells her to be nice to Tyrone, make him feel at home and she tries, until he makes fun of room.

“Your room looks like a unicorn threw up everywhere.” Tyrone decides as he shakes his head in disgust. “How am I supposed to do my homework with all of this baby crap everywhere.”

Tandy’s nose crinkles n annoyance and she scoffs. “My room is not a baby room.” She shoots back. “Pink is my favorite color, duh, it’s why my room is pink and the reason you can’t do your homework is because you don’t understand it. I saw the marks on your last science test, you’re failing and you will be stuck in the third grade forever.”

He doesn’t let her bother him. “Pft, says the girl that can’t pass a spelling test to save her life!” He is always so rude and she can’t stand it. “You need to learn how to spell in life, not stupid science.”

“Your mom works with scientists!” She deflects. “And you do need science, my daddy is a scientist after all!”

Tyrone shrugs. “So, who cares!” He stands up and grabs his stuff. “I’m taking my stuff downstairs and waiting for my mom! I can’t stand you, Tandy Bowen!”

“And I don’t like you! Tyrone Johnson.”

As he walks down the stairs she notices that he left that big hoodie he was always wearing. She feels a little bad when she kicks it under her bed, but he did insult her after all.

A few months later, Tandy discovers that Tyrone has an older brother. She’s walking the puppy her daddy had gotten her for her birthday when she sees a boy in a wheelchair getting the mail. Tandy watches him for a moment and then realizes that the chair wont go up the curb. She ends up approaching him slowly and the teen greets her with a smile. “Um,” Tandy begins. “Do you need help?”

The teenager chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a little stuck. You think you can help me out? You strong enough?”

“Yeah! I’m super strong.” Tandy brags and then hooks the dogs leash on the mailbox. “I’m in ballet after all.”

“Well, you gotta be strong to be a ballerina.” The teen says in a serious tone. “So I have a good feeling you can give the chair a little push.”

Tandy lights up as she looks both ways before going behind the chair, grabbing the handles as best she good and giving the older boy a firm, yet gentle push until he is on the sidewalk. “See, told you I was strong.”

He laughs. “Yeah, you’re kinda like my kid brother. I’m Billy.”

Tandy goes over to get her puppy and then walks over to him to shake his hand. “I’m Tandy Bowen, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Tandy?” Billy asks and then laughs. “So you are the girl that  my brother, Tyrone always talks about.”

Tandy pales. “Wait, you’re Tyrone’s brother?” She takes a look over at him, remembering a conversation that her parents had about the older Johnson boy. He was shot, and stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. “I uh,” She furrows her brow. “Can you not tell him that this happened? I hear it from him enough as it is about being annoying and nosey and a know it all.”

Billy gives a full bellowed laugh. “He teases you? Well, Miss. Tandy, he does that because he has a crush on you and he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Now it’s her turn to laugh. “Yeah, right, Tyrone does not have a crush on me.”

That night, she ends up stuffing that silly black hoodie in his mailbox, because she realizes why Tyrone always wore it. The next day in school, he is smiling as it hangs off of his shoulders.

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

Tandy Bowen is the most frustrating person Tyrone had ever came across.

As kids, he couldn’t stand her. She was pushy, rude, bossy and insisted that ballet was better than basketball. Billy teased him over and over that Tyrone had a serious crush on her and that she must have had a crush on him, since they would always argue.

Though kid Tyrone didn’t understand it, teenage Tyrone did, but he still would put up a front with Tandy.

His feelings began to change when they were both 16, she had just come back from dance camp and he barely recognized the girl who was talking to his brother. Tyrone recognized the dog though, and aging bulldog named Rocky that her dad bought for her when she was eight. His mom said that Mr. Bowen probably felt bad that he was never around, so the dog had been a way to keep a younger Tandy occupied. It sort of made Tyrone feel bad for Tandy, but then he had remembered that he didn’t like her, so he stopped.

Though what made him stop in his tracks today was Tandy Bowen. Her blonde hair was short now, tickling her bare shoulders and curling ever so slightly. He found himself noticing a sort of sparkle in her eye and how plump her lips were and how freaking cute her nose was when he crinkled as she laughed.

Then she notices him, or Rocky starts barking at him which pulls her from her talk with Billy to notice Tyrone. “I see you haven’t changed over the summer.” She stands up straight and tall. “Don’t you know that it is rude to stare.”

A playful smile graced her lips and Tyrone’s cheeks heat up. “I wasn’t looking at you,”

“Yes you were.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“And now you are getting flustered, Tyrone Johnson.”

“ Am not.”

“Are too.”

“ Am not.”

“Are too.”

Billy clears his throat and the two stop their argument, but as per usual, Tyrone gets the last word in by throwing out an “Am not!” Before running into his house for safety.

----------

“You want Tandy to join the cheer squad?” Tyrone asks Evita over the loud music of the party. “Yeah, she’s not fit to do that.”

“Ty, what are you talking about?” Evita laughs and then looks over at Tandy who is dancing with one of the guys from the basketball team. “She’s been dancing since she was four and has been in my gymnastic class the past eight years. If anything, she’ll outshine most of the girls on the squad.”

Tyrone scoffs. “Yeah and have yet another thing that she’ll brag about? It’s not a good idea, Vee.”

The shorter girls cocks her head to the side when she realizes that he had been looking at Tandy the whole time. “Yeah, you don’t want her to join cause that would mean you would have to be around her more often and you and the big crush you have on her wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I don’t have a crush on Tandy.” He deadpans and Evita laughs.

“Oh my god, yes you do.” She pushes and Tyrone starts to panic when he loses sight of the blonde girl. “See? Now you are about to lose it because you don’t know where she went. Ty, you’ve had a thing for her since the pre-k, you are always non stop talking about her, you complain about her constantly and you are always staring at her with the biggest heart eyes.” She pokes his chest and he spots her again, she managed to get the band to allow her to sing. That was a talent they both shared “Like now. You, Tyrone Johnson, have a thing for Tandy Bowen.”

------

He is outside shoot hoops weeks later when he sees about five cop cars fly down the road, skidding to a stop in front of the Bowen’s household. He tucks his ball under this arm and walks a few steps to get a better look. What he sees makes him freeze. Mrs. Bowen was being wheeled out by EMTs, an oxygen mask on her face and Mr. Bowen is taken out moments later in handcuffed. Tyrone is yelling for his mom before he realizes it and she is already halfway down the road when she realizes what he is yelling about. Tandy is now being escorted out of the house by a police officer. She is visibly shaken and he notices that his mom is talking to an officer, gesturing towards Tandy. After a heated back and forth and a lash out from Tandy herself, Adina gets into the ambulance with Tandy and they are gone

Tyrone wants to know what happened, but then hears a low bark at his feet and notices that Rocky got loose during the drama. So he brings the dog into his house and attempts to wait for his mom to come home.

She does come home eventually with Tandy in tow, but Adina is quick to rush her to the guest room. Though Tyrone notices the splint on her arm and the butterfly bandages on under her eye. Tyrone notices Billy peeking out of his room two. The brother lock eyes for a moment before Billy tells him to go to bed.

He does listen to his brother, because he has no idea how to approach Tandy right now. Usually he could, with a smart ass remark and and a sly smirk, but with this? Tyrone didn’t know what to do. So he lays awake in bed, looking up at his ceiling and thinking of what he could say to Tandy until he hears a faint knock on his door. Tyrone rolls out of bed and cracks the door open to see Tandy standing in his hallway. She looked vulnerable, broken, confused unlike the Tandy that would argue with him about something as simple as sour patch kids verses sour gummy worms.

“Can I come in?” She whispers and Tyrone steps back and holds the door open as she steps in while Tyrone closes the door behind her. She is still for a moment as she eyes his room up and then she begins to walk around, looking at his trophies and ribbons. He sees a hint of a smile at the sight of a picture of four year old Tyrone. “Thanks for getting Rocky, I was scared he was lost.”

Tyrone keeps his distance, his voice soft. “Yeah no problem, Rocky is a cool dog, he can hang.”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracks. “He’s great.”

He isn’t sure how she was going to react when he stepped behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Tandy?” But instead of her shrugging him off or walking away, she spins around and wraps her arms tightly around his torso. Her head is against his chest and he can feel her body shake with tears. For a moment he is frozen, he was never good with people crying. Though something kicks him in the ass and he pulls her as tight as he can without hurting her as she cries. Tyrone had known Tandy his whole life, and never once had he’d seen her cry so he didn’t really expect this. “I am so stupid,” She mutters. “He has been doing this to my mom and getting away with it for years, painting her as the bad mother figure and I never, ever questioned it.” She pulls back for a moment as she takes a breath while Tyrone brushes a tear away from her cheek. “All this time, my mom had been taking this shit from him and I-” There is a pause. “I always thought she was the issue, until tonight. I got home from dance and the house was a mess, I thought we were robbed, or maybe someone broke in to hurt my dad.” Tandy can’t make eye contact. “Then I saw my dad, standing over my mom- and god, Ty, I couldn’t even recognize her face. Even his face, he didn’t have a mark on it, was so twisited with rage. I tried to stop it, and then he- He didn’t realize that it was me until it was too late.”

She’s looking up at him with a trace amount of guilt in her eyes. “Tandy, you know that what happened with your mom and dad, it’s not your fault.” Tyrone looks at the cuts under her eye and sighs. “Don’t go around blaming yourself.”

Tandy shakes her head. “No, Ty- I do have something to do with all of this. I should have realized what was going on, but I didn’t want to admit it. My dad, it wasn’t until I was sitting in the ER while the doctors patched up what he did was when I realized what a pitiful excuse for a man he was. I mean, who forgets their eight year old daughter in the pouring rain?” She sighs, settling her hands against his chest. “Can I- can I stay in here with you?”

He of course says yes and to be fair, they are both a little awkward as they lay in his bed until one of them, Tyrone can’t remember who, breaks the ice with a memory from childhood. They of course talk and laugh for the night, bringing past arguments that were had and teasing each other about who really won. Then her eyes settle on a black hoodie hanging off of his desk chair. “I remember that thing, you wore it almost every day when we were kids. Then one day, you left it at my house after an argument. I wasn’t going to give it back to you-” She stops herself. “Then I met Billy, put two and two together and realized it was your brothers.”

“That’s why my dad found it stuffed in our mailbox.” Tyrone says and Tandy nods.

“Was he you know, born like that? Your brother?”

Tyrone falls silent at her question and then clears shakes his head. “No, Billy was actually one of the best basketball players out there. I mean, he could do anything. He was- and still is my idol. Though, the reason why he is in that chair is because he was shot, the bullets damaged his spinal cord. The doctors told my parents that he was lucky to be alive and now look at him, he is out there getting his masters degree in education.”

Tandy turns on her side to face him. “What happened to the person who shot him?” She asks in a soft tone.

“It was a cop-” Tyrone explains. “Fuck, that asshole got off easy.” His teeth clench and he shakes his head. “My mom cried every night when the court case was going on, but she looks at Billy now and all I see is pride in her eyes. He’s amazing, you know?”

Tandy smiles sweetly. “Well, you are pretty amazing too, Tyrone Johnson.”

The next morning, they both wake up before his parents do so she could get back to the guest room without any questions. She hugs him again and thanks him for being there last night. As she goes back to the room, Tyrone catches Billy smirking at the whole scene. “Don’t worry, Ty-Ty, I won’t tell mom or dad.”

-----

After that night, their relationship changes from mortal enemies since age four to a playful argumentative friendship.

----

She often meets him at his locker in the morning, they walk to class together, eat lunch together and there are some times when Tyrone will drape his arm over her shoulder when they are walking down the hall. Her eyes focused on his report as she points out errors before he hands it in. It’s strictly platonic though, or that’s just what they think.

Her father isn’t in the picture much anymore, once her mom is okay on her own, she throws all of Nathan’s things to the curb. Tandy is still beyond furious with her father, but she does promise to go to court to testify against him and Tyrone promises to go with her. They are sort of a packaged deal now, and Tandy sort of likes it that way.

Though now so, more and more, she is questioned on why they just don’t start dating already. Her mom and Mina are the biggest culprits with the pushing. “I always liked Tyrone.” Melissa says one night as Tandy is preparing dinner. “He’s sweet, has spirit.” She drones as she picks at her pasta. “And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Mom!” Tandy hisses as Mina giggles.

Melissa shrugs. “Honey, he’s good and I know with everything that has happened this year, you are hesitant, but Tyrone is good.”

And her mom is right, he is good.

-------

It’s a muggy summer night, they are watching fireworks light up the sky on a old blanket that had been stashed in the back of Tyrone’s car. Someone was setting them off, so Tyrone and Tandy decided to take advantage of it. She’s watching him for a moment, noticing the way the his eyes brighten in a state of wonder when each one is set off. “Ty?” She asks, ever so gently. It was now or never, she thought and he turns to look at her. He thinks she’s prettier than the fireworks anyways. “Do you-” She takes a deep breath. “Do you like me? More than a friend?” She clarifies and Tyrone freezes. That’s it, she screwed this up, maybe everyone at school was wrong, maybe he didn’t like her that way and maybe she just ruined a friendship, maybe-

Her thoughts are interrupted. “Yeah, I uh, I do like you- more than a friend.”

She smiles, no she beams and she glows while Tyrone flushes. “Good, cause I do too.”

“So what do we do?” Tyrone asks her while Tandy raises a brow.

“Well, we let the kids at school and our families gloat, because apparently they’ve known the whole time. But before that, we should really consider sealing the deal.”

Tyrone dips his head, snickering. “Yeah, you would like that wouldn't you?” There is a glint in his eye and Tandy playfully roles hers.

“Hm, I always knew I would have to make the first move.” She hums as he cups her cheek, his fingers running through her hair. Tyrone, god how sweet he is to her, brushes his lips tentatively against hers and she smiles, pulling him back to her lips as he pulls away. After all of these years, she wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

[abalonetea]

Ahem: For the OTP asks, any and all questions for whatever ship needs some extra love this fine day (aka whomever you haven't gotten to talk about enough). And for that last one, let's go with, What is one spoiler about this couple that makes no sense out of context? Just, throw me a random fact that you like that sounds like nonsense.

hello yes but i love you and i love this ask!!!

honestly, you always come up with the best asks! there’s just so much in them, it’s great. and this was so much fun to write up!

Part One! i’m sorry in advance that this is so long but! you said any and all questions so! i just went ahead and did all of the questions i haven’t had a chance to do yet! i hope that’s okay!!!

i actually got roughly the same amount of asks in for everyone, so??? i’m just alternating between my two favorites which are, predictably, the two main pairings!

What was their first impression of each other?    wow that kid is scrawny thought Red, ducking into the small alley between buildings.   at the other end of the alley, Bolte picked up a large rock and thought that kid looks like he could eat me shit   

What is their ship name?   dgksdfsd ship names are both my favorite thing and the bane of my existence so! probably it would either be blocke, Blue Knight, Science Sweets, or cocoashipping depending on your preference. blue knight orcocoashipping are probably my favorites though!

Describe their relationship dynamic.   is they would die for each other a good enough response? there is literally nothing that Bolte and Red wouldn’t do for each other, from taking dangerous hits in a battle to becoming something cruel in the name of safety.   each one just tries so hard to keep the other safe and happy, it’s this loop they’re stuck in where they put themselves last out of necessity. Bolte can come across as very mean but Red is also pretty sarcastic, and they just. try so damned hard! Bolte makes the calls on the surface, but it’s really Red that has the final say in pretty much everything.

What was their relationship like before they got together?   they were absolutely the best of friends! Locke and Blue had already been living together for a while before they started dating, and it was just one of those things that rolled from one title into the next.  

How would they describe each other?   he’s the coolest person i’ve ever met, Red would say. boss is the best. strongest guy i’ve ever met.   too kind for his own good, Bolte would say. Red is what everyone should strive to be. he’s stronger than anyone else i’ve ever met.

What do they love about each other?   Locke loves Blue’s sense of humor, and how smart he is, and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles.   Blue loves Locke’s optimism, and how much effort he puts into everything he does, and the sound of his laugh when he finds something really funny.

What do they have in common?   Red and Bolte are both incredibly stubborn, fairly lodged in the self sacrificing category, dealing with health issues, have the world’s most horrible sense of humor, the same taste in food, a love for animals, and the deep buried interest in being a good person. 

What are some differences between them?   Red prefers not to fight if given the chance, Bolte is actually decent at cooking, there’s still a belief on Bolte’s end that Fara Falls can be returned to some semblance of a decent place, Red is more eager to trust and give second chances.

Do they get married? Who proposes and how?   nnnn probably not, but only because i can’t picture that as being something either of them would think about. that being said wouldnt that be a fancy fix-it au drabble to write?

Who dies first? How does the other one react?   hey! you know the great thing about time loops? both of them “die first” within the confines of the story! fun! i know this answer very well!   to be very blunt, Red gets extremely drunk and, during Fara Falls time, generally kills himself to “speed up the reset” unless Captain happens to find him first, at which point he generally moves in with her. his death doesn’t actually affect the speed of the time loop starting over but, obviously, it means he doesn’t have to be around for it. this decision is spurred on only because Red is aware of the time loops and has done some amount of research and testing on them in the past.   i’ve said in text posts that Bolte would burn the world if something happened to Red, and I mean this in a very literal sense. during the occasion when someone kills Red, be it Kee or a character within Fara Falls, destroying said person becomes Bolte’s driving force. frequently, he has Captain right there watching his back.  but not in Fields of Fara, no, in Fields of Fara he has Blue at his back, and that world will burn, too

Are there any love rivals?   not really! 

Describe your favorite moment of that ship!   dfjv sdjfvdsbsf all of them!!! they’re all my favorites! i love the soft moments, when Bolte pulls Red into the rare hug, when Locke runs his fingers through Blue’s hair. i love the serious ones, where Red willingly follows Bolte back into Hell because where one goes, the other follows, and the thought of Locke sitting up at night waiting for Blue to come home, of him taking on Midnight’s interest to pull it off of Blue.   I love how much they love each other.

Describe or write a really fluffy scene!   red sits down on the back porch, mug of cocoa in hand, and the borrowed sweatshirt looks good on him. it’s bright in a way that matches his eyes, mostly revealed by the mask that’s pushed onto the side of his face, early morning sunlight catching on strips of old scars, on sharp teeth starting to go nubby.   there are many horned deer grazing in the distance, long tongues wrapping around the puff flowers pushing out through the snow, the sugar weed. bolte wraps an arm around red’s shoulders, tugging him up against his side, and the look that the paladin shoots him is nothing short of surprised, brows lifting in a silent question.   bolte doesn’t know what sort of answer to give, though, so he stays silent too, just sits there and relishes in the fact that this is okay and the fact that they are more safe here than they’ve ever been.

Describe or write a really angsty scene!   the corner’s of Locke’s mouth twitch into something that isn’t quite a smile, breath stifled out beneath his own good intent, hands shaking as he runs them through his loose, unkempt hair. “it’s okay,” he swears. “it’s okay, it’s - it’s okay.”   but the check hangs between them like an omission, a hymn, and blue has a look on his face like maybe nothing is ever going to be okay again. “locke?”   “i swear,” says locke, and that’s not desperation in his voice but it might be something a little closer to hysteria, too high pitched to be anything close to level, to calm. “it’s okay.”   they both know it’s not.   it hasn’t been for a really really long time.

Talk about a headcanon you’ve never talked about before.   oooh, difficult, but fun!    for locke and blue - Blue has nightmares a lot, and it’s part of why he and Locke have been sharing a bed for a while; Locke’s Good Intent helps keep them away, and it helps to have someone around when he does have one.   for bolte and red - whenever Bolte is having a really bad day, Red will rub his hands or his knee or whatever’s acting up for him.

What does a typical date look like for them?   red and bolte have never been on a date before, oops, and the concept is actually very foreign to them. it’s likely never something they do in a traditional sense.   locke really likes going places and even though that’s not really blue’s thing, sometimes he’ll surprise locke by splinching them out to the Capitol for a nice meal somewhere! usually they just eat at the house and play cards and listen to music.   sometimes locke convinces blue to dance with him oops

What’s a really significant moment in their relationship?   the first moment that Bolte realizes, so long as they’re in Fields of Fara, he can actually have some semblance of a relationship with Red, that he realizes he can lean over and kiss Red and not worry about someone finding out and use it as leverage against him. and he does. he catches Red by the shoulder and kisses him and you could honestly knock Red over with a feather.   for Blue and Locke, it’s probably shortly after Blue realizes that, hey, they are dating and suddenly a lot of the things Locke has been saying and doing makes more sense. Locke looks at Blue from the other side of the couch and says, “you’re so cute in that” and Blue’s whole face turns bright red and he thinks, oh i really like this.

Part Two!

What is one spoiler about this couple that makes no sense out of context? Just, throw me a random fact that you like that sounds like nonsense.

Red and Bolte: bolte wears red’s mask

Locke and Blue: blue tells locke to quit smiling