#i remember we used to argue SO much about petty stuff at school before learning to multiply we had this class wide debate

[aroaceofthesea]

I remember as a kid my dad taught me this trick for counting seconds of saying like a thousand one a thousand two etc (works better in catalan) and i remember me explaining this to my friends at some point and us debating if the speed at which we said it mattered. For counting seconds

[yourstarvic]

“We finally here!” Atsumu said with joy as everyone walked past the Itachiyama school gates, with a slight skip in his steps.

You smiled at Atsumu's behavior as you walked next to Suna. Nudging your elbow to Suna, you said, “How come you never act like that?”

“You want me to act like an idiot?” Suna said plainly as he looked at the blonde setter weirdly.

You rolled your eyes at him but before you could say anything, Atsumu turned around and glared at him, “I don’t act like an idiot.”

You laughed as Suna responded with, “Then stop being an idiot.”

“That’s enough,” Kita said to the two of them. Causing the two to freeze in their spot while you giggled at them as you walked. Kita walked past them as he then said, “We are at another school so behavior.”

You giggled as you turned your head back and saw everyone walking around the two frozen boys. Shaking your head at them, you and the rest of the team continued to follow the two coaches. A few moments later, you heard footsteps chasing after the group, alerting everyone Suna and Atsumu recovered from their fear.

Reaching the gyms, you saw both of the Itachiyama coaches waiting outside, as well as seeing Shiratorizawa’s players and coaches. One of the Itachiyama coaches saw the team finally arriving yelled out happily, “Nice to see you finally arrived! Always late I see.”

“Would you rather have us not here at all?” Coach Kurosu chuckled as he went up to the coaches. He then turned to face the group as he said, “I and Oomi-Sensei will go talk to the coaches about our sleeping arrangements so we can settle out stuff. In the meantime, wait here until further instructions. I’m talking to you Atsumu.”

“I always follow instructions,” Atsumu muttered, causing everyone to laugh at him.

You then walked over to the Shiratorizawa group, wanting to say hi to them. As you got closer, you waved your hand to a certain redhead, “Tendo!”

“(Y/n)!” Tendo cheered with a smile, running up to you. Reaching you, Tendo was quick to put both of his hands on your cheek and squishing them. “I miss you so much!”

“I miss you too,” you said as Tendo continued to squish your cheeks together, forcing your lips to look like fish lips. “But can you please squishing my face?”

“Fine,” Tendo pouted as he stopped squishing them, but decided to poke your cheeks instead, “but I see the bendy boy is still a member.”

“Of course I’m still a member,” You head Suna scoffed behind you. “And I’ll like it if you get your hands off my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Tendo said in horror, taking a step back and clenching his shirt where his heart will be. The horror on his face grew as he saw Suna wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “There’s no way someone great as she will be your girlfriend! She’s an angel, a miracle. While you are a bendy boy with flat parted hair.”

“What did you say about my har?” Suna said with a vein-popping in anger. Unwrapping his arm around, he took a step closer to the red hair. You took a step back as you look at the two arguing. Seeing there will be no end to their petty arguments, you silently backed away and headed to talk to someone else.

You smiled as you saw the ace/captain of the team as well their third-year setter. With a happy smile, you walked up to them and strike up a conversation with them. Soon later Aran joined the conversation as well. But throughout the conversation, your eyes kept looking down at a certain captain’s arms.

“Hey Ushijima-San,” you said with an innocent smile, “do you know anything about muscles in your arms?”

“No, not really,” Ushijima said as he stared at you.

“Would you like to know about them?” You asked innocently as you gave him a beaming smile.

“It could be beneficial to learn about them,” Ushijima said thoughtfully.

“(Y/n),” Aran said in a warning voice. 

But you waved him off as you hold onto one of Ushijima's biceps. You then told him all of the muscles that you remember that was in the arm as you continued to squeeze his arms and hold onto them. 

Semi raised his eyebrows as he looked at you, having an amused smile as he watches you feeling Ushijima’s muscles. Ushijima looked at you as you felt his muscles, thinking you wanted to inform him. He would occasionally flex his arms at your request, missing the dreamy sigh that came out of your lips and the excited look in your eyes. Aran let out a disappointed sigh, knowing that nothing is going to stop you.

“Hey Aran,” you said to your captain as you squeezed Ushijima biceps, “can you come over here? I want to see something.”

“No-” Aran started. But he then looked at your smiling face. Your beautiful beaming smiling face that you gave him. Your eyes looking at him with so much joy and happiness, your eyes fluttering innocently as you stared at him. “Where do you want me to stand?”

“Over here,” you waved him towards you, standing in-font of Ushijima and next to you. Leaving one hand on Ushijima, you placed your other hand on Aran’s biceps. You continued to explain the muscles in the arms and squeezing each of their biceps with a blissful smile. Since you were so busy with Ushijima and Aran, you didn’t realize a few others were joining. 

“Wakatoshi-Kun,” you heard a deep voice behind Ushijima. Leaning back a bit and turned to the side, you saw Sakusa and his icon mask staring at the three of you.

“Hello, Sakusa,” Ushijima said as he turned around. 

Sakusa was about to respond but you say something, “Sakusa-San!”

“It’s good to see you (Y/n),” Sakusa said plainly.

“It’s good to see you too!” You exclaimed, taking your hands off of Kita’s and Ushijima’s arms. You dig in your bag and grabbed a pair of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. Sakusa, Ushijima, Aran, and Semi watched as you applied hand sanitizer and then put on the gloves as you said. “Do you know anything about the muscles in your arms?” You asked innocently, taking a step close to him, “Because I can show you where your muscles are and what they do.”

“No, thank you,” Sakusa said as he eyes your hands.

“You sure?” You pouted at him, “I made sure to sanitize my hands and to wear gloves…”

Sakusa uncomfortably looked at you. Not because of your germs or anything, he knew you were a clean person and you did sanitize and put on gloves to help him more comfortable. He was uncomfortable because of the pout you were forming and how your eyes looked so said with his rejection. Also with how many Inarizaki members were glaring at him behind your back. Was it because he rejected you? Or was it because they don’t want him near you?

“I’m sure,” Sakusa said, but he soon regretted when he saw how sad you looked. “Fine…But only for 2 minutes.”

You looked at him happily once he gave you his consent. You were about to touch his arm but someone was quick to stop you. Suna suddenly appeared in front of you, taking your bag, and hosted you over your shoulder saying, “Coach came back and told us our sleeping arrangement.”

“B-But,” you said, putting both hands on his back, trying to look over his shoulder, “I need to show Sakusa-San his arm muscles.”

“You need to unpack and get ready for our short practice later tonight,” Suna said plainly as he walked to the guest dorms. He chuckled softly when he heard you let out a puff and felt you give up. “I can give you a kiss to make it up for it.”

“Shut up.”

“Chance ball!”

“I got it!”

You heard the boys yell as they played a practice game. Your eyes kept darting back and forth from the game to the notebook and pencil in your hand. They were going against Nohebi, a school that was located in Tokyo. You sneered when you heard the captain say when it was Suna’s turn to serve, “He doesn’t know how to jump serve! Sad for someone from an Inarizaki second year.”

Good thing Suna didn’t mind what they said since he did a nice serve. Leading the Libero to receive it to their setter, who set to the captain to spike. But Osamu was quick to block it. You smiled as you saw how early you blocked him, whispering an excited, “Yes!”

You felt Yuna glaring at you in the corner of her eye, but you ignored it, pretend you didn’t feel her stare. As if she wanted you to remind you of something, Yuna cheered loudly, “Good job blocking him my sweet sugary baby! You’re the star of the team!”

Everyone on the court wasn’t paying attention to what Yuna was saying since they were too busy trying to get the ball to Atsumu to set the ball. But everyone on the sidelines and those who were near all cringe at the sound of her yelling, not liking her high pitch voice. 

Taking a deep sigh, you did your best to ignore her as you made a face. Looking back at the match, you saw Atsumu setting the ball to Suna, who slammed the ball over the net, right at the person who commented his spike early. The person should stand in shock, trying to comprehend what had happened. You chuckled as you saw Suna smirked at them and said to Osamu that was next to him, “He doesn’t know how to block. Sad for someone from a Nohebi third year.”

“Behavior,” Kita said out-loud, making sure Suna heard. 

You chuckled as you saw Suna froze and statically walked to the service line. Right when you were about to write down a note, the couches called you and Yuna. Giving them your attention, both of you looked at him as he said, “Sorry for telling you two last minute, but the kitchen staff is having their day off today. Can one of you go help with the other managers and the other help out with the team?”

“(Y/n)-Chan will love to help out with the other managers!” Yuna insisted on you, giving the coaches a happy smile. “I’ll stay here with the team!”

“That sounds good,” Oomi-Sensei nodded his head, “is that good (Y/n)?”

“Sounds good,” you gave them a smile and nodded your head. Turning to face Yuna, you handed her the notebook and pencil, “Here, you need to take notes on anything you see with the team. As I said before, take notes on the habits they do, good and bad. Also if you have any ideas on how they can fix something, write it down.”

“I know what to do,” Yuna rolled her eyes at you as she grabbed the notebook from you.

“Good,” you sighed out. Turning back to face the match, you saw Inarizaki scored another point. You made eye contact with Suna, who raised an eyebrow in concern as he saw how annoyed you look. Giving him a smile in assurance, you gave him a short wave as you turned around and exited the gym, heading towards the kitchen. 

As you walked in the kitchen doors, you saw two of the Itachiyama mangers sitting near the metal island, having a small conversation. “I thought we were supposed to be cooking?” You smirked as you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall

They both jumped at your voice, not prepared to see you standing at the entrance. They both turned to face you with a hand on their chest. “You scared us,” Sara said in relief when she saw you.

“You could have knocked,” Yui said, giving you a playful glare.

“I’m sorry,” you genuinely said as you walked over to the metal island and leaning forward on it. 

“Well, anyway,” Yui said, nudging your shoulder with hers, “we were talking about what we should make for dinner.”

“We can make our favorite?” You chined in.

“We could,” Sara put a finger on her chin in a thoughtful manner, “we have the ingredients and we have the time.”

“Let’s do it!” Yui said excitedly, standing up from her chair. She then rushed to the fridge and started to gather the ingredients.

You sweatdropped at her excitement, turning to face Sara as you said, “What took so long to decided what to make?”

“We were talking about Yuna,” she said nervously. “She seems…Nice?”

“No, she’s not,” you said plainly.

“Oh that goodness,” Sara breathed out, “so you hate her too?”

“With a burning passion,” you said, smiling at her relief.

“I told you,” Yui said as she placed the ingredients on the table and headed to the sink, “there was no way, (Y/n) would have liked her. I bumped into her to the restroom and she was so rude!”

“You think that was rude,” you said as you took off your Inarizaki jacket and placed it on Yui’s chair, “you should have seen what she did a few weeks ago. Remember when I told y’all about the honey being dumped on me?”

“No,” Sara's mouth gapped in disbelief, turning her head away from washing her hands. Yui was looking at you with wide eyes as she was drying her hands with a towel in total shock as you continued.

“That was her,” you nodded your head at them with a frown, "I just found out."

“That bitch!” Yui yelled at loud.

“Language,” Sara said as she started to prepare the vegetables.

Chucking awkwardly, Yui apologized. You rolled your eyes at them as you started to prepare the ingredients. Throughout preparing dinner, the three of you all talked and laugh, catching up on everything. 

“But I heard something,” Yui said, giving you a sly smirked, “I heard our little (Y/n) is with someone, a certain middle blocker someone.”

“As much as I don’t want to intrude,” Sara smiled, “this is something we need to know!”

“So tell us everything!” Yui said excited, “When did it happen? Was he your first kiss? How was your first date? Have you two…You know? The thing?”

“I think that's enough questions from you,” Sara said, giving her a warning glare.

“Well, um,” you said with an awkward laugh. Trying to swallow your nervousness, trying your best to answer her questions with a small blush, “No, me and Rin haven’t-”

“Rin!” Yui yelled in excitement, “Already on first name basis!”

“They been on a first-name basis,” Sara said in an obvious look. 

“Right,” Yui chuckled awkwardly.

“W-Well,” you started, “to answer your questions, no me and rin haven’t done…That. We were each other's first kiss-But before you say something Yui, this happened when we were in grade school.”

Yui was quick to pout, sad that it wasn’t a special first kiss. Sara just rolled her eyes at her co-manager, silent questioning what goes through her head.

“Also…” you swallowed. Looking around the room and seeing no one else wasn’t standing by the door, you beaconed them with a wave of your hand. The two Itachiyama managers noticed that you had something important to say. They put the cooking equipment down and turned down the stove, then walked over to you. Putting your hand over your mouth in a whispering manner. Sara and Yui both leaned closer to you, as you scanned the area once again. Letting out a sigh, you whispered, “Rin and I aren’t dating… It’s an act.”

Leaving back, you gave them a wide smile and said, “So what else do we need to do?”

Sara and Yui both looked at you with a deadpan expression, slowly trying to process what you just said. “W-What?” Yui asked, leaning back into her regular posture, “You two are…faking it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s all an act?”

“All of it.”

“B-But when Rin was carrying you?” Sara asked. “That was because I was going to touch Sakusa-San’s muscles,” you chuckled awkwardly, remembering the events.

I need to stop ticking people into letting me touch their muscles… But they are so…Muscly…

“Weirdly,” Yui said with an understanding nod, “that makes sense.”

“Why are you acting?” Sara asked, wanting to understand the situation.

Letting out a sigh, you went back to cooking you explained, “Yuna only joined to be with Osamu and to keep on eye on me.”

“An eye on you?”

“She thinks I’m trying to steal him,” you rolled your eyes, “which is so laughable since there’s no way I want him.”

“Basically,” Yui concluded, “she’s one of those.”

“Yup,” you said, letting out a sigh, “but she’s more like her.”

“I’m so sorry,” they both said to you.

You just shrugged it off as you replied, “It’s okay… I can get through this… Besides practice is almost over and we need to start setting up!”

“Right!”

After the boys ate, you and the other managers (excluding Yuna) were cleaning up. Sara was wiping down the kitchen, you were doing the dishes, and Yui was wiping down the tables in the cafeteria section. Sara and Yui finished before you, so you told them to go ahead while you finished doing the dishes.

Few moments after they left, you heard a knock at the entrance of the kitchen. Looking down at the dish you were cleaning you said, “I told you, Sara, I’m okay with doing the dishes.”

“Good for you?” You heard a deep voice, “But I’m not Sara.”

“Miya,” you said as you turn your head off your shoulder to look at him, “what do you want?”

“Don’t have to be so harsh,” Osamu said as he walked to the fridge, “just wanted a snack.”

“Didn’t you have dinner with four bowls of rice?” You asked him with a semi-disguised look.

Finding an apple in the fridge, Osamu took it and proceed to take a bite of it. In the middle of chewing the apple, he turned to face you and said, “Yeah, and?”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full,” you wrinkled your face in disguise. You looked back down at the sink and continued to do the dishes. Osamu walked over to you and sanded next to you with his back leaning against the counter and one hand leaning on it. Your annoyance grew as you felt Osamu's eyes looking at you and down in the sink filled with dishes, hearing him taking loud bites of the apple. “Can I help you?” You asked, looking up at him with an annoyed look.

“Yeah,” Osamu said plainly, “hide me from Atsumu and Yuna.”

“I understand Atsumu,” you rolled your eyes at him and went back to do these dishes, “but Yuna? Don’t want to be with your honey bunny?”

“Very funny,” Osamu said when you said his nickname, “but she’s annoying me and won’t let me breathe.”

“Honestly, why are you with her?” You asked him.

“Why do you hate me?” Osamu counter backed.

“If I answer your question will you answer mine?” You smirked at him.

“Deal.”

“It was few weeks before I joined the club, and we just started school” you started, “Me and Rin were heading to the convenience store to pick up snacks to eat later on the day. On our way to school, you were running in the opposite direction and bumped into me and we both fell.”

“That’s why you hate me?”

“I didn’t finish,” you said as you placed the last dish on the rack and dried your hands with a towel. “It was how we landed that bothered me. Your head landed on my…Chest. But instead of you getting up and apologize, you nuzzled your head further in my chest and said, ‘so soft and so squishy’ and that was when I pushed you off.”

“I’m going, to be honest with you,” Osamu said as he took a final bite of his apple, “I don’t remember that.”

“How do you not remember that?” You said in disbelief, “Your head was on my chest!”

“Was it the day before the sports festival?” Osamu asked you with eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, it was?” You rolled your eyes, “Why does that matter?”

“I was sick during that week,” Osamu said with an amusing smile, “that whole week I was sick with food poisoning. Only Atsumu went to school.”

“What?” You said, blinking your eyes repeated.

“This whole time,” Osamu laughed, “you were thinking it was me but it was ‘Tsumu!”

“But when I started as a manager,” you said, pointing at him, “I confronted you!”

“But do you remember what I said when you did?” Osamu smirked at you, poking your head with his finger, “ I said I had no idea what you were talking about.”

“Oh my god,” you said, running your hands through your hair, “this whole time I thought it was you who embarrassed me but it was Atsumu…”

“Before you say anything,” Osamu smirked widen, feeling victorious, “I’ll take that apology now or we can just forget about me punching Akito… That works too.”

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?” Osamu asked you when he heard a dark tone in your voice.

“Your brother,” you sneered.

“H-He’s at in Gym 4 with Sakusa and the others,” Osamu stuttered, scared that he was witnessing you one anger.

“Perfect,” you gritted your teeth, walking out of the kitchen.

“Wait,” Osamu said, running after you, “wait for me!”

Osamu followed behind you but made sure to keep a distance. He’s seen you mad multiple times (mostly at him) but, he’s never seen you this bad before. Your face looked neutral, but your eyes held the most emotion. You walked past Semi who wanted to say hi but stopped when he saw your angry form, quick to make way for you. He gave Osamu a concerned look but he just shocked his head at him, not wanting to explain.

Finally arriving at the gym, you waited outside of the doors. With the door open, you saw Sakusa, Komori, and Tendo on one side of the court when the other side held Atsumu, Suna, and Ushijima. Your eyes twitched when you saw Atsumu have a carefree smile as he was beginning to serve. With a big sigh, you marched into the gym with a sneer, “Miya Atsumu!”

“Oh shit,” Suna whispered, knowing the look in your eye. But he was quick to grab his phone to record the events.

“(Y-Y/n),” Atsumu whimpered, scared the way you look at him and how you said his name. “W-What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You yelled, pointing a finger at him, “You are what’s wrong!”

“Finally,” Sakusa smiled at the events, “someone is putting him in his place.”

“It was you the whole time!” You sneered, “This whole time I thought it was Osamu who nuzzled my chest but it was you!”

“You found out,” Atsumu whimpered, slowly take a step away, “I-I was going to tell you.”

“You were going to tell me?” You said with an angry confused look, “When were you going to tell me?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” Atsumu said, his back hitting the wall of the gym, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You repeated with a smile, “You’re sorry? For not telling me? For not saying anything sooner? For making Osamu taking the blame?”

“E-Everything.”

“I forgive you,” you breathed out, making Atsumu sighed out in relief. But he then caught if breathe when you continued, “If you do something first.”

“I-I’ll do anything!” Atsumu said with pleading eyes, holding his hands in prayer.

“Stand on the line,” you whispered to him with an evil smile, “and face the wall behind you.”

Atsumu was quick to do as you said, sweating nervously as he waited for you. You walked calmly to the other side of the court, making sure to get the basket filled with volleyballs as you did so. You motion everyone to join you as you did, especially Sakusa and Ushijima. Making sure Atsumu heard what you said, you said loudly, “Can you guys give me tips on how to do a powerful serve?”

“Focus on where you want to aim,” Sakusa said quickly with a smirk, understanding what you were trying to do, “I usually add a spin so my opponents can’t receive it but in this case, it's best to try and hit as hard as you can. I’ll show you.”

“Perfect,” you smiled handing him a ball, “but give him a warning serve.”

Sakusa thanked you as he grabbed the ball and went to the service line. He did a perfect jump serve, barely missing Atsumu's head. Atsumu let out a shriek, feeling the gush of wind as the volleyball went past him. 

“Do you think you can do that?” Sakusa asked you with a satisfied smile.

“I think I need everyone to do a demonstration,” you said innocently, looking at everyone, “is that okay?”

“I do need to work on my aim,” Ushijima said plainly, grabbing a ball from the basket. Everyone all agreed as they each grabbed a ball, except for Suna and Komori who only want to look at the scene in amusement. Everyone else lined up, waiting for their turn to serve a ball near Atsumu’s head. Every time they would serve, they would give you tips on what you could do. 

“You think you got it (Y/n)-Chan?” Tendo asked you with an evil smile.

Thinking you understand, you then went to the service line and proceed to mimic what they did. You were a little sloppy, but it was good enough to hit Atsumu in the back of the head. You smiled when the ball came in contact with Atsumu’s head, making his head flinch forward. “You are now forgiven Atsumu!” You said happily with a smile.

Atsumu turned around and face you with a pale dead face, giving you a thumbs up. Walking over to the group, Atsumu looked at everyone as said, “I-I’m going to get going now…”

“Goodnight!” You said innocently, waving at him as he walked off. Turning to the others, you then instructed them, “But it is getting late, we should start cleaning up and start heading back to the dorms.”

Everyone all agreed and started to clean up, grabbing the stray balls around the gym, and cleaning the floors. Once everything was done, everyone walked outside as you closed the door saying, “I need to go back to the kitchen to finish something, y’all can go on ahead.”

“Want me to come with?” Suna asked you as everyone left.

Taking your head, you waved him off, “I just need to lock the doors, you can go on ahead.”

“Nah,” Suna said, walking towards the direction of the kitchen, “it's dark and I know how easily scared you are.”

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. The two of you walked in silence, enjoying each other's company. Arriving at the kitchen, you made sure everything was clean and tidy. Grabbing your jackets that were on the stool, you walked out and locked the gym with the key that was given to you by Sara. Walking to the dorm rooms that Itachiyama provide for your stay, Suna asked, “So it was Atsumu the whole time?”

“Yup.”

“Does that mean you and Osamu are going to be on better terms?”

“He’s still annoying.”

“But about that date?”

“Looks like we are here,” You smiled at him when both of you arrived at the dorms. Talking in a singing voice, you waved at him, “Goodnight Rin.”

“I’m going to get that date,” Suna said to himself.

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

Fun Facts:

(Y/n) still doesn't know if Suna is joking or not.

Sakusa would “accidentally” aim the ball at him, sometimes hitting him durning practice matches and once in an actual match.

Her is someone who use to be an assistant manager in Itachiyama who was in love with Sakusa

Sara, Yui, and (Y/n) don't know why there are so many fangirls. Everyone is a volleyball brain idiot.

No one knows how to say no to (Y/n), only Suna knows how.

(Y/n), Kita, and Sakusa always text each other to talk bad about Atsumu and cleaning tips

Suna didn’t know it was Atsumu who bumped into (y/n).

Atsumu and Osamu didn’t bleached their hair until the end of the first year.

Aran, Suna, and Atsumu all taught (Y/n) how to serve. She’s not perfect at it but she’s almost there.

Taglist: @thelochtessmonster99​ @freaksnque​ @bloody-bella​ @girlyluke​ @tendo-sxtori​ @angels17324​ @madmelle​ @tiktikty-tokity-spagetti​ @helloalex80​ @fandomatakeover18​ @mus1caln0tes​ @kac-chowsballs​ @satoriluver​ @bestboy-daydreams​ @hi-im-a-bat​ @circusjanreblogs​ @420-uwu

[wynniewright]

In Harm’s Way (M)

→ This story is a part of the @bangtanshadowfamily “The Creatures of Moonlight Manor” Halloween collab!

→ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

→ Word Count: 4.8k

→ Genre: grim reaper au, halloween au, smut, lots of fluff, bit angsty

→ Summary: After fighting with her grim reaper boyfriend, Y/N decides to throw herself into a dangerous situations to get him to stop ignoring her.

→ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide (it’s not dark, think of when bella tried to get edward to save her so she kept doing stupid shit - it’s that), one time mention of a past near-death experience (not detailed, it’s just vaguely mentioned in the fluffy part), reader attempts suicide via toaster bath (with the intention of being saved by her supernatural, soul-reaping boyfriend). Please don’t read if these make you uncomfortable! 

→ Warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (female), bit of impregnation kink, tae just wants to be a dad, reader makes stupid decisions, cum play, possible impregnation?, sex with pants on, fingering, lots of fluff and all that good stuff

→ A/N: Hello hello! Finally found the time to squeeze in this story in the middle of my full-time school and part-time work schedule. Sorry it took so long for another fic to post but here I am! I want to thank my amazing bangtan hq sprinting crew who helped motivate me to finish this @purpletigertaetae @nightowls388 @shadowsremedy @wwilloww. This story was supposed to be a lot darker and a whole lot more filthy than it turned out. Wasn’t supposed to be fluffy at all and somehow it turned real quick so I hope you enjoy. I’d also like to state that I’m not promoting suicide or slightly toxic relationships, this is a fictional story and the reader hasn’t died, isn’t dead, and won’t die, so the suicidal scene in this is not meant to be disturbing. If you’re not comfortable reading, please don’t. Alright, I love you all.~ Hope you enjoy.

The biggest struggle of dating Taehyung was that no guide, tutorial, or advice blog post could’ve prepared you for what it was going to be like to be in a relationship with him. I almost wished there were some sort of ‘how to’ on dating a grim reaper because no matter how much dating experience I had, being with him was like being in my first relationship again.

It was a little unconventional, sure. Date nights were always iffy since, apparently, reapers don’t need sleep and therefore are technically scheduled around the clock. Boy, there was nothing like us setting up a nice, stay-at-home dinner date when he’d suddenly kiss my cheek and disappear into thin air, only to come back a few minutes later and announce he’d taken another soul. I’ll be honest, it was a slight mood killer. 

But aside from his job description, Tae was a kind person. He didn’t seem to know exactly how to deal with human emotions, as his kind were strictly prohibited from having human-reaper relations and never had the opportunity to learn from us. But just because he didn’t know what emotions were, doesn’t mean he didn’t feel them. He was a sensitive guy, too.

I remembered the first time he cried. We were watching Marley & Me and I cried at the end like any other sane human being. Tae didn’t cry at all, in fact, knowing I was sad made him sad enough to tear up, even more so when he couldn’t get me to stop. That memory was one of my favorites purely because it was too wholesome to forget: a grim reaper crying because a girl was sad that a dog died in a movie. 

But like every other person in the world, not ever emotion was positive. 

Being much older than I, Taehyung didn’t really have moments where he got angry to the point of exploding in a fit. There wasn’t a situation where he ever passed that threshold, at least, not in front of me. The feelings Tae couldn’t quite grasp were hurt and jealousy. 

From his own words, he never loved anyone before me, and something I knew better than anyone was that jealousy and love were very closely intertwined. 

The first year we dated, I tried explaining to him what jealousy was, that even I felt it too in an attempt to teach him that he didn’t need to act on it. It was safe to say that it didn’t really work.

Over four and a half into our relationship together and Taehyung still chose to disappear whenever we got into a small petty argument that involved him taking something out of context and then not wanting to talk about it like the century old being that he was. 

In our most recent example, my best friend, Sam, called and told me that she was expecting her first baby. We cried a little and then spent the rest of the conversation talking about whose eyes they would have or which parent they would most resemble. Tae and I never talked about kids nor a future together, we just lived in every moment the two of us were given, so indulging on a new topic with Sam gave me the image of tiny Tae-Taes waddling across the wooden floor, matching their father’s bright, boxy grin as they giggled. 

I made one comment - one! I told her how I’d love to have mini-Taehyungs running about the place and that I was so excited to meet her little Sam. Somehow, he took that and ran with it.

He didn’t bother letting me speak, pulling the usual disappearing act he always resorted to when he was upset and didn’t want to properly face his feelings in the moment. I thought it would pass like all the rest, but something changed. 

Hours passed and he never came to check in on me. Days flew by and I hadn’t heard from him. I wanted for him to come by, swallowing my pride and shouting at the empty air in hopes he was listening, to no avail. Nothing worked. 

After two weeks of being ignored and left without so much as a trace, I decided to do what any normal girl would do to seek out her boyfriend’s attention.

I needed to kill myself. 

I didn’t want to die, by any means. Tae knew how close I’d come to death a few too many times, but if I was going to get his attention back on me, I needed to attempt something stupid. Not only did it have to be stupid, it also had to be believable. I needed to convince him that I was going to die and hope he’d rescue me just in time.

I knew it wasn’t a good plan to start off with but it was the only thing I could come up with to get him to focus on me. The only reason I even thought of such a stupid idea was because I knew he’d never let me actually die. He saved me once and I was willing to bet he’d save me again and this time my life was actually on the line.

All that being said, I’ll regurgitate that it wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. 

What if he’d decided to have someone else cover me? What if the one time he decided he didn’t want to see me again, he passed the job on to someone else and they just let it go?

I shivered with that thought fresh in my mind. To say I was scared was a gross understatement, the thought of all the ways this could go bad were enough to paralyze me with fear. There was only one reason I stood there in our master bathroom with a bath full of water and a toaster in my hands, already plugged in and ready for me to drop it in.

If I wanted him to talk to me, I had to force him to keep me out of harm’s way.

Nervousness nagged at the back of my mind, heart beating a million miles a minute against my ribcage, forcing me to take a deep inhale of fresh air, even if it was only to calm my nerves for a few seconds. A few seconds was enough to release my grip and pray that Tae would be there to rescue me.

With a last shake of my head, I thought up a quick “I love you” to the universe as if the universe would deliver my message to my friends and family if things didn’t go as planned. And with that, I dropped the small appliance.

The moment it slipped from my fingers, I clenched my eyes tight and waited for the shock to ripple through my body in powerful waves, but nothing came. In fact, time itself seemed to slow down as a large clanging against the wall forced my eyes open, right as a tall, dark figure wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me out of the tub to press me against the wall adjacent. 

Taehyung stood there, fuming in anger as his gaze bored into mine, hands gripping tightly to me and keeping me pressed against the wall, though I’m not sure if he was holding onto me to keep me steady or if he was preparing to murder me where I stood. To be fair, if it wasn’t for his hold on me, I would’ve slipped against the tile floor that puddled with the water leaking from the bottom half of my jeans. I added a mental note to myself that next time I do something like that again, I should prepare for it to actually work and actually wear a pair of shorts or something. But another problem for another time.

The sheer force in which Taehyung’s eyes glared into mine would normally have made me cower. But knowing I had to do something that stupid just to get him to talk to me again filled me with a burning anger that I didn’t know I had within me. With that newfound anger, I pushed back against his chest, my hands rebounding off his chest without moving him in the slightest. He dropped his hold on me and I stepped forward, my foot catching a slippery tile and making me bang my back against the wall roughly. A sharp pain shot through my back and Tae softened for a  moment, reaching out again to steady me before I finally exploded.

“No. Don’t touch me! I don’t even know where to begin right now!” I defiantly shoved his hands away from my body and crossed my arms over my chest once I balanced out a bit. 

“You? You?! The fuck did I do?” He argued, waving his hands in the air as if his gestures were defence enough for his stupid inhuman reactions.

“Oh, so you’re going to play stupid now, is that it? Really?” I barked, taking a step forward and poking a finger right against his tight chest. “I don’t know. How about the fact that you just walked out on me and never came back? What happened to having a normal fucking conversation like an adult?” He received a poke to his clothed peck with every word to emphasize what he’d done wrong.

Annoyed with me prodding at him in frustration, he grabbed my wrist at my last poke, holding my arm away from him and resumed the glaring. “You’re making this about me now? Are you going to completely ignore the fact that you almost just fried yourself? What the fuck were you thinking?!” He raised his voice, something he didn’t do often, and I naturally shied away from the loudness of his voice to keep my ears from ringing.

“Well I wouldn't have needed to do that had you come back to talk! Of course I tried to get your attention. I love you, you fucking moron,” I grunted, voice cracking at the end as tears instantly sprang to my eyes. Willing them away, I stood my ground and met Tae’s heated gaze with an unwavering one of my own. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. 

“We did talk. Yeah I left, but I did that after I said things weren’t going to work out between us.”

He wasn’t wrong. He did technically say that but it was spoken like a passive statement made in anger, a second before he disappeared to wherever the fuck he went to whenever he was upset with me. So I was just supposed to accept that was it after four and a half years and no idea what broke the two of us. Fuck that, he meant too much to me.

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that. I made one comment - one! - about kids to Sam and now you’re dead-set on not being with me? Why are you so angry about that?” My words came out in a pained whisper as I pleaded with him. I just wanted a response back, to know what was hurting him so I could try and fix it. 

His eyes shifted from mine repetitively, searching my face for something before he mumbled out, “Because I can’t give that to you.”

I froze, all but my heart coming to a halt as I processed his words. He couldn’t give that to me… Kids?

I couldn’t help the frown that framed my lips as his face morphed into one of discomfort, grimacing at himself. A pang of guilt smacked me right in the chest as his face fell. All of it began to make sense and I wasn’t sure if I made things better or worse by doing what I did.

“Tae…” I started, mouth agape as I tried to form some sort of response but I couldn’t think of one at that moment.

He straightened himself out and all visible evidence of his emotional expression was wiped clean off his features. “I can’t give you kids,” he repeated clearly, seemingly more for himself than for me.

Pride swelled up in me and I reached out to wrap my arms around his midsection to hug him close.

“Baby,” I cooed, a fresh wave of tears threatening to soak into his soft cotton shirt as I smothered my face against him, taking in his scent and his warmth. He returned the embrace, tightly hugging me back with his nose buried atop my head.

“You’re not mad at me,” he mumbled thoughtfully.

I shook my head against him, squeezing him that much tighter to reassure him. “I figured it wasn’t biologically possible, but there are plenty of ways for couples to have kids when they otherwise can’t themselves.”

I imagined his brows furrowing as he turned his head, resting the side of his plump cheek on top of my hair. “I don’t understand.”

Pulling back, I tilted my head to look him in the eyes and smiled supportively. Our kids don’t have to look like either of us to be ‘little Taehyungs’ or little ‘Y/Ns’.” I leaned back further and pressed my chin against the center of his chest, humming as he readjusted his embrace around me. “I’ll see you in the way they smile or laugh, all those little idiosyncrasies they pick up from you that make them you kids.”

Tae blinked with a blank expression on his face, staring me down without so much as a response to follow up. The longer he went without responding, the stronger my heart pounded in my chest. 

We never had any serious talks like that before because everything about our relationship was too complicated. Marriage and families weren’t even on our mind, at least not on mine until Sam was getting her own, and suddenly I realized how I’d love to have a family with Taehyung, no matter how unconventional. But there’s a chance that could’ve just been me. Maybe it was too early to be talking about that so Tae didn’t really have an opinion since he couldn’t have kids. Maybe he was trying not to hurt my feelings? God, I broke him.

I cleared my throat and opening my mouth to talk when he cut me off. “So you’re not mad that I…. you’re okay with it?”

“Of course I’m okay with it. Sure, I’m a teenie but sad they probably won’t have your boxy grin or your cute little nose freckle, but our kids would be cute regardless.” The anxiety I had towards his response was no longer a thought in my mind as I suddenly grinned, punctuating my statement with a kiss on his chin, which he playfully returned. But he didn’t stop there. Strong hands gripped the back of my thighs and urged me to jump, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he pushed us up against the wall once more, chaste kisses littered across the length of my face. Each peck tickled, giggles pouring past my lips as I scrunched my nose up and took all the comfort he gave. Lips trailed down my neck before he buried his face in the crook of my collarbone, happily sighing against ym skin with a happy hum.

The smile on my lips pinched at my cheeks, making my face ache with the strength of my happiness alone. I never knew he’d have such a human response to something like kids. It made my heart flutter to know that’s where his heart and mind were, that he wasn’t actually mad at me.

With determination, he pushed us off of the bathroom wall and opened the door to our shared bedroom, carrying me to the bed where he motioned to put me down.

“Babe, my pants are still wet,” I reminded him, to which he nodded and set me down a foot or so away to stand in front of him.

“Well, we’re going to solve that,” he quipped, reaching down between us to fumble with the button and zipper on my jeans while I grinned up at him. It wasn’t what I had in mind when planning this out but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

He had a few issues with the clasping mechanics of my pants, a regular issue he was faced with, and grunted in irritation. I giggled, brushing back the long strands of hair behind his ear before a loud ripping sound pulled my attention.

“Baby! These are my favorite jeans!” I screeched at Taehyung, lips pouting as I admired the fresh rip down the center of the jeans that paralleled the zipper. You know, the zipper he could’ve just undone.

Lips pressed to my forehead as a chuckle rippled through his chest. “Not anymore, they’re not.” He meant it to tease but I still glared at him, not finding it in me to laugh at the expense of my favorite pair of jeans. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he offered in a light-hearted tone, making me roll my eyes and return the kiss to his chin.

Lean fingers dipped into the waistband of my jeans, tugging them down my hips until they passed the curve of my ass. But the material from the thigh down was still sopping wet and made it even more entertaining to watch him struggle to slide the denim down my legs, coaxing another giggle from me.

“Fuck, why is this so difficult?” Tae let out a soft groan, giving up on his quest of removing the wet article and instead closing the distance between us, lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

“What about my pants? Not going to rip them all the way?” I wriggled my eyebrows and laughed when he rolled his eyes back.

“Pants or no pants, I’m still fucking you into the mattress.” His voice dripped with heat, his tone comparing to sex itself, sensual and deep, which made the words shoot straight down to my core.

As promised, he stalked towards me until the back of my knees pressed up against the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat, cupping my face with his large palms and pulling me into a deep kiss that took away what little breath I had after his sexy statement. His tongue skimmed over the seam of my mouth, canines digging into the flesh of my bottom lip as he gave me that final push back onto the bed, lowering me down with a steady hold on my back until I was flush against the mattress with him hovering above me. Mouths lavished over one another, pulling the other into each other as far as our bodies would let us until the lack of oxygen forced me to pull away for a moment.

I wasted no time in pulling the white shirt from his black dress slacks, untucking his usual orderly work clothes so I could dip my hand under the smooth material to feel his bare warmth against my fingers. Each little divot and bulge across his stomach only added to the arousal gathering between my legs, allowing my fingers to explore the clothed spaced with the image of him naked on my mind.

The thought of that alone drove me mad, thighs instinctively rubbing together to relieve some of the pent up pressure. But doing so only reminded me of the pants I still had clinging to the lower part of my legs, the tight and uncomfortable sticky feeling causing a slight bubble of irritation to well up within me.

“Bab-” I started, cut off by Tae’s lips roughly soothing over mine with a kiss deeper than the one before it. It was his mission to explore my mouth, delving deep inside to slide his tongue along mine in a dance for passion, not power. There was no struggle in the kiss, which was different - a good different that made my heart beat just a little bit harder for him.

“Sh, ignore the pants,” Taehyung whispered against my lips and I had to force down the eyeroll that almost surfaced at such a dismissive response.

As I was about to protest further, Tae parted from the kiss and pushed himself from the bed, kneeling down on the floor and pushing my legs up until they tucked up to my chest to expose my clothed core for his eyes to feast on. The tip of his tongue swiped across his lips before he dove down, pushing my panties out of the way to dip a finger shallowly into my sopping heat. I moaned softly, holding onto my ruined jeans with one hand and sneaking the other around to his head, intertwining my fingers in his soft, chestnut locks.

Without warning, Tae pushed his finger in to the knuckle and lowered his head to hungrily lap at my clip over my already soaked underwear, ripping a moan forcefully from my throat. He moaned in return, any noise that left my mouth only adding to his determination to work me up and get me as wet as inhumanly possible. He sped up his pace, curling the tip of his finger to stroke the pad of his fingertip along the rough patch at the top, the spot that made my mind go blank and left me a mumbling mess for him to please. He always knew how to hit the right place, each and every time together was spent as a new learning experience for him to map out and worship my body as I did his.

A few pumps later, Tae placed a sloppy, wet kiss along the inside of my thigh before adding a finger to the one already thrusting into my cunt at a moderate pace. The stretch burned despite how slender his fingers were, always filling me up nicely. Brushing against a particular spot deep within me, I was left gasping for air, tugging the strands at the top of his head as I attempted to buck my hips against his hand to meet each of his thrusts, my sopping pussy tembling around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. You always take me so fucking well,” he praised, leaving a few stray kisses along my thigh to accompany the faster pace he’d set, working his fingers into me as if he could do it all fucking night long.

“Mmh, Tae,” I groaned, abandoning the grip on my legs to ground myself against the duvet underneath.

“What, baby? What do you want?” Rougher kisses were pressed into the length of my thigh and along my wet mound, tongue practically dancing everywhere but my clit to tease me.

“Tae-Tae, I want you in me. Please.”

Despite the urgency in my request, Tae peeked around my legs with a softened look, eyes kind as his body smile outshines the gloss of arousal painting his lips and chin.

“Yeah? Where do you want me, baby? Here?” He asked with a slide of his fingers across my g-spot, causing my thighs to quake as I fought off the softest hint of an orgasm. I nodded and begged him for his cock while he rubbed the remainder of my slick from his face and onto his sleeve, towering over me once again as he climbed up the bed once again, having stripped himself of his clothes. The heat returned to his gaze as he devoured my body with his eyes, not needed for me to be naked in order to let his imagination run wild. 

Leaving a soft kiss against my lips, he pushed back to sit on his knees and lifted my legs up until my feet rested against the top of his shoulder. The position we were in gave him the perfect view of my ruined panties, his eyes lit up with a heat unlike anything I’d ever seen from him before as he traced the material with his fingertip. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He asked, fighting the blush that creeped up his neck and into his ears as he stayed locked onto my clothed pussy. 

His words made me giddy, the thought of him fucking me and getting me pregnant with his child adding fuel to our very passionate fire. “Please, I want your baby, Tae,” I whined. He dragged his cockhead against my clothed core, earning a grunt from us both. With a push of my panties to the side and a gentle rock of his hips against my own, the entirety of his cock slid into me, walls protested the stretch his thick girth gave despite the prep, drawing a synchronized moan from us. 

“Oh fuck, babe,” I groaned, fisting the sheets beneath me as his grip aropund my legs tightened. He stilled when the last inch of his cock sank into me, the tremble in his breath telling me he felt the tightness in this position too. Without warning, he dragged his hips back, exposing everything but the tip of his cock before he quickly thrusted back in. 

He continued his languid pace while pressing open kisses to my foot just beneath the hem of the jeans, nails raking against the flesh of my thigh before his eyes flickered down to me. 

I gasped when he adjusted the angle of his hips and targeted my g-spot without miss, setting a punishing pace with his hips as he suddenly drove his cock into me roughly. I moaned out, teeth capturing my bottom lip to contain the sounds his actions were tearing from my throat. 

With a grunt, Tae switched our positions, lowering himself down until his shoulders nestled in the hollow of my knees, face ducking down to pull my lips into a kiss as he resumed his powerful thrusts into my aching pussy.

The new position had every part of my body humming in happiness, the surface of my flesh tingling with each thrust he gave until my eyes shut. Our lips danced together, tongues stealing tastes of one another as the little sounds we made were muted by the other. I fisted a hand in his sweaty hair, using the brunette strands to ground me against his assault against my hips. I tried to meet his thrusts, but the awkward position left me lying there, unable to move, as I took his cock as he gave it. 

I tightened around him, loving the way I felt every ridge of his thick length as it disappeared from my cunt and pushed back inside to hit me in all the right places. After so many thrusts against that spot deep within me, a pressure built up in my lower stomach that burned, growing in size with each pump of his cock until I whined, needing pressure on my clit to push me over that final edge.

Knowing exactly what I wanted, he snuck a hand between us and used the slick on my thighs to wet his thumb before swiping rigorously against my sensitive clit. I mewled in pleasure at the contact, throwing my head back and parting our lips as loud whines and moans leaked from my mouth. It was almost too much, the combination of his hand and his cock throwing me over the edge faster than I could ever get myself off, pushing me over that ledge and into my orgasm. 

I mumbled incoherently as my spasming cunt only drove Taehyung to ride out into his own orgasm, continuing his brutal pace until his cock twitched and stilled inside me, filling me to the brim with his seed.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, taking the time to catch our breaths and return to reality. My body protested him pulling his limp cock from my oversensitive hole, making me grimace. When he pulled back and released my legs from his grip, I groaned at the stiffness in my legs from being in that position for a while, but completely forgot about that as goosebumps fluttered over my skin and brought my attention back down to the soaked jeans I still had on my body. 

Taehyung noticed my shivering and gave a small laugh, deciding to help me out and finally rip each of the legs until the material wasn’t too tight to remove. Sticking to the stripping, I took off my top and unclasped my bra, flinging both across the room to deal with later as Tae stood at the edge of our bed, between my legs. His eyes locked onto the cum dripping from my pussy and he couldn’t contain a grin as he reached forward and swiped a drop up onto his finger to push it back inside of me. 

“Well, at least we’ll know for sure,” Tae murmured to himself. 

“Hm?” I hummed, reaching out with grabby hands for him to come join me on the bed, which he did with a soft smile and a peck to the nose.

“I’ve always assumed we can’t have kids. I guess now we’ll figure out whether I was right or wrong.”

[yzkhr]

Part two of the Love Language miniseries!

Once again, I dedicate this to one of my favorite Shinran authors, @meitanteisachi

Part three might take a little while since I'm in my lazy mode. So please forgive me if the next part will be late 🤧

Warning: Probably my longest fic ever. So long that I need to divide into two parts. I kinda got carried away.

-

Receiving Gifts-You feel loved and appreciated when your partner or someone gives you a gift. It doesn't need to expensive, just something sentimental and thoughtful.

She was seven when Ran received her first memorable gift from Shinichi.

She remembered how It had been a month since her mother moved away, turning her life upside down. At a young age, Ran forced herself to be responsible; learning how to cook without burning the food, doing household chores that her father never knew how to do, and taking care of both a child who's too young and a grown man who's too immature and broken to live on his own.

It vastly made a growth and development in her character. Teachers and classmates alike noticed the way she had matured, from the way she handled her emotions—always putting on a smile and being the bigger one in the petty fights— to her mannerisms and gestures that resembled an older sister.

To them, her mother leaving became somewhat a good thing, with her maturity blooming early.

If only that were true.

No one knew that as soon as she opened the door of the empty detective office, Ran would be filled with her mother's presence; Hearing her voice, seeing her face, and even missing her scolding. Instead of saying anything to her father however, she brushes it off, puts on a facade, being a mother, a wife, and a daughter all at the same time to a drunk and emotionally unstable man.

But at the end of each day, entering her room and not crying was impossible. Her eyes watering at the sight of the empty bed that used to be filled with her mothers' scent, all gone. And like the child that she was—that she should be— she would sobbed and whimper silently, until exhausted enough to close her eyes and unaware that there's no one beside her just to sleep.

Ran was sure no one knew or was even remotely aware of her secret. After all, her smile shined and eyes glimmered in school so different from the distraught face she wears each night since last month.

But she had underestimated him.

On the day of her birthday, everyone greeted her with their own set of trinkets and gifts. Most were letters and drawings, filled with gratitude and love through the used of poorly executed writings and simple but meaningful pictures. Ran was happy to received all of them, whether they were small—like a piece of her favorite candy— or expensive and big, such as the dress given to her by Sonoko.

But unlike all her other birthdays, she didn't feel as contented and satisfied. There laid a gnawing feeling inside of her, aware that she'll never have what she truly wished for.

As they walked home from school, Ran expected Shinichi to give her at least some sweets. So, when he invited her to come by his house she agreed with a nod, genuinely having no idea.

So, she stood for a few minutes outside the mansions' gates, reading out some letters to pass time. She became so engrossed at reading that she didn't even notice him go outside until he was finally in front of her. Catching a set of feet just in front, she looked up. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw a fairly large and fluffy inanimate object in Shinichi's hands, holding it out to her.

"Here you go, Happy Birthday, Ran." he greeted, tilting his head on the side behind the cute teddy bear grinning from ear to ear. Instinctively, Ran accepted his gift and brought it close to her chest, feeling it's soft synthetic fur.

She slowly scrutinized it, it's features somewhat reminding her of...

"M-mom?" whispering incredulously, she glanced at Shinichi. Still wearing a smile, he nodded.

"That's right. Even if you don't talk about it, I know you miss your mom. You've been crying a lot too--"

"I wasn't crying!" she denied, but her mask slipped a little when he deadpanned.

"Yes you were," he stated calmly, as if he saw her doing so. She glared.

"How would you know? I never cried in school!"

"I'm sure before we go to school you do. Your eyes were always a little red and puffy when entering the class after all." he argued back. Instead of being embarrassed, Ran found something more important to point out.

"You were watching me?" she questioned, eyes curious. She didn't know why, but the thought of Shinichi watching and observing her made her smile(and a little nervous).

In an instant, gone was the confident and composed childhood friend of hers, image being ruined by his immediate coughing as if he swallowed a huge thing, cheeks flushed a healthy red, and a stuttering mess as he negated her claim.

"B-Barou! Those were just coincidences!!" then he slightly looked away, seemingly afraid to meet her violet orbs. Scratching his still blushing cheeks, he changed the topic.

"W-Well, Happy Birthday. You can use that stuff animal when you feel, you know, lonely." he dazed off, then glanced over her shoulder. As if realizing something significant, his eyes widened.

"It's already sun down! You gotta go home now or Occhan is gonna scold me!"

Ran followed his advice right after. As soon as she arrived home, she found her father in a sober state, and was even the one who tried to cook dinner for the both of them. Eri called later that night, which made Ran happy. She still asked her mother when the woman will come home and Eri would always reply with a vague answer. She didn't pressure her mother anymore, not wanting to ruin both their day.

That night as she entered her room, strangely enough, Ran didn't feel lonely. She also didn't feel the need to exhaust herself, now having a sweet stuff animal to comfort and fill her warmth. She settled on her soft bed, hugging the teddy bear tightly. And for the first time since her mother's moving away, Ran didn't cry.

-

They were thirteen, she recalled, when she received her second most thoughtful gift from him.

"Hey Ran, did you find the kitten?" Ran glanced up, hearing her name from Sonoko. She shook her head as an answer.

"It's still missing. I tried asking around but they said they never saw it." her bestfriend looked at her worriedly, knowing what she was thinking.

A few days ago, her, Sonoko, and Shinichi found a little ball of fur on their way home from school. They all took pity, Ran specially. So, the three teenagers took upon themselves to look after it until just a week ago, it disappeared. They searched everywhere around the area, trying to spot a little black kitten with huge and round green eyes. Unfortunately, they never succeeded.

Seeing Ran's mood depleted, Sonoko patted her back as comfort, grinning.

"Don't worry about it! I'm sure it has found an owner by now." Ran smiled, being reassured but still a bit dissatisfied. She decided to adopt the kitten after all but it was still nowhere to be seen.

To lighten the mood, Sonoko changed the topic to new shops, magazine, and gossips. Since the teacher was late, the Suzuki Heiress was unstoppable.

Rans' attention was grabbed however, when a certain someone entered the classroom. He was yawning, not bothering to hide his sleepiness. Rubbing his blue eyes languidly, she noticed how the dark circles under them became even more pronounced than before. Her eyes also became aware that there were some lines seared into his skin—scratch marks.

As if conscious that someone was watching him, Shinichi turned his head around, meeting weary blue with observing violet. It only lasted for a second, with the former looking away and going straight to his desk.

Shinichi had been acting weird lately. It started a week before, with him telling Ran that he would be late and she can just go ahead without him. True enough, he always came late ever since, which normally rarely happens.

Another thing to note would be his physical state. He looked restless, eyebags so obvious along with the constant yawning and even sometimes sleeping through an entire period. The last part wasn't new, but Ran heeded how easily he fell asleep, unlike back then where he needed to toss and turn his head for a comfortable position.

The last thing to caught her eye would be the little scratch marks. She would've been convinced that it was another case but seeing the scrape from his arms threw her off guard. They were shallow, but it didn't wave off her suspicions any less.

So, Ran decided that after class, she would visit him, whether he liked it or not.

The day went by rough, with Ran not being able to focus thanks to a sleeping classmate who looked far too exhausted for a normal student. Sonoko, looking at her stressed friend, ask her out to eat that sounded too appealing but she had to refused, knowing that if she didn't find out the reason for her best friend's odd behavior, she'll be the one to act weird next.

Knowing Shinichi's detective instinct, Ran knew better than to follow him on the get go and get caught. She waited an hour around the area, before making her way to the Kudo Mansion. The only problem now was how to enter without being seen.

She treaded through the stone path, finding the gate unlock. The middle schooler shook her head, both thankful and a little scared. What could he be so busy about for him to forget closing the gate?

Once Ran reached the front door and checked, that's when the immense feeling of worry kicked in. Shinichi also forgot to close the front door!

'What's happening to him? Is a case stressing him this much? Did something terrible happened? Why isn't he telling me--'

Her thoughts were abruptly stopped when the sound that something metallic fell reached her ears, making her anxiety increased tenfold.

Wasting no time and completely losing her initial target, Ran rushed in like lightning, fear evident in every step.

Upon reaching the kitchen and thoughts of her bestfriend in danger flooding her senses, she barged in.

Only to find the great detective Kudo Shinichi rubbing his head, and a couple of pans and plastic bowls scattered around the tiled flooring.

They gaped at each other, unable to register the current scenario. Ran was broken out of her trance however, when she noticed a light bump growing on the top of his head, which he was rubbing a while ago before he froze.

Previous distress setting in once again, Ran hurried by her childhood friends' side, helping him to stand.

"What happened?" she asked, examining and touching the bump. As if electrified by their contact, he flinched and backed away slightly, eyes a bit hazy.

"R-Ran, what are you doing here?" he seemed more concern of her presence than his own well being which made her glare.

"You've been acting weird this past week!" she accused as he treaded away from her, a bit too cautious. She took note of how his left hand slid behind him, fully intending to hide something away from her sight.

"Weird what, me? Barou, I've been perfectly normal. You're just overacting." the response didn't sound so convincing when he was literally sweating and avoiding her scrutiny.

"Yeah, then why were you always late this week?" the interrogation began.

"I was busy with a case Megure-keibu presented me, that's why." gaining his composure, Shinichi answered in a confident manner but that didn't drop any of her suspicions.

"Then what about you being constantly tired these days?" Ran pressed on, ambulating near her suspect. he kept his ground, so sure she was the one who was weird, not him.

"The case was so hard that I couldn't find time to sleep." he casually said, looking bored and done with the questioning.

She kept on walking towards slowly and when she was finally in front of him, she smiled innocently.

"Okay then, I have one last question to ask," he smiled, thinking he won. Then, feigning obliviousness, he consented.

"Fire away."

With those words as her signal, Ran forcefully yanked his left arm that he had been so carefully shielding and him having no time to react, she succeeded, revealing the scratch marks as her last piece of evidence and a.... kitten!?

Silence ensued. Until a mewl came out fromm the little ball of fur. Ran examined the little thing, coming to her conclusion.

"Please don't tell me this was the little kitten that's been missing since last week." she quietly pleaded for him to deny, but all he offered was a gulp and a weary nod.

Anger and bewilderment filled Ran, as she shook her head as an attempt to calm, but seeing the kitten that she had been desperately looking for, for the past few weeks made her burst.

"Why didn't you tell me you had the cat!? You knew that I was looking all over the neighborhood! I even told you I was going to take care of it--"

"That's exactly why I took it!" he interrupted, his excuse perplexing her thoughts even more than before.

"What?" he sighed and put the little kitten down gently, moving to the counter and sitting on one of the tools.

"Well, remember when you first tried to take it home? It was really aggressive, wasn't it?"

She did remember her hand getting scratch and almost bitten when she endeavored to adopt it. So, she gave a nod.

"Well, knowing what you were planning to do, I decided to take it to a friend of mom's who happened to be a vet and get it checked just to make sure. She said it was fine but it seemed a bit violent to humans so she advised me to take care of it so that it will get used to the environment. Knowing you, you would've been dumb enough to just take it without any examination and might get yourself really injured." she tried to refute his last statement but decided against it, knowing he was probably right.

But there was one thing that didn't made sense. "Then why didn't you tell me about it? If I had known I wouldn't have wasted my time, you know." hearing her question made him clearly uncomfortable, eyes now travelling anywhere but hers and cheeks tainted a light pink. They kept quiet, him contemplating while Ran patiently waited.

Knowing his loss, the detective whispered but she still heard it. "I was planning to give it to you next week. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

For some really unexplainable reason, Ran felt her heart beating faster than normal that she might die, face heating up, and even having a stampeding elephant on the pit of her stomach.

"Shinichi..." she uttered, not knowing what to say. Still looking the other way, he misinterpreted her calling as scolding.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have done that. I should've told you properly and you wouldn't have to put so much effort into finding--"

His next lines were suddenly gone when she wordlessly went in front of his sitting figure and patted his hair softly, just like petting a feline. He stammered and tried to speak but found himself to be voiceless by her next words.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it..." she wanted to say more but was being suffocated by the swarming butterflies in her stomach, not allowing her to do so.

"You better be..." he mused, trying to lighten the mood and to calm his racing heart. As if by magic, he felt a sudden urge to close his eyes and lean on her posture, loving the way she stroke his hair so gently. And so he did.

Ran was taken aback by the unforeseen intimacy but didn't complain. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she felt almost all of his weight on her, coupled with his heavy breathing that she concluded he fell asleep.

Slowly, she moved him to the sofa of the living room, all the while trying to not burst at the feeling of his breath on her neck. Succeeding, she grabbed a pillow and a blanket from his room, finally setting him down on the couch.

Ran couldn't help but feel guilty, finally figuring out that she was the reason of all his strange behavior all along. It explained his worn out expression throughout the entire week, having to take care of an aggressive kitten without having any prior experience must be exhausting, and it showed through his sleepless nights and lack of energy at everything in class.

Then, her eyes travelled to the little scratches and wounds all over his arms. They were nothing serious, but they must have at least sting. Wanting to at least alleviate the pain, Ran brought the first aid kid from his room and tenderly tended to all of the gashes and marks, and him not even flinching one bit despite being supposedly a heavy sleeper, became proof of how much time and effort he put for her surprise.

Ran went home that day, carrying his gift with her. She knew that he was supposedly giving this next week, but the teenager was pretty sure that Shinichi wouldn't be able to handle another week of torture like that. So, she left a note to make sure he didn't worry.

Years passes after that, but Ran would never forget the kitten he gave her, and the inexplicable giddy feeling with it. Sonoko would remind her how happy she was that she couldn't physically stop smiling for a while that it weirded many out but personally for Ran, it was worth it.

-

(Has a part 2 because it's so unnecessary long)

[duskodair]

further Noel lore, by popular demand (with the old bc why not)

The one constant in her life has always been him. One of them was born first, but they're not sure which. Names don't stick to them. Dozens of monikers have come and passed them by. They barely use names for one another, so it doesn't matter. They know vaguely which order the children they might have once been were born and named, but neither of them actually know to which of them each name belongs.

They come to the orphanage as a pair of red headed infants, identical and inseparable. Among the other children, they are easily lost in the muddle. They grow up holding hands and answer to both names. They come to answer to others as well, as staff members forget and rename them from the pool of other children.

The orphanage is a loveless place. They learn of the distant love of a God who has forsaken them from nuns who have no time for them. They learn to walk holding hands and make their own language to whisper the secrets they learn from watching places that the convent do not want them to see.

The nuns can't keep the right names pinned to the right child and by the time they leave the orphanage, their papers are muddled and merged, inseparable in their scarcity. At fourteen, they do honest work for a few months, pulling in a pitiful wage between them. They answer to the names that the nuns told them they were given as decide that it's not for them.

Knowing their letters, at least, gets them into interesting places. Gossip slips by them. They come home with stories and whispers of crimes committed in distant towns. There's nothing truly behind it, but it intrigues them.

They leave the town they were raised in with the collection money for the convent's charity children. They never saw any of it whilst they were there, so they reckon it's theirs to take.

They do it sensible, though, no grand heist and sudden exit. One day two nobodies walk the streets and the next they are gone, notice properly given and a forwarding address passed along to those it may concern. Perhaps they go where they say they are going, perhaps they do not. The convent only realises the theft far later than it could be solved. And by that point, they are dust on the plains.

'New town, new names' is their policy. It gives them something to do on their journeys. Their childhood gives them a wealth of options as they work their way through the Good Book. She chars for a family as Leah, subtly learning to mimic the habits of those born into money as she beats dust out of the curtains. As Mary she is a gentle lady, down on her luck, willing to watch the children.

She never does a con without him. It starts with petty theft, enough to tide them over. But they grow confident as the years pass, and still the sheriffs fail to put out a bounty for names they've left behind.

Both of them claim to do the most work in their enterprise. She scoffs and says he's far too distracted by pretty stable boys and saloon lasses for his case to be true. He argues that she's too busy staring at her own reflection in things to possibly be doing the most work.

She kicks him, out of principle, before grinning. They're nearly done with this town. Regretfully, they're about to have a family emergency and the gentle seamstress' assistant and the errand boy will have to leave. It will be a while before anybody notices that old Mr McCoy hasn't been seen in a while. Well, perhaps the young ladies he used to shout at might notice, but the twins don't think they'll miss him.

Noel swings out her legs one last time before depositing them in Jonah's lap. She leans back as she considers the best way for Miss Miranda DuVal to break her incoming family crisis to her employer to potentially receive offerings of sympathy. In the last town she'd received a lovely pair of hand me down boots. She's hoping to do much better here, and well, there's some lovely stuff in the Atkinsons' unpaid tab.

The breeze picks up a little. Nothing like a peaceful walk and a casual picnic to enjoy their last day in this town. She looks away from the disappointing straggle of houses that make up the town, towards her brother. He's lying down in the prairie grass, staring up at the passing clouds. She thinks he's probably thinking about a barmaid again. He's got that look on his face.

She rips up a bit of grass and tosses it at him, 'keep your raunchy thoughts off your face. I don't want to know'

He tosses the grass back at her, 'I can do what I please. It's my own bleedin face'

With that, he rises, pushing her legs from his lap.

'Now come along, sister dearest, I'm sure we are missed. I must see if Old Man Thomas needs any more of those crates lifting, and I'm sure you have embroidery to do'

She lets him read her disdain before rising and schooling her features into the amiable Miss DuVal. 'Of course, brother, shall we go, then?'

She takes his arm and they head back to finish the performance before the appointed hour of departure. They make their arrangements and say their goodbyes. Jonah receives his kisses and Noel her tea gown.

On the road they pick new names, write a new story. When she stumbles in a gopher hole, he christens her Grace. She makes a hand gesture that the nuns certainly would not have approved of and accepts the name.

Town after town they pass through, weaving their way West, across the country. Their cons become bigger and grander and their budget grows.

For all their griping, they make an excellent team, she thinks, as he combs out her hair for her next performance. Their plan is to land a quiet jackpot in the town of Danser. It's been in their sights for a while, a little passing place, irrelevant. Perfect.

They have a few weeks to go before they arrive, appearances to make along the road. They call themselves Underwood for the branch that Jonah stumbles into as he stumbles around their camp after dark. They turn the branch into a lumber business and laud their wealth to one another.

Noel laughs into the fire as she weaves stories of their loving Papa, whose only desire in life is to see his daughter married off to a reputable man. Jonah grins as he fleshes out the tragedy of their gentle mother, taken too soon.

At least, Noel thinks, she won't have to wear the fashion of a widow too long, as Jonah will, of course, have to return her to the loving safety of her father, if there is nobody left in Danser to provide. She checks the Derringer strapped to her thigh and consigns her new life story to memory. Yes, she thinks, Noel will work as a name for a while.

______

Danser is quiet the day the Underwoods ride into town. On the surface, they bring little change, just a business deal and a wife for the wealthy Mr Tobias Lloyd. Noel rides into town as a bartering token for her family's lumber business, a symbol of an alliance sealed.

Jonah Underwood brings her into town, red hair tousled in the wind as the twins drive, laughing, down the dust scattered road. He's going to stay in Danser as she gets settled.

He'll probably stay longer than expected, loath to leave her. They've never been more than a week apart throughout their short lives. Where she goes, he follows, but this time, he cannot.

Noel is prepared, she thinks, for a husband. Her trunk is packed with all her worldly possessions and the wood of the carriage is steady under her hands.

The town spreads before her, barely a stopping point out from the city. Home, it seems, now. She's a long way from Tennessee. She's a long way from their smaller cons. Jonah meets her eyes. They're ready.

Her fingers dust over the derringer that she carries strapped to her thigh. She smiles. The plan is simple. She can do it. Jonah guides the horses forward into town, nodding to the old man on his stoop outside the general store, before heading to the Emerald Hotel.

She holds her head high as Jonah makes arrangements. The role is easy, she smiles and nods and watches. Noel is quiet and demure, but ever watchful, cataloguing her new neighbours. She plays naive, batting doe eyes at passers by, luring people in to speak with them.

They spend a day getting settled, researching, making appearances. They go to church, make nice. They start tabs and pay them off, respectable like, with the money of dead men. They find out about Mr Lloyd. He's wealthy and removed, just their type. His employees dislike him, after a few drinks, and when Jonah reports back, so does she.

She is all smiles, however, when Jonah presents her with promises of lumber money. She twirls the loose curls that soften her cheeks around a finger, and in that motion, she has him. Soon the hair around her finger becomes a ring and she becomes a wife.

Tobias Lloyd is, fundamentally, a disappointing husband. Everything he tries to teach her, she already knows, and quite frankly, he's barely competent. He tries to run her in circles but his fall short of the ones she's running around him.

Jonah rides between Danser and the city, keeping the financial side of the con running as Noel pushes her hands into the running of the household. She takes control, bringing home arsenic for cleaning and for rats.

She makes appearances with her husband in the Emerald Hotel, a doting wife out for coffee. She wears fine gowns and resists gossip, staying upstanding, but never cold. She likes to think that she's making her mark in the town, becoming known. If she is, she's doing her job properly, settling her character witnesses.

Everything is going perfectly until it isn't. Jonah slips. Noel doesn't even discover how until it is too late and the gunfight is lost and Jonah is bleeding out in her arms, his tab with God unsettled and their victory bleeding away.

She buries him in the churchyard, demure and sweet, watching the stone with the wrong name mark her brother's place. Later, she rides out and screams, hands still stained red with his blood. She remembers his unsettled tab and sets out to match it, so that one day she can join him once more.

She returns to town and puts on her gloves. Tobias loves her, she is the perfect wife, so attentive to his bouts of illness and so concerned.

Noel forms the perfect cover, she plays her part perfectly. With a little sacrifice, she covers for Jonah's slip. She helps collect funds for the new church floor, embroidering kerchiefs with dainty patterns for the pastor to sell. The new pastor admires her faith, he smiles and says one day she'll see heaven. She does her best to ensure that won't be so.

Tobias grows sicker and sicker and Noel worries more and more. At least, in public. Old Man German at the store grows tired of her asking after medicine. There is never any coming in.

Calling for the Doc is a risk, but a necessary one. Fortunately, it pays off, he patiently assures her that he's not a doctor and he cannot cure her husband. He's the best Danser has, however, and all her husband will see. She grows fond of him on his visits, another respectable alibi and connection for when she is alone.

She forges ties and prepares for widowhood. She ties her hair up neat and slips into the saloon instead of the hotel on a Friday afternoon, seeking the Doc, looking to keep herself in his mind. She's going to need a new husband soon, anyway, and it's always a good idea to plan ahead.

[foxtophat]

MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing)  usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!!  one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen.  i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in.  to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand.  i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass!  i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

[enbyleighlines]

Thank you for your stories. I would like read about: wn & lwj - jeaulosy, yanli & lwj - friendship, jc & nhs - flowers. Again thank you for sharing those small ficlet.

You’re welcome! And thank you, anonymous friend, for all the requests. I’m going to be splitting this up into three separate posts, because I want to fill all of them.

Without further ado: Lan Wangji & Wen Ning: Jealousy

—

Lan Wangji has a bad feeling. He’s sitting at one of the window booths at a locally owned coffee shop. Wen Ning texted him last week, and asked to meet up.

This is unusual, to put it lightly. Despite having an overlapping friend group, Lan Wangji and Wen Ning rarely interact one on one. In fact, Wen Ning tends to actively avoid Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have to wonder why Wen Ning avoids him like the plague. For years, Lan Wangji has been cold to Wen Ning, if not outright hostile. So Lan Wangji does not blame Wen Ning for wanting to stay out of his hair. On the contrary, that’s exactly what Lan Wangji had wanted, once upon a time.

The thing is, Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian are best friends. And Lan Wangji has envied that, ever since high school.

Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning’s friendship began in Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s second year of high school. Lan Wangji was still deep in denial about his feelings, rejecting all of Wei Wuxian’s desperate attempts to befriend him.

Wen Ning was a freshman, a year behind them, and new to the school. Quiet and baby-faced, he drew bullies to him like moths to a flame. After Wei Wuxian stood up for him the first time, making a grand scene in the cafeteria, the two became inseparable. Suddenly, all the teasing usually directed at Lan Wangji went to Wen Ning instead.

It was unfair for Lan Wangji to feel cheated. After all, he had been trying to get Wei Wuxian off his back for over a year. He was like a dog, selfishly coveting a toy he had once ignored. But envy has always been the hardest sin for Lan Wangji to ditch.

His jealousy only intensified with time. Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian went to the same college. They became roommates. They even went into business together.

It was petty, true, to resent Wen Ning merely for receiving the attention that Lan Wangji was too cowardly to admit that he wanted. But it was hard not to feel the burn of acid in his throat, whenever he saw the way Wen Ning tucked himself under Wei Wuxian’s arm, hanging off his side like a bur.

Of course, Wei Wuxian had many friends. It was the way that Wen Ning looked at Wei Wuxian that bothered Lan Wangji the most. Adoring, like Wei Wuxian was the center of the universe. It was like looking into a mirror. Lan Wangji would catch a glimpse of Wen Ning’s shimmering, lovestruck moon eyes, and see his own crush reflected back at him.

Except, for all his cowardice, Wen Ning was not afraid to let himself get close to Wei Wuxian.

But that was then. This is now.

Now Lan Wangji is twenty-six years old. Wei Wuxian is his boyfriend. They live together. They’re raising a child together.

Jealousy should be a thing of the past.

And yet.

Lan Wangji takes a sip of his hot green tea and waits.

He doesn’t wait too much longer. Wen Ning jogs up to the cafe, waving to Lan Wangji through the window before heading inside.

Lan Wangji bites back a scowl. Once, he could reassure himself with the thought that their crushes were equally doomed. After all, Wei Wuxian wasn’t interested in men. Neither of them stood a chance.

Obviously, now Lan Wangji knows that isn’t the case.

Wen Ning orders something at the counter and then comes to join Lan Wangji. He’s holding a cup of some sugary caffeinated concoction with whipped cream on top. It looks like the type of thing Wei Wuxian would like. Wen Ning sits, not so subtly avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” Wen Ning says.

“Hey.” Lan Wangji doesn’t grant him more than that. The bad feeling in his gut begins to grow.

“How... are you?” Wen Ning asks.

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. He does not appreciate all this tip-toeing around whatever Wen Ning wishes to say. So he answers, “I’m confused. Why did you ask me to meet you?”

“Ah,” Wen Ning sighs. He finally meets Lan Wangji’s gaze. “Right. Well, I wanted to discuss something with you.”

“Then discuss.”

Wen Ning winces. “This isn’t easy for me to explain,” he says, “I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out.”

Lan Wangji feels a bit bad for being so aggressive. So he mutely nods.

“I don’t know if you already know this about me or not,” Wen Ning begins, “but I’m asexual. Aromantic, too, most likely.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He was not aware of that. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with this new information. Should Lan Wangji congratulate him on coming out? Or would that seem patronizing?

Thankfully, Wen Ning doesn’t seem to be waiting for a response. “I bring this up,” he continues, “because I feel— I think— Correct me if I’m wrong, but I always got the sense that you thought I was in love with Wei Wuxian?”

Wen Ning isn’t wrong, so Lan Wangji doesn’t correct him.

Wen Ning nods at Lan Wangji’s silence. “That’s what I thought,” he says, “So I want you to know that, however I feel about Wei Wuxian, it’s not romantic.”

Shame burns in Lan Wangji’s chest. Here he was, wasting his time being jealous of a man who was never even interested in Wei Wuxian. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how to do so in a way that won’t make him sound petty.

“To be fair,” Wen Ning goes on, “I used to think it was a romantic crush myself. And I do love him, in a platonic way.”

Lan Wangji can do nothing but nod.

“That said,” Wen Ning says, “The main reason I’m here, is because I wanted to be completely honest with you.” He pauses, and his eyes dart to the side. “Do you know anything about queerplatonic relationships?”

Lan Wangji does not. He thinks he might have heard the term before, but that’s the extent of his knowledge. “No.”

“Well, they’re kind of what they say on the tin,” Wen Ning explains, in a nervous twitter, “They’re like platonic relationships, but a little different.”

That doesn’t clarify anything. Lan Wangji blinks. “What?”

“Ah, I’m not that good at explaining the concept,” Wen Ning says, “They’re kind of like a third option, for people who are aro/ace, and who want to be in a romantic relationship without the romance.”

Lan Wangji is trying to understand. He truly is. But he is still confused.

Wen Ning sighs. “Here’s how I think of it... it’s got the structure of a romantic relationship, but with the content of a platonic relationship. It’s a way for us to experience the companionship of a life partner without all the romance stuff.”

“Friendship?” Lan Wangji asks.

Wen Ning’s shoulders slump. “It’s like that, but more... structured. I’m sorry, that’s the only way I can describe it. Anyway, I’m trying to explain this because... I want to be in a queerplatonic relationship with Wei Wuxian!”

The rancid taste of vinegar rises in Lan Wangji’s throat. He tries his best to swallow it back down. He’s twenty-six. He can be an adult about this.

“I know it probably sounds weird to you,” Wen Ning starts to babble, “I don’t fully understand it myself. All I know is that I read a book about queerplatonic relationships and now I can’t stop thinking about asking Wei Wuxian to be in one with me!”

Lan Wangji feels the smallest tug of pity in his heart. “If you were in a queerplatonic relationship with Wei Ying,” he says to Wen Ning, “Would you... go on dates?”

Wen Ning flushes and fidgets. “Ah, maybe,” he answers.

“Kiss?”

Wen Ning goes pale at that. He shakes his head quickly. “Oh, no,” he says, “I’ve tried kissing someone before. It wasn’t for me. No offense, but... I don’t understand the appeal of kissing someone.”

Some of the acid in Lan Wangji’s larynx begins to subside. “Then no sex, either?” He guesses.

“Nope! Definitely none of that!”

“Holding hands?”

“Ahh... hopefully, yes.”

“Cuddling?”

Wen Ning squirms, but his small smile betrays him. “If he wants to...”

Lan Wangji stops his interrogation. “So far,” he says, “it does not sound like anything would change between you two.”

It’s true. Wei Wuxian has always been a tactile friend. He has had no qualms about hugging and cuddling with his friends in the past.

“That... might be the case,” Wen Ning admits, “It’s not that I want to do anything new with him. I just want... the label, I guess. I want to tell people that he’s my partner. And that I’m his.”

Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow. The way Wen Ning said that, it almost sounded... possessive.

“I know this is a lot,” Wen Ning says, “but I needed to tell somebody.”

Lan Wangji wants to leave this conversation. Even if what Wen Ning feels for Wei Wuxian isn’t romantic, it’s still... Well, Lan Wangji doesn’t know how to put it into words. And neither does Wen Ning, apparently.

The two men sit in silence for a moment. It’s clear to both of them that they keep misunderstanding each other, but neither knows how to fix that.

“I think... I’m just jealous,” Wen Ning speaks up, unexpectedly, “Everyone around me seems to be in a serious relationship right now. It’s like everyone is paired up, and I’m the eternal third wheel. And maybe I shouldn’t be complaining. I mean, I don’t experience romantic attraction, so it makes sense that I’m single. And there isn’t anything wrong with being single. But when I think about being single for the rest of my life... I feel lonely. Ever since Wei Wuxian moved in with you, I’ve felt...” Wen Ning trails off, and bites his lip, as if to keep himself from finishing the sentence.

“Ah.” Now Lan Wangji understands. It’s like a ray of sunshine piercing through a break in the clouds. He remembers how he felt, learning that Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning had rented an apartment together: Jealous. Lonely. Abandoned. “You miss him.”

“It’s stupid,” Wen Ning says, speaking with his eyes scrunched up, “We still hang out all the time. But I miss living with him. I miss eating our meals together, and I miss running errands together...”

Lan Wangji watches Wen Ning, and feels true empathy blossom within him. “It’s not stupid,” he argues, “Wei Ying... has a loud presence. He is easy to miss.”

Wen Ning’s eyes fly open. “Yes, you’re exactly right! The apartment feels so quiet now. It feels empty.”

Lan Wangji nods. Now they are speaking the same language. Though the flavor of their love for Wei Wuxian is different, the essence is the same. Wen Ning’s love is not the same as Lan Wangji’s love, nor is it the same as Jiang Yanli’s familial love for Wei Wuxian. But all of them feel the same depth of emotion.

“Give me time,” Lan Wangji says, “I need to... research queerplatonic relationships. But I will not stop you, should you bring it up with Wei Ying.”

Wen Ning’s eyes widen. “You’re— you’re serious? You think I should tell him?”

“Wei Ying would want to know,” Lan Wangji tells him. That much he can guarantee. “I don’t know if he will agree to be your queerplatonic partner. I don’t know what that would look like. But you may ask. I will respect whatever decision he makes.”

Wen Ning looks speechless with shock. To be fair, Lan Wangji has surprised himself, too.

“Thank you,” Wen Ning finally says.

Lan Wangji simply nods.

Both of them fall silent once more. The space between them is a little less tense, though. For the first time, Wen Ning and Lan Wangji are able to enjoy a comfortable silence together.

[anonforlackofabettername]

b'tzelem Elohim isn’t a popular concept in Judaism? I would’ve thought it was just kinda assumed to be true

I’m gonna assume this is in response to this post I made during pride month. I made that post because so much of being queer, being neurodivergent, or simply being diverse, is being told that something is wrong with you because you’re you and why can’t you be more like Them. My original post was trying to spread the idea that we are wonderful, we are holy, and that G-d loves us, not because of anything we’ve done to make G-d love us, but because we are who G-d made us to be and that is loved.

But speaking on the concept of b’tzelem Elohim I don’t know if its a popular concept or not. I used to think getting bar/bat mitzvah was like a mandatory thing and then it turned out that half the Jews in my college hillel weren’t b’nei mitzvah. It honestly wasn’t a big deal, but it was still weird for me to wrap my head around it. One thing I learned from being away at college was that there’s so many different ways to be a Jew and to practice Judaism. How’s the saying go? Two Jews, Three opinions. Its like that with everything in life. 

And as for what you know about the culture/religion, even things that seem like central concepts, it can depend on bunch of stuff; your religious schooling, the denomination you practice, how your family practices, and even how much you care. The truth is I didn’t care much about Judaism and religious school when I was younger. I went to services and religious school and got bat mitzvah because that’s what you did and I wasn’t old enough to argue against it. I dropped out of religious school the minute my mom would let me and stopped being Jewish for a while because as a kid I didn’t have the appreciation that I do now. In the later parts of high school and in college I made a choice to learn more about Judaism and start practicing again, but that doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly learned everything I didn’t already know. I’ve probably heard of the idea before in different contexts and different words, this is just the one that resonated and stuck with me. I’ve always known that G-d loves me and that G-d doesn’t care about whether I keep kosher or other petty things. But reading about b’tzelem Elohim for the first time, hearing the concept put into words and then summed up in one word, struck a cord in me. Knowledge comes to us when we need it and when we go looking for it, and in this moment I’m glad I found that knowledge. That being said, I’m glad that this is a concept that is familiar and ingrained in you. I’m glad its something you know intimately. That’s great. But you have to remember that sometimes loving yourself can be the hardest thing to do, so the idea that G-d loves you even when you hate yourself can be very comforting and I want to make sure as many people know that as possible. 

[luucarii]

With a Dash of Gin - Ch9

Ehh, its not too late to post a chapter... right??

Read on Ao3

Finals week came in full swing and despite how stressful Shuichi was making it out to be, Kokichi wasn’t worried. Sure, the study session from last night helped but he was confident enough without it. What Kokichi was, at both the mornings and afternoons of each day of the week, was flustered. It was becoming a regular occurrence and he hated it. It wasn’t like him at all.

Damn that Rantaro.

Kokichi woke every morning of that week greeted to an encouraging text message from the curly haired smug boy. They all had the slight teasing Rantaro was known for yet also the sort of “big brother” feel which made sense considering he was the older brother in his family.

“Good morning! Hope you slept well. Time for your first exam, are you ready? I’m sure you’ll do great. You’ve got this sort of smart—albeit a little arrogant—sort of look to you. I can’t really explain it but I like it a lot. Good luck, text me when you get out!”

Waking up to a message from Rantaro was sure to put a smile on Kokichi’s face no doubt, but when it was both making him smile and flustered enough to have Shuichi asking what was wrong, that’s when Kokichi drew the line. It made his heart do cartwheels in his chest and the unfamiliar feeling left his head spinning.

If anything, Rantaro’s messages made focusing on finals difficult. Kokichi couldn’t stop thinking about them and he made sure to loudly voice his opinions to Rantaro after he got out of class through a loud phone call with a few snarky comments and fake annoyances.

Rantaro would respond with a chuckle and say he would make it up to him once finals were over. 

(“Yeah, you owe me a whoooole bunch of drinks for distracting me during testing!”)

It was strange to Kokichi, having someone as supportive as he was. If not for him, Kokichi would’ve ended up hanging out with Rantaro to ignore the group’s study session that Sunday. Granted they were still getting to know each other so Kokichi figured for the first few weeks Rantaro would just try to be overly nice. The sweet messages were just an added bonus it seemed.

Rantaro caught Kokichi’s attention much longer than his previous crushes, no doubt about it.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Kokichi was mentally exhausted and he really hoped Rantaro would actually consider buying him a few drinks. Not only as an excuse for another date but just to taste it again and maybe get tipsy (not drunk, oh hell no after last time) enough to just have Rantaro take him home and sleep it off. When Rantaro texted him that night, asking him to come after the crowd was thinning out, unfortunately at two in the morning, Kokichi couldn’t say no.

Shuichi had drowsily questioned Kokichi for going out so late but Kokichi reassured him with a chuckle. Shuichi was too tired to argue with him and Kokichi could swear he passed out after a half-assed mumble. 

The summer air was cool against Kokichi’s skin as he made his way down the sidewalk. The streets were somewhat empty save for the few cars passing by every once and a while and each house seemed to have their lights off for the night.

One thing he liked about Rantaro’s job was that the bar he tended was close to a ten (fifteen if he was feeling particularly slow with the nice weather) minute walk from campus. Although there was a curfew in place, Kokichi had already made mental notes of the cameras and security officers around the school. Getting out was virtually no problem for him and he always had Shuichi, god forbid anything happened. Most of the security guards took a quick liking to Shuichi after learning of his major in criminology (and how he’d commonly talk to a few of them for random tidbits and tips for his future as a detective) so they typically turned a blind eye to anything bad he happened to involve him in, which was rare in it of itself. Kokichi found it downright hilarious how the guards would talk of upholding honor and bunch of other stupid shit and yet they’d let some nerdy kid and his friends get away with petty things that would usually earn them a warning at best. 

It was just one of those perks Shuichi had that Kokichi would sometimes leech onto. He knew he shouldn’t but at the point where Kokichi was at the moment he really didn’t have much of a choice. The dorm room they shared was because of Shuichi, the small part-time job Kokichi typically had during the autumn and winter months was because of Shuichi, half the things Kokichi owned and cherished were because of Shuichi. Shuichi provided basically everything Kokichi needed to survive somewhat on his own after what happened with his mom and sister.

Although Kokichi always said it jokingly around him, Shuichi was his savior.

It was always annoying for Kokichi’s mind to grace the subject, especially when he was in the midst of walking to meet with Rantaro. It left him with the guilt of his debt to Shuichi settled in his stomach and he didn’t want to start off a date with a sour attitude. With a quick exhale and stretch of his back, Kokichi turned the corner to stop in front of the bar.

Through the windows he could see it was beginning to clean out. The tables were empty and only less than a dozen people sat at the bar finishing up whatever they were drinking. From the inside, Kokichi saw Rantaro and the same white haired tender from last time writing off checks before they began to slowly clean up the place.

Kokichi stepped inside and was greeted with a smile from Rantaro while the white haired bartender raised his eyebrows and seemed to remember him from last week. Kokichi took an empty seat and tapped lightly at the table with his fingers. He watched Rantaro work, skillfully taking empty glasses off the table and leaving them in the sink to wash while also managing to finish scribbling down bills and collecting payments from tipsy customers. The white haired tender, which Kokichi wasn’t bothered to pay too much attention to listen in for his name, was somewhat clumsy but he served his customers with the friendliest of smiles.

It didn’t take long for the few stragglers to finally pay for their drinks, stumble out of the bar and Kokichi was left alone in the bar with the two boys. The white haired boy was working on wiping down the tables and chairs while Rantaro was washing the dishes and making small conversation with Kokichi.

“Sorry for calling you so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.” Rantaro turned his head eyeing Kokichi’s expression. He was trying to find any hint of drowsiness, Kokichi could tell. Maybe it was just his default as the older brother but Kokichi noticed Rantaro would always try looking for the little cues to see if something was off.

That was a problem, but nothing Kokichi couldn’t handle.

Kokichi shook his head and grinned, “nah, it’s fine. I was wiiide awake. And I can’t say no to someone who owes me!”

“I didn’t think my messages would affect you that much.” Rantaro grabbed a nearby rag to wipe his hands dry and turned around. He chuckled, “I was just being honest.”

Kokichi pouted and stretched out his arms, “no what you were being was an insufferable tease. Praising me like I’m some little kid.”

“But you did do good on your exams, right?” 

“Grades don’t come out until after the semester ends. Get off my back Ranty.” Kokichi rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“I’m used to ‘Taro’ but ‘Ranty’s’ a new one. Since when did you have a nickname for me anyway?” Rantaro snickered and heard his coworker chuckle in the background.

“Whaat? You don’t have one for me? Aww, I thought you liked me Ranty!” Kokichi dragged out his sentence with a whine.

Rantaro smiled but couldn’t bring himself to argue with him. Kokichi giggled to himself in satisfaction seeing as he won the conversation. Rantaro walked to the back room and came out a few seconds later with a broom and dustpan. The chairs were raised up onto the tables leaving the floor open for a cleaning. The white haired worker seemed to be distracted as he stared aimlessly out the window until Rantaro called out to him.

“No need to stay in longer than you have to. Go home, I’ll clean up.”

He turned back and his eyes lit up a bit, “are you sure, Rantaro?”

Rantaro reassured him with a smile and the boy nodded before rushing to the back room to grab his stuff. He thanked Rantaro once more before stepping out of the bar, the lingering jingle of the bell being the last trace of him. He turned the corner and Kokichi lost sight of him.

“Oh I see your plan.” Kokichi hummed to himself and narrowed his eyes, “you just wanted to be alone with little ‘ol me.”

“Can you blame me? We haven’t had a one on one date yet. With no one around I mean.” Rantaro shrugged his shoulders but could tell Kokichi was already thinking of a million different endings to tonight.

As Kokichi leaned forward hands forming a bridge under his chin, his voice dropped low and laughed teasingly. “So what’s Rantaro planning on doing with me?”

[lesbian-sora]

Only Fools

Summary ~ School is hard. School is harder when you’re a loser who has more bullies than friends. School is even harder when you have a crush on the most amazing guy in the world, even if your friends can’t see it. School is damn impossible when your friends coerce you into participating in the school play with the most amazing guy in the world. 

Dan and Phil’s experience falls into the impossible category, but maybe together (with some help from the King himself) they can make it out alive and well.

Tags ~ Fluff, high school AU, friends to lovers, theatre kids, mutual pining, slow burn, slight angst, not actually unrequited love

Words ~ 7106/~35K

Warnings ~ Swearing

Rating ~ Teen

Author’s Note ~ Hi guys! This fic was originally supposed to be one of my fics for Phandom Big Bang 2016, but things came up. I recently blew the dust off of it, and I really liked it, so it’s getting revamped and published! Updates will most likely be once a month for the next 4 months (I may up that posting schedule if writing/editing goes well and people actually like it) and I look forward to all of you getting to read it! Also, this will be my first chaptered fic that I’m posting one part at a time, so that’s exciting!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Next chapter!

Read on AO3

                                                     Act I Scene I

There honestly weren’t very many people Louise Pentland disliked. She was bubbly and personable, meaning she got along with just about everyone she came in contact with, and she quite liked it that way. Everything from her approachable smile to her mothering attitude made it so people were drawn to her and she to them.

That being said, she absolutely despised Phil Lester.

Was it unfair, petty, and totally unreasonable? Absolutely. In all honesty, Phil would probably be voted nicest guy in the school, if anyone were to take a poll. Was he was a bit weird? Most certainly.  However, it was a completely harmless weird. It was quirky and odd like that store on the edge of town that dealt solely in the manufacture and sale of cat-themed gnomes. If she were to be straight with herself, she would admit that Phil had never knowingly or unknowingly harmed, damaged or even seriously upset herself or anyone she remotely knew, simply because that wasn’t the type of person Phil was. No, her dislike of Phil wasn’t his fault, and he had no idea it was even happening. Her dislike boiled down to one thing and one thing only.

“Louise! You’ll never guess what Phil did today!” Dan gushed, collapsing in the seat next to her.

Louise didn’t bother to look up from her compact where she was very carefully reapplying her lip gloss. She knew Dan was flushed lightly with a wide, dopey smile and that his eyes shone as if every star was compacted down into glitter that was dumped into hot chocolate. He always looked like that when Phil was brought up. Which was a lot. “I’m guessing from your normal reports that he was walking down the hall and breathing.”

“No,” Dan scowled and wadded a bit of paper into a tiny ball and flicked it at her, offering a sheepish grin after it landed in her makeup. “I actually talked with him a bit today.”

“Dan, we’ve discussed this before. Saying ‘Hi, Phil!’ and then hiding your face and running away before he can respond doesn’t count as talking to him.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dan pouted. “And I’ll have you know this was a totally real and legit conversation we had. Some dick head knocked into me on the way out here and Phil saw and helped me pick all my stuff up and everything. He even gave me his hand to help me stand up!”

Louise cocked a brow. “Really? Honestly, Dan I almost didn’t think you had it in you,” she said, ignoring his squawks of protest. “What all did you boys talk about?”

“He saw my piano book and asked if I played,” Dan said dreamily, the look on his face making it more than apparent that he was reliving the moment in perfect clarity again and again until it was ingrained in his memory. “And so I told him yeah, but I was awful and then I thought he was going to just leave but he walked with me almost the whole way here and he saw me in the play last year, Louise! He saw me and remembered me and told me I did a good job! Oh my god, it was probably the best moment of my life.”

Louise rolled her eyes, but smiled good naturedly, more than pleased over how happy her friend was. However, there was one thing that always bugged her about the whole situation. “Dan, darling, why Phil of all people? I mean he’s nice and all, and, sure, he’s not awful to look at, but he’s just so strange. Saying you could do better is probably the understatement of the year.”

Dan looked at her, glaring at her as if she’d just spat in his mother’s face and told her that her cooking was a disgrace (which she hadn’t) and he was personally offended (which he probably was). “Okay, first of all,” he started and Louise took a deep breath, already regretting her words and preparing for the sermon that was soon to follow. “Phil Lester is an unusual beauty so rare and perfect and we don’t deserve him. Second, he’s got an absolutely brilliant mind and we should all count ourselves lucky to hear anything that brain decides to gift us with. Third-”

“Mr. Howell,” Mrs. Bronwell interrupted from the front of the room, “as much as I’m sure we’d all love to hear you expound on the virtues of Mr. Lester, I, personally, get paid to teach you math, and I’d quite like to do so at this moment. If that’s not an imposition on you, of course.”

Dan blushed bright red all the way from his collar bones (and possibly farther, who knew) to the very tips of his ears. “Sorry, Mrs.,” he said, sinking down a bit more in his chair. “I’m done.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Louise scoffed, quite unintentionally. There were a few scattered titters around the room and Dan gave Louise a long, hard, stare. The whole school probably knew about Dan’s crush on Phil just from him talking loudly and passionately about how wonderful the other boy was at any chance he got, so it’s not like there was any new gossip being delivered so he didn’t really feel the need to be properly embarrassed. But, the sting of betrayal was still there and he was sure to let her know he felt about it.

“Thank you for your contribution, Miss Pentland,” Mrs, Bronwell smiled, “but we really must get on with our lesson. Now, today we’re studying logarithms - James, don’t you roll your eyes at me. Yes, I saw you just fine.”

Now that the lesson had begun and he was finally free of all judgement, Dan let himself drift off quite happily into his thoughts, where his daydreams once again found themselves centered upon the subject of Phil Lester. How kind his smile was when he was offering him help. How he seemed genuinely interested as Dan flushed and fumbled over the explanation of his mediocre piano skills. How his hand was so soft but sure and he held Dan’s own and pulled him to his feet. As his teacher went on about the ins and outs of math things he didn’t care about Dan drew little doodles, of hearts and Phil coming to rescue him from the horrors of sports. He sighed happily and looked out the window thinking about Phil Lester, unknowing that somewhere in the school Phil was sighing happily and looking out a window thinking about Dan Howell.

                                                     Act I Scene II

“I found out he plays piano, Peej!” Phil beamed, waving his hands around for emphasis. “That’s so impressive, honestly. I wonder if he can play anything else.”

“I think I heard somewhere that he plays drums, but that could just be a rumor.” PJ paid the conversation little mind, far more focused on the poster he was designing for the school play.

“Eh, he seems the type,” Chris added helpfully. “You know: loud, obnoxious and in your face.”

Phil scowled at his now snickering friends. “He is not. He’s always really sweet and quiet when I talk to him.”

“Yeah?” Chris challenged. “Well, I had a history class with him one time and his own friend asked the teacher if he could change seats because Dan was distracting him too much.”

“Sean said that one time when they were taking a chemistry exam Dan started singing the periodic table. Out loud,” PJ added helpfully.

“He’s boisterous, maybe,” Phil conceded, “But he’s probably hilarious which is why his friend was so distracted and besides, learning a song to memorize the periodic table is pretty smart.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Mate, we could tell you that Dan killed Mother Theresa and you’d just say ‘I mean, she probably deserved it.’” PJ chuckled next to him and Phil simply shot him another dirty look. “Anyway, as much as you love talking about Dan we really ought to move on because me and Peej, well, we don’t enjoy it near as much as you.”

Before Phil could argue PJ chimed in with a, “Help me decide on which one of these posters is better. Mr. Walters wants them up by this afternoon so people have plenty of time to sign up before auditions next month.” He showed them a couple of hand drawn posters, one featuring a more 60’s theme with psychedelic rainbow patterns and little people scattered all around doing various theatre things whilst the other  was more focused on space, complete with little aliens all over it. Both said in clear letters “Join this year’s spring musical! All You Need Is Love: A 60’s space drama written and produced by PJ Liguori and Sophie Newton. Auditions after school in the auditorium on 8/8”

“I like the space one,” Phil said.

“No, no. The 60’s is way better,” Chris argued. “It’s more fun looking and approachable. Everybody likes the 60’s.”

“No, everybody likes space,” Phil insisted.

“No, you like space, you big nerd.”

“I think we should ask the cards.”

“Phil,” PJ groaned, “you can’t rely on your tarot cards for every decision you have to make.”

“Yes, I can. I asked the cards and they said it was fine,” Phil smirked, pulling out his deck of Pokemon cards. He was honestly rather proud of them; he had spent an entire afternoon dedicated to learning each of the 56 cards in the full tarot deck and assigning a Pokemon to each one, then an entire month (and more money than he’d care to admit) collecting every single card until his deck was finally complete. He closed his eyes and focused. “Alright, we’re just doing a yes or no question so we can just use the Major Arcana, or would you rather do a full reading with all the cards?”

PJ rolled his eyes, but said, “Just the Major is fine. You can do a full reading when it’s more important decisions.”

Phil nodded, separating out the twenty two cards needed. “Okay, PJ, I’m going to start shuffling. Focus really hard on your question and when you think it’s time, tell me to stop.”

PJ closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and said, “Stop.”

Immediately, Phil quit shuffling and laid the cards out in a neat row. “Is this good, or do you want me to shuffle again?”

“That’s fine. My question is ‘Should I use the space themed poster?’”

“Alright, choose a card.”

PJ chose one fourth from the left and Phil flipped it over, revealing a card of Mew. Phil grinned, before announcing: “You got The World, which talks about your conscious and unconscious joining and how you’re facing an important juncture that will make your path for the future clear. It also means that you’re going to gain true insight to the nature of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, but is it a yes or a no?” Chris said impatiently.

“It’s a yes,” Phil said with a smug smirk.

“And how do we know you’re not bullshitting us to get your way?”

“Well, if you think about it there was the whole conscious, unconscious thing, and he clearly preferred the space one, considering how much time he spent on it.” They looked at PJ for confirmation who shrugged and nodded with a sheepish grin. “Plus if you have the play be ‘you’, having this decision be insight into the true nature of yourself makes sense since it’s really more about space with a sixties flair than sixties with space themes.” Chris frowned thoughtfully, slowly nodding his head before Phil grinned and added, “Also, you don’t.”

“Why you absolute-”

“Stow it,” PJ hissed. “Mr. Bedsole just walked in.” And with that, the three quieted down to focus on the droning lecture about World War II.

                                                    Act I Scene III

“But you said we were going out for coffee today!” Dan pouted at Louise, who, in her defense, looked absolutely heartbroken denying him.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” she said. “I really am, but Chummy says there’s a huge sale going on in Brighton today and I really don’t want to miss it. I promise we can go tomorrow.”

“I do swear that it’s a one day sale,” Zoe added earnestly, looking almost as remorseful as Louise. “I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow to make up for it.”

“That’s all well and good for tomorrow, but what am I meant to do for today?” he whined.

“You could always come with us?” Louise suggested weakly. “We can get coffee at the station to have on the train?”

Dan sighed, quietly enough that the two girls didn’t hear . “As much as I do honestly enjoy going shopping with you two, I’m really not up for a two hour train ride today. However, if you see anything you think I’d like, I wouldn’t say no to some more peace offerings for bailing on me today.”

“You cheeky thing!” Zoe laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “You’re a right mess and a half, you are.”

He batted her hand away with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. What am I going to do today? My mum's going to be out until five or later and I left my key at home. Do you want me to just wander around Reading lost and alone that whole time?”

“Oh, please,” Louise laughed with an eye roll. “Tyler exists, so you know there’s no way you can be bored for too long.”

“My ears are on fire right now,” Tyler sang, joining them at their table. “What are we talking about? Besides me, of course.”

“Well, someone ditched me to go look at- What is it exactly that you’re after?”

“Clothes,” both girls said in unison.

“Going to that Brighton sale?” Tyler asked with a knowing smirk. “I’d join you, but honestly, I don’t want to.”

They all laughed together before Dan piped up, “Anyway, they’re leaving me for clothes and have put my afternoon activities in your command.”

Tyler winced. “I’m sorry, Dan-”

“No!”

“I have a date!” Tyler defended. “And, boo, you know I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but you third wheeling me isn’t going to get me laid.”

Dan cast him a betrayed look. “So, basically what you’re telling me is I’m basically screwed? Carrie’s busy with theatre, you’re going on a date, these two would rather pet garments they can’t afford then get coffee with me, and Sean is probably off sucking face with Signe.”

“You could always just follow Phil home and sit outside like a lost puppy and hope he lets you in,” Tyler suggested, somewhat helpfully.

“Why don’t you actually fuck off?” Dan snapped,as his face turned scarlet. “That was one time, okay?”

“You stood outside his house in the rain for an hour pretending you thought it was someone else’s house before you realized nobody was home.”

“That was two years ago!”

“I still can’t believe it happened at all.”

Dan buried his face in his hands to hide his blushing cheeks. “You guys are the absolute worst people in the world and I hate every single one of you,” he groaned.

Tyler reached over and patted his cheek fondly. “Oh, boo, we know that’s not true. Who else would listen to you wax poetic about Phil?”

Again the three laughed together. “I’m still without anything to do this afternoon,” Dan pointed out.

“Can’t you just break in?” Tyler suggested. “I do that at my house all the time.”

“My mom routinely locks all the windows so mine is the only one open and there’s no way I can get to the second floor.”

“You could hang out with Sean and Signe,” Louise offered. “I’m sure they’d at least try to contain themselves while you’re around.”

“Yeah, but even when they’re not trying to climb into each other’s mouth I still always feel like I’m third wheeling so fucking hard. And not like tricycle third wheel either.”

“Why don’t you just go hang out at the coffee house on your own or go nerd shopping?” Zoe recommended. “You have your phone and headphones, right? Just sit in a corner and ignore everyone.”

Dan let out a long suffering sigh. “I guess that’s my only option, unless I want to go to the library or something.” He sighed and complained, “Why is there nothing to do here?”

“There’s plenty to do, you’re just too immersed in your laptop to experience any of them,” Louise laughed. “Chummy and I can always find plenty to do.”

“You have no idea what a town with nothing to do looks like, sweetheart,” Tyler scoffed. “Jackson was like a third this size and a good hour away from anything even remotely interesting.”

“Yeah, well, this place being better than your hometown is zero help right now. Somebody give me something to do.”

“You could just Google it and do the tourist-y things that pop up,” Zoe beamed. “Me and Alfie did that one time and it was loads of fun.”

“That sounds like a really great date,” Dan agreed, a dash of sarcasm in his tone. “However, since I’m a sexually ambiguous nerd who can’t properly talk to anyone outside of you guys, there’s very little chance of me getting a date any time soon. Plus it’s pouring and I wouldn’t want to wander around Reading in the rain even if I had a date.” Tyler took this moment to mutter about how he’d done it for Phil before, but quieted down when Dan gave him a stern glance.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck,” Louise said, taking out her phone to check the time. “However, Chummy and I must be getting on as our train leaves in less than an hour.”

“Bye, Louise. Bye Zoe,” Dan and Tyler chimed together. The two girls laughed and gave their final farewell hugs before leaving, leaving Dan and Tyler alone.

“So, who is this guy, anyway?” Dan asked, picking at his fingernails.

“Uh, his name is Michael and I met him on Tinder.”

“Phil’s middle name-”

“Is Michael. Yes, I know,” Tyler teased. “You’ve told us all more than once.”

Dan merely rolled his eyes and said, “So, Michael. Is this a guy you might actually like to date or is he just a casual hookup?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Tyler shrugged. “He seemed nice enough while we were messaging but not exactly my kind of guy, you know? I may just keep in contact with him to hang out with on Fridays when I’m bored because somebody is too invested in Mario Kart to go party with me.”

“Please. You and I both know that I’m probably the last person you’d want to go with you to a party. I’d just stand awkwardly in a corner playing on my phone all night and making everyone who dared to talk to me feel bad because they wouldn’t understand a single word I mumbled.”

Tyler cast him yet another sympathetic look and Dan swore he was going to rip his eyebrows out if another person looked at him as if he was the dog they were leaving behind at the shelter. “Have you considered hanging out with Carrie this afternoon? Like, I know you said you weren’t doing theatre this year-”

“The four hours I spent locked in a janitor’s closet for being in the school play said I wasn’t doing theatre this year.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but continued. “Anyway, you said you weren’t going to be in the play, but I’m pretty sure they’re just doing like pre-pre-pre-play stuff today. Hanging up posters and the like. I mean, it’s something at least.”

Dan considered his options for a moment. While he had sworn off acting for the year, he really liked most of the theatre kids he hung out with last time. Besides, it was completely harmless and he did always enjoy spending time with Carrie. “Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, if it is horrible I can always pretend my grandma is in the hospital or something to get out of it.”

“That’s the Dan Howell spirit we all know and love,” Tyler grinned, clapping him on the back.

This will be fine. What could go wrong?

                                                    Act I Scene IV

There was no way this was happening.

“PJ, I can’t go in there,” Phil hissed, physically keeping his friend by his side and out of that room. For in that room sat none other than Dan Howell, looking perfect as always whilst he lounged next to Carrie, who was laughing along at something he said. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be here today!”

PJ shrugged, clearly not seeing the problem and Phil had never felt so betrayed. “He said he wasn’t coming back last year, but maybe he changed his mind. Or maybe he’s just helping a friend hang posters. Who knows? You might if you go in there and talk to him.”

“I can’t let him see me like this,” Phil refused. “I took out my contacts last lesson because my eyes were all itchy and the redness still hasn’t gone down and I look terrible.”

“Maybe he’s into the whole robot look.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Look, mate,” PJ sighed. “You can stay and help or you can go home and sulk, but either way I’ve got to be in there to take charge of this whole shindig and I can already feel Sophie glaring at me for being late. I know you don’t look one hundred percent your best ever but it’s a Monday afternoon after school and nobody looks great, and I swear to god if you tell me Dan looks amazing I will never let you borrow my Legend of Zelda games ever again.” Phil gave him a sheepish grin. “And for what it’s worth your face shape works really well with those glasses and the redness is pretty much gone.”

Phil smiled softly at his friend. “You always know what to say, Peej.”

PJ smirked and winked back at him. “It truly is a gift. Now come on, let’s go hang some posters and get some theatre nerds hyped about a play.”

As the two walked in a kind of hush fell over the gathered students and Phil couldn’t help but notice the panicked look Dan gave Carrie as he passed by them, taking a seat next to Chris and Alexandra. He leaned over to point it out to Chris, but he merely shot him a look before pointedly focusing on PJ and Sophie at the front of the room. Phil huffed; he knew why he was being shushed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, everyone, thanks for being here!” PJ beamed at the eight students sprawled across various chairs and desks. “We really appreciate your help. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Why don’t you tell them what exactly it is that they’re helping with?” Sophie suggested from behind him with a smile and a fond roll of the eyes.

PJ gave her a crooked grin in thanks before returning his attention to the crowd. “Right, I should. Well, as you all should know the school puts on a musical every spring, and if you didn’t know then you do now. Anyway, as this is our last year Mr. Walters has agreed to put on a play that Sophie and I wrote, and he’s put us in charge of everything from production to advertisement. Today we’re putting up posters around the school to let everyone know about the auditions that are happening next month, giving them plenty of time to pluck up the courage to sign up since that’s probably the hardest part of school plays for a lot of us.” There were a few scattered chuckles, and PJ carried on. “Since there are ten of us and five main areas we need to put these up, we’re going to be splitting into teams of two, and each team is going to get twenty posters to hang up. Yeah, it sounds like a lot, but we want these everywhere. I don’t want there to be a single person at this school who doesn’t know about this play. That means staple them to bulletin boards, hang them up on those weird clothes pin things outside the art room, tape them on every door and stairwell you can find. So yeah, I mean it when I say everywhere.”

“Alright then,” Sophie chimed in. “After that rousing speech, everyone pick a partner and we’ll arm you with a stapler, tape, clothespins, blu tack and more posters than you’ll know what to do with. Go!” Phil swore he saw PJ, Carrie, and Chris all share a look, but he brushed it off to partner up with Chris, only to find that he had already linked arms with Alexandra. He glanced around the room to see that PJ and Sophie were obviously in each other's pockets, Carrie was chatting with Matt, and Tom and Gi were leaned against one another playing some kind of app on Tom’s phone leaving-

“Uh, hi again?”

Phil whipped his head around to see Dan standing in front of him with a bit of red tinting his ears. “Your friend abandon you, too?” Phil chuckled. When Dan didn’t answer and just continued blinking at him, Phil flushed bright red immediately starting to back track. “Not that I’m saying- Well, what I mean is more that- You see what I’m trying to say is-” he finally sputtered to a stop. “Sorry?”

Dan blinked at him a couple more times before realization dawned on his face and he blushed to match Phil. “No, no it’s fine, I promise! I’m not offended or anything! Carrie did totally ditch me to partner with Matt. I was just really distracted by your glasses; I didn’t know you wore them.”

Phil chuckled nervously, scratching behind his neck. “Yeah, they’re- yeah. They’re kinda big and dumb looking so I try not to wear them at school too much.”

“It’s not that,” Dan mumbled, looking down and to the left while shooting Phil looks from beneath his lashes. “They actually really suit you. They make you look really smart I guess.” He flushed a bit darker before adding, “I like them.”

Well, if Phil wasn’t about to pass out before from how adorable and shy Dan looked he definitely was now. Dan liked his glasses. Dan Howell liked his glasses. He took a moment to gather himself before he could blurt out that he was about to call the optometrist and tell her to cancel all his contact orders from now until forever because Dan Howell liked his glasses. “Thanks, that means a lot,” he said instead. “I don’t really like them all that much so they can use all the love they can get from other people.”

Dan sputtered out an abrasive laugh which garnered a couple people’s attention and made Phil’s chest feel like it had been filled with warm helium before Dan slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle it. Phil considered telling Dan his hands would would better suited in Phil’s instead of quieting the music that was his laugh, but decided that was maybe a little forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing your glasses if you hate them so much?”

“Oh, sometimes my contacts can bother my eyes and last period they were really itchy and so I took them out instead of trying to rub my eyeballs into the back of my skull.”

Phil mentally slapped himself for actually saying that out loud, but Dan just giggled. “Well, I hope they’re feeling better. I noticed you had some red in your eyes, so I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”

At the mention of red Phil slammed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. “PJ said the red was all gone!” he whined.

Dan immediately started flapping his hands nervously. “No, no it’s fine! It’s hardly noticeable at all! I only noticed because I was staring at your face up close, and oh my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. Someone please stop me.” By the end of his sentence Dan was a darker red than Phil previously thought possible and looked  just about ready for the world to split in half and swallow him whole. He was adorable, and Phil was about to die.

“Nah, I get it,” Phil chuckled with a smile. “You said the glasses were distracting so it makes sense for you to stare.”

Dan opened his mouth like he was about to argue Phil’s point, but there was a cough behind Phil and they both turned to see PJ standing there with a stack of flyers in his hands and a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well, since the two of you were too busy - um, let’s say talking - to come up and pick an area to work in the only one left is the gym and lunchroom, so I hope the two of you brought umbrellas.” Dan looked absolutely panic stricken at the thought of needing an umbrella, much to Phil’s confusion, but PJ simply carried on. “Sophie has the stuff to hang these up with so you two need to get going or we’re still going to be here when school lets in tomorrow.”

Phil groaned melodramatically and accused PJ of forsaking him and throwing him to the depths of hell, but still smiled and thanked Sophie - who was giggling behind her hands - when he got their tools. The only problem was that Dan was strangely quiet the entire time, and not in the adorably shy way he was earlier that afternoon when they were walking to class together. No, this was more akin to the silence of a man being lead to the gallows, and that just wasn’t going to work in Phil’s book. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dan gnawed his bottom lip for a moment before sighing and saying, “I’m really not sure if I want to tell you. Like on one hand it’s really not that big of a deal, and avoiding it is only going to make it way worse, but on the other hand it’s really embarrassing, and I don’t like talking about it.”

Phil hummed in thought, tapping his chin and looking Dan up and down through squinted eyes. To most it might look like he was just observing the younger boy to come up with some sort of plan, but in reality he was just taking the opportunity to check him out. “What if I hum and then you say it really quickly and if I hear you, I can pretend I didn’t understand and if I didn’t hear you then you at least got it off your chest and you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Dan laughed and smiled so hard his eyes were almost completely closed. “You are such a strange person, Phil Lester,” he said with what Phil was adamantly interpreting as fondness.

“You know, you’re actually not the first person to tell me that.”

Dan rolled his eyes but he still had that grin so Phil didn’t take it to heart. “Unfortunately, that plan won’t work, so I’m just going to tell you, but you can’t make fun of me, okay?” Phil nodded eagerly, knowing that there was no way he could ever deliberately make Dan feel bad about himself. Dan took a deep breath and quickly said, “MyhairisnaturallyreallycurlysoIstraightenitbutwhenitgetswetitgetscurlyagainandit’srainingandIdidn’tbringanything.”

Phil blinked, trying to process what he just heard until it finally clicked and he beamed. “Why didn’t you say so?! You can borrow my coat.”

Dan’s eyes bugged out at the very idea. “I can’t just take your coat! What are you going to wear? It may be a short walk, but you’ll still wind up soaked by the time we get inside.”

Phil shrugged. “Well, any way you look at it, one of us is going to look like a drowned rat by the end of this no matter what. You seem to be a lot more worried about it than me, so why shouldn’t you be the one to stay dry? Besides, I have a change of clothes in my bag since I’m meeting up with my family for dinner after this. Take the coat, Dan.”

“But Phil-”

“Too late!” he sang, pulling his arm out of the sleeve. “I’m  taking it off and I’m not going to put it back on until it’s time to leave. If you don’t take it then the poor coat will just sit here and be useless while we both get wet. Do you want my coat to feel that way, Dan?”

Dan giggled at his overreaction, but took the coat with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Phil. I mean it.”

“No problem,” Phil smiled back. “But now you do have to hold the flyers and stuff. Just shove them under your jacket so they don’t get wet.”

Dan nodded and took the papers. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

                                                    Act I Scene V

“Oh my god, Louise, it was amazing,” Dan gushed over the phone. He had tried texting Louise but he was way too excited and his fingers kept slipping and pretty much everything he wrote had more exclamation points than actual letters. “How do we have so much in common and I never knew it?”

“Maybe because you only ever stalked him instead of talking and sharing your interests?” she teasingly suggested.

“You can’t tell but I’m giving you a dirty look right now,” Dan pouted, tracing his finger over the numbers written on the Post-It note Phil had given him. “And there will be plenty of actual talking between the two of us now, since he gave me his number.”

Louise squealed across the line. She had never made it a secret that Phil wasn’t her first choice for Dan’s big crush, but she had to admit that the fact that Dan was so over the moon for him was precious, and anything that made Dan happy made her happy. “Oh my god, really? What happened?”

“Well, we had to go out to the gym to hang posters and since it was pouring I was complaining about my hair-”

“Like you always do.”

“Shut it. Anyway, he insisted that I used his jacket to keep dry and at the end of the day it was still raining so he told me to keep it and I could text him about returning it later,” Dan sighed happily, reliving every moment of the afternoon in perfect clarity. “Louise, it was amazing. He’s amazing.”

“Have you texted him yet?” Louise demanded. “You have to tell me everything when you do.”

“I don’t want to return his jacket yet,” Dan admitted. He hadn’t told Louise that it was warm and smelled like Phil and that was why he didn’t want to lose it but he was pretty sure she knew. “What if I text him and all he wants to talk about is getting his coat?”

Louise sighed and Dan knew she was her rolling her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that, right? Of course he doesn’t want to just talk about that. Giving someone your coat as an excuse to keep talking to someone is one of the oldest tricks in the book. I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing since coats were invented.”

“I don’t know, Louise,” Dan said, biting his thumb nail. “I mean, Phil’s just a really nice person. He was probably just giving me his coat because it was nice. He’s not really the type to play tricks like that.”

“Everyone play tricks, even if it’s subconscious,” Louise dismissed. Dan could almost see her nodding sagely. “He probably did give you the jacket because you needed it, but the phone number was just so the two of you can talk. If he really was only interested in the coat then he would have just set up a time to get it back when he gave it to you.”

“You really think so?” Dan asked nervously. “What if I make a fool of myself and he never speaks to me again?”

“Number one that won’t happen. Number two, even if it does are you really in any worse of a boat? It’s not like you were actually talking to him before this anyway.”

“You’re being super unhelpful and also the absolute worst.”

“You love it. Now text that lion loving nerd and make sure I’m your maid of honor at the wedding.”

“What do I even say?” Dan whined.

“Just introduce yourself, you complete dollop head. Just say ‘Hi, this is Dan!’”

Dan sighed dramatically, flopping back and extending out three of his long limbs. He winced when they all settled into that nice stretched feeling and quickly changed phone hands so he could do that last one as well. “Fine, I’ll do it as soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“Oh, well, in that case my mother has been calling me to come downstairs for about five minutes and I’m definitely not making this up so you have to text Phil.”

“Louise I hate you!”

“Love you, too!” she cackled, sending a couple kissing noises across the line before hanging up.

Dan groaned and glared at his phone for abandoning him, hoping that Louise would somehow be able to feel it. After a moment he sighed and pulled up messages and tapped “Compose”

To: Phil 5:44

hello! this is dan the guy u left your coat with this afternoon lol.

Dan closed the app to open YouTube, not expecting a response any time soon, but before he could finish pulling up his subscription box his phone buzzed.

From: Phil 5:47

Hi!! How was your walk home? Did you stay dry and everything? I would have given you a ride, but I was already late to meet my parents. I’m sorry. :(

Dan took a moment to breathe calmly but quickly gave up in favor of squealing in delight as he rolled back and forth, clutching his phone to his chest. He just had to tell Louise.

To: The Mum Friend 5:49

omg hes so nice. like he asked if i stayed dry on the way home and apologized for not driving me home himself  #phillesterangelconfirmed

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:51

dw about it ^-^ i stayed pretty dry. yhanks to you i don’t look like a hobbit reject.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:54

Lol any Hobbit that rejects you is missing out on making their Hobbit village cuter than all the other ones. You can come join my elf city and we can be too tall together.

To: The Mum Friend 5:57

LOUISSE HE CALLERD ME CUTER IM DYING SEND HELPP

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:58

lets be honest wed both be loners. im too tall for the hobbits and ur too clumsy for the elves.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 6:00

Why must you crush my dreams Danyul? :’< I’m not that clumsy

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:02

i think the paint still stuck in my hair from where u knocked me into the art supplies in the prop room would beg to differ.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

Okay, I GUESS that’s a fair point. And hey, as long as we’re outcasts together that’s not too bad in my book. ^-^

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

my my phillip r u flirting with me?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:05

That depends entirely on if it’s working :D Hey, by the way, what lunch do you have?

Dan frowned at the sudden topic change, but shook his head and went along with it for now.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 6:06

i have 2nd y?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:07

You do? That’s the same one I have? How come I’ve never seen you? D:

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:08

probs because i sit with my friends and we try to avoid human interaction lol

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:10

Same, honestly. Do you think you and your friends would want to come and eat lunch with me and mine tomorrow? We usually sit out under the tree next to the front office.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:11

i am so sorry can i answer you in a sec my mum wants me

Dan took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He quickly dialed up Louise and waited with bated breath as it rang again and again and again and again and ag-

“Dan? What can-”

“HE ASKED ME TO EAT LUNCH WITH HIM TOMORROW!” Dan shouted before she could finish her greeting.

“Wait, hold on a minute. Who did what now?”

“Phil! He asked me to eat lunch with him tomorrow!” he repeated in a much quieter but no calmer tone. “Well, actually he asked me to ask all of you if you might be interested in eating lunch with his group tomorrow. What should I even say to that? ‘Yes, I’d like to eat lunch with you tomorrow and every following day for the rest of our lives’?”

“You could always just say you’ll ask,” she said with an underlying laugh. “I don’t see a problem with us sitting with them, though. All of us like meeting new people so it should be fun.”

“You mean it? Everything will be fine?”

“I’m sure of it, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll wallop them on the head.”

“You’re the best, Louise.”

“I know it. Now go set up your lunch date already.” And with that the line clicked dead and Dan was once again left alone with his phone.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:14

sorry! my mum is v demanding sometimes T_T but yeah lunch tomorrow sounds great! all my friends like meeting new people so it should be lots of fun

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:16

Don’t worry about it! ^-^ So you want to just meet at the tree or in the lunchroom or what?

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:18

i think we can find our way to the tree so that should be fine ^-^ see u tomorrow!

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:20

It’s a date!

Dan gaped at his phone for a moment before calling Louise yet again to scream.

[sneakyhomunculous]

Thrill of the Hunt

Hey everyone, I just want to get some of my thoughts down onto the page. This is mostly just me rambling my thoughts on the current state of OP and Competitive Magic in general. Disclaimer: I have been a lifelong competitive player. My first games of magic were FNM booster drafts 15+ years ago against some unbelievable competition. From day 1 I was drawn in to the fierce competition in the game. I know that I am privileged; Undeniably lucky and advantaged in every way before I even get in the que. I’m a white cis male who grew up middle class in the US with supportive parents. I was able to spend my free time cutting my teeth on Magic Online and traveling to local PTQs/GPs. But this post is not going to be about where you are from; or what challenges you may face personally; or what hurdles your demographic have had to overcome. All of that stuff is completely true and valid. I will touch on it lightly, and I am happy that things are being done to address some of those issues in Magic. That being said; This is going to be solely about the drive for fair competition that burns inside of every single one of us. Inside every single person reading this; Every person that has played this game for probably half of their life or more. For every person that has spent 1000s of waking and/or dreaming hours thinking about decklists, new formats, new ideas, old formats, old theory, new theory; All the while completely forgetting that their is any life outside of competitive Magic The Gathering. For every person that plays this game in search of something they can’t really define. It’s not exactly the validation of self improvement; or the highs of the good finishes. Or even the good times with friends and all the learning we get to do along the way. It’s simply the constant burning desire for competition. Going into battle against a sea of villains who are all fighting for the same thing you are. That upper hand in this ruthless game of marginal edges. I was never part of the “Old Boys Club”. I was always an outsider; a local end boss at best. In my 15 years of being a competitive player; I have played in only 20 or so GPs, 7 PTs and a few SCG tournaments (5 or so). I have always had other commitments (School, Full time Job, Wife and 3 kids), and I never focused 100% on magic as a job or anything. Despite all of this, I was always totally enthralled by the Pro Tour. I know I am not alone. I spent years traveling to PTQs in the South and found that there were 100s of local players who wanted the exact same thing as me. 1000s worldwide all chasing the same dream. The dream of mastering this beautiful game and moving up to the very highest level. The Pro Tour was an enigma; until you played in it. Once you did, you realized how right you were all along. The entire reason you played the game was for your shot in those 16 (17! 👌🏻💪🏻) rounds. The current state of the PT/Wizards Organized Play is still mostly a disaster. Everyone sort of knows this, but it seems that most people don’t care to admit it. (They usually either benefit directly from the current system, or they are incentivized to “be cordial” in hopes of one day benefiting from the climb up the ranks of the popularity contest. They say nothing or even back up the new status quo.) Shoutout to the true hero’s like GerryT and Lucas Berthoud. They benefited from the RNG in the system and still stood up for the fairness of competition. To the Edel’s and Soorani’s; keep fighting the good fight. I will always tell it like it is. At this point they are going further and further into the wrong direction. Magic is completely peaking; unfortunately OP is floundering around hopelessly. The only way to make anything happen right now is to win tournaments. No 2nd places. No top 8s. No good run,nice 11-5 see u in a few months. You have to be ruthless and collect trophies. If you don’t do this, at the moment you are an afterthought. That being said, I am coming for the trophies. When I win the Players Tour Finals 1 and then the World Championship you don’t have to worry; I will still be screaming for organized play to be about open and fair competition. The reality is simple; The highest echelon of competition is now DIRECTLY mingled with one giant absurd petty ridiculous unbelievable comically hilariously awkwardly stupidly infuriating POPULARITY CONTEST. This is mind boggling for so many reasons. It doesn’t have to be this way! No system is ever going to be perfect. It’s impossible to make everyone happy. It’s impossible to be 100% fair. But you could at least fake it? Just try a little bit?? Having invitationals is awesome. Invite Savjz and Day9 and then whoever you want to help out with the diversity issue. But don’t tie them directly in to the Pro Tour results??? And then make them 3x important as the Paper Pro tour Results???? It literally makes so little sense and is so infurating I cannot believe how little has been said about it. I know Wily and Lucas Kai etc. talk about it often. But 25+ of the MPL all pretty much silent on it. Even the people on the bubble aren’t raising hell!!? I can’t imagine being someone who grinds and did well in multiple paper MCs this year, who is now on the bubble of rivals or MPL (that they found out about randomly over halfway through the season) and not invited to most or any of these Arena MCs!! They are OBSCENE tournaments already; 750K prizepool for a small group of players. The EV is unbelievable. And they just PILE on the Mythic Points or whatever BS system they use. It’s like worth double or more points of the Paper PTs 🤦🏻‍♂️😂😵 Siggy and I were talking while I was waiting to play my Quarterfinal match of the last fucking Pro Tour. I was in the top 8!! Siggy had just gotten 10th. I told him how bittersweet it is. With PTs mattering less and no1 caring anymore; I don’t feel as excited as I expected I would. It helped me focus as I know that winning is the only result that matters. I can get 2nd and no1 will remember me. I will not be invited to the next Pro Tour on Arena in a month. In 2 paper PTs from now I will not be there at all unless I top 8 the next one too!! (Or I get on the good side of some Wizards people maybe, or up my clout and twitter followers.) People say this stuff as a joke, but even in this PT top 8 I felt alienated a bit. Ondrej was getting literal hugs from all of the staff before the quarters even started because they know him from inviting him to things, because he calls himself Honey and smiles and is nice and streams. I love Ondrej and I believe he’s a really great player and deserves to be playing these tournaments anyway; It’s just wild to me that at the literal highest possible level of competition it’s still about some things other than the competition. Lucas and others have covered it, but in no other games/esports is this the case. When you watch the TI; or even the Fortnite World Championship... You don’t see famous players or clout farmers. You see unbelievable talent and dedication, the absolute best of the best who clearly earned their way. You don’t see Marshmello and Drake; or even Ninja and his buddies. You see 100 kids between the ages of 13-20 you’ve never heard of; who are all so unbelievably good it will give you the chills. Siggy said something along the lines of “Yeah it is really weird; I got 10th for 5k which is just an unbelievable result obviously. But the Arena PT next month is worth like 5x. You get 7500$ for dead last! And so many points!!” Congrats Siggy, but I won’t be playing in the Arena PT. Neither will 1000s of players who have played in the handfuls of paper PTs over the past few years. SEPERATE THEM! Have all the Arena Invitationals you want. Spend as much money on that as you want. We can take the slaps in the face it’s no big deal. “250k PLAYERS TOUR FINALS! Qualify by winning FIRST PLACE in a GP this season!!! Only 128 Players very exclusive wow wow cool we have to kill the pro tour to make this happen but it’s awesome woohoooooo” “Cominggggg to Long Beach Californiaaaaaaa Your 3Million$$$$$ Arena Mythic Professional Tour Championship of the Universe!!!!!!!!!!! 38 Unbelievable challengers will be taking on this new format and chopping up the 3 million$ plus 100s of Mythic pojnts catapaulting them all into the MPL conversation while you argue on twitter about who should have been invited; as if it fucking matters. As if we read that shit at all!!! If we fucking cared about what you think maybe we would respond to you sometimes 😂💪🏻😬👌🏻👌🏻💯” Just relax; stop giving away rivals/MPL points in tournaments that are invite based and already so high profile with massive prize pools. (This doesn’t affect me at all by the way; I am not even close on points it’s just very obviously the right thing to do and it’s unbelievable they aren’t acknowledging it and just continuing to invite whoever they feel like). Ok enough clowning... but for real though. What in the fuck is this popularity contest bullshit?? How is this being joked about so lightly, it’s an abomifuckingnation! Invite whoever you want, just pick some people based on some predetermined merit. Give people a chance. Something to shoot for. Have open tournaments for people from Australia and Latin America. Have open qualifier tournaments for females/NB Invite people who deserve to be there from previous PT performance like Allen Wu or Eli Loveman or Matt Sperling or Sebastian Pozzo or TheSneakyhomunculous or Jack MF Dobbin or Lan d Ho and Mark herberholz for all I care. Just give the people some feedback on anything ever! Ok enough is actually enough I could write forever about OP and what I wish they would do. But really all we can ask for is fair competition and clear communication. People will complain about anything and everything, but if Wizards would just be open and honest while communicating and promoting fair competition at the highest levels... I couldn’t give 2 shits how little money the tournaments pay or where we have to play them. We just want to have a fighting chance to play against Paulo and Luis and Kai and Yuki and Allen Wu and Zvi and Gab and Seth and Li and Lucas and Shota. Aside: Arena is also a disaster at this point. How can they not implement a friends list? Any programming/computer scientist people know what the fuck is going on? It’s been 2 years now and they are still printing $ faster than a magic streamer from outside the US with 10k+ twitter followers can print with 500000 Arena PTs on the horizon! And they still can’t fix anything ever? How is there no spectator mode or tourney mode? How is building a sealed deck still impossible? How is the best fucking computer you can find lagging after 5 matches no matter what? We gotta figure this shit out m8. Arena should have nice big competitive in client tournaments every day. At least one or two a week. Instead we can’t even draft the fucking current format? The bots can’t fucking click on Merfolk Secretkeeper? 3 cards in pack they really click deafening silence over the secretkeeper???? God dammit GG’s no re sorry u had to read this. TL;DR Old Man Yells at Clouds

[pxterparkour]

a brief history of you (closed): for @spidcrgwens

( tw: death / implied violence ) ( i mean it's gwen stacy what do you expect )

Dear Gwen,

I’m not sure you even asked, but I feel like you deserve to know about her. The other Gwen. My Gwen. So, here it is, the whole thing, start to finish. Just a heads up, it might get a bit long, or a bit soppy, and you are under no obligation to read it all or put up with me. I just thought you should have the truth, the whole truth. (And nothing but the truth.) All jokes aside, she’s a bit of a touchy subject, so here’s hoping I can get this all down. 

We met in high school. I was a nerd. Like, really a nerd. Tripping over my own feet, unable to string together coherent sentences, you know the drill. I’m assuming you had your own Peter, and he probably wasn’t a football star or anything (I mean if he was, good for him, I’m impressed!), so you probably have a good idea of what I’m talking about. We had chemistry together--the class, not the other kind. That came later. I was too shy to talk to her, so I’d just kind of stare, and laugh a bit too loudly, and try to be helpful during labs.

I might have taken some pictures of her, from a distance, before I really knew her. In retrospect, it was probably a little creepy. God, she was cute. She always wore these little headbands and sweaters, sort of looked like every teenage boy’s librarian fantasy. (That’s a thing, right? Is that weird? That’s definitely not just me.) She had a habit of biting her nails when she thought--only her thumbs. You’d look over at her during class, during a particularly boring lecture, and there she’d be, taking notes with one hand, absentmindedly toying with her left thumbnail. That’s how you knew she was working on something genius.

MJ was her friend first. Everyone was friends with MJ, but I doubt I need to tell you that. She’s the best. Anyway, we were running in the same circles, sitting at the same lunch tables, asking each other for notes on the homework, that kind of thing. We started talking, eventually, really talking, arguing about books and movies and Schrodinger’s cat and renewable energy cars. I think MJ regretted picking scientists as her best friends. I still blushed every time Gwen talked, but it was less, a little. Maybe. I hope.

And then I got bit. It was a class trip to Oscorp, I got lost (I’m an idiot), ended up with a hitchhiking arachnid, who was probably just as unhappy to be there as I was to find him. So then I stopped needing my glasses, and learned to stand up a little bit straighter. That’s when I started doing the whole Spider-Man thing. Petty stuff, really. I was full of shit and trying to make a quick buck to buy a car. I wanted to impress her. I was still an idiot. An idiot with superpowers, but still an idiot.

I asked her out. We got coffee. She wore a blue dress and I paid for her latte, and we walked through Central Park and made jokes about being Typical Angsty Teenagers, quoting the Catcher in the Rye at each other and thinking we were the coolest people in the world. We never did decide where the ducks go.

We had fun. We saw movies, went to bad restaurants, played video games in my basement (for the record, she sucked at Assassin’s Creed, but was surprisingly good at Tomb Raider). We talked about traveling after high school: England, Spain, Belize, Thailand. Anywhere and everywhere. It took embarrassingly long for us to become Official, but, by the summer after junior year, Gwen Stacy was officially my girlfriend.

Then, that August, my uncle Ben died. I don’t really want to get into the details right now, but it was rough. There was a break-in, I could have stopped it, and I didn’t, and it was my fault. I’d been some variant of Spider-Man since that May, so you could say I was still getting my sea legs, but I should have known better. I was a mess, Gwen and MJ were there for me. I don’t know that I would have gotten through it all without them. It was a bad time, and something I’d rather not relive right now, if that’s okay. This letter is hard enough to write as it is.

I could tell you about the time we went to Coney Island in the dead of winter, and she kicked off her boots and pulled me into the water. We were both sick for weeks. I could tell you about the way her face crinkled up when she laughed, or how she’d tuck her hair behind her ears when she was mad with you. I could tell you about how she hated root beer and always ordered pistachio ice cream. Little things, Gwen things. I don’t know how many of these things you two have in common, at the end of the day. Her dad was a police chief, and she had kickass taste in music. She was not a drummer. 

She was brilliant, though, and figured me out pretty much immediately. Like, late September of senior year, after I’d finally gotten out of bed and back into school and started really trying the whole hero thing. She noticed I was always a bit bruised, would show up to dates late or too fast or from entirely the wrong direction. There was no hiding from her. I think we were getting pizza when she told me she knew. I tried to deflect, but she was adamant, and she was right. So we finished our slices, and I showed her the suit, the web shooters, the whole shebang. Mind you, this was pre-Stark Tech, so it really wasn’t that much to see. I don’t think she was as impressed as I’d expected--something along the lines of, yeah, I already knew, dumbass. 

On the flip side, it meant I had a hell of a good time promposing that spring. We’re talking PROM? written in webs, me swinging onto her fire escape to kiss her. It was flashy as all get out, but she said yes, so. I did something right. 

She was our valedictorian. Headed to Oxford, of all places, brilliant as she was. She gave the speech at our graduation, and I hate that I don’t remember what she said. I was too distracted by her in that stupid blue cap and gown, thinking that somehow I had conned this incredible person into maybe liking me. Were we soulmates or madly in love? I don’t know. I thought so at the time, but I was seventeen, and, honestly, what do seventeen year olds know? (Nothing. They know nothing.) 

It all went to shit a few weeks after graduation. You know, that hazy time between college and high school, when you feel so old and indestructible and so small and broken all at once. Everything and nothing. In-between time. Gwen and I spent a lot of time together; MJ’s mom was sick, she’d had to go back to Pittsburgh, but I’ll let her fill you in on all that. And then there was this guy, he called himself the Green Goblin, it was a whole big complicated to-do honestly not worth telling. He was bad, it was a mess. 

But he took Gwen. He was showing off, probably. Wanted to lure me out to a big macho standoff. I still don’t know how he got her, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to picture her screaming, ripped from her bed in the middle of the night by a really unfortunate looking green man. I don’t know if she cried.

It was an off day for me to start, which isn’t an excuse, just a fact. I’d been up all night watching Game of Thrones and freaking out about housing assignments for next year--I was due to start Columbia, and really didn’t know how to hide a superhero alter ego from a roommate. So I didn’t bring my A Game to the George Washington Bridge, and I paid for it. 

He threw her. Right off the bridge, down, down, down into the Hudson. There’s a good chance we were on the Jersey side, too, to add insult to injury. I panicked, I threw a web out to catch her just before she hit the river. I thought I was so clever, I was making jokes about it as I pulled her up. Not only am I the most dashing hero on two legs....

At first, I thought it was the impact, but, looking back, it was whiplash. She would have died either way, but it was my rope that caught her. I snapped her neck. And it’s my fault. The monster got away, too. I lost her, and I lost him. Talk about a shitty day.

So, this is getting stupidly long, and my hand is cramping up, so I’m going to stop here. I guess, if you have any questions or anything, I’m here to talk? To summarize, I dated Gwen Stacy. I think I loved Gwen Stacy. I killed Gwen Stacy. It sucked.

Just, thought you should know. If I start staring at you weird, that’s why.

Best, Peter.