#it lets me interject my own like context and explanations for like things that have been skipped over

[mushroompollution]

phew okay. I just finished summarizing the first chapter of the arc I'm going to play through this week. I think I'm going to wait to actually have these events happen saturday probablyyyy ? but I kind of want to post this one today and would really really appreciate any feedback at all on whether this idea works for storytelling or not.

[emeren]

speed racer pt.2 - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4.3 k 

content warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, possessiveness, choking, dangerous driving idk LMAO

notes: it’s my birthday today! my gift to you all is speed racer pt. 2!!!! pt. 1 is not necessary to enjoy this oneshot, but may help with some context. here is that! 

SUMMARY: eren takes the reader for a drive where he decides to clear some things up about their relationship in his own special way. 

“it’ll be quick; i promise,” eren’s voice brought you from your daydream, head shifting against the cold window to look at him in the driver’s seat. his hair was up, brows furrowed in guilt as he waited for your response. 

you let out a dramatic sigh, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt. “fine, but i’m not going to wait in the car.” 

“once it’s over i’ll buy you some food,” he rationed, unbuckling his seatbelt the same. you eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable sexual innuendo to leave his lips. “n’then i’ll take you back to mine and fuck you, just like you want.”

your unspoken agreement with eren had become routine at this point. after your mutually discovered attraction a couple weeks prior, the two of you had spent many a night in his bed, unashamedly basking in your sexual tension. 

the concept of sex buddies hadn’t been one you’d previously dived into, and you would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t want to be exclusive. it only made matters worse that eren insisted on doing everything with you at this point, including dragging you to his board meetings for his sponsorship. he was a pain in the ass, but he was a pain in the ass that treated you like his girlfriend. 

you wanted to make it official, but were too scared of embarrassing yourself, so you resorted to enjoying things the way they were. frienemies with benefits, as eren would say. 

“c’mon, don’t be so vulgar,” you responded, slipping out of the car as eren snickered to himself quietly. you hated the fact that his comments made your face heat up. you were beginning to act like a schoolgirl around him, infatuated by your little crush. 

“you know you love it,” eren smirked over the top of the car as he joined you, locking the vehicle. it was dark outside, the stadium brightly illuminated against the navy sky. “what was it you said again? ‘i want this just as much as you do’?”

you scowled, giving his arm a hard shove. he would not let you forget the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. “oh, fuck off.” you snipped. 

eren laughed again, jokingly rubbing his arm as the two of you walked up to the stadium. it was around eight, the building being nearly vacant save for the members of eren’s sponsorship board inside. 

“what’s the meeting about?” you asked as he held the door open for you, a gush of air conditioning making you shudder. 

“if i’m being honest, i don’t know,” eren replied, his eyes settling past you. as you turned your head, you saw a group of exhausted looking men in worn grey suits talking quietly amongst themselves. they stopped whispering at the sound of the door opening; a short, balding man making his way over. 

“mr. jaeger, thank you for coming on such short notice,” his voice was thick as he spoke, obviously a smoker. eren reached out to shake his hand, the man’s beady eyes settling on your face as he did so. “i’m sorry, but we won’t be allowing any unauthorized people in this meeting.” 

startled, you looked to eren, whose face did all but curse at the short man. “do you mind waiting out here?” 

“oh, yeah, no biggie,” you smiled reassuringly. he shot you a look of gratitude, mouthing the words “i’m sorry” as he walked off with the group. it was funny to watch him go; surrounded by serious men in suits while he wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. not to mention he was about a foot taller than the rest of them. 

a sigh escaped your lips as they disappeared around the corner. the building was ominous when you were alone; large and vacant, normally filled with people excitedly bustling to watch a race. without the energy, it was downright creepy. 

you decided to stand against the wall while you waited, anxiously toying with the hem of your skirt and counting the number of fluorescent bulbs that flickered in the ceiling. 

the distant rumble of talking suddenly hit your ears, head snapping in the direction of the sound. it was getting louder, obviously two people approaching. you readied yourself to launch into an explanation as to why you were sitting alone in the stadium, after hours, only to be pleasantly surprised at who rounded the corner. 

“yo, what’re you doing here?” connie cried out in excitement, a smile splitting across his face. he was with jean, the two of them spattered with engine oil and dirt. 

you grinned back, pushing yourself off the wall to meet them halfway. “eren had a sponsorship meeting and dragged me along. what about you guys?” 

jean smirked at your response, sharing a look with connie that went unnoticed by you. “well, connie accidentally told the boss that we don’t know jack-shit about car mechanics, so now we have to go to a stupid workshop five days a week.” 

“hey, it’s not my fault he was eavesdropping on our conversation with armin,” connie retorted, coming to stand beside you. you smiled at your friends, happy they were there. “we’ll wait with you, if you want?” he proposed. 

“that’d be great,” you sighed. “eren said they’re usually only like thirty minutes long, so we won’t be here all night.” 

“about that,” jean started, uncomfortably bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. you frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “are you and him, like, y’know...” 

you paused for a moment, deciding to play dumb. “huh?” 

“are you and jaeger-meister dating?” connie interjected, wiggling his brows. despite knowing that this is where the conversation was going, you couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that washed over you. you shifted uncomfortably in place, looking between your friends. 

“i don’t know,” you answered honestly. “i can’t tell if he likes me or not. god, this is so high school.” you muttered. 

jean gave you an apologetic smile, opening his mouth to speak before connie decided to give his own advice. “huh? why wouldn’t he like you? you’re a hot piece of ass!” 

a laugh escaped your mouth at his idiocy, jean dishing him a scowl. “don’t listen to him. personally, i can’t see why you’d want to date that little shit.” 

“yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing,” you replied demurely. 

“well, if you like him that much, i say go for it,” connie shrugged. you eyed him warily, waiting for the ‘but’. the three of you stood in silence for a moment longer, considering what to say next. 

“do you want my help?” jean asked apprehensively. he looked put-off by something, but you couldn’t tell exactly what. connie gave him an incredulous look. 

“sure, i guess,” you responded. in some ways, you felt bad for jean. your friendship had been built off of a mutual distaste of eren, and now that you two were sleeping together, the playful mockery with jean had died down. he motioned his head back towards the wall, indicating that you and connie should follow. 

“alright, here’s my plan,” he whispered dramatically. connie nodded his head, the two of you leaning in as if it were some grand escapade. “eren is a dumbass. in fact, i think he still has the brain of an ape.” 

you rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as connie nodded once again in agreement. “get to the point, he’ll be out here any minute now.” 

“alright, alright!” jean held his hands up defensively. “i genuinely don’t think he’s capable of intelligent thought. that being said, i believe the right way to gage his feelings are to activate his instincts.” 

“dude, how long have you been planning this?” connie snorted. you couldn’t help but smile at just how funny the two of them were. 

 “never mind that,” jean shooed him back in annoyance. you raised your brow impatiently. “we need to make him jealous. if my assumptions are correct, it’ll piss him off and then you can tell him that he’s the only one you’re interested in.” 

you pulled back from the huddle, unsure about his grand plan. “i dunno, jean. this sounds kinda stupid, if i’m being honest.” 

“oh, c’mon,” jean begged, a devious smile on his features. “this’ll be our last chance to taunt him together.” 

connie grinned as you contemplated it. “i think this is a great plan!” 

you groaned, the small side of you that liked to make fun of eren starting to grow once again. “okay, fine. how’re we gonna do this?” 

“leave that to me,” jean smirked. as if on cue, you could hear the bustle of the sponsorship men coming down the hallway. your tall friend was quick to step behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and placing his chin on your shoulder, effectively pulling you to his chest. “follow my lead.” he whispered into your ear. 

you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the action. jean was respectfully keeping a distance between your ass and his groin, but he was close enough that it wasn’t very obvious. 

connie started to babble about a new korean barbecue restaurant that he and sasha were planning on going to, you rocking in jean’s arms to make the sight believable. 

your heartbeat was drumming in your chest as eren rounded the corner, his professional smile plastered on his angular face. he was in the middle of talking with the balding man from earlier, eyes fixed on him. jean gave your waist a squeeze in reassurance. 

eren’s gaze peeled from the short man, teal eyes landing on you and jean all cozy. it was as if a flip was switched; the professional smile he’d been wearing slid off his features with ease, face hardening. 

you held his angry stare for a moment before turning to connie, laughing at whatever had been said, the feeling of jean’s breath against the shell of your ear as he let out a light chuckle. “it’s working.” 

you heaved out a deep breath, focusing on connie instead of eren. you could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your head, shifting your neck so that yours fell back on jean’s opposite shoulder. 

“alright, that should be it for tonight,” you heard one of the men say, glancing back over to them. you didn’t look for long though, quickly noticing that eren’s stare was intently focused on you and jean. 

the men shuffled past the three of you, leaving the building. “hey, jaeger. we ran into y/n as we were leaving.” jean hummed against your shoulder. 

you looked back at eren, who was standing in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. jean must’ve been right, judging by eren’s face. 

“we’re leaving.” eren deadpanned, taking a step forward. he wasn’t looking at jean, rather staring directly at you. you could feel a slight amount of guilt creep up your spine, jean sighing exceptionally loud as he pulled away from you.

“do you guys wanna come to the korean barbecue place with us? it’s gonna be real good,” connie asked innocently. eren didn’t look away from you, his jaw clenching. 

“no. we’ve got other plans.” he said seriously, reaching forward to grab your hand and tug you the opposite way from the doors. 

“woah, eren, you’re going the wrong way,” you huffed in confusion, trying not to trip as he yanked you away from your friends. he continued forward, not looking back. 

“uh, bye i guess?” jean yelled. you looked over your shoulder to see the two of them giving you a thumbs up. you dished them an appreciative smile as you rounded the corner. 

“eren, where are we going?” 

eren stayed silent for a moment, not letting go of your wrist. “for a drive.” 

“huh? but your car is in the lot out front?” you mumbled, absolutely dumbfounded. the tall man didn’t respond, large hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

it wasn’t until you came to a familiar large door, eren giving it an unnecessarily hard shove. the lights flicked on, revealing ten shiny race cars, all perfectly lined up. 

eren let go of your wrist, making his way over to his own car. it was a sleek black with white checker decals, much like the rest of the vehicles in the garage. you’d seen it before, as it was quite literally one of eren’s most prized possessions. 

you stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. “your race car? you never take it out on regular roads.”

eren’s jaw clenched as he unlocked the car, pieces of hair falling in his face. he looked upset, muscular arm propped on the roof and brows laced with annoyance. 

he walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for you. it was strange, seeing him dressed in his regular clothes next to his race car. something about the nonchalance was attractive, teal eyes looking at you expectantly. “c’mon. be a good girl and get in the car.” 

at his choice of words you swallowed, inwardly cursing jean for his plan. you knew you were in for it, judging by the fact that eren only referred to you as good girl when he had his most sinful plans in mind. maybe you should’ve just talked to eren about making things official rather than making him jealous, you thought. too late now. 

“okay,” you sighed, resolutely deciding to accept whatever fate it was that jean had painted for you. you crossed your arms, slowly approaching eren. you stopped right as you were about to slip into the car, looking up at him through your lashes. he stared down at you, eyes serious. 

you slipped into the dark interior of the car without further discussion, the cold leather making you shiver as eren shut the door. you observed him through the windshield as he pressed a button to open the garage before getting in the car himself. 

the smell of his cologne filled the car, your teeth nervously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip as he turned the vehicle on. you’d never been inside the car before, only seeing it on the track and in the garage when you came to pester your friends before a race. 

it rode impossibly smooth, eren bringing his hand to the back of your seat as he backed out of the garage. you tried not to stare at the way his arm flexed, jawline enhanced as he strained his neck, but you couldn’t help yourself. he was just so hot. 

eren must’ve felt your eyes, glancing down at you momentarily with an expressionless look. you quickly shifted in your seat to stare out the window, heat burning in your cheeks. god, why was this suddenly so awkward?

it was silent as he drove out of the arena, the dark city glittering against the sky. it was beautiful at night, skyscrapers lit up all pretty. you quickly found yourself distracted by the view, leaning your head against the cool glass. you were so consumed that you didn’t notice eren merging onto the freeway. 

you were brought out of your trance at the feeling of his large hand resting on your upper thigh, grip tight and possessive. you glanced to him again, lifting your head from the window. 

he was staring straight forward, foot slowly increasing the gas. you felt your chest tighten, seeing how he was riding the tail of a minivan in front of you. 

“eren,” you warned, insinuating that he slow down. his index finger tapped tauntingly on your bare thigh, slowly rising up the skin. the fabric of your skirt rode up, eren weaving past the minivan with one hand on the wheel. 

“i have a question for you,” he said lowly, eyes not leaving the road. you gulped, a strange mix of arousal and anxiety pitting itself in your stomach as his hand reached the apex of your thigh. the side of his pinky brushed against your pelvis. “hm, no underwear?” 

you felt a pang of embarrassment. in your defense, you’d thought tonight was just going to be spent hooking up with the man, not going to the arena. “i, uh-”

“so, jean had his dick pressed against your ass and you didn’t have underwear on?” his voice was deep, jealously dripping from every word. your breath hitched as his middle and ring finger slid against your clit with ease, already soaking wet. 

eren’s shoe pressed down on the gas again, the car zipping in and out between other vehicles on the freeway. his fingers rubbed against your clit slowly, your legs subconsciously spreading to give him better access. it felt so good, the way he was circling the nerves with desirable pressure. 

“mmm, eren slow down, you’re going to crash the car,” you mumbled, watching as he sped up, whipping past the other vehicles. he was easily approaching 100 mph, your anxiety beginning to outweigh the pleasure. as if sensing this, eren sped up his fingers as well, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“i know it’s bad for me to be so jealous,” eren said flatly, his middle finger deviating from the ring finger to slowly insert itself into your tight cunt. he pumped it slowly, still not looking at you. he was pushing 110 at this point, doing so with ease. “but something about jean touching you. being so close to you like that.” 

his ring finger joined the middle, the two sliding in and out of you, curling slightly. it was hard to stay focused on his reckless driving when he was fucking you with his fingers like that, your mind feeling fuzzy as a passing car laid on its horn. 

“eren,” you breathed out in worry, his fingers hitting your sweet spot in order to make you shut up. “you gotta slo-” 

an involuntary whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers particularly deep, the tingling sensation at your core beginning to build. you looked over to him, and boy what a mistake that was. 

his one arm was flexed, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. he was entirely focused on the road, eyebrows furrowed intently as his other hand purposefully increased its speed. he was so so hot.

you stifled another moan as your eyes looked forward again, the sight of eren nearly clipping a subaru outback making you sit forward.

“you’re going to crash!” you gasped. 

“i’ll slow down if you answer my question,” eren growled, his thumb coming to rub your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. you hissed at the newfound pleasure, your head coming back to rest against the seat. 

“yes, yes, okay,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at how fast he was driving. 

eren took a deep breath, giving you a sideways glance. he’d never done this before, but he’d also never felt this way about someone. the way you clenched so good around his fingers making his chest tighten. he made you feel this good, not jean. the thought brought a smirk to his face as you let out a strangled moan. 

“i’ll stop speeding if you agree to be my girlfriend,” eren’s words shocked you right out of your pleasure coma, eyes widening as you jolted upright in your seat. did he really just say that? did jean’s plan actually work?

his hand jerked the steering wheel to the side, your mind too preoccupied with his statement to even notice his fingers had stilled inside of you, anxious for your answer. he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still locked on the road. 

you held your breath as you noticed how fast your heart was beating. “i thought you’d never ask.” you responded, cheeks burning. 

eren’s lips curled upwards, pulling his fingers from inside of you. your eyes followed his long digits as he popped the middle two into his mouth, sucking your bitter sheen from his knuckles. he was your boyfriend. he wanted you to be his girlfriend. “good girl.” he mumbled. 

you glanced back at the freeway, surprised as eren jerked the steering wheel, making an abrupt exit. it appeared to deviate into the woods, your eyes flitting nervously to the man beside you. “um, where are you taking me?” 

“i’m just fulfilling my promise,” he answered, bringing his hand back to grip your thigh. his fingers were wet with his saliva, the sight bringing a strong throb to your core. oh yeah, i never finished. “’member? i said once we were done with my meeting i was going to fuck you.” 

you suppressed an excited smile at his vulgar words, pressing your thighs together for some form of relief. you were painfully aroused, the burning sensation almost too much to bear. 

“plus, it seems like you never learn,” eren’s words were suddenly serious as he pulled the car up a gravel road. there was a sharp drop off to the side, the city skyline sparkling in the distance. you cocked a brow at him. “you’re my girlfriend now, but i’m still pissed about that stunt you pulled with jean. gonna have to punish you, of course.” 

you swallowed as he shut the car off, the city sitting innocently in view. the spot between your legs was aching, desperate for some form of release. you couldn’t help the swell in your chest at the fact that eren was your boyfriend now, anxiously awaiting whatever he had in mind. 

eren leaned over you, maintaining a deep stare as he shifted your seat into a flat position. his fingers lightly danced across your skin as he unbuckled your belt, face hovering above the hem of your skirt. he glanced back up to you, teal eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“can’t wait to fuck my new girlfriend,” eren growled, wasting no time in climbing on top of you. he shifted your legs so that your knees were bent by your head, wet cunt on full display in front of him. he stared down at you, a hand on each knee. “shit, you’re so hot like this.” 

he slowly brought a finger to your center, the feeling of his cold digit gliding against you bringing slight relief to the deep ache. his eyes were focused below your waist, lazily flitting upwards as he brought his finger to your lips. “taste.” 

you happily accepted, wrapping your lips around his finger. your tongue swirled around his knuckle, the saccharin taste filling your mouth. he pulled it from your lips, a devilish grin on his features. 

“i can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss was deep and heated, however it felt different from all the others you’d shared in the past. it was meaningful and tender, slow and deliberate. his tongue swiped your lip, slipping into your mouth with a sigh. 

his hands undid his pants as you kissed, the sound of his belt being undone filling the small space. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding it against your slick. 

eren pulled back to look at you, breaths mingled for a moment before he pushed past your entrance, burying himself deep within you. the stretch was slightly uncomfortable and you were convinced you’d never get accustomed to the sheer size of his dick.

eren didn’t wait for you to adjust, flexing his hips back to give you another purposeful thrust. a whimper slipped past your lips at the feeling, his hand leaving your leg and lightly wrapping around your neck. 

“fuck,” he hissed, speeding up his pace. your walls clenched around him, climax fast approaching with every deep thrust of his cock within your cunt. “feels so good fucking you when you’re all mine.” 

his hand tightened around your throat, the combined pressure at both ends of your body only adding to the pleasure as he rammed into you. he grunted as his other hand pressed your legs forward, getting a better angle so that he could fill you to the hilt. 

a strangled cry ripped from your throat as he hit particularly deep, bringing his face down to roughly kiss your lips. he was breathing heavily, the car shaking as he bucked his hips into yours.

eren craned his neck down to look at where his length disappeared inside of you, a small smile toying at his features. the sight caused his cock to twitch, relishing in just how nicely he filled you up. you were his, and he was yours. 

just the thought of you being his girlfriend was enough; a loud groan leaving his chest as he pressed his hips against yours. you could feel him release himself inside of you, the thick sensation bringing on a much anticipated orgasm. your limbs grew cold, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers. 

eren placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you. “my girlfriend is so fucking hot.” he grinned. 

you rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, swatting his chest playfully. he carefully removed himself from you, trying not to drip onto the car seat. 

“here, pretty. you’ll have to keep your legs up,” he instructed as he pulled his pants back up. you frowned, the thought of holding this position the whole way back somewhat daunting. 

“huh? but how am i supposed to keep this stuff from coming out?” you whined, still trying to regain your composure. eren’s face was flushed as he smirked at you. 

“that’ll be your punishment, m’kay?” he said smugly. you scoffed, holding your knees in each hand. 

“but that’ll be impossible!” 

“don’t worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your lips once again. “i’ll drive slow.” 

<3 <3 <3

[the-music-maniac]

Okay so, this post here https://multsicorn.tumblr.com/post/649671498154557440/i-believe-were-supposed-to-think-that-evil is actually what made me think deeper about this scene, and also what made me get off my butt to write about this, so go check it out! But I wanted to voice why a couple sentences in the english subs for Episode 21 of Word of Honor irked me slightly in the scene with Du Pusa and Liu Qianqiao, this one onwards:

Now keep in mind, my mandarin is serviceable for casual conversations, but I struggle more with formal language, so feel free to correct me if I’ve gotten translations/the feel of the scene wrong. I’m gonna go through the subs that I’m annoyed with and then explain why I think they’re inaccurate and important to the scenes at the end.

But basically, some of the translations for the Youku english subs lightened Du Pusa’s language when she was talking about the dude that betrayed Qianqiao (still don’t remember his name, so I’m gonna call him cheater dude). And the thing is, I really can’t think of a reason why they wouldn’t translate it entirely? Like is there a reason?

For example, this?

The subs say “this lady’s lover” and I can sort of understand why it’s translated like that, she says “她这个“ which is “her” implying ownership (”her lover” as an example). So ”this lady’s” is correct. But that’s not all?? She says in the second half “狗男人“ which translates literally to “dog of a man”. It’s an insult, and without it, the feel of the sentence is completely different.

The english subs also don’t exactly translate this. She didn’t say “she fell for” in this sentence, instead Du Pusa exact words are, “she was tricked into hand”.

Here too, she didn’t call Qianqiao pitiful (I think, there might be cultural nuance I’m missing so let me know if this one is wrong) and the exact translation is “only a pity that she was blind”.

Finally this one, I’m pretty sure “废物“ is harsher of an insult than loser. It literally translates to “useless person” or “a waste of space”. Now I don’t know which officially ranks higher between “loser” vs “废物“ in the level of burn across languages and cultural contexts, but in my mind, 废物 is harsher.

Okay, now with the scenes and translations explained:

So. The reason why I brought all of these instances up is because I think the wording Du Pusa used to explain the story is pretty important, not for plot reasons but just because it changes the feel of the interaction. The post I linked at the very beginning pointed out that Du Pusa is meant to be a character that basically taunts the women she fights with, with her superiority in beauty, etc., but while she does that, at the same time her character doesn’t have that feel of misogyny that I think is so prominent in media when writing women characters who dislike each other.

Granted, Du Pusa also insults Qianqiao, and that didn’t show up in translation either, she calls her “小娘皮“ in place of “lady” which is not exactly a flattering thing to say. But I think the important thing is that throughout the entire telling of the story, Du Pusa recognizes that in this situation, the person that messed up, and is mostly at fault is cheater dude, and she places the blame rightfully on his shoulders despite how she dislikes Qianqiao.

Particularly in the sentences “she was tricked into hand” and “only a pity that she was blind”, instead of “she fell for” and “only pitiful”. “She fell for” puts more responsibility onto Qianqiao’s shoulders, because she’s the one who fell in love with cheater dude and his sweet talk - that’s her business. But “she was tricked into hand” places more of the emphasis on cheater dude, on the fact that he sweet talked her into believing him, that she in fact was tricked, and not because she just simply fell for him.

(Now I’m not here to discuss whether cheater dude’s feelings for Qianqiao are genuine or not, or whether he purposely tricked her - I do think that he does care about her but that’s also not enough to absolve him of the shitty things he did. So I’m not very willing to be lenient with him here)

“Only a pity that she was blind” also places less of the blame on Qianqiao then the phrase “only pitiful” because pitiful as a word implies that Beauty Ghost herself is pitiful. That she’s a pitiful person who’s too dumb to notice that she was being tricked. “Only a pity” however leaves room for her to be a victim of circumstance, and implies that the situation was “only a pity”, not her as a person.

Finally the two harsher insults, I think are important because for once, a character like Du Pusa doesn’t leave the man relatively unscathed in her process of taunting another woman, and also doesn’t hold misogynistic victim-blaming views about situations like this. She’s fully acknowledging here, even as someone who doesn’t give a shit about Qianqiao, that cheater dude is kind of a piece of shit. You see that fully in these three scenes as well:

First the rolling her eyes at cheater dude’s explanations. I think that one is pretty self-explanatory, it gives me strong “oh god don’t make me laugh” and “cut the bullshit and shut up already” vibes, which I high key love.

Second, this one where she pushes him back, feels like she’s sick of hearing cheater dude’s excuses and his attempts to sweet talk Qianqiao again, and so she decided to interject. Also has a little bit of, “okay, get away from her, I’m sick of you” vibes.

Finally, Du Pusa has an incredulous look on her face, and then gives a huff of disbelief when Qianqiao sorta defends cheater dude, saying she’s the one who had bad intentions. This one gives me a sort of “really? You’re defending him?” vibes, especially since it follows her asking if Qianqiao’s brain is broken for actually trusting him a second time after what he did.

Anyways, this turned out to be a long analysis, but I just wanted to translate/talk about my thoughts on some of the subs, and my low key appreciation for this scene. It sort of feels like Du Pusa almost backhandedly defended Beauty Ghost - although I admit that might be going too far/giving too much credit since Du Pusa isn’t exactly going easy on her either, and she might just be listing things as she sees it. Still though, what I’ve always appreciated so much about Word of Honor is that it creates so many female characters that are compelling to watch and well-rounded; who feel realistic, who are their own people and have their own stories to tell, who aren’t killed off as soon as it’s convenient or just to reinforce the heterosexuality of the male leads, who are vital to the plot, and most importantly, act in a way real women might act, and aren’t all internally misogynistic and apologetic towards guys who act shitty.

It’s really refreshing to see a “bad” character in this show, who’s mannerisms suggest she’s a character that’s a woman who taunts women, do so without piling on deep-seated misogynistic accusations or halfway pandering to the man in order to create some misplaced “jealousy”, and instead manage to taunt people/hit people where it hurts and yet still...almost purposely calls the man out on the shitty stuff he did?

Anyways, overall I think this scene was a pretty cool dynamic to think about, and I appreciate it a lot (although I appreciate the subs a bit less, for obvious reasons).

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 5)

[Donnie x fem reader]

sfw, chapt. 4 here

Just as Donnie had predicted, the night air was cold on his scales. Right upon leaving, Mikey brought up to Leo going in pairs this time, to cover more ground, he said. An extra thorough patrol. Donnie honestly couldn't make up his mind and so by then he was flying by the seat of his pants, not objecting to Mikey's plan, but also not agreeing. He doubted Leo would be convinced, anyway. They didn't do duo patrols that often. 

"I was thinking we could split up this time, you know, me and Donnie, you and Raph?" suggested Mikey, closing the manhole behind himself.

"I thought you liked it when we're all together," Leo commented. 

Donnie shot Mikey a look, trying to tell him to cool it, but he shrugged, "Come on, it'll be like some kind of training or...something," Mikey went behind Leo and shook his shoulders, "aren't you into that?"

Internally, Donnie facepalmed. Unless he actively tried to stop this, it was going to happen, wasn't it? One way or another, probably; it all depended on how Leo was feeling that night. Raph was indifferent. He didn't care whether they were all together or in pairs, just that he got to flex his combat skills some. If he could, he'd go out and do it on his own, even. 

Leo looked around, considering Mikey's suggestion. "Okay," he agreed, eventually. "You and Donnie take East, Raph and I will cover the usual route and then—" 

"No," Mikey interjected. Both Leo and Raph's brows furrowed as they stared at their brother. He motioned toward Donnie, "Me and Donnie can take that, you guys just go on ahead," he smiled. "You know I like checking out the skatepark!" 

"No skating," Leo said. 

"I'll just watch whoever's there, then." He pouted.

Raph snorted. "Yeah, make sure he actually pays attention, Donnie." 

"As usual," Donnie sighed, and looked at Leo. 

"Well, what do you think, Don?" 

The decision is up to me? 

Turns out it was his all along, but he wanted to feign innocence in saying that Mikey was the one to drag him through it. Easier to not take responsibility and let life happen at you rather than making a conscious effort, at times. 

"I guess we can do that," Donnie answered reluctantly. He could have said no. Why didn't he? In the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey beam, giving him a discreet thumbs up. 

"Alright, meet back here by four AM, and if either of you run into big trouble, call. We'll come," Leo said. "Same for us."

"Yeah, we'll holler for ya," added Raph dismissively. "And nah, a big dog doesn't count as trouble, Mikey." He sounded gruff, but in actuality, he was still chuckling to himself over that years later. After they got over being annoyed that he had called them from that far while they were on a supply run. Chased by a junkyard dog—some of their least favorite parts about visiting those places. 

"Hey, it was mean! And way fast!" Mikey protested as they parted ways, them taking to the East and red and blue the opposite way. 

As per course, Donnie and Mikey took their normal route, and his heart skipped a beat when they met the scene of their last run-in with criminals. Not because of them, no, but because of the familiar apartment building that was now more intimidating than he'd expected. They circled the area like they normally would have, but Mikey came to stop them on a roof just opposite of the complex, eyes searching each window. Obscured by the height of the building, he sat on the edge. 

Donnie didn't know what to do with himself. He stood back a good ten feet, somehow paranoid of being spotted even though he knew it was not possible from their angle in the complex. Mikey was comfortable, and weirdly at peace as he sat there quietly on the edge, assumed to be waiting for his brother to make a move. But Donnie was stuck in place. 

"What are you waiting for, D?" 

The sudden question broke him from his stillness. It was true; he didn't know what he was waiting for. 

"I—I don't know what you want me to do, what are you thinking?" Donnie asked in return, stepping back a little further as he noticed movement behind the curtains of a lit window. 

"Get your phone out and talk to her," Mikey told him, waving his hand at the apartments. "What did we come out here for if you aren't gonna make it right, bro? Do some smooth talk, tell her you're sorry and you wanna get to know her better…"

"This is absolutely a ridiculous plan," Donnie said, though as if his hands had thought of their own, they reached for his phone, and a moment later he was looking at the messages. Still nothing. Radio silence on both of their ends. How would he approach it? "I'm sorry I went from hot to cold so fast. Please talk to me again." Too strong. "Sorry, can we get a redo?" Too casual. "I'd like to apologise for being a jerk." Okay, that's just not good. Reconciling was going to be as difficult as he'd thought it would be. 

Mikey came over and looked at his phone screen and his brother floundering, thumbs stuttering across the keyboard, deleting the text, retyping it over and over again for perfection where he wasn't going to find any–

"I got this, let Love Doctor Mikey handle it," he said, taking the phone right from Donnie's hand. 

"You've never been in a relationship, not even talked to anyone, how would you—" 

Mikey shushed him. Donnie was going to snatch the phone away but he spun around, draping himself over his shoulder.  "Just let me work my magic, dude!"  

Donnie couldn't watch; he had to turn away. How sure he was that Mikey was going to say something uncalled for, something weird or bone-headed, and the wait was killing him. What if she didn't even respond? Was that better than doing damage control for Mikey's shenanigans? For someone usually decisive, he could not for the life of him make up his mind about what he wanted at that very instance. 

The phone vibrated. 

Mikey cheered. "Got her on the line, now you just gotta reel 'em in," he grinned, handing the phone back to Donnie. 

"Hey :/

I thought you wanted to stop?"

Mikey kept trying to lean over to catch a glimpse of the screen, but Donnie felt that it was a personal moment, so without skipping a beat, he activated the electric current in his staff and poked it behind him into his brother's plastron. 

"Fine," Mikey whined. He stepped in one last time, "But don't hold out on me here!" 

Trying to find an graceful way to patch this all up, Donnie replied: 

"I apologise for that, and I know you probably want an explanation, but it's hard to explain

Moment of weakness? 

I guess... 

Anyway. I'm not expecting you to suddenly be cool with it, if you don't want to talk to me I understand 

Sorry."

Mikey noticed Donnie's dismal expression and he mellowed out accordingly, standing close but not putting a hand on him, nor saying anything. He didn't watch the phone, but Donnie's face and slumped shoulders. He'd thought it would have been going better by now. 

"I won't lie, I'm still confused 

But if you're going through something, I'm right here for you

Don't worry about it. Just don't give me a spook like that again, I thought it was me  

lol 

Okay it's not funny but this is a little awkward" 

Donnie's heart sank reading that. He'd made her feel bad, even question herself over his problem. Never had he wanted to make her think it was her that drove him off. 

"No, no, it was never you 

Again, I can't really explain…

Is it okay if we just try this again? 

I understand if not."

"Jeez Bo, I already said it's alright 

I WANT to keep talking to you, you're cool

So let's forget about it, yeah? 

Friends again :) "

And like that, his heart took a leap. A smile slowly spread across his face, and without looking away from the screen, grabbed Mikey by the shell, pulling him toward. "Look at this!" he exclaimed. 

"You see it too?" he quirked, pointing at the apartment complex across the road. 

Donnie paused and looked over his shoulder at him, "What?" 

On one of the balconies sat a lone girl, on her phone, and if Mikey looked hard enough, he could see a smile. Definitely a smile. 

"Ah!" yelped Donnie quietly. He scurried back against the wall of the attached building behind him, as far as he could. 

"Dude! Come on, this is perfect!" Mikey nudged him, and when he didn't hop up onto his feet, dragged his brother near the edge of the roof. Donnie was boneless but unwilling, his mind stuck on the fact that she thought he was cool. Him, cool. Was he? She didn't know even the half of it. She didn't know he was a martial artist, technically a genius, and that he'd gone against some of the worst the city had to offer. And without that, she still thought he was cool, as an average guy. 

As average as what my circumstances will allow me to be. 

Feet dragging all the way, Donnie's stomach did a flip as they met the ledge, peering carefully over it in a crouch. They were prone, watching the girl who was completely unaware of their presence. He was, simply put, enraptured, for a second there, studying her features as much as he could from where they were. The details of her face were not distinct due to the distance, but he could tell she was both nothing like he'd imagined and so much more. For once, he didn't immediately question the validity of the situation; there was no "it could be a coincidence", or "it's too unlikely that she would be out just as they were". Not right away. But it hit him when Mikey spoke. 

"You're so lucky, D," he said wistfully. "Really." Head rested on his forearm, his gaze fell on not one thing, but the whole scene, a somber smile gracing him. He was excited, happy for his brother. But deep down, Donnie knew that though Mikey wasn't envious of him in a resentful way, it had to have stung to witness such a thing unfold for someone not himself. Their youngest had always craved connection the most. He looked away from the girl, "I wasn't gonna let you throw away an awesome chance, was I?"

Releasing a heavy breath, Donnie crawled away from the edge, but his eyes remained on that balcony. It was weird to watch someone who didn't know they were being watched. Not in that context. 

"I...guess I may be," Donnie responded. But it would only get more complicated from there. His phone vibrated, breaking his trance, and the message he found read:

"Anyways, with that out of the way, what are you doing?"

Just watching you from a roof, nothing much, Donnie thought. 

"Currently out enjoying the night" 

"Isn't it kinda cold?" 

"What about you?" 

He knew what he meant, because he was there watching her as a chilled breeze rolled through, but she told him she wasn't doing anything. Only relaxing and talking to him. 

It took him a few minutes to get his bearings. To know that he now had tangible evidence that she was a girl, an ordinary person, and that said person really thought he was cool. Worth the effort. He felt exceedingly difficult for not being able to give her a rightful explanation, but comforted by the fact that he wasn't being demanded of one. He felt light. Almost weightless, with Mikey next to him instead of his other cynical, skeptical brothers. For a moment, he had nothing to worry about. 

From across the roof, he could still see the yawn escape her mouth. Probably an indicator that it was time to wrap things up. He didn't want her to stay up too late; it was already odd that she was up at such an hour, almost two AM, but glad nonetheless. 

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah

I think I'm gonna hit the hay

So goodnight, Bo

Talk to you later (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞" 

She got up, leaning on the railing which faced them. 

"I want to stay up with you but—"

Donnie sucked in a sharp breath as she looked up, just barely able to see from underneath the balcony above her. He snagged the strap on Mikey's shell and yanked him back with him away from the edge of the roof, taking cover behind the wall. 

"Shit," hissed Donnie, "do you think she saw us?" 

These shells, they make us look so big! 

"Relax, bro, even if she did, it was only a little bit. Besides, we could be anyone from this far, they don't have pigeon vision." 

"You mean 'eagle vision'?" 

"They're both birds!"

Donnie deadpanned and peeked over the wall. She'd gone in. Three minutes later, he hadn't gotten any texts yet about something weird on the rooftops, so he could finally relax, groaning lightly. "Too close," he breathed out, "Mikey, we need to go, Leo's going to notice we're not back in time if we don't hurry up and get the rest of this route done."

"Already on it," he whooped, vaulting onto the next roof.

As Donnie was scaling the wall of the attached building, he felt his phone vibrate, and curious, he checked it one last time before getting on his way.

"One question before I go

You ever see stuff you can't explain but even if you did you'd sound crazy?"

Oh, no.

"No, I don't."

Chapter 6

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

I for one would love to read where Damien spends the day with Wilford and sees the parts of William that Wilford still has but also see the parts that make Wilford wonderful all on his own, I can't to read it and since it was written by you I know it will be awesome.

@mrsdanieljackson

… Well then. It’s certainly very lucky that I started typing something kinda along those lines out while waiting for my laptop to run some calibrations this evening, so it was a surprise to see this ask!

(Click here for William and Dark, if you haven't read that!)

Context: Before Damien was released, I used to write a Dark that had Damien fully conscious and trapped in the back of the mind. The last time I wrote this scenario (which you can find here with a better explanation of the Dark!), it had a scene of confrontation between Damien and Wilford, so this ought to be a little better.

“ you’re shivering. here, take my jacket… ”

Word count: 986

-

One moment, Damien was in the stilled moment of darkness that was his eternity. The next, Damien was blinking himself into consciousness on the floor of the break room with five men peering down at him.

"We're sorry!!" One of two identical men in sky blue shirts wailed.

"Jim and me didn't know a weather chart would do that..." The other identical man whimpered.

"Would you two be quiet?" The man dressed like a doctor snapped. "The last thing we want is to provoke him."

"Ehhh, it might be too late for that" A man dressed in a neat black suit and glasses shrugged. "I mean, Dark is a not-human something-or-other. Blinking can anger him."

"The Host interjects to remind the others that there are more important matters to be concerned about. Mainly, the sound of someone frantically running down the corridor and entering the room with -"

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Damien flinched at the outburst. Four of the men stepped back to let the new voice approach, while the doctor began recalling the events. Apparently, Jim and Jim (not at all confusing!) had accidentally summoned a demon in the break room while practising their lines for a weather report. Dark, who had merely stepped in to make coffee, fought the demon and dispersed it before it could escape. Damien was pulled up to a sitting position, but the world spun before his eyes. It was noticed.

"Can y’all, like, fuck off fer ten minutes?" The voice closest to Damien was a saviour that brought the sweet bliss of silence. Once the door closed, Damien finally lifted his head to see his rescuer.

It was Wilford. Damien only recognised him because of the strong love seeping through from Dark. It was the first thing he knew about this new world, but he was almost sure that Wilford looked like William. But… No. That wouldn’t make sense. The accent wasn’t right. It must be a coincidence.

"Can ya stand, sweetheart? I wanna getcha sittin’ down." Damien nodded and clambered onto his feet with help from Wilford. Once sitting, Damien became the focus of Wilford's fussing. The reporter incessantly checked every part of Damien's body, making sure that there were any other injuries. He waved a finger in front of Damien's face to make sure there wasn't any loss of focus.

"D'ya remember what happened?" Damien shook his head.

"Ya know who I am?" Damien nodded.

"C-can ya talk?" Damien hesitated, then nodded slowly in guilt.

"I -" Oh dear. Damien's voice didn't sound right at all. He didn’t want to cause Wilford more stress by telling him the truth, but opting for silence seemed to be a bad decision. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't worry you like that." Wilford's eyes widened, and Damien was fearful that the other realised this wasn't Dark. Wilford reached out and placed his warm hands on Damien's cheeks. When Damien's body involuntarily trembled in response, Wilford's expression turned more sympathetic.

"Thought so. Yer shivering. Here, take my jacket."

"But you -" Damien was interrupted by Wilford reaching past him and tugging a magenta suit jacket off the back of the chair. Damien swore it wasn't there when he sat down. He thought it better to accept the jacket without doubting his sanity, pulling it closer to him the moment it was put over his shoulders. "Thank you… I can't shake this chill…"

"Ya get like this when ya use too much of yer spooooky energy." Something that was further emphasised by Wilford dramatically wiggling his fingers with a tone of voice William definitely used before while making a joke. Damien snorted, which spurred Wilford on. "It's true! Ya act all serious and whatnot but ya shiver when ya use too much power. That's why I'm here. I'm yer personal body-warmer."

Damien’s gaze dropped to the jacket. He knew Dark loved Wilford, and he could see it was reciprocated. If this really was William in a new life, he didn’t want to cause distress and possibly strain the relationship with Dark. William was his friend. Even after everything, he’d support William and his happiness. As much as he would like to enjoy the day of freedom, there was something more important to do.

"Then, might it be possible to avail of the body-warming services?"

Wilford's face lit up as he placed his hands on Damien's shoulders. Damien blinked, and found himself sitting on a couch in another room with Wilford beside him. Then, he was snatched up and placed on Wilford's lap.

"I’m glad ya asked I wasn't gonna letcha go back ta work after all this. So get comfy an' build yer strength back." Warm arms wrapped around Damien and kept him close as Wilford relaxed into the couch.

Damien ignored the wave of guilt for avoiding the truth. This was the right choice. If Damien could build up energy by letting the body rest, then Dark could regain control. But as he sat there, he could feel the influence of Dark bubbling to the surface again. Surely Dark wouldn’t mind if Damien indulged in this moment? He never had the opportunity to pursue a romantic relationship while alive, and this may very well be the only time to experience something like this.

For once, Damien decided to be selfish as he cuddled in closer. The action was rewarded with a kiss to the top of his head. Damien knew he never felt so safe before. A brief pang of regret for never confessing his feelings to someone hit him, but he forced it aside as Wilford adjusted his hold and encouraged Damien to rest his head against the reporter's chest.

It wasn't long before the past life dozed off. He knew it would be back to the space he was trapped in after this but… it would be worth it for a moment of knowing what it was like to have a lover in your life.

[simonalkenmayeris-still-dead]

Discord Dramas

I've been thinking on this, so I'm going to just post my thoughts on what's been happening, in no particular order.

The thing that strikes me as most weird about this whole affair is that Simon has not broken character. Interjections about how his species doesn't throw up in the middle of an explanation about being away from the computer is just bizarre. Reading screencapped exchanges in which his friends appear to believe he is a genuine monster is fucking weird.

BREAK CHARACTER SIMON. I'm not saying it because I care who you really are. I don't even care if you stay in character online - but you cannot repair broken friendships if you're trying to maintain you're something - and someone - that you're not. And that you're not experiencing feelings that you're clearly experiencing.

The other thing that's pretty obvious, if you saw Eros' blog before they took down the posts but after this all came out, you would have been able to see the context of what happened. Eros was referring to Simon as his "Sir" and never his name. It is 100% possible that Simon went to his blog while vetting him for the server and read those posts and still had no idea they were meant to be about him.

A word on grooming. I don't know if Simon's followers picked up on the word grooming because of my blog. But I want to be clear that when I say grooming I'm talking about grooming adults. I don't think Simon or his author is a paedophile. I don't even think he's deliberately forming a cult.

Do I think he's abusive? Absolutely. I don't think people who are not abusive fabricate arson accusations. But that's why I think he's grooming people - because abusers groom people to accept abuse.

And that's also why the discord server was always going to blow up in his face. Simon's a control freak. It's been pointed out to me that running that server was like running his own fan club and the only good way to run your own fan club is if you're going to do it by post and send everyone a little badge verifying their membership.

Interacting with your fans constantly is a super bad idea. Being the person who holds the power of whether they're accepted or rejected is an even worse idea. Administrating a discord server and only being present in one or two channels is just stupid. Please if you only take one lesson from this rant let it be that when you admin something you actually have to admin it.

[badmcuposts]

Mini-Tony

For: @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Gifted to: @floweryfran

Warnings: none?

-

“Tones, drop the act.” Rhodey ordered vaguely, storming into the lab as if he owned the place.

“What act?” Tony asked, less confused and more dismissive about the assertion that he would dare put up an act. That would take a lot of work he didn’t want to put in. The man kind of had a planet to constantly defend, you know.

Rhodey sighed, sitting down and putting on his serious face. “We all know you cloned yourself.” He spoke.

At the moment, Tony thought it had been a joke, since it so obviously had to be. But, his friend only continued until it all became far too alarming for Tony to ignore.

“I mean, really, Tony? This is a major federal crime! You know you could get the FBI called on you for this? Why would you be so reckless? How could you? It’s... it’s mad! You’ve really lost it, man. Come on, just let it go!”

Tony stared at his former MIT roommate, dazed and confused as he contemplated the sanity of the man before him. What was Rhodey on?

“Okay,” he began, “not entirely sure how I’m supposed to break this to you, but I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

In a shock, Rhodey’s body twitched, a visceral reaction to what Tony saw as a completely normal response to being accused of human cloning. “You... you didn’t clone yourself?” He questioned idiotically.

“No, I didn’t fucking clone myself!” Tony relented as he began to sardonically laugh, “What would make you honestly believe that I would do such a thing?”

At that, his friend went quiet. Tony watched the shy blush creep onto Rhodey’s cheeks, a deep and red tint running down his neck like a historically accurate thanksgiving. The colonel’s brown eyes looked up into the sky, as if searching for a way out of the situation on the celling.

Abruptly, he mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

“What?” The billionaire in the room tentatively asked, still laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Was he okay?

“Peter...” Rhodey murmured again, now audible, whether he wanted to be or not. That’s it, Tony thought, he’s lost it.

“Did... did you say Peter?” He asked again, more to himself than the other man. There was no way, absolutions no way, that Rhodey had actually just said the kid’s name.

“Yes! Peter, okay?”

Tony stood, shell shocked. “What... what does m-the kid have to do with you accusing me of breaking federal law and cloning myself in my private lab without shame?”

“It’s just- god it sounds so stupid now- he’s like... a mini-Tony.” Rhodey relented, his blush deepening quickly under the scrutinizing gaze of his best friend.

“A mini-Tony?” The man repeated, monotonic and blank in the face.

“Yes!” Rhodey shouted, “Stop tormenting me, you doofus. It’s a perfectly reasonable concern.” At the zenith of his mockery, Tony dies down, suddenly more interested in the how.

“You... you noticed that the kid and I have a few vague similarities and decided it meant I had cloned myself? Are you okay?” He asked.

Rhodey gasped, and initiated a debate nor mortal could ever be prepared to wage.

“It is not a few vague similarities and you know it! He’s exactly like you. The curly brown hair, the deep eyes, the general figure, the-”

“You’re describing every American male of Italian descent within a five-hundred mile radius.”

“It’s not just the looks, though. He acts just like you! I mean, his IQ has to be-”

“If you dare accuse my intellect of being equal to that of a sixteen year old child I am going to lose it.”

“Oh, stop being so grumpy about it! You know I’m right.”

“Boss,” FRIDAY finally interrupted, saving them from their fall from grace over such a trivial disagreement, “It appears that Captain Rogers is attempting to enter the lab. Should I approve him access or would you prefer some mid-afternoon entertainment by allowing him to attempt to break the cap-proof glass?”

“Eh, let him in.” Tony motioned, watching as the sleek, modern doors of the lab slid open to reveal a red-faced Captain America.

The man almost seemed... livid? Loathsome? Whatever emotion it was, it wasn’t good. “Old man probably broke his hip or something if he’s this interested in getting into my one room of peace and quiet.”

Steve entered, snarling in his elderly fashion. “Tony, I’m going to ask this once and pray to mother Mary that your answer is a resounding no.” “Ooooo, threatening. What’s up, buttercup?” Tony jested, a resoundingly low-effort reaction as the genius felt as though he no longer could be phased by his teammates’ quarrels.

“Did you give Sam my shield?” Steve asked, his eyebrows quirking subjectively.

Tony was confused. “What? No. Why would I give Sam your... oh god.” Suddenly, all at once, pieces in Tony’s mind began to place themselves together in one all too real puzzle of comprehension.

Steve grew worried at his own lack of context, as Rhodey followed suit in the paranoia. “What? What did you do, Tony?”

The man squeaked. “I- I think the kid might have done it.”

And that was it, he’d sealed his fate in Rhodey’s eyes. The other man began to seethe, smoke nearly bellowing out of his ears as his chance at glory was redeemed.

“DO YOU SEE WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, TONY? DO YOU?”

“He said he wanted to play a prank, he didn’t say anything about giving Capsicle over there’s shield to the one person that would almost definitely try to destroy it for fun.” Tony shrugged, hoping to move the attention away from himself for the moment being.

Steve looked estranged. “Wait- what were you talking about?” “The kid!” Rhodey earned him in, “Isn’t he just like Tony? It’s like he cloned himself!” “I didn’t fucking clone myself, platypus.” Tony interrupted, only to be cut off by an extra presence in the room.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Peter asked, jovial as ever in his youthful stride. Of course, that didn’t last too long, as the boy was quickly stopped dead in his tracks by an onslaught of demands.

“Did you give my shield to Sam?”

“What’s your IQ, kid?”

“Pete, run!”

Peter stood still, confused and dazed by the screaming in his face. “Oooookkkaaayyyyyy. I’m gonna take this as my sign to kindly remove myself from the situ-”

“No! No you don’t, Parker.” Rhodey interjected, “You’re gonna entertain us for a little while, alright?”

Peter’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Colonel Rhodes Sir, I have no idea why I’m being interrogated but if this is about the shield thing I can-”

“No, no, Peter. We just want to talk.” Rhodey said, unconvincingly, “Come on, sit down. It’ll be fun, some nice little bonding time with the newest addition to the team.”

Peter looked back to his mentor for support, only to find a blank face of fear and desperation. He knew there was no escape. “Okay.” The teen agreed.

“Great, now, where are you thinking about attending college?”

“What?” Peter asked.

Tony shrugged his shoulders at it all. “Just answer their questions, Pete. He won’t give up.”

Peter quickly accepted that as as much of an explanation as he was going to get any time soon, and lamented. “Uhhh MIT?”

“Good, good. And how’s your sleep schedule?” Rhodey continued.

Peter scoffed. “It’s there, I guess.”

Steve’s eyes began to grow. Oh god, Tony thought, he’s being indoctrinated. Rhodey kept it up. “Vague. I like it. Do you have any friends at school?

Peter made an off kilter face at that. “Just my best friend, Ned, and my girlfriend. I’m not much of a people person.”

“And you’re an orphan, right?”

Suddenly, Peter grew completely tense, obviously uncomfortable with the question. “Woah, dude. Not cool.”

“It’s not personal, I’m just curious.” Rhodey quelled, “You can not answer if that’s more comfortable.”

Peter calmed a bit at that. “No, no, no, no, no. I’m fine, it’s just- yeah. Yeah. I’m an orphan. Whatever. Keep going.”

Rhodey leaned in on the new path of questioning. “And what all do you know about that- the murder, that is?”

Peter laughed a little, switching into a jokind manner. “Is this a police thing? Do you think I killed my parents?” “If I give you context, it will sway your answers.” Rhodey joked back, but he wasn’t joking.

“Plane crash.” Peter said. “Some kind of set up. The- uh- SHIELD people said it was HYDRA but that’s still sort of up in the air. Cold case and all.”

“Okay, thank you. And what about-”

“Nope, stop torturing him.” Tony interrupted, “Kid, run for it.”

Peter laughed as he got up and began to walk away from the colonel. “I’m still so confused.” He expressed.

Tony felt like it was necessary to key the boy into the situation. “Rhodey over there that thinks I cloned myself and that you’re secretly an illegal recreation of my DNA sequences.” He explained.

At that, Peter looked the other man over, before leaning in towards his mentor to quietly whisper “Is... is he okay?”

Tony breathed out in relief at the boy’s nonchalance. “I have no idea.”

Steve caught into the conversation, adding his own two cents. “For the record, I’m on Rhodes’ side now. You too are the same person.”

“He’s sixteen!” Tony complained:

“Yeah!” The boy agreed, quick as lighting, almost as if by reflex. “And he’s, like, thirty.” “Oh, god, I am so happy you just called me thirty.” Tony gasped.

Rhodey mused in his small sextor of the complete bliss one should find when faced witn a minor victory. “Point is, same person.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You two are exhausting. I had one night stands back in my partying days that had more sense than you guys do. Come on, Peter, let’s go get ice cream.”

“Can we get Burger King, instead?” The teenager chirped.

The man perked up at the notion. “I love Burger King!” “Yes! Let’s go, Mr. Stark, I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“Polar opposites, you and me.”

“Yep! Polar opposites!”

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 5

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link! , Chapter 2 Link! , Chapter 3 Link! , Chapter 4 Link!

Summary: There’s nothing that brings opposing sides together like a mutual enemy, though who that enemy is...

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Author’s Note: I wanted to take a short break after THE SPECIAL to retool, replan, and rewrite some stuff in the next few chapters and make sure they would fit with what I have already posted, as well as wait for the last episode to be subbed so I could double check what I had in this chapter before posting. This fic is already canon divergent (and now a full on AU) so that helped a lot. All you need to know now is that in SFAUT another year is added in the timeline and 1 New Year has already passed. I will provide spoiler warnings for any chapter in the future since some stuff in the special will be relevant to this fic now. (There are none in this one! No Spoilers Inside!)

Chapter 5: Gladly, your journey ends here with me

“Come on, come on Jin... Ah ha!” Yin let out a triumphant yell as the two Calabashes finally connected remotely, one hidden tucked away where their now unwanted business partner hopefully couldn’t find it, and he quickly closed out and hid all the windows he could on the computers that would give away their plan. It was a long shot... but hopefully this would work. He just had to trust that his elder could handle this on his own.

----------

“You weren’t kidding when you said everything smelled dull,” Mei said with a frown. They were walking around the city looking for anything that could possibly help them get out of here. So far no luck, everything appeared to just be as normal as normal could possibly be. MK had even tried breaking something with his staff on “accident” and only got a slightly angry but forgiving shopkeeper once he paid for the broke table out of it. “Now that I’m really paying attention to it I can’t help but notice it.”

“It’s bizarre,” Red Son chimed in with a growl, true frustration having long since started to bloom in his expression. “Nothing’s happened! No one is attacking us, no one is trying to make everything perfect. It’s just... Normal!” The last word was screeched out, his hair flaming up before he took a breath and calmed back down. “I don’t think this is Jin and Yin anymore. It’s too different from what you described to us.”

Despite not wanting to, MK couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “I think you’re right... this has to be a Calabash, I’m sure of it! But unless they got really good at making more than two step plans really quickly, someone must be helping them.”

Though who that could possibly be they had no clue. As far as the three of them knew the Gold and Silver Demons weren’t really affiliated with anyone specifically. They seemed to run around doing their own thing for the most part.

“There’s got to be some kind of clue around here about how to get out, nothing technological is perfect!” Mei chimed up with a wide smile. “Who knows, maybe the solution will just hit us when we least expect i-”

“WATCH OUT!”

The trio jumped in surprise at the yell, voice familiar but sounding just off enough to startle them. They looked up as a cloud barreled down and ducked right before it flew right into an alley behind them, a series of yelps and crashes and curses being let out by whoever had hitched a ride on it.

“God bloody damn it how does he even fly this stupid thing?” They heard from inside, and they all carefully stepped into the alleyway. MK pulled out his staff, Mei her sword, and Red Son lit his hands on fire in preparation.

“UH...” MK lowered his staff just a bit when he caught sight of the figure in front of them, turned away from them and brushing dust and dirt off his clothes with his tail swiping madly at the air like he didn’t exactly know what to do with it. “M-Monkey King?”

“Monkey King” tensed, turning quickly with an uncharacteristic look of surprise and... fear? Fear on his face. “Uh... you’re sorta right, MK.”

“Ok, you are definitely not Monkey King, he NEVER calls me MK and he definitely does not have an accent like that,” MK said as he raised his staff back up with a raised brow. “And you are definitely not the fake Monkey King we just left who did call me Bud and Kid instead. Who the hell are you!?”

The new fake Monkey King raised his hands in a sign of surrender, laughing awkwardly. “Whoa, whoa! No need to attack, I’m here to help you! Surprised you don’t recognize me already, do we really sound that much alike?”

“Wait a- JIN!?” “THAT’S Jin?” “But how?” MK, Red Son, and Mei all shouted one right after the other, looking between the Jin-Turned-Monkey-King and each other.

“Change back!” MK shouted, extended his staff just enough to poke Jin in the chest. “Stop looking like that right now!”

“I can’t,” Jin sighed out, taking a step back and away from the staff jutting into his rib cage. “I mean, I can if I try for a minute, but it’s not safe! I need to be disguised and apparently using this digital form already made up with your info this is the best disguise the program decided for me.”

“AH HA I was right this is a Calabash!” MK shouted in victory before realizing this just confirmed what they had already agreed to. “Ahem... OK... why do you need to be disguised? And why did you say you were here to help us? Isn’t this one of your plans?”

Jin winced at the questions and looked away, rubbing one of his arms. It looked... bizarre and wrong to see on the Sun Wukong’s face. Sure, MK had seen the ancient being look vulnerable before but it was never anything like this. “Yin and I were... tricked into helping someone we shouldn’t have. She’s got control of everything right now, except an extra Calabash Yin has me in that I’m remotely connected to you from. I can help you get out of here if you just trust me for a bit.”

“Oh, like we’re just going to trust you like that!” Mei growled, taking a step closer. “How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick? That this isn’t part of your plan?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna admit that me and Yin aren’t really that good at plans,” Jin deadpanned with a frown. “I mean, we’re pretty smart! We made an entire virtual reality system that can hold multiple people shrunk down with magic and replicate anything from their own memories after all! But we’re not really good at more than 2 step evil plans.”

“He has a point,” Red Son interjected. “We fought them 2 months ago and even then their plan was ‘take control of the city water supply, fight Monkie Kid’. They didn’t have a plan aside from just... holding the water and hoping they’d win.”

“See, bad at plans!” Jin pipped up with a wide awkward smile, and that felt more natural if a little exaggerated to see. “But! We’re good at tech, and the problem here is tech we personally made. So I can help you!”

“Again, why though?” MK asked, lowering his staff cautiously. “Why help us? Wouldn’t whoever you’re working for getting rid of us be good for you?”

Jin frowned again, looking down at his (Sun Wukong’s) hands. “... It was my idea. A week or so ago... A woman came by asking for a job, told us to just call her Vapor, learned real quick that wasn’t her name after she dropped her disguise... We needed the extra cash to fill a tech order for another demon and it sounded easy enough. Make a Calabash convincing enough to trick the Monkie Kid’s senses so that he couldn’t get out from the inside. And it was easy, we already had everything being worked on ourselves! But then...” He scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “She started to want to get all three of ya. Started talking about wanting it to be ‘worse for him, more painful’. We didn’t know what she was talkin about, but we knew from context clues that whoever ‘him’ was wasn’t you.”

MK let his staff down entirely but didn’t put it away, earning odd looks from Mei and Red Son. He shook his head, gesturing to Jin and then their weapons to urge them to stand down for the moment.

“Then she started to get frustrated,” Jin continued. “She pushed us to work harder, faster, and when we tried to cut off the deal she... she pulled out this kind of smoking pipe and I don’t know what the hell she has in it but that stuff knocked us out harder than any drink ever did. When we woke up we were... stuck.”

“Stuck?” MK asked. “Wait, you work for other demons?”

“Yeah yeah, we make tech for other demons, that ain’t the point right now!” Jin cleared his throat, continuing his explanation. “She had some kind of... of sealin charm on the building. No demons gettin in, no demons gettin out. ‘cept for her, she’s got some kinda charm around her neck that lets her leave whenever she wants. We’ve been stuck in our little hidden HQ ever since and whenever we get too rowdy or annoying she just puts us to sleep again. I don’t know how much more of that we can breathe in before it starts to actually hurt us, and whatever she has planned wasn’t for you. You’re just some kinda-a pawn. To hurt someone else. That’s why I want to help you, she’s hurtin my brother and as much as we want to take you down the Gold and Silver Demons will not be used as pawns in other’s schemes.”

“So it’s a pride thing,” Red Son said as he crossed his arms. “You’re helping us because this Vapor woman hurt your pride.”

“Yeah, and what of it?” Jin crossed his arms in turn, glaring at the fire demon. “Need a better reason or do you not want my help?”

“We want your help!” MK jumped in with a sigh. “Any help, even help from pride alone, is probably needed right now.”

“Great!” Jin smiled wide again, and the quickly changing expressions he was showcasing on the Monkey King’s face were starting to give the trio tonal whiplash. “Should be simple enough, she’s out and about right now so all we gotta do is get to a little something Yin and I added in while she wasn’t looking before she gets back.” He smirked, prideful and eager to brag. “An emergency access hub. Didn’t have time to program it to pop up on command, but once we get to our hidden HQ we can access it and force this Calabash to just spit us out! You probably could have found it yourselves... eventually...”

“That’s... surprisingly easy and simple,” Mei said, but smiled after a moment. “But worth a shot I guess. If you’re lying we can just kick your butt and get out of here the old fashioned way!”

This caused Jin to laugh nervously again, raising his hands up. “No lying, promise! Just follow me-EAGH!” When he took a step he stumbled, righting himself as he flailed his arms and sighed. “Stupid tail, how do you balance with this thing?” He took another careful step, then another, and after a moment he just grabbed his tail and yelped at the sensation and wrapped it around his wrist before walking normally. “This is bloody weird.”

“I’ll say...” MK muttered as he watched Jin step out of the alley and wave his free hand, the air in front of him glitching in a familiar way before a digital floating map rested before him. “... ok, that’s kinda cool.”

Jin paused, looking back at them with a bit of a flushed tint on Monkey King’s ears. “Uh... thanks? Just follow me, this will tell us if anything pings the system to alert it that I’m here or she comes back.”

They followed Jin for a moment, fake people staring at the full form of Sun Wukong in awe. The same way MK and the others would have expected them to in real life.

“Wait, hold on!” Mei piped up after a moment. “You said you found out Vapor wasn’t this mystery woman’s name, but you never told us who she was! What’s her real name, maybe we already know who she is!”

“Yeah, if we know who she is we can plan on how to kick her ass!” MK agreed.

Jin shook his head. “I don’t know if even you three can fight her at this point, she’s strong. Way stronger than I already knew she could have gotten over the years. You’re gonna need more than a little help to take her down.” He turned to Red Son.

“What?” Red Son questioned, tips of his hair sparking as he tensed in confusion and worry. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because Vapor was-AAAAAHHHHH!”

And Jin fell to the ground screaming.

----------

“And to what do we owe the.... honor of your visit,” The Demon Bull King growled lowly, arms raised slightly at his sides as Princess Iron Fan stood on his shoulder. Her own glare was even more formidable than her husband’s.

“Brother Ox,” Sun Wukong greeted as he bowed in respect. “I-”

“We stopped being brothers in name long ago, Sun Wukong,” DBK growled low again. “Now state your business here before I lose my patience and we continue our last fight.”

“I’m surprised we aren’t already fighting...” Pigsy whispered to Tang. “This is weird...”

And Pigsy was right, the situation was weird. They had snuck in, Wukong ready to fight and get them out of there if things had gotten out of hand. Instead, they were greeted with a very annoyed but subdued Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan who looked ready and willing to murder all of them if given half an excuse... but for some reason were holding themselves back.

“Demon Bull King,” Wukong corrected himself with a small frown, holding his bow for an extra moment before straightening himself. “I have come to ask for a temporary truce... and your help.”

DBK grit his teeth, leaning down until he was nearly nose to nose with the Monkey King, PIF holding onto his horn on her side to remain stable. “And what makes you think I would ever agree to that?”

“The reason I am asking for it,” Wukong continued, not even reacting to the snorted breath in his face. “MK, Mei, and your son were supposed to join me on Flower Fruit Mountain this morning. We... have not been able to find them.”

This immediately got both parents attention, DBK narrowing his gaze dangerously as he stood up straight so fast PIF had to hold on tighter to not fall off. “What are you implying?”

“MK, Mei, and Red Son are missing. We want your help to find them.”

[jacksgreysays]

Hail to the Queen, Shikako, Uzushio remix?

it could have gone like this:

"Not it!" Tatsuma shouts, such an abrupt and loud interjection to their otherwise calm conversation that Shikako startles.

Hiki and Yose, quick to follow, exchange a glance before putting their index fingers to the tips of their noses, also declaring, "Not it!"

In a bewildering cascade, the other department heads do the same. Some more graceful than others, but no less swift, until at the end of it Shikako is the only one left in the room who hasn't disavowed... whatever is going on.

Kairyu, the ancient and wizened head of the summoning department, gives Shikako a wide and alarmingly sadistic smile. "Congratulations, Uzukage-sama," he says.

"What." Shikako looks around, trying to find the context clues that will make that statement understandable. The other department heads smile back at her with varying levels of glee. They don't look like Kairyu has said anything bizarre such as declaring her, an outsider, Uzukage. "What, no."

They continue to smile at her, some of them going so far as to similarly congratulate her for becoming Uzukage.

"Nooooooo," she says, drawing the word out. "No, this can't be how--no, this doesn't make any..." Shikako looks down at the sheaf of papers in front of her, the reports from each of the heads summarizing their respective departments' latest research and achievements.

In the past few years since Shikako has settled in this world--and, more specifically, in Uzushio--she's had to adjust to their way of life. The society built around innovation and creativity, the common and almost casual use of fuinjutsu to break and remake reality was easy. Less so was their sense of humor. 

The village has accepted her with aplomb, generous and encompassing, and Shikako thinks if she cannot go home, then this is a satisfactory second place. She could maybe do with a little less pranking, but that's apparently just how communication and affection is done in Uzu culture.

Incredulous, she looks back up at them. "This can't possibly be how you choose the Uzukage."

Kairyu strokes his chin; despite his age, his beard still has hints of red in it, a sign of the famous Uzumaki vitality. "It used to follow a bloodline and it was a life term sort of thing."

Shikako nods, because that at least makes sense; that's how Sand and Stone do it, at least.

"But we decided that wasn't fair..." he continues, and Shikako nods at that, too. Monarchies aren't known for being a government of equal and just representation.

"... because what if they wanted to go into academia and were forced instead into leadership? For life? Can you imagine the inventions trapped and forever denied to us because they were busy with diplomacy or war? Just imagine the advancements we could have lost! So we decided a five year term was long enough for stability, but short enough that the Uzukage wouldn't stagnate too much in their chosen field."

Shikako does not nod at this. This is a bonkers way to choose a leader. Then again, Uzushio is weird enough that this might not actually be a joke. "... and the deciding process?"

Hiki and Yose pat her shoulders in a commiserating manner. "The mathematics department thanks you for your service, Uzukage-sama," Hiki says.

"The music department is a wretched hive of near constant activity," Yose adds, fondly disparaging her own department. "I can't even imagine handing it over to my deputy for five whole years just to run the village."

Tatsuma shakes his head solemnly, "I'm sure you'll be faster next time, Uzukage-sama."

---

it should have gone like this:

Later, when she and Naruto are trying to figure out how it all happened, the two of them in the neutral--or, perhaps more accurately, mutually claimed--territory of Land of Wave it will be Tsunami who provides an explanation.

"It's an Oath of the Ocean," she says simply, a gentle smile on her face. Shikako wonders if she feels at all weird that the Hokage and Uzukage use her house as a meeting spot or if she just sees them both as the twelve year olds she met all those years ago.

Naruto crinkles his nose in confusion while Shikako wracks her brain desperately for any memory of that phrase. Nothing is coming up, but she's only been Uzukage for a few months and there have been a lot of higher priority matters to deal with. They look at her beseechingly and her cheek dimples with amusement: that's a point for the twelve year olds.

Tsunami joins them at her dining table and two of the most powerful people in the Elemental Nations eagerly defer to her. "It's something my mother used to tell me stories of when I was a little girl," she begins while Shikako pours her tea, the steam of it wafting up and adding to the ambiance. "Daring tales of adventure and camaraderie, the power of loyalty and devotion and promises..." 

While entertaining, the stories for the most part followed a similar train of heroism, sacrifice, and the sort of happily ever afters that could only exist in a shinobi society. They did involve two or more heroes, at least, which somewhat matched their current situation, but otherwise the tales were so disparate that Shikako couldn't see the common thread.

"... I believe she said that ninja of the Hidden Leaf had a similar thing--something to do with fire, I think?" Tsunami concluded, taking a sip of her tea.

"The Will of Fire?" Naruto asks, glancing from Tsunami to Shikako in confirmation.

"Hm, yes, that sounds like it," Tsunami says. "But it was so long ago."

Shikako hums, considering. The Will of Fire is an actual phenomenon, even if it's been largely couched in PR terms that obfuscate the science behind it. The other villages have their own sort of strange skills--like the Hero's Water of Hidden Waterfall or the Desert Scions of Sand--so perhaps that's what the Oath of the Ocean is as well.

Although how it can do so much with so little is baffling:

Naruto needed to be present at the Chuunin Exams in Cloud as Hokage. Jokingly, he had said to Shikako, "Look after my village while I'm gone."

Shikako had responded with a fond roll of her eyes, "Your home is my home."

And when a gaggle of administrative nin carrying a ludicrous number of scrolls amongst them entered his office, Naruto grinned slyly. "And my people, your people," he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder before fleeing like the absolute coward any Hokage becomes when faced with paperwork.

That should have been it. 

Except a few days into her temporary regency, news came in of a grand fleet of ships that had made landfall in the ruins of Uzushio. And another few days after that, a pair of messengers with bright red hair introduced themselves as representatives of the Uzu Flotilla seeking their Uzukage.

Gamely, Shikako explained that their, well, princess was in another castle so to speak. And, also, already Hokage.

"The name Naruto Uzumaki is a good Uzukage name," one of the messengers, Nagare, says with a shrug.

"Very traditional," the other messenger, Mancho, pipes in agreement. "Also, very famous!"

"And that is why the elders considered bringing the flotilla back earlier. We heard tell of him even on our journey," Nagare continues, "But he's not our Uzukage."

Nodding, Mancho adds, "We'd know."

Desperately trying to hide her confusion, Shikako nods in return.

"We didn't sense them until, what, six maybe seven days ago?" Nagare asks, turning to Mancho.

"Eight, I think. Although those first few days there was a lot of partying so my count might be wrong, too."

Shikako deliberately does not think of the number of days since Naruto left Konoha. "So do you need help finding whoever is your new Uzukage?" she asks, hopefully.

Nagare and Mancho turn to her, both of them bemused. "Nooooo," Mancho says slowly.

Nagare answers, "We've already found her."

---

but it actually went like this:

When everything is over, the world in relative peace, Shikako requests herself for a mission. A training trip, she'd assured everyone, much like the one she took to the Fire Temple all those years ago.

Except this time it would be to the ruins of Uzushio.

The Hokage doesn't tell her no. This is the first thing she's wanted that had nothing to do with preventing the end of the world. And so she goes.

Nothing much happens on that first trip. It's largely exploring the area, carefully mapping out or weatherproofing the places she finds. Some buildings are relatively well preserved enough that she knows she can leave it for another time, others are so reduced to rubble that she can only mark the location and hope if anything is left there to salvage it will survive a while longer.

Before too long, her month is up and she goes back to Konoha vowing to return.

Progress is slow going, really. The second, third, and fourth trips are much the same. At this point her friends consider it more a personal vacation than sabbatical, akin to taking time off to go camping and enjoying the ocean air. They're not entirely wrong, but there is an unshakeable, lingering air of solemnity through it all.

The fifth trip she makes a D-rank so she can bring her students along without things going to hell in a hand basket. Thankfully, it works. And while there still isn't much in the way of fuinjutsu discoveries, it is a good trip.

The following trips, Shikako and her team clear and collect more and more to the point where now they have to spend more time collating and archiving than continuing their explorations. When she brings this up at a kunochi club meeting, Shiho's eyes brighten.

"And there's no danger?" Shiho asks, eager but still anxious.

"There's no danger," Shikako assures. "But even if there was, I will handle it. Everyone is under my protection." Shikako herself is still uneasy saying such things, but if it brings comfort to others, she'll let them use her reputation as a shield. 

With a gaggle of intel nin sorting through their findings, Shikako and her team are freed up again to explore. More progress is made in that trip than before, and while nothing particularly inspiring is found there are some techniques which improve existing practices or tweak them enough to cause vigorous discussion when Shikako returns to the RnD with notes.

It continues like this for a while, a fairly small operation.

Shikako has no idea how Kankurou finds out about it.

"I'm just going where the Kazekage sends me," Kankurou says, his own gaggle of intel nin clustered behind him. "It's not like your movements are exactly secret, and the old nags in Suna are making noises about Leaf expanding their territory."

Before she can protest, he continues, "I know that's not what it is, Gaara knows that's not what it is, but we still have to do something to keep them quiet. So hey, here's some of our nerds if you want to put them to work. That one in particular is good with reversing the effects of erosion." Kankurou points to one of the Sand nin who meeps and ducks his head. "They're your responsibility now. Have fun."

"And what are you going to do?" Shikako asks, eying him skeptically.

"Whatever I want? There's sand and there's sun. So it's kind of like home, except no one is bugging me to do anything," he answers.

Famous last words. Shikako does put him to work, using the puppets to go into areas where it's not structurally sound enough for humans. Although that has more to do with the fact that after three days of doing nothing he keeps distracting her genin out of boredom that, really, he was asking for it.

They discover so much.

The ball is rolling by that point. Other villages send representatives of their own, mostly researchers with one or two guards but even those guards join in the efforts. Soon the villages collectively decide to build an international outpost there to be maintained and staffed throughout the year. When her team are promoted to chuunin, Shikako spends more of her time supervising the outpost than in Konoha, though they are frequent visitors and researchers as well.

It's not the same, she knows. It's not a whole village thriving and growing, but it's people eager to learn and discover and create for the sake of knowledge and that, Shikako thinks, is close enough in spirit than what Uzushio has had for a long, long time.

And when she walks the land, she can feel that lingering air of solemnity has finally been lifted and replaced with something new.

~

A/N: .... ooOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!! Oh no, anon!!! You know how emotionally compromised I am by Uzushio!!! I am so immediately overwhelmed by my feels!!! I can't do this justice, I love my impossible, ideal Uzushio too much I can never convey it, but I tried, anon, I tried.

For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!

[alirhi]

chapter 17!

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 17/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: nada. Well... Ali attempting comedy. I suppose that requires its own special warning lmao Notes: Loki's just so done lol

"I hate this plan, Thor."

"Yes, I heard you the first dozen times."

"This is the dumbest idea you could possibly have come up with!"

"We could always try Get Help."

"And use it on whom, pray tell?!"

"Thanos."

"Don't be an idiot." Privately, Loki thought he might as well be asking the Earth to cease its tireless spin, but he had to try.

Thor only smirked at him, the bastard. "Just keeping things in perspective. There's always room for a worse plan."

"...Thank you."

"What's Get Help?" Bucky didn't even glance up from the little device in his hand. Ever mindful of the terrain and unwilling to see him mess up his pretty face by falling on it, Loki was constantly moving things out of his distracted lover's path just before he tripped.

"Nothing, darling. Has Darcy sent you another?"

He grinned, holding the thing – Darcy swore it was a telephone when she gave it to him, though he'd yet to see it used for a single call – out for Loki to see. "She sent a video!"

Eira was on the screen, splashing about in a tub that appeared to contain more bubbles than water. She was having the time of her life, and both of her enamored parents couldn't help smiling like fools.

"I hate being away from her."

Loki winced, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "I know. Believe me, love, I know. But she isn't safe around these people. Better to leave her in Darcy's care until we can be sure she isn't in any danger."

"I still can't quite believe I'm a dad!" At the pure joy and wonder in his voice and on his beautiful face, his ancient lover smiled again. He still had a long way to go before he was truly recovered from what HYDRA had done to him, but it couldn't be denied that when he was happy, Bucky was the cutest damned thing.

"I still think you're overreacting," Thor grumbled as they stepped off the elevator at last. "These are good people. They'd never harm a little girl."

"Uh... Loki's not in chains. Why is Loki here and not in chains? Security!"

The God in question rolled his eyes. "Lovely to see you again, too, Stark."

Tony looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, vomit, or jump into one of his suits of armor. "What the hell is this, Point Break? You promised this psycho would be in a cell for the rest of eternity. And who's the weirdo staring at his phone?"

"...Bucky?!"

Thor stopped before he'd even truly begun to offer the explanation he didn't really have, mouth hanging open and one finger in the air. Confused, he and Loki watched silently as Steve Rogers practically flew across the room and Bucky slowly lifted his head, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since they'd left New Mexico.

"Steve?" He grinned and pocketed the phone immediately to throw his arms around his friend. "Steve! Holy shit, it is you!"

"Who is Bucky?" Thor mumbled to Loki, getting an exasperated eye roll for his troubles.

He knew, of course; when they'd first met, the handsome young soldier had introduced himself as Bucky. Loki had simply refused to call him that. Still, prior knowledge or no, he couldn't resist having just a bit of fun with his brother, so he decided, in lieu of a proper explanation, to treat it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just to hammer home how incredibly stupid Thor truly was. "I would imagine, given the context playing out before your clearly useless eyes, that it's a pet name for James. Derived from his middle name – Buchanan – if I had to guess. Honestly, Thor, how do you function?"

"Can someone please address the unfettered genocidal psychopath standing in my living room?"

Bucky flinched, moving back from Steve and giving Tony a slightly helpless look. "That was... I was under HYDRA's thumb, I was never a Nazi..."

"Not you, darling," Loki assured him stepping between the two newly thawed WWII veterans, and more importantly, between Bucky and the confused, wary Avengers. "He's referring to me."

"Wait, what?" Steve peered around him, trying unsuccessfully to catch his childhood friend's downcast gaze. "That's where you've been all this time? With HYDRA?"

"I didn't have a choice," he mumbled, face going red as he seemed to sink into himself.

"Quite literally," was Loki's frosty interjection. He pushed the soldier back when he got too close to his Sergeant and snapped, "If anyone wishes to interrogate or criticize him, I will happily transform you into something that cannot speak nor breathe."

"Just turn yourself into an elephant," Tony snapped. "Because you are the elephant in the room right now! Thor, explain to me why your insane adopted brother and his pet Nazi are in my home!"

"I was never a Nazi!"

"I've known Bucky all my life, Stark. There's no way he'd have joined up with those people."

"Nazis, HYDRA, what's the difference?!"

"Soldat?"

All eyes immediately turned to Natasha as she approached and finally got a good look at the man Loki was trying so hard to shield. Loki grimaced. "Oh. You."

Bucky flinched, looking as though she'd just slapped him. "Natalia, please don't call me that. It's Bucky, okay?"

"Sure, yeah." She laughed, launching herself at him. "And it's Natasha now."

Her arms over his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist were more than Loki could bear. When he noticed that Bucky was holding her up with both hands cupping her rear, he'd more than had enough. With a growl, he used magic to pry her loose and pin her to the ceiling. "That is quite enough, Agent Romanov. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make me tell you again."

"Put her down, Loki." Oh, great. There was Banner, eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but approaching him nonetheless. "Before I let the other guy put you down again."

"Doctor Banner," he ground out as he slowly and more than a little reluctantly set the struggling spy down on the floor. "Delightful. Well, I see the gang's all here. Thor, this was your harebrained scheme, so why don't you clean up this mess?"

"Happily," Thor muttered, "if you'll stop making a bigger one."

"No promises. The next person to lay hands on James will be a smear of blood and innards on the wall."

"Loki, calm down." Hugging him from behind, Bucky murmured in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

Making no effort at all to prevent the Avengers from hearing him, Loki snapped, "I don't trust these people."

"For the record," Natasha pointed out, "we're not the ones who tried to blow up New York a week ago."

He smirked. "Nor am I, Agent Romanov. That was someone on your side, if you recall."

"The Chitauri?"

"Oh, that. I thought you were referring to the bomb." A little, dismissive shrug, and then, "Most of the damage to the city was still done by you lot. The Chitauri were mostly just...flying around."

"Also trying to kill people."

"Loki needs our help," Thor called out, just loud enough to drown out any further conversation. The Avengers all gaped at him as though he'd gone mad. It made Loki smile. "There was another force behind the attacks last week. Someone far worse was pulling Loki's strings-"

"Really, Thor, I'm not a puppet!"

"Unless you want to explain this yourself and hope any of them listen to a word that comes out of your weaselly mouth instead of simply killing you, sit down and shut up, brother."

"Marionette, anyway." When everyone turned to stare at him, Bucky blushed. "The-the ones with strings. That's marionettes, not puppets."

With a patient smile, Steve gently chided him, "Not really the time, Buck."

"...Right. Sorry. Continue not bothering to listen to each other. I'll be over here." Out came the phone, and Bucky was lost to them all as he scrolled through pictures of Eira again.

"What's with the phone?" Loki flinched and turned; he hadn't realized Barton was in the room until then. "Isn't he a little old to be sucked into that thing while we're all talking?"

"He's looking at photographs of their daughter," Thor told him with a dismissive wave of his hand, ignoring the death glare he received from Loki for it. "Now, if we can get back on-"

"...Their daughter?" Tony interrupted, stepping forward. "I'm sorry... Who's the other half of the 'they' in that equation?"

When Thor opened his mouth to explain, Loki grabbed his arm and squeezed hard enough to make him gasp. "I will kill you."

"And then they will kill you, and the world will end when there's no one to warn them about Thanos, and James and Eira will be left unprotected, likely to suffer horribly and die."

With a frustrated growl, Loki released him and, briefly, shifted to his female form. "I am, alright? Everyone's burning curiosity satisfied?" Shifting back, he took advantage of the stunned silence that had taken hold of the room and snapped, "There is a mad Titan with the ability to mind-control a God out there attempting to collect the most powerful artifacts in the universe, and while he declined to share the purpose of this venture with me during my captivity, I find myself seriously doubting that it involves giving everyone their own kitten. Now, can we focus, please?!"

Banner frowned. "Who did he mind-control?"

"How?!" He was beginning to get a stupidity-induced headache. Hands flying up in a wide gesture to the room at large, Loki looked at Thor and demanded, "How is it you think these people can possibly help?"

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[dhufflebee]

damned thoughts, damning decisions  (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jesse St. James; Rachel Berry   Additional Tags: Missing Scene; Confrontations; trying to make sense of Jesse's face-heel turn in "Funk"; Slight blackmail; Shelby is terrible (sorry)

Also read on:  AO3  |  ff.net Summary: Jesse is summoned by Shelby and given an ultimatum. A change (a betrayal?) of that kind needs some sort of reason, though, even for a mess of a teenager like he is.

I know it’s been years, but I’m still pissed at the bad writing re: Jesse at the end of season 1. He did have his dickish moments throughout the episodes, sure, but such an abrupt change in behavior makes no sense – there was no context or explanation at all, and we deserved more, as did the characters. I don’t think the events in Funk were part of the plan from the start (because nothing that happens or is said beforehand supports it), and I’m convinced that it was a later development, and an unwelcome one at that.

Hence, this bridge-the-gap scene that’s been on my mind since the first time I watched the show. I’ve read some great fics about this plot point over the years; I guess it was time to write mine. it’s not elaborate nor particularly insightful – mostly Jesse being a conflicted teenager under pressure and (sadly) an all-around mess. I just wish they’d put something in the show so the whole situation would feel less out of the blue.

Lastly, sorry to Shelby fans, but I kind of hate her. Also, peer pressure is a bitch (and I’m sure it played a huge part in the whole debacle, even if I just hint at it in this fic).

“So, what happened to ‘I regret never getting to hold her’ and all that?” Jesse asked with a hard voice, and dropped his school bag unceremoniously on the ground. He was tired after the drive from Lima to Akron on a school-day afternoon, and annoyed about being rudely summoned like some sort of minion. (He guessed he was a bit angry at himself as well, because it was not like he’d protested all that much.) Mostly, though, he was pissed at Shelby for the way she’d treated Rachel, his anger fueled by the fresh memory of his girlfriend tearfully recounting how she’d been rejected by her mother. Again.

“I beg your pardon?” Shelby retorted, arching an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“That whole convoluted plan just so you could finally meet Rachel, and then that’s how you treat her?” Jesse tried to keep his voice steady, but the situation and Shelby’s blasé attitude were making his blood boil.

“Who do you think you are, our family counselor?” Shelby sneered, and Jesse barely suppressed the urge to up and leave right then and there. “What I decide to do with my life is none of your business.”

“It kinda is, though,” Jesse spat, bitterly. “Since, you know, Rachel is my girlfriend, and you are the one who forced me to take part in this charade!”

Shelby stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. “I seem to recall you being ok with it, mister ‘it’s going to be a good acting exercise’.”

“Well, I recall telling you I wasn’t all that comfortable with it anymore, and you ignoring me and even doubling down on it.”

“You seemed awfully comfortable with your spot amongst New Directions, though. And yet, you still went on spring break with Vocal Adrenaline,” Shelby mused, smirking unkindly.

Jesse inhaled sharply, clenched his fists and looked at his feet, the shame that had been in the back of his mind for the past months flaring up. “That’s not fair,” he whispered. “It was just Andy and a couple of others—they’re my friends…”

“Anyway,” Shelby interjected, matter-of-factly. “I don’t care about your holidays, and I don’t have any more time to waste. I told you to come here to say this—you’re coming back to Carmel by the end of the week.”

Jesse’s head shot up, and he stared at Shelby in utter bewilderment. “What? No!”

“Oh, I’m sorry—was there anything in our arrangement that made you believe I’d let you spend the rest of the year in that mediocre school?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from very word.

“But I thought—” Jesse frowned, and shook his head; he didn’t know how to finish the sentence (really, what had he been thinking?).

“You clearly didn’t,” Shelby said, raising her eyebrows. “I want you back in this auditorium by Friday. And I won’t be accepting excuses.”

“But I can’t!” Jesse pleaded. “What about Rachel?”

“Oh, Rachel understands that I’m not in the right headspace to be her mom at the moment,” Shelby answered, waiving her hand nonchalantly. “She was very sympathetic.”

Jesse’s anger came back in full force, burning at the pit of his stomach. “It was all a front, just so you know. She didn’t want you to feel like she was a burden, but honest to God, in hindsight she should have raged at you for being a —”

“Don’t you dare,” Shelby hissed, shutting him up. “You have no say in the matter.”

“I do, too! I’m owed the right to speak my mind,” Jesse exclaimed. “And whatever the circumstances, Rachel is still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah well, that has to end.”

Jesse deflated. “What?”

“I’m sure you realize that, if you come back to Vocal Adrenaline, you can’t keep dating the lead of New Directions,” Shelby said, with the tone one would reserve for an eight-year-old.

“But I don’t want to,” Jesse answered, his voice no more than a whisper.

“What was that?”

“I said, I don’t want to,” he repeated, standing a bit straighter.

“It was not a suggestion, Jesse.”

“I already told you, though! I like Rachel, for real. I know this all started as a ruse, but now I think I might even be—” Jesse couldn’t bring himself to finish his own thought. He was scared as hell to admit it to himself, let alone to Shelby.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it’s ever stopped you before,” Shelby shrugged. “I gather your reputation as a callous, careless heartbreaker has to come from somewhere.”

Jesse didn’t know how to answer, because it was all true. And it stung like a bitch, especially because with Rachel everything had been different, was different, and he didn’t want to be that person anymore. He was starting to be ashamed of his old self—it was a weird sensation, but one he didn’t want to forego, and surely not in the way Shelby was ordering him to.

“Listen, I really don’t care about your imminent break-up with Rachel,” Shelby stated. “Just do it. And then come back here, ready to work.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll have to call the UCLA Admissions Office and have them revoke your scholarship,” she answered pointedly. “You know I have pull. Good luck asking your father for the money.”

Jesse was dumbfounded. No way in hell his father was going to give him a penny, let alone pay for his entire tuition. He wanted to say something, but the anger and dread he was feeling seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle for his voice.

This is practically blackmail, Jesse thought, annoyed. However, a part of his brain was more worried about disappointing yet another important adult in his life than about anything else. He hated Shelby for manipulating him and Rachel and the whole situation, but he was determined to not be looked at as ‘a failed project’ by anyone else. His family was already enough.

Lost in his thoughts, Jesse was beginning to hate himself as well, because he was actually considering going along with Shelby’s request. He couldn’t ask his family for money, and he couldn’t imagine not going to UCLA after boasting so much about it. In all honesty, he also couldn’t bear the thought of not winning his last national title as a senior; and God knows New Directions were not even close to being victory material, even with him as a member. Besides, no one liked him there or ever listened to him, even though they could really use his advice.

The thought of helming a great number and raising another national trophy was more and more appealing with every passing minute—and with that the certainty of actually being worth all the fuss, regardless of what his father always told him, and the confirmation his self-confidence (arrogance?) was not misplaced. The voice in his head (a voice that sounded painfully like Rachel’s) kept telling him he was reverting to his old dickish ways, but… well, he’d been suppressing that particular thought for a very long time.

After a while, Jesse lifted his head, his eyes meeting Shelby’s. He clenched his jaw, then nodded stiffly.

Shelby relaxed, and started gathering her things. “Good boy. Now, I want this break up with Rachel and with New Directions to be grand—there has to be no doubt that you have closed that door. Squash their morale, too, for good measure.” She shouldered her bag and started walking towards the exit. Then she turned around and added, almost as an afterthought: “I put Giselle in charge of the whole thing, by the way. Apparently, she already has some brilliant ideas or whatever. I don’t care what you do, just do it well. See you on Friday,” she said, before disappearing out the door.

Jesse sighed, and picked up his bag from the floor. Anger was still simmering somewhere in his guts, but it was being silenced by a wave of uneasiness and by a dull and persistent heartache. He grabbed his phone to check his notifications, and saw that Giselle had already written him a string of messages. He read them, purposefully ignoring the texts he’d received from Rachel in the meantime.

Jesse St. James, as I live and breathe. Ms Corcoran told me you’re coming back and let me tell you, fi.na.lly.  

Anyway, I’ve already started planning a couple of fun things to remind those losers who the superior show choir is

Tomorrow be here sharp and ready cause we start rehearsing

Also there’s gonna be something special just for your girlfriend – we’re not comfortable with you simply breaking up with her. It has to be hard and memorable,, you’ve already played mole before and we’re not willing to risk it

Stay tuned for that (and remember it’s a deal breaker if you want us to back you up as lead ever again)

Jesse groaned, already dreading whatever the hell was coming. He tried to suppress the shame he felt by imagining himself holding a fourth national trophy (which was easy) and trying not to think about Rachel (which was very, very hard).

He spent the drive home furiously wiping the tears off his cheeks.

[pastthebutterflies]

It’s For You (Little Lady)

As it turns out, running away to a magical alternate dimension to avoid her problems ended just as badly as Luz thought it would.

Part two of what’s now my “Camila Comes Through the Door” series! I’m posting this late, so feel free to point out any glaring mistakes. Otherwise enjoy!

Ao3 link in the reblogs!

So, fun fact!

As it turns out, running away to a magical alternate dimension to avoid her problems ended just as badly as Luz thought it would.

In her defense, Luz really hadn’t expected her mom to actually find a way into said dimension (thanks, Owlbert). The plan had always been to stick around until the end of the summer, then head back home acting as if yes mom, camp was very educational and yes mom, she really did feel much more like everyone else now. Then, in theory, continue jumping back and forth with the door to continue her training and see her friends. Without Camila ever finding out about said secret double life.

Needless to say, those plans all went out the window the moment Camila stepped through the portal, right into Eda’s booth, where she had spotted Luz immediately and tried to all but drag her back home.

Fortunately- or unfortunately, depending on who she asked- King had been so surprised by the sudden arrival that he had shot straight from Luz’s arms and into the air, shocking them all enough for Eda to suggest they head back to the Owl House before they drew too much attention to themselves.

Which was what led to Luz hiding in the kitchen with Eda as King and Hooty chattered endlessly to Camila about who knew what and most definitely did not help the situation.

Eda leaned against the counter, staring boredly as her eyes tracked Luz’s movements back and forth across the floor with one hand in her hair while the other gestured wildly in the air.

“-And how did she even get here? Owlbert is so good at staying out of sight, how did he get caught?” She groaned. “And why did he have to find Mom of all people?”

“Kid, he’s an owl. Even your world has those, of course he was out in the open. She said he took her keys, which are shiny, not to mention strange and unusual compared to the ones we use on the Isles, they would have sold like wildfire. Obviously he was going to take them.”

“But why my mom? Of all the people-” she glanced through the door, where Camila is staring slack jawed at King, who was pointing intensely at a drawing in one of his demon books, animatedly speaking over Hooty, who seemed to have made a home around her shoulders. Surprisingly, Camila seemed less concerned with this part, or maybe she was trying to ignore it, the same way she did sometimes when Luz would say something a little too out there. At this point, she really couldn’t tell.

Maybe that was a good thing.

“So you smudged the truth a little bit, we’ve all done it. Heck, I do it all the time,” Eda snorted. “Look, you’ve got two options. Either you can run off again, maybe to one of your friends’ houses for the night and let King and I keep her busy.” She pictured slipping away to Willow’s for the night and letting Eda deal with this in the meantime. A wave of guilt washed over her almost immediately at the thought. Stupid conscience.

“Or,” Eda continued. “You can go out there and talk to her. Lady just found out her daughter lied to her for a month and spent the last twenty four hours thinking you were- poof! Gone. The least you can do is let her know you’re alright.” She pushed off the counter and shrugged, turning toward the door. “But hey, do what you need to. You know I’ll help out either way.”

With that, Eda headed into the living room to slump next to Camila and finally pull King away. She watched Camila’s shoulders relax just a bit at something Eda said. The look makes the lump that had been forming in Luz’s throat for the past hour begin to harden. She had always wanted to tell her mom, eventually. Preferably after she came home, safe and sound, and could prove that no, actually, it wasn’t dangerous at all Mom and that she arguably learned ten times as much on the Boiling Isles than she would have at camp.

Now-

Life was never supposed to go this way.

With a heavy sigh, Luz took a final glance toward the open door- if she ran, she could get to Willow’s by dark- and took the first step into the living room.

“You discover a magic door in the one place that I’ve spent years telling you not to go to, chasing after an owl that stole the book you just threw away, and decided that staying with the strange witch you just met- no offense, ma’am- all because you thought it sounded slightly better than camp? Not to mention giving me a heart attack in the process.”

She was taking this...far better than Luz thought she would. Her mom had never been one prone to yelling. Still, Luz had expected at least a small outburst this time. Yet, Camila had sat patiently through her explanation, waiting until the end to say much of anything. Eda had interjected a few times- the two of them got along surprisingly well, she was noticing- but for the most part, Luz had filled the silence for the past hour, catching Camila up on everything she had missed, or in some cases, adding new context to some of the messages she had sent over the course of the summer.

“Didn’t you kind of do the same thing just now? Same owl, same door…”

Over Camila’s shoulder, King cut a frantic hand over his throat, abort, abort, he tried to say, too little too late. If Luz wanted to back out, she should have done that weeks ago. Now that she was in, she may as well go all the way.

Camila blanched at that, “To find you. You’re the only kid I know that would leap through magic portals at the first opportunity. I should have figured sooner. Those messages were so vague, and the letters-”

Letters?

She could come back to that one later. For now-

“I’d do it again,” she said quietly.

Across from her, Camila stops in her tracks, brows burrowing deep into her eye line. “What?”

Even Eda glanced up at that, unsurprised, while an odd expression played on her face. Both of them remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. King however, took the chance to run across the floor and clamber into her lap. One hand lifted to scratch between his ears as she continued.

“I’d do it again,” she repeated. “Mom, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but- I can’t be the person you want me to be. Not then, not now. I’m happy here, happier than I ever was at school or camp. I can’t go back to feeling like that all the time, like I don’t belong or knowing that no one understands. I won’t. The people here,” she thinks of Willow and Gus and Amity. King and Eda. “They understand. They all know what it’s like not to fit in. I can’t want to lose that.”

King burrows deeper into her lap, sending a wave of comfort through her skin. He’ll want to talk about it later tonight, before bed, the way they usually do when things go wrong during the day. Assuming she was still here tonight, that is.

Her mom was frowning, then suddenly, she was crossing the space between them and wrapping her arms around Luz, tight as can be and whispering under her breath, “Te quiero,” to Luz or herself, she isn’t sure.

After a moment, she draws back, hands still on Luz’s shoulders, the telltale flood of tears in her eyes. “When I realized you never made it to camp, the only thing I could think of was that I wished I had never let you leave. You were so far away and I couldn’t find you. I would have searched everywhere for you- even another dimension.” She hugs her again, hard. “I can’t lose you, not again.”

Luz’s heart stuttered in her chest, the same way it did every time they had spoken in the past weeks. Only this time, she didn’t hold back. Her arms wrapped tight around her mom’s middle to squeeze as hard as she could muster. Between them, King squeaks indignantly and bolts back toward Eda. Her nose was buried deep into the scrubs Camila must never have changed out of before stumbling upon the door. She smelled like chemicals and antiseptic and home. Her other home, now.

When they finally pulled back, tears are tracking down Camila’s cheeks, mirroring the ones Luz can feel on her own face.

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” Camila glanced around. She takes in King and Eda, Hooty still twisting nervously in the corner. The odds and ends stacked along the walls. Luz.

She nodded once to herself, seemed to reach a decision. She stood. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

Camila glanced to Luz, to Eda, then back to Luz. “You can stay,” she said, finally. “For the summer. But it’s back to school in the fall. If Miss Eda is okay with it, that is.”

Eda shrugs, “Meh, kid’s kind of grown on me.”

“And,” Camila added. “I’m staying, too.”

Luz’s feet send her shooting up before she entirely realized what was happening. “You’re what?”

“When I can, of course. I’ll still have work during the day and a house to look after. But I’ll be around, as often as I can.” Camila glanced around again. This time, Luz couldn’t tell if she was judging the place or mentally mapping out where she could fit herself into both the house and the dynamic. When she spoke again, her voice was softer than Luz expected to hear it today. “If this is important to you, I want it to be important to me, too.”

The words alone are enough to send Luz flying if she let them. She hadn’t expected it to go this well, much less be able to stay. And having her around? Able to finally see the things Luz loved, in a setting where her interests were encouraged- the norm, even. The lump from before had finally begun to dissolve, trickling down her throat and rising up again in the form of a happy shout.

She leaned forward to wrap her arms around Camila again, this time dragging Eda forward as well as she muttered confusedly under her breath. At their feet, she felt King’s claws tap against her ankles as he followed suit.

“Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you.”

When they pulled away, Camila turned to her, eyes serious. “From now on, I need you to be honest with me. No matter what, do you understand? No more running off without telling me, no more secret magic shows; honesty from here on out. And I’ll do my best to understand all... this.”

A laugh bubbled up from deep in her stomach, “deal.”

In the end, Camila wound up spending the night and calling in to work the next morning. Luz spent most of the evening and a good portion of the night delving into what she had seen so far on the Isles, including Willow and Gus, the Blights, Hexside. She activated the few spells she knew, as well, sending bursts of light into the air while Eda sits back, demonstrating the way they were typically cast.

It was odd, seeing her mom so relaxed. She had changed from her scrubs to one of Eda’s old shirts that read fabulous and flawless in sprawling pink font across the front and a pair of her old sweats. In the future, they were hoping to have a more long term setup for the times she stayed over. Which made Luz question why she had gotten the upstairs closet the whole time- but she would deal with that later.

Right now, she was willing to keep drawing up her spells and finally getting to show off to someone as amazed as her at the process. There was still more to talk about, like going to Hexside and Eda’s curse. Both of which were likely to cause ripples in the future, but for now, Luz was content to share the world she had fallen in love with, with the only person from home that mattered.

For now, Luz dragged her pencil across the page and let the light rise up between them.

[haberdashing]

Unraveling All The Mystery

TMA mental time travel AU; Jon gives the rest of the original archives crew an explanation for his erratic behavior. Inspired by this post and this fic of it.

on AO3

“Jon...”

“...this is an intervention.”

Jon couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he heard those words.

He’d known something was up when all three archival assistants had joined him at once in his office early that morning, had half-suspected that they were going to ask in unison about how he had been acting different ever since he had the memories of his future self (well, of his no-longer-future self, hopefully) dumped into his head, but that phrasing...

It reminded Jon of an entirely different “intervention” directed his way, and while he knew he needed to take this situation seriously, it was still a far sight for being confronted for stalking his coworkers and accusing them of murder.

(To be fair, two of the four people he’d seen as murder suspects at the time had in fact killed someone, but Jon knew well enough that that didn’t entirely excuse his actions.)

Martin’s brows furled together in that way Jon had always secretly found adorable as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Jon tried his best to school his expression back into something approximating neutral before he replied. “It’s... it’s a long story.” Technically true, that, though he knew it wouldn’t get him far to say that alone, knew he wasn’t the only one here hungry for answers (at least metaphorically speaking). “Never mind that. What is this... ‘intervention’ regarding?”

Sasha, Martin, and Tim all exchanged a look that Jon couldn’t quite decipher for a silent moment before Sasha spoke up.

“All three of us have noticed that you haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

And of course it was Sasha telling him this. Sasha who he had two sets of memories of now, one of the real her and one of a being that had taken her place, the two already starting to blur together in his mind when he wasn’t face to face with the real thing.

Jon knew that her point was a fair one, but he still wanted to know more, wanted to know what exactly had changed, what had revealed to the rest of the world his internal change, wanted to know if it was something Jonah Magnus might have already noticed, so he raised an eyebrow and asked, “How so?”

Tim blurted out “weird” right as Martin blurted out “nice,” with Sasha waiting a beat before adding, “Weirdly nice.”

“...fair enough.” Jon could feel a smile sneaking back onto his face as he spoke. “I do know what you’re referring to there, and I, I do want to explain it all to you, but... do you mind if we take this conversation- er, this ‘intervention’ elsewhere?”

“...this is your office.”

“Exactly. Hardly neutral ground, is it?” Especially with Jonah Magnus doubtlessly watching their every move from his office, but Jon wasn’t very well going to mention that bit... “How about we go to that ice cream parlor we went to for Martin’s birthday? My treat.”

Sasha eyed Jon warily. “I had breakfast two hours ago.”

“Are you really going to turn down an offer of free ice cream and answers because of that?”

The three assistants exchanged a few pointed glances and slight shrugs before Tim said with a wide grin that may or may not have been entirely genuine, “You had me at ‘free ice cream.’”

“Glad to hear it.”

Jon got up and grabbed his bag, but before he could finish leading the way out of the Archives, a thought occurred to him. “Somebody bring a digital recording device with--laptop, phone, whatever, just so long as it’s digital. This won’t be a statement per se, but talking about it all will probably mess up the recordings as badly as the real statements do, and maybe that’ll help prove that this truly is the supernatural at work.”

There was a brief silence for a moment before Martin asked, “Jon, what d’you mean by real statements?”

“You know what I mean.” Jon sighed softly. “The ones with something solid to them, the ones you can’t easily rationalize away... not that I haven’t tried. They never record digitally.”

“I’ll go get a camera then.” Sasha darted away, and as she did, Jon could practically feel Martin and Tim’s gazes boring into him.

“So you do know there’s a difference.” Tim said.

“I didn’t think you believed any of them!” Martin added.

Jon sighed again. “I’ve... I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Well, perhaps not always, but for decades now, long before I got hired by the Institute. That’s why I wanted to work here in the first place. The skeptic act was always just that. An act, because it felt safer than the alternative.”

The awkward silence that followed was broken only by Sasha returning triumphantly, camera in hand. “Got it!”

“Great, let’s go.”

For a moment or two, as Jon’s feet obediently traced their way towards the ice cream parlor despite part of his brain insisting that it’d been years since he’d been to the place, Jon thought that was that.

Then Martin spoke up, his voice tentative but clear. “Care to share why you started believing in the supernatural, then?”

“Not particularly.” Jon paused, considered his options a bit more. He needed to be open with them, to trust them, he knew that, but... but that didn’t make talking about supernatural childhood trauma any easier. “Let’s just say it has to do with my distaste for both Leitners and spiders and leave it at that.”

Martin scrunched up his nose, and Jon’s heart ached at the sight of it. “Fair enough.”

The ice cream parlor wasn’t terribly busy this time of day, which was probably for the best, as Jon figured the less chance of being overheard, the better. After a bit of teasing and decision-making, Jon paid for the order as he’d promised, with both him and his assistants getting one scoop of ice cream each (though Tim had jokingly threatened to buy a scoop of every flavor the place had to offer just because Jon would have to foot the bill).

“What’s with you and rum and raisin ice cream, anyway?”

Jon glared at Tim. Tim glared back.

“What do you mean? It’s good.”

“If you’re eighty years old and have no taste buds left, maybe. Seriously, if you made an objective ranking of ice cream flavors-”

“That’s literally impossible, Tim, everybody has different preferences-”

Tim raised his voice a bit as he spoke over Jon. “Then you know that in dead last would be-”

“Anything with marshmallows in it?”

Martin looked up from his scoop of rocky road, pointing his spoon at Jon accusingly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Jon couldn’t quite look Martin in the eye as he continued, so he focused his gaze on Tim instead. “The texture is all wrong for mixing with ice cream, they’re disgustingly sweet, and do you know what marshmallows are made out of? Because I don’t consider that appetizing, especially in a dessert context.”

Martin scrunched up his face again. “...I try not to think about it.”

“So we’ve established that Jon’s taste in ice cream is just wrong in general, I see.” Sasha chimed in.

“Exactly! We weren’t discussing Martin’s taste in ice cream here-” Tim started to gesture wildly with his own spoon, flecks of moose tracks coming perilously close to falling off as he flailed it around. “We’re discussing Jon’s, and specifically how horrible it is.”

“Technically, we didn’t come here to discuss anybody’s taste in ice cream.”

“Said like a man who still hasn’t explained what the deal is with him and rum and raisin.”

Jon weighed the pros and cons of trying to change the subject more forcefully versus just flat-out telling the truth before settling on the latter.

“My grandmother used to buy it for me as a treat. We’d sit side by side on the couch and share a pint as we watched nature documentaries on the telly. It was as close to a family tradition as we had, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Tim’s gaze softened a bit. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

“So it’s not because you’re eighty and have no taste buds, it’s because your grandmother was?” Sasha added.

“Hey!”

Sasha stuck out her tongue, turned bright pink from the strawberry ice cream she was eating, her expression clearly unapologetic.

“Can we talk about what we’re actually here to talk about now?”

Jon’s voice came out a little louder than he had intended, and his near-shouting seemed to shut down the friendly banter that had been surrounding him in one fell swoop. Sasha closed her mouth, a few awkward glances were exchanged (none of which were directed at Jon himself), and silence fell.

“...sure thing, Jon. Go right ahead.” Martin eventually replied.

“Start the camera, please?”

Sasha futzed with the camera for a few seconds before nodding and shooting Jon a thumbs-up. Before Jon could speak up, though, Tim beat him to the punch.

“Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding-”

Jon pressed one hand against his temple, though he was struggling to hold back a laugh as he did so. “I told you, Tim, this isn’t a statement. Not a proper one, anyway. We’re damn well not going to be filing it away in the archives, at least.”

Even with his hand half-covering his eyes, Jon could see Tim’s raised eyebrow and amused expression clearly enough. “Not even going to mention the Joe Spooky bit?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, no.” Though Jon couldn’t help but think of the other time Tim had grabbed a recording device and made a joke about the statement of Joe Spooky... but that was why he had to explain all of this, so that they could work together, so that they could prevent Prentiss’ attack on the Archives and all the horrible things that had followed it the first time around.

“Smart man, knows better than to quibble with some quality wordplay.”

“That’s not wordplay, Tim.” Sasha interjected. “That’s not even a pun, just a first name and the word ‘spooky.’”

“Like I said, quality wordplay right there.”

“Please let me actually talk about this?”

Once again, as Jon spoke up, the others went eerily silent. Jon set his hands on the table as he weighed his next words.

“So, do you want to hear my explanation first, or the proof I have to back it up?”

Tim spoke up first. “Proof first. Given how much you’re building this up, I doubt I’ll believe any of it before you’ve given me a reason to believe this isn’t just some elaborate prank.”

“Usually you’d be the one pranking me, not the other way around. I’m not exactly the pranking type.”

Tim shrugged slightly. “Well, maybe you’ve finally snapped, decided to get your revenge by launching a prank for the ages.”

Jon thought about disputing the idea that he would ever prank one of his assistants, let alone Tim--Tim who he knew from back in Research, Tim who was his friend, Tim who probably knew him better than anyone in the Institute (Jonah Magnus notwithstanding)--but decided against it. “Fine, so that’s one vote for proof first. Anyone else?”

Martin raised his hand before speaking, as if he were still back in primary school, and Jon knew that there had been a time not that long ago when he would have made that very comparison in an attempt to dismiss Martin, in an attempt to prove that at least he was more mature and competent than one of his coworkers. But that time had come and gone now, and Jon was just grateful that Martin was willing to take turns rather than everybody trying to speak over everybody else all at once. “Er, I’d rather have the story first, personally. Hard to establish proof if we don’t know what’s being proven to begin with.”

“Alright, well, that leaves you with the deciding vote, Sasha.” Jon pointed at Sasha, using his finger rather than his spoon for the gesture.

Sasha shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth right as Jon pointed her way, dramatically drawing out her consumption of it before finally swallowing and saying with a mouth still tinged bright pink, “I say proof first. Between working in Artefact Storage and in the Archives, I’ve heard more than my fair share of horror stories; I’d like to know we can trust you, trust that you’re not some creepy doppelganger or something, before we get to the meat of whatever this is.”

Jon nodded. “Very well. Proof first it is.” Jon drummed his fingers on the table for a moment as he thought. “I can’t directly prove what’s happened since there’s no physical evidence, but I can prove that I know things about each of you that you haven’t told me, things that I have no way of knowing unless something supernatural is going on.”

“Go for it, boss.”

“Tim, I... god, there’s no easy way to say this, is there... I know what happened to Danny.”

Tim’s whole body tensed up at the mention of Danny’s name, and he glanced over at Sasha briefly, the two evidently having a silent conversation through facial expressions and minute gestures. Once, Jon would have been able to Know what it was they were saying, Know the meaning of each wink of the eye or tilt of the head, but now he could only make a few educated guesses.

“I know the whole story about your trip to Covent Garden Theatre, and your run-in with Joseph Grimaldi there. I know you want revenge on the circus more than anything in the world, even your own life. I’ll make sure you get that revenge, that the circus is destroyed, though hopefully this time you won’t be lost in the process. And I’m... I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tim blinked rapidly a few times, shifting his gaze from Sasha to Jon. His spoon fell from his hand into his cup of ice cream, though he didn’t seem to notice it, even when a few flecks of mostly-melted ice cream fell onto his shirt. “...shit.”

“Wait, you know about that?” Sasha said, tilting her head slightly to one side.

“I do now. Due to... well, I’ll tell you the story, but I don’t think I’m quite finished with the proof bit yet.”

“Right. Well, keep at it, I suppose.”

“Of course. Sasha...” Jon reached out to grab his own hair, but ended up with more empty air than actual strands of hair in his grasp. How had his hair ever been this short? “I wish I knew more about you, the, the real you. Besides arguing about how to pronounce calliope-”

“Cal-ee-OH-pee.” Sasha corrected, a weak grin on her face.

“Ca-LIE-oh-pee-” Jon returned Sasha’s grin with one of his own, one that he wasn’t sure he could stifle even if he tried. “And your distaste for Artefact Storage, though that apparently won’t stop you from going there in an emergency... Terrible idea, by the way. Don’t go in Artefact Storage, and especially don’t go check out that web table alone.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Sasha shivered exaggeratedly at the thought.

“But I, I do know, actually, that you and Tim have talked about how you’re more qualified to be head archivist than I am, that you should’ve been the one to get the position instead of me.”

This time, Sasha was the one to start the silent conversation between her and Tim.

“And honestly? You’re absolutely right. I came across a tape Gertrude left for her successor--far too late for it to help me directly--and she made it very clear that she expected that successor to be you, Sasha.”

Sasha stopped her silent conversation with Tim to stare at Jon. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And based on what I now know, it’s entirely possible Elias chose me in part because you really would have been better at this job than I am.” Jon punctuated the statement with a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Why would Elias do that, though?” Martin asked.

“That ties in to the bigger picture stuff a fair bit, but suffice it to say that when Elias was looking for an Archivist, he had a lot more in mind for the position than actually taking care of the files in the Archives. There’s a reason Gertrude left it in such disarray, and there’s a reason he has so many inane rules about how to go about organizing what remains.”

“So he’s sabotaging the place?” Tim looked a little less shaken than he had been a moment ago, though he still hadn’t cleaned up the ice cream staining his shirt and was now fiddling absentmindedly with his spoon, half-eaten ice cream forgotten.

“Essentially, yes.”

Tim snorted. “Explains a few things, actually.”

Martin raised his hand again. “D’you have any spooky impossible knowledge about me, then?”

Jon laughed, loud and long. “Martin... the question isn’t whether I know anything about you, the question is where to start.” Jon shook his head, rapping his spoon against his cup as he considered what to say next.

“I know... I know you lied on your CV to get in here, that you don’t even have a degree, let alone the Master’s in parapsychology that you claimed to have. I know that you don’t have a middle name, middle initial notwithstanding. I know you’ve got a second tape recorder stashed away in document storage, that you use it to record poetry you wrote, because you think it gives a, a certain lo-fi charm to the recordings...”

“H-hang on a minute!” Martin’s face was red, but Jon didn’t think it was entirely out of embarrassment this time, and Tim and Sasha had their shoulders raised, as if they felt they were being attacked somehow...

“...oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? I promise this- this isn’t me calling you out, or, or attacking you, you don’t need to get defensive about all this-”

“Really?” Martin sounded skeptical; Jon couldn’t really blame him.

“For one thing, I couldn’t fire you even if I wanted to. And for another, I absolutely, positively don’t want to. Martin Blackwood, you’re stuck here with us for the long haul.”

“Great.” There was a sharp sarcasm to Martin’s tone, but Jon elected to ignore it.

“I also know that... that you notice a lot more than people think, that you do a lot more than people give you credit for. Including me. Especially me. I’ve taken you for granted... all of you, really, but especially you, Martin. And I’m sorry about that, I really am. I know better now, I swear.”

“...thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. Literally, don’t mention any of this when we’re in the Institute. I don’t want to risk Elias overhearing what I’m going to tell all of you.”

“Elias doesn’t come down to the Archives that much...”

Jon shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Still don’t talk about it.”

“Fine. Won’t mention it.”

“Good.” Jon took a deep breath and let it out before saying, “Proof?”

A few more glances were exchanged between the three assistants before all three nodded in agreement. “Proof.”

Sasha adjusted her glasses slightly before asking, “So what exactly is it you’re proving to us, then?”

“I, uh.” Well. No use beating around the bush. It was going to sound ridiculous no matter what, but hopefully he’d done enough to establish beforehand that he wasn’t just imagining things or making things up. Hopefully he’d done enough that they wouldn’t dismiss his experience the way he’d dismissed so many others.

“I have memories of the future.”

“You’re talking about time travel?” Sasha says, the bright gleam of her eyes visible even though her glasses.

“Not exactly--I didn’t physically go back in time, just, just mentally, just the memories I shouldn’t have yet.” Jon stared down at his hand, the same hand which he clearly remembered being covered in scars from worms and flames and stabbing, but was now utterly unblemished. “And they’re not... not memories of this future. I mean, I didn’t have this conversation before, it doesn’t work quite like that. I remember a future where I didn’t have these memories to work with--so it’d be some sort of changing or branching timeline, not, not a stable time loop...”

“I see.” Tim’s expression suggested otherwise, suggested that despite what his words might suggest he was caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

“I suddenly got these memories overnight not long after Martin...” Jon hesitated, unsure how to delicately phrase the next bit of what he had to say, how to refer to Prentiss’ siege on Martin’s flat without risking upsetting Martin in the process.  “...started living in the Archives. So I imagine that’s when I started acting weird, or, or nice, or weirdly nice, or however you want to put it. I don’t know why it happened then, exactly, but maybe it has something to do with me growing into my role as Archivist--late enough that I’m already getting comfortable in the position, but hopefully early enough that I can prevent the worst of it from happening all over again.”

Martin held up his hand, though less in a way reminiscent of a primary schooler and more in a way reminiscent of such a child’s crossing guard telling an oncoming car to stop. “I’m sorry, I was trapped in my flat for almost a fortnight, under siege by, by some sort of flesh worm hive thing--are you honestly saying that’s not ‘the worst of it’?”

Jon laughed and shook his head brusquely. “I wish it were, Martin, but unfortunately that’s just the tip of the iceberg here.”

Sasha tilted her head to one side, some strands of hair falling into her face as she did so. “What’s the iceberg then?”

“Well, there’s a lot of it, as the metaphor rather implies, but I’ll try to keep it short... Prentiss attacks the Institute-”

Martin’s face visibly paled at the mention of Prentiss’ name, and Jon scrambled to reassure him.

“Even in the future I remember she didn’t directly kill anyone, and I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t get a chance to do so this time around, but, well, that is what happened. And when Prentiss attacks, Sasha runs over to Artefact Storage, messes with the web table when nobody else is around, and gets killed and replaced by the monster bound to it.”

Jon started to put one finger out for each major event he lists off, as if keeping a tally, though he has no idea what the final count should be.

“Martin finds Gertrude’s body in the tunnels. I accidentally release the thing that replaced Sasha when I meant to kill it, and it almost kills me in turn. I get framed for murder, get kidnapped three separate times within a few months. Tim stops the circus from completing their ritual, but blows himself up in the process. Martin almost gets lost to the Lonely. I accidentally end the world, try to make it better, can’t make it better, send my memories back right as everything’s entirely going to shit. There’s more to it, but those are the most important events, at any rate.”

At least, they’re the most important events relating to Martin, Sasha, and Tim. No need to tell them about things like Melanie getting shot by ghosts in India, or Daisy getting stuck in the Buried. The big picture is complicated enough as it is.

“...I know you’ve made a few cock-ups in your time, boss, but ending the world is a new one even for you.”

Jon couldn’t bring himself to laugh, or even to meet Tim’s eyes, instead staring down at the sad dregs of his ice cream, long since melted. “It’s really not funny. Billions of people--just about everybody in the world--were suffering, stuck in a seemingly-endless torment, and it was all my fault.”

Martin bit his lip anxiously for a moment before speaking up. “I’m sure it wasn’t all your fault.”

Martin’s words brought a slight smile to Jon’s face, but he still shook his head in response. “It was. Trust me, Martin, it really was my doing. We had this argument enough after it actually happened... rather than discuss that further, I’d rather focus on preventing it this time around.”

“Do you have an actual plan for making sure the world doesn’t end for us, then?”

Jon looked up, looking into Sasha’s dark eyes, before breaking into laughter and grinning.

“What exactly do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

[jiminieloved]

please do share ALL your thoughts on that interview!! :D

Gladly >:) As usual, these are my opinions, not fact.

PART 1:

Q: Then, when you looking at girls, where you focus at first?

[V]: Face (Laugh)

[RAP MONSTER]: No! I focus on her atmosphere.

[JUNG KOOK]: I focus on her healthy beauty, whether she has well balanced muscles.

[RAP MONSTER]: Are you a pervert? (Laugh)

[V]: Who has six pack abs?

[JIMIN]: Then, your ideal type is like me! (Appeal his muscle)

[JUNG KOOK]: (Immediate Answer) NO.

[JIMIN] Why not? I have amazing muscles, right?

[JUNG KOOK]: I like the people who has atmosphere that she do workout daily. And also who has beautifully sun tanned skin.

[JIMIN]: oh~ Unfortunately I have pale skin.

[JUNG KOOK]: Not only that. Face, personality…..It is different all. (Laugh)

[JIMIN]: But my muscles are perfect! (Laugh)

– How about SUGA?

[SUGA]: I focus on personality and atmosphere. I don’t have ideal type. It’s not only about girl (also about everyone around him), I focus on the first impression and atmosphere, whether someone have same sense of feel as mine.

[T/N : In his opinion, He’s not only talk about girl (ideal type) but also about he focus on the first impression and atmosphere if meets with all people ]

– How about V?

[V]: The person who spends their money thrifty.

[ALL]: ……

[JIMIN]: But how can you judge at first meet? (Laugh)

– Definitely.

[V]: I give some money for her, and say “I give you these money. You can buy the stuff you want.”  Then I’ll judge her how much she spend the money.

[JUNG KOOK]: So it can not be judgement when you met her for the first time!

[ALL] (Laugh)

–So V don’t judge people by appearances. You focus on her inner side.

[V]: Yes.

[RAP MONSTER]: V’s ideal type always changes, almost every once a month.

–So recently, you like girl who spends her money carefully ,right?

[V]: YES, (Loud voice) I like stingy person.

–You don’t need say that thing with loud voice. (Laugh) So how about JIMIN?

[JIMIN]: I like cute and charming girl.

–Next to you.. V is appealing his cuteness… (Laugh)  How about like V?

[JIMIN]:　……Can i hit you?

[ALL]: (Laugh)

–How about J-HOPE?

[J-HOPE]: I like a girl who has hopeful and cheerful personality and positive mind. Someday, I wanna see the girl who make me love her from the bottom of my heart!

–It seems just like J-HOPE. Then JIN,  when you looking at girls, where you focus at first?

[JIN]: I focus on her face. I like face like a puppy.

[V & JIMIN] (imitate puppy) Bow wow!

[JIN]: It’s gross~ (Laugh)

[JIMIN]: I’ll bite you~~~~ (Laugh)

1. The fact that Jungkook said “Well balanced muscles and tan skin” as his preference for a woman. Not to say women can’t be muscular, but… that’s just an odd thing to bring up first about your ideal woman. 

2. Jimin immediately compares JK’s ideal qualities to himself… quite shamelessly, I might add. I don’t know if he thought it was normal to do, or if he thought it looked like he was teasing JK or something??? But… wow JM is really about as subtle as a brick through a window. 

3. RM immediately asks JK if he is a pervert when he brings up muscles… so RM thinks his preferences sound like they’re about men, too. I am not sure if there is some sort of ‘lost in translation’ moment with RM saying “pervert”, or if that’s just something Koreans call gay people, but as it is translated into English, it kind of gives us an idea of what their group environment might be like about the idea of homosexuality. RM had openly showed support for LGBT+ people many times through his tweets by this point, but internalized homophobia is very real, and an openly homophobic society can really effect people in ways they don’t even realize. 

[note: Please, don’t take this point the wrong way. I think that RM is an amazing leader in South Korea for speaking up about social issues, but again, societal stigmatization has a huge impact on internalized perceptions of issues. It also could be a translation error. Please don’t take this out of context, and take this point with a grain of salt.]

edit: Someone also pointed out that he could have just said “pervert” because JK was focused on the body as opposed to the face/personality. This is also a valid explanation! Doesn’t have to be something deep :)

4. Notice how when JK speaks, JM is immediately interjecting his own bodily comparisons, but when the other members speak, he only interjects for teasing commentary? He literally only makes comparisons to himself for JK’s preferences, so it’s not like you can say JM was doing that for all the members…

5. JK’s point blank denial when JM tries to compare himself. Almost as if JK is used to this behavior and was expecting it, lol. Seems kind of defensive to me, hehe

6. JIMIN LITERALLY AVOIDED ANSWERING THE QUESTION UNTIL THE INTERVIEWER DIRECTLY CALLED HIM OUT. And then, he used a very basic, textbook response. A “cute, charming girl”? I think we all want that, Jimin! 

PART 2

Q: What is your ideal love story?

[JIMIN]: [Responding to Jin’s answer] You must do make an effort that she don’t look away. I think love is equality. If you ask for something to her, in the same way, you also need to give to her.

[JIMIN]: My ideal of love story is that I love only one person in my whole life.

[JUNG KOOK]:　Since I am a lonely man, it does not matter if I stay single all my life.

–Really?

[JUNG KOOK]: This is just joke, but I can’t think yet about love now. But I also when I love someone someday, I want to spend many time with her.

1. Can I just say that Jimin’s perspective on love is so healthy and beautiful?? I just wanted to point that out because I think when he gets into a relationship (if he’s not already in one) it’s going to be a very respectful, mutual thing and I absolutely love that. He seems to have a really good head on his shoulders.

2. Jungkook shows a little bit of his lack of maturity at this point in his life, here. He clearly is not at a point where he’s actively thinking about love. I get the feeling that 2020 Jungkook would greatly disagree with 2014 Jungkook’s answers… :) 

That’s all- thank you for letting me vent my thoughts about this interview, because boy is there a lot going on!

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter Five

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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

Two weeks later-and still no closer to finding MichaelDean-Jack was searching the bunker for Sam or Cas. He was having a shit day and needed to talk to someone, but so far his search was turning up empty. In fact, it seemed like the whole bunker was empty. He had a bad feeling that they'd all taken off for hunts and left without telling him. Again.

He'd just turned down the hallway along the kitchen, heading back to his room to stew, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His head jerked toward it and he saw someone, dressed in thick black leggings and a grey racerback tank top with a solid purple flannel button down on top, opening the door to the fridge. It was that strange blonde woman again, the one he'd seen in Sam's room weeks ago. Maybe she knew where he was?

Walking into the kitchen, he began, "Hello agai-"

"Ah!" The woman leapt about a foot in the air and whirled around to him, the fridge door slamming closed. When she saw it was just him, she placed a hand on her chest and sighed, "Damn, dude."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," He apologized. "George, right?" She nodded hesitantly and he asked, "Have you seen Sam or Castiel anywhere?"

George shrugged casually and said, "No, but I think I heard someone say Sam left last night on a rougarou run to Dunning?" More like, you know he's on a rougarou run in Dunning because you've refused to leave your room for the last few weeks if he's in the bunker. She'd successfully been able to avoid Sam since waking up in his bed. That had been dangerous territory, so she'd been taking extra precautions to avoid him, and most everyone else, since. Which made it somewhat difficult to try and track down Rowena, who, George noticed, had seemingly done nothing to try and track HER down so far. She was beyond ticked with her now.

"Oh," Jack looked crestfallen and slowly nodded his head, "Alright. Thanks."

When Jack turned to leavesee she couldn't help herself and called, "Hey, wait…" He turned back toward her reluctantly and she almost lost her nerve, you shouldn't be doing this, "Uhh… what can I do to help?" He frowned at her and she squirmed awkwardly, "Sorry, I realize you don't know me at all, but… you seem upset, so I had to ask."

He considered her for a minute and then sighed frustratedly, "Sam-and everyone else-just keeps… leaving without telling me and-"

"You keep getting left behind?" She asked sympathetically. When he gave her an annoyed look, she smiled a little, "Sorry. I was left out a lot growing up, so I know how frustrating it can feel."

Jack's shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed huff, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Now that my powers are gone, they all treat me like a child. They don't think I can handle anything! I'm not useless, I can do things! I can hunt! Or, at least I can be taught how to hunt, but they're all too busy!"

George deep sighed empathetically and moved to sit across from him, "Jack, you're not useless... you are young, though. And that's not a bad thing! But it does mean that sometimes you aren't ready to do certain things, even when it feels like you are." The look on his face didn't change and she smirked, "I know that isn't what you want to hear. I'm sure you'll want to hear this even less, but I wish I'd had this advice when I was your age so here you go: take the opportunity to enjoy being young and carefree and protected, even when it feels frustrating. Because… trust me when I say that you're lucky to have it and it really won't last."

"How can I enjoy it when I'm so pissed all the time?" Jack whined defeatedly. He seemed amenable to her advice but didn't know where to start.

She chuckled and shrugged, "Well, when I was a lonely, angsty teen-no offense-I used music. And video games… and food," She finished with a jokingly regrettable tone. "I wouldn't take my advice on the food, though," with a small smile she patted her fluffy midsection and he smiled with her.

Jack was studying her for a minute before asking, "What kind of music?"

"Oh, only the most angsty teen pop music the early aughts could provide: Linkin Park, Good Charlotte, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne-not the singles, the albums."

"Dean discourages pop music."

"Shocking," George muttered with a chuckle.

"What?" He asked curiously.

She shook her head, "Nothing-er-OK, so maybe not music. Have you got any video games here?"

Jack shook his head, "No."

George smirked and asked, "Let me guess, Dean discourages those too?"

Jack nodded and said, "He says it's because they'll rot my brain, but I'm pretty sure he just doesn't know how to play them and feels intimidated."

George laughed, "Yea, I would say that was probably a guarantee. The last time in his life he'd have had the luxury to play them was probably Atari?" Jack gave her a funny look. How would she know? Noticing the look she said quickly, "I mean, I assume. He just has that super old guy vibe ya know?"

Jack accepted her explanation and asked, "What kind of video games did you play?"

"Lots of different kinds. My favorite is probably N64. Those games were the best. Resident Evil, Goldeneye, Donkey Kong, Banjo Kazooie! All were personal favorites."

"Are those games still around? Can you still play them?" Jack wondered.

"If you buy all the equipment, yea? You have to get them used, probably Ebay or Gamestop or whatever."

"Gamestop?" He asked excitedly. "I know that place! There's one in town not far from here! Would they have the video games you're talking about?"

George looked confused. Why did he sound so excited all of a sudden? "Er… maybe, but-"

"Let's go!"

"WHAT?! Absolutely not."

"Please! You said video games would be a good distraction!"

"Jack, are you kidding? If Sam and Dean found out I took you out of the bunker without your powers, they'd have to stand in line behind Castiel to strangle me!"

"Please!" He begged.

She tried to be logical, "I-I don't have any money."

"Dean gave me a credit card!"

Damn. Instead she reasoned, "How would we get there?"

"I know where they keep the keys to Baby?"

Her face fell instantly and she asked, "Do you genuinely want to see me dead, Jack? If so, there are far less painful ways to accomplish that."

"Can't you drive?"

"Yes, I can drive, but there is no way we are doing this-especially not in that car. I cannot stress enough how badly this would turn out. This is literally the start of every episode! And when the bad idea goes wrong? You end up kidnapped and I end up dead!... Or worse: Winchestered!" When he just looked at her, confused, she said simply, "Jack, I'm sorry, but it's really not a good idea for us to leave the bunker. I can't fight, like, at all. If we got into a hairy situation, I couldn't do anything to protect you!"

He ignored her and kept begging, "George, please! You said that I needed to appreciate the opportunity to be young and to enjoy my time stuck here, so! Help me! We can take someone else with us, someone who can protect us both?"

Frowning at the desperate expression on his young, naive, baby face, she started considering it. I mean, if we took someone with us who knew how to fight it couldn't be that bad of an idea right? We could be in and out! Suddenly, every episode of Supernatural flooded her brain at once and she winced, shaking her head, "I'm sorry, but no, Jack. There is no one here that I would trust to be able to protect you enough to agree to do this."

"What about me?" Both of their necks snapped toward the doorway and found Sam standing there with an amused smile on his gorgeous, bearded face.

Whoa. George's jaw dropped. If she'd known he'd been growing that, she wouldn't have been avoiding him so hard. She was definitely feeling some kinda way about that beard.

"Sam!" Jack said nervously. "We were ju-"

"Planning to sneak out the window past curfew and go buy video games?" Sam shook his head with a couple teasing tsks and George couldn't help but chuckle.

Jack frowned, looking over at her and then back to Sam, "No... there aren't any windows in the bunker? We were just going to take one of the cars from the garage and drive there."

"No. We weren't!" George stood up and pointed a finger at him adamantly, "We weren't going to do anything that involved leaving or driving Baby or risking your life in any way!"

"Well, whatever you were doing," Sam interjected calmly and firmly, taking a step into the room, "I actually don't think it's a bad idea."

Jack leapt up excitedly, "Really?!" George echoed his excited 'really' with a surprised one of her own.

"Yeah. I know these last few weeks have been hard on you and if it'll help relieve some of the frustration and boredom, then," Sam paused, mulling it over before nodding, "why not?"

"Thanks, Sam!" Jack looked at George with an excited expression and she couldn't help but smile nervously at him.

"You're welcome," Sam smiled kindly, then added, "But I need a shower first. Give me 30 minutes?"

Jack nodded happily and then scurried off to wait, Sam slapping a hand on his back gently as he exited. When Sam turned back to George, she looked nervous still.

With a gulp, she asked, "Thought you were in Dunning?" Damn if he didn't look hot with that beard.

"Another team got there first. Didn't need the help after all," He explained. "You been checking on me?" He asked curiously.

Her mouth dropped open and she sputtered out a quick and pointed, "No!" giving him an offended expression, though the blush was hard to miss. She found his face frustratingly unreadable. Worried that he might be annoyed about their scheming, she tried to relax a bit and cleared her throat, "Listen, I'm really sorry. I was just trying to cheer him up; I never expected him to get the idea to leave the bunker. And-and, I never would have-"

"It's OK, you don't have to explain," Sam assured her, "I heard you guys talking. I know it was him. He has a tendency to get an idea and run with it; it's exhausting sometimes," He chortled, rubbing a tired hand over his face and she smiled understandingly.

George had a realization and frowned, asking, "Er… exactly how long were you listening?"

"Hmm, I got here right around…" He closed one eye in mock contemplation and finished with a smirk, "Avril Lavigne?"

George rolled her eyes in embarrassment and said, "OK, hold on. Listen, I'm not saying the singles! The albums have good stuff, very different from what the record company tried to force her singles to be. You have to hear the album before you judge, Sam! And I was a teenager!"

He chuckled and held his hands up. Despite the grin on his face he managed a serious tone, "Hey, I'm no hater boi."

Pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes tightly, she muttered, "Ugh, Christ."

She heard him practically giggle and then say, "I'm sure it's complicated."

"Cool. Well, I'm just going to go ahead and leave now," George said pointedly, glaring at him playfully. He laughed, watching her head for the exit. She paused at the doorway to pat him on the shoulder roughly, "Let you get ready for your Father-Son bonding time."

"Hold up, you're coming with us, right?" Sam asked, suddenly looking concerned.

George, who was out in the hallway by now, turned back with a surprised expression and shrugged, "No?"

Sam gave her a look of impatience, "How will we know what to get?"

"Uh… I can make you a list?"

"What if we can't find something?"

"Congratulations, you just discovered what sales associates are for!" She cracked, smirking at his impish questioning. He knew darn well that they did not need her to go.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her stubbornness and finally pointed out, "I think Jack would like you to come."

Suddenly her expression was dubious and she said, "I doubt that. He barely knows me, we just met. Or-sort of," She blushed suddenly remembering the reason she'd been avoiding Sam in the first place. The memory of waking up in his bed conjured up in her mindseye in an instant. With a swallow, she insisted, "He just needed an adult to take him to the store and you're here now, so-"

Sam cut her off gently, "Listen, I heard most of that conversation. You were connecting with him, George. Making him feel better, which I can tell you from experience is not easy to do. I could be wrong here, but I think this is something he would like to share with you." There was a nervous, maybe even panicked expression on her face and she didn't respond.

Sam took a few steps into the hallway to stand in front of her and smiled charmingly, admitting, "And, I would like it if you came, too."

She furrowed her brow at him suspiciously, her heart beating faster all of a sudden, "You would?"

Sam nodded, "Yea. Do you know how long I've been checking my corners for beautiful women?" When her jaw dropped satisfyingly, he looked at his watch and said, "So, thirty minutes, right? More like twenty five now, I better hurry!" then walked briskly away with a wink.

Blinking rapidly, she stood there staring dumbfounded into the now empty hallway. Since when was Sam Mr. Smooth with the lines around here?!

After being frozen in place for too long, she looked up at the ceiling again and said, "OK, seriously, if anyone is recording this, I'll give you whatever you want for a copy of that, too!"

Then, shaking herself out of her stupor she panicked. She's supposed to be staying away from these people, not joining them on outings! What was she thinking? This was such a bad idea.

George sat in her tiny room of requirement, mulling over her options.

Option one, "Don't Fuck Up the Timeline," was to make an excuse and stay behind, avoiding people at all costs from now on. No more making friends with the sad little half-angels! And certainly no more thinking about Sam's beard.

Option two, "Sam's Beard (working title)," was taking advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity by tagging along on this risky misadventure and enjoying herself.

On one hand she knew from watching shows exactly like this that screwing with a timeline could have disastrous results. But, on the other hand, it sounded like fun. And she'd been cooped up in this bunker for weeks! Plus, Sam said he wanted her to go. How could she say no to that bea-to him?

With a frustrated growl she launched herself up off the bed and stomped out of the room. She knew what she had to do.

George nervously walked up to Sam's bedroom door. You just have to tell him: you can't go. Period. Maybe Jack will be disappointed but… he'll get over it! You can't be messing around with the storylines; God knows what ramifications it could have! God knows what you've already fucked up by interacting with them! You have to stay away!

But… Did it kinda seem like Sam liked her…? Like, like-liked her. At the very least she was getting serious DTF vibes, and it was making her positively gooey. She definitely didn't remember him being so… forward on the show. Wasn't he the shy one? Either way, it was incredibly attractive. And with that damn beard? Her loins were on fire. She always knew he'd look amazing with some facial hair.

Ugh, stop it! You're being r.i.d.i.c.u.l.o.u.s. Sam Winchester. Does not. Like you! You have to keep your distance and wait for Rowena to send you back. You're risking messing with the entire fabric of the Supernatural universe and, in turn, your own! And you call yourself a fan, you should be ashamed. What is wrong with you?

Then again, you did wake up in his bed… The thought made her heart skip a beat and her head pound with frustration. As curious as she was, she knew it was dangerous territory to explore. With a deep, calming breath, she knocked herself on the forehead sharply a couple times before reaching up and knocking on his door next.

When it opened a few moments later, she was face to chest with the gorgeous giant, who was currently dressed in dark jeans and a grey, short-sleeved, v-neck undershirt. She guessed she'd interrupted him before he'd had a chance to throw on his trademark plaid on top. It was a disconcerting look, one she wasn't used to from him; almost like seeing him naked.

Oh, please don't go there.

Slowly, she looked up and her mouth went dry. His beautiful hair was still wet from the shower and slicked back out of his face. The scruffy beard was still there, too; praise Jesus.

When she met his eye, there was a happy, curious expression on his face. He reached a muscled arm up and looked at his watch, asking "Am I late? I'm almost rea-"

"Nono, no. You aren't late." Cutting him off gently, she shook her head, "I just came to give you this," she held out a piece of paper to him, which he took with a raised brow. "And to say that, as much as I'd like to, I can't go with you. It's just... safer that way," She finished vaguely.

"Safer?"

She nodded definitively, trying to sound firm without getting specific, "Yes, safer. Too many things could go wrong."

"At Gamestop?" He smirked suspiciously.

George narrowed her eyes and thought about it for a moment. Of course, she'd meant 'on Supernatural' but she obviously couldn't tell him that so she nodded slowly, "Right… at Gamestop. Sure… I mean, they'll let any riff raff in there."

Sam looked down at the list of video game supplies, amused yet confused. When he looked back at her face he said, half smiling, "OK… well, not to sound full-of-myself, but I think I can handle any potential 'riff raff'."

"I-I know, I know!" She placed a fingertip on either side of her forehead and squeezed. Good lord. OK, just stay focused. Do. Not. Go. "I have no doubt that you're very willing and able to handle things." She eyed his large arms appreciatively and then cleared her throat, "It's just… um, you just never know what could happen-especially here," his eyebrow furrowed curiously at the emphasis, "er-I mean, at Gamestop. And if-God forbid-anything did happen and my presence somehow… negatively affected things… like your ability to protect Jack-er, uh..." The curiously amused expression he was giving her was causing her to stumble. She took another deep breath and refocused: "This is supposed to be a fun experience for Jack, right? I just think it's important that that's the focus. That list is everything you'll need for him to get set up. If they don't have the games I listed," she pointed to the list in his hands and he looked down at it again, "there are plenty of others that I'm sure the workers can recommend."

Sam started to talk and she caved, cutting him off again, "And-and if this is really something he wanted me to be part of-which I'm still dubious about-then, I'll be here when you guys get back! I can help get him set up and show him a few of the games. I don't mind that, I... guess," She finished with a small gulp. She knew it was best to stay away completely but she had a feeling it was a little too late now. "I just don't think leaving the bunker is a good idea. For me. Please." She finally met his eye and pleaded a little, "Sam, if anything happened to him or to-to you, I could never forgive myself." And neither would hundreds of thousands of fans.

Sam's expression was half curious, half amused, and all charmed. He thought for a moment, looked back down at the list, and then nodded slowly. His smile was kind as he said, "OK. If you feel that strongly about it, then stay."

"Thank you." She let out a relieved sigh, then grimaced a bit.

"You OK?" Sam asked with a concerned half-smile.

"I just… I know staying back is the right thing, but I feel bad." She admitted with a small shrug. "Do you really think Jack is going to be disappointed?"

Sam's eyes softened and he shrugged softly before turning and walking back into his room. As he picked up a green and black checkered plaid shirt that was laying on his bed and put it on, he said, "I think so, a little bit, but I can handle it. Not to worry." As he buttoned the shirt, he slipped his feet into his giant shoes.

He'd been about to say something about his personal disappointment at her staying-something he'd hoped would make her jaw drop adorably once again. But her eyes were roving his room with a pensive expression and it caused him to pause. He raised an eyebrow, watching her. Something about her had seemed vaguely familiar since he first saw her in that hallway. Yet, he still couldn't place her, which bothered him; it was unusual for him not to remember a name with a face. He had a great memory.

Is she someone we helped on a hunt? Maybe she went to Stanford? Did we… have a fling at some point? Nothing was jogging his memory, but he felt strangely, intimately drawn to her.

"George, can I ask… Ha-have we met before?" Narrowing his eyes in thought he added, "Did you go to Stanford? Maybe we shared a class?"

George looked at him like he was crazy, "Uh… er… Uh, see, I'm not-" As she stuttered out a response, he kicked himself.

She's from Apocalypse World! Moron. Obviously, it wasn't possible that they'd met before.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry. What a stupid question." Sam shook his head, chuckling in embarrassment. "You just… you look familiar, so I was just trying to figure out the connection," He trailed off, staring at her curiously again.

"Oh?" Was all she could muster, squirming uncomfortably under his gaze. She was horribly embarrassed to admit even to herself that she felt a strong pull from him, too. Something about him put her at ease while simultaneously making her want to burst into a million happy pieces and cover the world in a confetti of her joy and love. Hell, something about being here at all eased all her normal feelings of depression and unrest so wonderfully, she'd hardly put that much effort into tracking Rowena down at all, not that she'd admit that to anyone. But, obviously, the only reason she felt like this was just the amazement, the adventure, the celebrity of it all, and especially him. She knew there was no way in this universe they'd ever met; the last thing she needed was him taking an interest either way.

Swallowing any further conversation she might have been tempted to engage in, she began to step back from his doorway slowly but said quickly, "Yea, ya know, people tell me I have one of those faces. Anyway, tell Jack I'm really sorry and to have fun. I can come find you in a bit to see what ya'll come back with?" Just before turning and fleeing she said, "Oh, and make sure to get a couple extra controllers. Those are always the first to break, especially when you're just starting."

Before he could stop her, she left down the hallway and turned a corner. He almost went after her but then couldn't think of a valid reason. She wasn't coming and Jack was waiting for him. So, he grabbed his gun, collected the keys, and hoped it wouldn't be another three weeks before he saw her again.

[tinylilemrys]

Save the Last Dance - a Reddie fic

Read it on AO3

Rating: T

Word count: 3,980

Tags: fluff and angst, getting together, mentions of PTSD, internalised homophobia, first dance, prom

Summary:

Eddie invites a girl to prom and almost instantly regrets it – even more so when he realises that the reason Richie has been so mad since he asked her and the reason he’s been watching the two of them is probably because Richie has a crush on her.

He’s never been happier to be proven wrong.

Prom was such a fucking waste of time, Eddie decided, watching Chloe Parker dance her fourth dance with Steve Himble, the president of the AV club (who had cleaned up surprisingly well). It wasn’t that he was jealous – he really wasn’t. He’d only asked her to prom a few days ago because she was his lab partner and he’d overheard her complaining to her friend that no one had asked her yet. Before that, he’d been planning to go stag with what was left of the Loser’s club after Mike, Ben and Bev had moved away, a fact which Richie had been only too happy to point out.

“Well that’s just fucking great, isn’t it, Eds?” He’d said, throwing up his arms in frustration. “Stan’s already decided not to fucking go and now you’re flaking out on us too? To go with Chloe fucking Parker of all people? Do you know what happens when two out of four stags stop going stag, Eds? Everyone assumes the last two stags are each other’s little deer boyfriends. Is that what you want to happen to Bill and me?”

Eddie hadn’t had the energy for Richie’s bullshit that day.

“If you’re so worried about looking gay, Richie, I suggest you and Bill grow some balls and actually fucking ask some girls.”

And then he had stormed off, trying very hard not to think about why Richie being scared of going to prom with another guy made him so angry. They hadn’t spoken since then and all the while Eddie hoped and prayed Richie wouldn’t find a date. He didn’t think he would survive it. Thankfully, he was relieved when Richie did, in fact, only show up with Bill.

Best to ignore all those emotions too.

From his table, he watched Richie and Bill leaning against the opposite wall of the gym, talking and drinking cups of the punch that Eddie was sure, in addition to breaking about fifty health code violations, had also been spiked by now (maybe even by Richie himself – he wouldn’t put it past him). Though he hadn’t had a chance to see him up close yet, from this distance Eddie had to admit that Richie looked damn good in a suit. Not that he’d ever tell him. He’d rather down the entire bowl of punch than admit that out loud.

Eddie’s stomach jolted when he realised that Richie was looking back at him, probably wondering why he was staring. He quickly dropped his gaze to his shoes and tried in vain to stop his cheeks flooding with colour.

This was dumb. Why was he sitting here alone waiting for Chloe to come sit down when it was clear that she was having a much better time with Steve anyway? Sighing, he got up from the table and made his way over to his friends.

“Hey, Eddie,” said Bill, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry it didn’t work out with Chloe.”

Eddie was about to shrug and say it was no big deal when Richie interjected.

“Yeah what’s up with that? Did she feel how tiny your dick is while you were dancing and get scared? I thought she was looking kinda sick.”

“Actually, Trashmouth, she told me it’s because she kept seeing this gangly grotesque creature in bottle cap lenses staring at us. It put her off.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. While it certainly wasn’t true that Richie was grotesque (again, never admitting that out loud), Chloe had pointed out about midway through their first and only dance that Richie was watching them. The knowledge made Eddie so self-conscious that decided he couldn’t bring himself to dance again, hence Steve swooping in to the rescue.

To his surprise, Richie’s eyebrows shot up into the tangle of hair he seemed to only barely have styled and though it was difficult to tell in the colourful lights, Eddie thought Richie might be blushing. He suddenly felt more nauseous than he did when Chloe had offered him a glass of punch earlier. Vaguely he realised that Richie was snapping out of it and hurling some witty retort back at him, but Eddie couldn’t make it out over the blood pounding in his ears at the sudden realisation that the reason Richie had been so mad at him for asking Chloe to prom, the reason he’d been staring at them while they were dancing, was that he liked her.

Suddenly everything made sense and he couldn’t be there anymore, not with the lights and the colours and the people and the Richie of it all. Without thinking twice, he ran as fast as he could outside to the nearest patch of grass and once there, was violently sick.

Most of the time he could deal with his unfortunate crush on his best friend by pretending it didn’t exist. If it was anything, it was just his wild teenage hormones sending him confusing signals. But that didn’t explain why every time Richie got him a thoughtful gift, or their banter was particularly on point, or it was just the two of them in Richie’s car singing along to whatever god-awful song was playing non-stop on the radio at the time, Eddie knew that there was no one else in the world who could make him feel as happy. But as Richie made no secret of his issues with the whole gay thing, it was far safer to just try to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling anything but really strong platonic love for his best friend.

The blood rushing in his ears calmed down enough for Eddie to hear the sound of footsteps running towards him. Worried it might be the Bowers gang, he whipped around in time to be tackled by a pair of long arms and a faceful of curly hair a moment later.

“Eddie, what the fuck man?” says Richie, holding onto him. “Are you okay? You scared the shit out of us.”

“I’m fine, Rich, I was just… I was just a bit overwhelmed in there and panicked,” he replied. Richie didn’t seem to be letting go so he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around him in return. He could feel Richie’s heart racing against his chest and his own seemed to be trying its damndest to catch up with it.

“W-we thought it might be it again,” Bill explained, his voice small and scared, and Eddie realised what he’d accidentally done. It had been almost six years since they beat that fucking clown down in those sewers, but every single one of them still had nightmares about it. Suddenly running away with no explanation was the worst thing he could have done to them.

“God, guys, I’m so sorry,” he said, squeezing his arms tighter around Richie who was shaking. “I just needed air. I wasn’t even thinking that… just, Jesus fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You’d better fucking be,” said Richie, letting go of Eddie and straightening his suit. “I didn’t survive that whole fucking ordeal just to die from a dumbass-induced heart attack at eighteen.”

“If you’re that upset about Chloe, we don’t have to stay, you know,” said Bill, changing the subject. “I think I saw enough of prom to say that I went. How about you, Rich?”

“Yeah, we can go if you want.” Richie turned to Eddie as he replied. His voice was tight and his eyebrows pinched and though Eddie knew that Bill was just trying to steer the conversation away from talk of Pennywise, he wishes he’d chosen any other topic of conversation. He didn’t need the reminder that Richie was mad at him for taking his crush to the prom. “I’ll give you a lift home if you need one, Eds.”

“Please,” Eddie replied with a small smile which, much to his delight, Richie returned

Richie’s car, much like the rest of the man, was a mess. The floor was littered with junk food wrappers and there was a suspicious stain on the backseat that Eddie was convinced was because one of the previous owners had used it to transport a body. It was the reason Eddie always insisted on riding shotgun.

As the car choked hesitantly to a start, he stole a glance at Richie’s profile, silhouetted against the lights outside.

Well, one of the reasons anyway.

“You can just drop me at S-Stan’s,” said Bill from the backseat and Eddie stomach dropped. Bill had been doing so well with his stuttering lately. It still took him a little longer to get through a sentence sometimes, but Eddie hadn’t heard him properly stutter for months. He’d caught on two words tonight already and somehow Eddie knew it was because of him – because he’d scared Bill. “I p-promised I’d come over after.”

“Sure thing,” said Richie, turning right instead of left like he would have done if he was taking Bill home. Eddie’s stomach sank further. He lived a lot closer to Stan than he did to Bill which meant that in dropping Bill off first, the trip was going to be a lot shorter.

“You know they sell cars with turn signals that work, right?” said Eddie to mask his disappointment.

“Where’s the fun in that?” said Richie, smiling for the second time that night. “I like to think I provide my fellow road users with a sense of adventure.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing my mom won’t let me get my licence.”

“Still not?” asked Bill.

“Yeah, Eds, she should know by now that it’s way more dangerous for you to be driving with me.” Richie was frowning the way he always did when Eddie’s mom was brought up outside of the context of sex jokes.

“Yeah, like I’d be dumb enough to tell my mom I let you drive me around.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’d find a way to ban you from driving too.”

“She would never,” replied Richie in a mock-scandalised voice. “I’d stop doing that thing she likes in bed.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again and Richie laughed, gently bumping Eddie’s knee with his fist in that way that Eddie pretended to hate but treasured for ages afterwards each time.

What he loved about Richie was that things could be super weird between them one moment and in the next, he would still go back to making Eddie feel like the most important person in the world to him. It should have caused whiplash, but he was so used to it at this point that it was just further evidence that neither of them was very good at staying mad at each other.

All too soon, Bill was climbing out of the car at Stan’s place and Eddie felt his mood, which hadn’t been the greatest all evening, plummet to new depths. As they watched to make sure that Bill made it safely into the house (a habit that, post-Pennywise, they’d all adopted) he began trailing his thumb along the cut on his left hand like he always did when he was nervous.

“Hey are you okay?” asked Richie who was now watching him with concern,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Richie raised an eyebrow above the frame of his glasses. “Okay, fine, I’m lying. I don’t want to go home right now. You know my mom.”

“Biblically,” Richie smirks and Eddie thumps him in the shoulder.

“Fuck off, Rich, I’m serious. She’s going to want to know why I’m home so early and I can’t tell her the truth. I wouldn’t put it past her to track Chloe down and demand to know why she stood me up and I can’t put Chloe through that. But I also just don’t have the energy to make up a bullshit story either. I’m just… can we just drive around for a while? Just until it would be a normal time for me to come home?”

“I mean sure, but it would probably be a fuck-ton easier for you to just crash at my place tonight,”

“Oh my god, please,” Eddie replied, so relieved he could cry. “That would be an actual lifesaver. Your parents won’t mind?”

“If this is the night they start giving a shit about who I invite over and when I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

Eddie laughed. He couldn’t help it. The idea of not going home and on top of it spending the rest of the night with Richie had him lightheaded and giddy. In response, Richie gave Eddie what to him felt like a fond smile, before starting the car and racing towards his house as quickly as he could.

Upon arriving at Richie’s house, his parents gave them both a short and friendly ‘hello’, barely looking away from whatever they were watching on TV, and a moment later they were upstairs, sitting on Richie’s bed. For the first time that night, Eddie felt himself relax completely.

“I can’t believe your parents just said ‘hi’ and left it at that,” said Eddie. “If that was my mom, I’d be there for another hour.”

“It’s just because you’re here,” Richie replied. “Trust me – if I came home alone they would have pounced.”

Eddie got the sense that Richie was just saying that to make him feel better, but he didn’t mind. They were alone for the first time in weeks and he felt like he could breathe again. He was always his most real around Richie.

“So that was senior prom,” said Richie, leaning back on his elbows. Eddie followed suit.

“That was senior prom. Did it live up to the hype?”

“Not even a little.” Richie shakes his head. “I spent ten minutes getting ready for tonight, you know that? Ten fucking minutes. That’s seven more minutes than usual. Think of all the shit I could have accomplished in that time.”

“It was worth it,” Eddie replied, hoping his blush wasn’t too obvious. He was still not completely over the sight of Richie in a suit. Richie shrugged.

“I guess.”

A silence fell between them then, full of things Eddie wanted to say but had no idea how to start. He wanted to tell Richie how much this meant to him, how sorry he was that he had accidentally brought back memories of Pennywise, how much he wanted to kiss him right now, how lonely he’d been these past few days without them talking, how sad he was that he liked Chloe, how much he wanted to kiss him right now…

“Sorry, I… I mean, sorry about not going stag with you and Bill. I know you were looking forward to it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie replied. “Chloe’s great. I totally get it.”

God, he was already regretting bringing Chloe up. But this was good, he told himself. If Richie did like Chloe, he was sure it would help him get over his stupid crush on him.

“Look, Rich, I’m sorry. If I had known how you felt, I never would have asked her.”

Richie scrambled to sit upright and stared at Eddie as if he had just worked out his deepest, darkest secret. Eddie slowly sat upright too, feeling the anxiety build in the pit of his stomach. He’d started this, wanting to know for sure whether or not his assumptions were right, but now that he was about to find out, he didn’t want to.

“If you had known how I felt?” asked Richie, looking embarrassed and terrified.

“Yeah, about Chloe,” said Eddie. “I know how you feel about her. It wasn’t hard to figure out with how much you were watching her while we danced.”

Richie’s shoulders relaxed at this and Eddie wondered how long he’d had these feelings if being able to confess them was this much of a relief. Eddie watched as he sat there for a moment or two, staring through the Nirvana poster on the opposite wall before scrubbing a hand down his face, shaking his head (his curls bouncing in that way that Eddie always found adorable) and making his way over to the CD player on his desk. A few seconds later the intro to a cheesy rock ballad that Eddie vaguely recognised from how often it had played on the radio a few years back started and Richie was walking towards him with his hand open.

“Dance with me?” he asked. “Your date kind of got stolen and I feel bad that you only got that one. And, I mean, we might as well while we’re still here in our suits looking pretty.”

Part of Eddie’s brain screamed at him not to. It was a bad idea, Richie would know exactly how he felt about him and then where would they be? He’d made it clear over and over again how much of an issue he had with anything gay. But there was another, far more insistent part of his brain reminding him that Richie had been the one to ask him to dance and that if he didn’t dance with Richie Tozier now, there was no guarantee that he would ever get the chance again.

Trying very hard not to think about the state that their friendship would be in after this, he took Richie’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled into his arms. He realised a second too late that it would have been far safer and less obvious to put his hands gently on Richie’s waist than to wind his arms around his neck as he did, but the damage was done and Richie, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind.

Dancing with Richie was so different from dancing with Chloe. For one, since Chloe was shorter than Eddie, he’d been the one with the arms wrapped around her waist and she’d had her arms around his neck. They’d been dancing just as close, but it had been nothing more than swaying to the music. This was different. This was Eddie reeling from the scent of the aftershave Richie had put on for the occasion, the jolt every time their feet brushed, staring up into Richie’s brown eyes, magnified by his glasses, and trying to fight off the overwhelming sadness at how in just a few minutes this was all just going to be a memory.

They swayed together through most of the first verse before Richie spoke.

“So I suppose this is where I tell you that I don’t have feelings for Chloe,” he said. “Like, where the fuck did you even get that idea?”

“You were mad at me when I told you I was taking her to prom,” Eddie explained. “And then at the dance, you were watching her while we danced. I just, y’know, put the pieces together.”

“Yeah, congratulations, dipshit, you put them together wrong.” Richie rolled his eyes. “I was watching you. And yeah, I may have yelled, but I wasn’t mad. I was hurt and disappointed because going stag with you and Bill would have been as close as I could safely get to taking you as my date to prom.”

“Wait. You wanted to be my prom date?” Eddie stopped swaying, his head spinning with this new information. Richie had wanted to take him to prom and probably would have if society wasn’t such a bitch. “Fuck, Rich, I thought you had issues with the whole gay thing?”

“Deflection.” Richie didn’t look proud of it, pulling his gaze away from Eddie to stare at a patch of floor. “Fuck, Eds, I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve. And there’ve been so many times where I’ve wanted to tell you, but I’ve just been scared shitless to. I had no idea how you would react, if you would flip out and stop talking to me and I just couldn’t lose you. I still can’t.”

He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“You looked so upset when you thought I might have a crush on Chloe and it just… I guess it felt like for the first time you might feel the same way.” He looked up at him then and there was a jolt in Eddie’s stomach as he fully realised what was happening. Richie pulled him closer ever so slightly, and Eddie didn’t resist it. His body had turned to jello.

“Am I wrong?”

He couldn’t speak, his heart was pounding in his throat, but he somehow managed to control the muscles in his head enough to shake it.

And then before he could say anything else, Richie’s lips were on his, soft and still vaguely fruity from the punch, though he desperately tried to push that horrifying thought from his mind. Instead, Eddie focused on the little surprised hum Richie made when he parted his lips and how Richie’s arms were tightening around him, pulling them so close together that there was no space between them. With daring he didn’t know he had, he slowly slid his hands up to tangle in Richie’s curls and was met with another hum (or perhaps moan) of approval. He’d never felt anything like it. He never thought he could feel anything like it. Yesterday he would have thought this moment completely impossible, but here he was in Richie Tozier’s messy bedroom being kissed by him.

They eventually pulled apart and as Eddie rested his forehead on Richie’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fuck, was it that bad?”

“No, you dick, I’m laughing because I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve too. We’ve missed out on six years of this shit.”

“Jesus, Kaspbrak, are you fucking kidding me?” Richie pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Eddie felt it spread through his whole body. “Why are we like this?”

“I wish I knew,” Eddie replied.

They danced the rest of the song, now so close that it was impossible to do much more than shuffle their feet, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. This was easily the best moment of his entire life.

As the song started drawing to a close, Eddie laughed again.

“Jesus, what now?” asked Richie, but there was no venom to it.

“Of all the songs in the world you could have chosen to be our first dance, you chose a Bryan Adams song.”

“Alright, al-fucking-right,” Richie replied. “Next time how about you plan out the sweeping romantic gesture and I’ll be the shithead giggling at everything?”

Eddie just laughed and kissed him again.

Later that night, after calling his mom to tell her that he would be sleeping over at Richie’s and assuring her that, no, it wasn’t because he’d been drinking, or that Richie had been drinking, that he just wanted to hang out with him, the two of them climbed into Richie’s tiny single bed. Richie was yawning already and Eddie had no idea how he could be tired at a time like this, not when a whole new world of possibilities had just opened to them.

“You want to know why I chose that song?” Richie asked, taking the hand that Eddie had not-so-subtly left on the pillow between them hoping he would do that.

“Yeah, please enlighten me.”

“I mean, it doesn’t make me sound like any less of a fucking dork, but it’s from that Robin Hood movie, Prince of Thieves. You remember? It was the first movie we saw together without the rest of the Loser’s Club and, I don’t know, now the song always reminds me of you.”

Eddie leaned over to kiss Richie again, wondering how any of this could possibly be real.

“Thank you, Rich,” he said. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” said Richie through a yawn, pulling Eddie closer to him and falling asleep within what felt like seconds. It took Eddie far longer, and when he eventually gave in and closed his eyes, the Robin Hood in his dream had curly dark hair and a rather anachronistic pair of glasses.