#no way to write the word *gratified* without it coming out wrong somehow oh well

[variousqueerthings]

Hello again!

Anon here, who asked for advice how to avoid River Song episodes.

First of all, thank you so much for your extremely detailed reply and all the work you put into it.😘

Wow… these upcoming storylines are wild, and reading about it made me cringe a few times. Also reading the summary of the events makes it look like the show’s focus shifted somewhat (more towards the personal/ romantic life of the Doctor???). But I’m sure that won’t be true for the story when I finally watch it, and it just seems like it now, because I read the summarized version.

I’m not sure if I already asked this in my original message… But, as you mentioned in your reply, season 9 is the last time River Song actually appears in DW, which seems kinda odd, given that they are married and she was foretold to be the most important person to the Doctor. Did they drop the character or the storyline??? Or is it still too early for their main story, and most of their time together is still a part of the future (of future seasons) ? Plus after reading your answer, I was wondering if the Doctor had time to get to know her as a person and fall in love with her at all? Maybe I’m thinking way to logical about a TV series “love story”. It all sounds just somewhat icky. Obsession turning into love etc.😕

(In the end I probably should stop guessing and start watching, with the help of your guide.)

And another question...

As implied, I haven’t started with s5 yet. So I was wondering if it would be advisable to watch the 60th DW anniversary episodes with David and Catherine now, given I just finished the Donna & Tenth Doctor arc? Or would it be too confusing without the s5 -s13 knowledge?

Thanks again for your detailed reply!

hello hello again!

I hope the guide is useful (I can fall into the trap of over-explaining that lead to a confusion for others, but hey, it's not for lack of enthusiasm that's for sure!)

I can tell you that there's a whole bunch of storyline that isn't related to the doctor and romance. there's some neat stuff with the doctor and the master (played by michelle gomez) in s8-s10 and I like about that narrative how much it throws itself into the un-nameability and complexity of their arc, but people can and do read it as romantic, which is totally fine. but point is it's far more open + the master and the doctor obvs have that... history

outside of river song, the arc of s5-7 isn't romance-based either (well, the ponds are romancing each other, but the doctor is kind of weirded out and/or curiously fascinated like a kid looking at bugs by the Rituals of the whole thing)

I think river song's narrative is over on the tv-show, because of how that final story in s9 ties it all together. there's this odd thing about the timeline of river song in her seasons where she talks about her and the doctor as if they're meeting backwards in chronological order (so for example at one point she kisses the doctor who's like "oh ok... first time for everything," and she answer sadly when he can't hear her that there's also a last), but this is definitely not actually the case, meaning theoretically she could come back, but if they nominally want to keep this idea of them meeting backwards, it's finished. it's doctor who though, and some characters come back after over 50 years off the show sometimes, so who can say

(I uh... personally don't think the doctor was ever written properly as falling in love with river song and that it's very creepy in its whole construction and that river song never seems to have agency in her narrative, right up until she gets trapped in the library for apparently all eternity to "save" her, but then m*ffat has had the doctor seemingly "falling" for a woman who's been into him since childhood twice now (girl in the fireplace), not to mention that amy pond -- while he does not reciprocate thank goodness -- also meets the doctor as a kid first and as an adult wants to have sex with them, so... that's just a weird thing m*ffat does a few times)

but you don't really get that narrative with the watchlist I gave you, because river song barely exists outside of narratives that are actually about the doctor (no really, she's almost always doing things because of the doctor, for the doctor, so the doctor will notice her, or talking about the doctor)/in which she's a plot-point, it's one of the reasons I actually quite like her final episode -- the doctor falls into her adventure, rather than her assisting his narrative (and it turns out the doctor knows next to nothing about her life, which is frankly another embarrassing anti-endorsement to this fuckn "romance") and that format... actually works for me, it's frustrating how it gives a tidbit of a story that might have been quite fun -- still not the romance though, go away

as for the last question: I know some people who watched the Specials before watching m*ffat or chibnall eras (I actually watched the Specials before I watched most of thirteen, just because I couldn't wait, but I had spoiled myself for the major stuff of that era beforehand). there is character development and plot and lore that gives the Specials extra Spice for sure -- I think the main thing that is Very Good in terms of going the long way around is that one of the core themes of the Specials, the doctor's sheer exhaustion and loss, is really felt a whole lot more, buuuut tbh, I think there's a lot of fun in having seen the Specials first and then going back and building to it, with the second time around being "ohhh so that's why- yeah, yeah this Creechur needs a holiday or something!!!" sometimes knowing where things end actually adds to the fun, youknow

but hold on, I'll ask from a direct source: @aq2003 you watched the Specials first and then went back to catch up, do you feel solid about that decision-making in hindsight?

(in the end though, seriously, watch the specials if you're impatient -- I don't subscribe to delayed gratification. get gratified in any order you want, that's more my personal speed, it'll be fun either way)

[ninzied]

fire lines

based on a prompt for distracting work kisses.

for @myletternevercame. special thanks to @heidiamalia for the brainstorming session!

rated m.

Frank usually works through his lunch breaks.

He used to take them as far away from—well, everything—as he could, finding himself a lone edge on the roof or some corner of a vacant floor to eat his meal in relative quiet. But ever since Curt roped him into this management job, everything’s always coming to him whether he likes it or not.

And he doesn’t not like it, as it turns out.

It’s a small construction company, a kind of in-between place for hard-up vets to get work, either settling there or to steady their feet for something else that’s more suited to them. The work feels meaningful in that way. Karen had recently coerced a beat reporter from the Bulletin’s local business section into writing up a piece on them, and the glowing review brought in more and more jobs for his guys. Frank has found it surprisingly gratifying, minus all the paperwork.

So much goddamn paperwork.

He’d never pegged himself for an office space kind of guy. He prefers to be out there, in the midst of things with the others—so he spends most of his days doing just that, saving all that bureaucratic bullshit for his lunch breaks in his office trailer.

He’s heading there now, after a rougher-than-usual morning spent on some stubborn electrical wiring. He thinks of all the other kinds of work waiting for him in his trailer and groans, half-wishing he’d packed a beer with his sandwich today.

He shields his gaze from the midday sun, and then he turns, and he sees her.

She’s in her kitten heels, a pencil skirt and cream-colored blouse. It’s so unusual to see her at his place of work—their schedules hardly ever seem to align these days, and he spends a lot of them just fucking missing her. For a second he thinks he could almost have imagined her there, waving goodbye to one of his workers, and smiling.

Frank allows himself another moment to give her a once-over from afar, his gaze moving up her body and lingering. Her blonde hair is pale in the sunlight, flashing golden when a breeze sifts through the strands. And then he lets out a laugh, because there, perched on the top of her head, is a bright yellow hard hat.

The name PETE comes into focus as he quickens his step, sharpied onto the back of the hat in his own familiar scrawl. Karen turns to give him a fondly exasperated look as he comes up to her, sliding a hand over the small of her back in greeting.

“Shouldn’t you be the one wearing this?” she asks him.

“Looks better on you,” he says, kissing her cheek as she rolls her eyes good-naturedly at him. He takes her hand, tugging her up the steps to his trailer. “Everything okay? You never take lunch.”

“Neither do you,” she counters, and he has to concede her point. “And everything’s fine. I just thought we could eat together for a change.”

Her work bag is already tucked up against some filing cabinets—Christ, when did he become the guy who owned filing cabinets?—and there, spread over his desk, is lunch. A small charcuterie plate, two cups of coffee, and the sandwich that she knows he likes from Nelson’s, with the thick, crispy bread and extra sauces on the side.

“Shit, Karen.” He laughs, dragging her in for a proper kiss this time. “This looks incredible. Thank you.”

The meal he’d slapped together from grocery store cold cuts that morning pales in comparison. He tells her as much, opens the mini fridge behind his desk to show her, and finds a six-pack of beer stowed inside by his food.

“For later,” says Karen.

He squeezes her hand. “You’re a godsend, you know that?”

The pile of papers on his desk isn’t getting any smaller—in fact, he’s almost certain it’s grown since he last saw it this morning—but he figures it will have to wait. He’s starving, and she’s looking so irresistible to him, with her smile, and his hard hat knocked slightly askew on her head.

He kisses her again, pulling out an extra seat for her before walking over to the other side of his desk.

And then Karen picks up her work bag and pulls out her laptop.

“Is this okay?” she asks, seeing him blink in surprise at her. “I know you’re behind on your work—”

He scrubs a hand over his nape, feeling sheepish that she’s caught him out. “That obvious, huh.”

“I have a deadline anyway,” she tells him, with a rueful smile of her own. “But it would be nice to at least be in the same room as you.”

Fuck, if he wasn’t so damn in love with her already.

“C’mere,” he says gruffly, and leans over his desk, their mouths meeting somewhere in the middle. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about it,” she says, nudging him gently away and powering on her laptop.

They settle into an easy rhythm, a silence that’s so comfortable he almost forgets they’re in his office and not at their dining table back home. He practically inhales his sandwich before chugging down his cup of coffee, and then he starts snacking on the charcuterie plate as he flips through a stack of ledgers and bank statements.

Karen’s typing away on her computer, brow furrowed together under his hard hat. She’s slipped off her shoes, resting her feet on the edge of his chair. They’re a little chilly, so he pulls them into his lap to warm them, massaging her calf as he works. She makes a small, satisfied sound, shifting forward in her seat. Otherwise, the only indication that she’s even aware of him being there is to reach across his desk and brush a few crumbs from his beard before returning to her keyboard.

At some point, though, she stops typing.

Frank doesn’t notice right away—she’s still staring intently at her screen, and he’s just managed to untangle some confusing orders for extra plywood. But he does notice when she presses her toes to the inner part of his thigh and starts rubbing small circles into the denim.

He glances up at her.

She’s still clicking around on her screen, a piece of fruit in her other hand. She hasn’t lost that look of intense concentration she always gets when she’s researching a piece, but then her foot ventures closer, and there’s nothing unintentional about that, either.

He scratches some updates into a ledger, and almost drops his pen when Karen sneaks her foot the rest of the way between his thighs. His blood rushes south, pooling heat straight through to his dick, and this was—fuck, if this wasn’t what she’d been planning all along.

“Karen,” he cautions her lowly. His voice sounds hoarse, even to him, thick and rough with desire that he hadn’t meant to give voice to.

She finally looks up at him then. Without breaking contact, she parts her lips around a strawberry, biting slowly down.

“Something wrong?” she asks him.

He moves his hand up her calf, cupping under her knee. His chair wheels slightly forward with the motion, bringing her foot that much closer to him. She curls her toes around his hardening dick, and he swallows.

“Thought you had work to do,” he says.

She smiles. “Just multitasking.”

And then she turns back to her goddamn computer, and starts scrolling.

Frank stares blankly down at his ledger, trying to remember where he’d left off. Plywood or some shit. Yeah, that sounds right. He retrieves his pen, poising it over the page. He blinks through the haze of desire, the clenching ache of his growing arousal as Karen kneads more firmly at his crotch. But the numbers continue to swim out of order before him, refusing to take any more enlightening form.

His other hand is somehow halfway up the back of her thigh now, gripping harder than he’d realized. As if he’s drawn to her, he wheels his chair closer, sliding his palm further, and further, and—

“Oh!” says Karen, her knee knocking up against wood when he winds up bringing his chair in too close, crowding her legs beneath the desk.

“Shit. Sorry.” The moment jolts him back enough to clear his head a little, and he’s wheeling away, putting some distance between them. “You okay?”

She crosses her legs and gives him an amused kind of smile. “I’m fine, Frank.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t seem able to manage out more than one or two words at a time. He’s hard as nails, jeans tight around his erection as he gazes across the table at her. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she’s biting into her lower lip as she turns away.

She’s not unaffected by all of this. Not by a long shot.

Shit, if that doesn’t make him want her even more.

Her gaze remains carefully fixed on her laptop screen as Frank stands up. He walks over to the trailer door, turning the lock into place with a click. She still has her back to him when he turns around, but her body is poised as if waiting for him, the air between them thick with anticipation.

He bends his mouth over the curve of her throat.

There’s an audible hitch in her chest, and she sounds breathier than usual as she tells him, “Frank. Some of us have work to do.”

“Didn’t you say something about multitasking?” he murmurs, tonguing a kiss to her jawline. The hard hat takes some navigating around, but he’s loath to remove it just yet.

“Mm. I guess you have a point.” She inclines her head toward him, lips parting into his kiss. He tastes strawberry on her tongue, and the bittersweetness of their coffee. He half-pulls her up from her chair, and she rises to meet him, their bodies pressing fully together.

Karen pulls back for a second. “You’re sure no one’s going to—?”

“Nah,” says Frank in between kissing her. “They know not to bother me when I’m doing the, uh—” his throat bobs as she puts her hands on his belt buckle, Christ he is so hard for her “—the paperwork.”

“Right,” says Karen, teasingly. She undoes his belt before starting in on his jeans. “The paperwork.”

He kisses her back up against one of the filing cabinets, groping around her waist for her zipper. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s ruined one of her skirts by being overeager, so he tugs it off of her as patiently as he can manage before making quicker work of her underthings.

Frank leaves her blouse on—the fact they’re about to do this at work is not lost on him, so this seems like a fair enough compromise. He slides his palms beneath the silk fabric to glide over her ribcage, under her bra to cup her breasts as she gets his pants down past his knees.

A full-body shudder courses through him as she takes his dick in hand, stroking him up and down. He squeezes her breast, moving his other hand down to slip in between her thighs.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans into his mouth, and eases two fingers inside.

She gasps, and the hard hat knocks back against the top edge of the filing cabinet. Her hand flies automatically up to adjust it, another soft, moaning sound working its way out of her.

“Here, I got it.” Frank replaces the hat and palms the back of her head instead, feeling the cool cabinet metal against his skin. “Really liked you in that, though.”

She hums out a laugh. “I could tell,” she says, and her breathing shallows as he rubs at her clit with his other hand, a quick, teasing stroke of his thumb that has her arching back again.

“You good?” he murmurs, kissing her neck and feeling her low, throaty yes in response. He removes his hand to take hold of his dick then, sinking the tip of it just between her folds.

He has to bend at the knees a little, and she stretches onto her toes as he presses in, and out, and in again. He rocks into her inch by inch, until he’s balls-deep inside her and halfway to breathless from the sensation of it. He adjusts his hold, cupping a hand around her bare ass to help brace her leg up before thrusting up inside her again.

The position is a little awkward at first, and it takes another few moments of adjusting their bodies to find a good rhythm. But then it gets—God, more than good—striking the perfect balance of movement between them, and Frank begins pumping into her in earnest, groaning softly against her skin.

She clutches at him with a sigh, pulling his mouth up to hers for a brief, tongue-filled kiss. The air goes thin between them as their lips part, and all they can do is gasp into each other as the pleasure between them mounts and mounts to something exquisite. Something that’s indescribably good.

Her leg starts to give just a little, and she grips at whatever she can for purchase, Frank’s body pinning her there to the filing cabinet with the weight of each thrust into her. The contents of the cabinet give a slight rattle behind them, in parallel with the other, softer sounds of their lovemaking.

Frank buries his face into the slope of her shoulder, feeling that telltale ache of heat spreading up through every nerve of his body. He pounds into her harder, listening for the snags in her own breathing, adjusting his angle until she’s clenching around him, tight, and hot, and close, so close—

“Frank—mm—oh, Frank—”

He braces his hand over her nape as she comes, her body stiffening and rocking back against the cabinet. Frank sucks a shaky kiss to her pulse point, thrumming with the need for his own release. He pushes into her once, twice, three times more before everything is splintering apart, and he’s coming with a goan, spilling into her.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there holding each other, hips still pulsing together as they chase those last few tingling moments of orgasm. Everything seems to stand still with them, including time itself. Frank leans half his weight into the filing cabinet, his arm still cradled around Karen’s head as their breathing finally slows together.

She eventually eases back onto both feet, and he bumps his forehead into hers, mouthing kisses over her skin while she retrieves a tissue from his desk and wipes them both clean. They help each other back into their clothes, Frank grazing a hand up the length of her thigh as he goes, reluctant to fully release her.

After they’re dressed, he reaches for her again, pulling her into his arms. “Hey,” he says.

Karen’s biting back a smile. “Hi,” she says back, touching his face, threading her fingers through his hair.

He lowers his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and slow the way that he does when they’re at home in bed together, when it feels like they have all the time in the world.

They could, he thinks. They do.

She sighs regretfully after a moment, putting a hand over his chest. “I should probably let you get back to doing real work.”

“Thinking about taking a half-day, actually,” says Frank, trailing his knuckles up her arm.

Karen tilts her head at him, unable to contain a full smile now. “Are you,” she says.

“Yeah, why not? Grab a beer, a patch of grass by the water…” He cups the side of her face in his hand. “You can bring your laptop, and uh.” He gives her a crooked smile of his own. “It can be my turn to distract you from your work.”

She looks at him with mock seriousness. “You say that like it would be so easy.”

“All right,” says Frank, stepping away, “well, I got a shit ton of paperwork waiting on me, so I better—”

Karen takes his hand firmly in hers, drawing him back for another kiss.

The paperwork can keep on waiting.

[noctisfishing]

That’s All He Wrote

Rating: T

Pairing: Sorato

Summary:  An admirer makes himself known to Sora when she finds a note in her locker one day. As she takes her two best friends along to help solve this mystery, she hopes for one of them to notice that she has already solved it.

Prompts: 

- music to my ears -  something that is pleasant or gratifying to hear or discover. In today’s prompt, incorporate the phrase. (200 words) [ Write Your Melody Prompts by me! ]

&

- “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.” - You've Got Mail [ Famous Movie & TV Romantic Quotes Prompts by @renchan7 ]

Notes: Those quotes made me crave something fluffy and sappy, AND I wanted to combine a prompt from my own list. Both of these prompts were chosen randomly, and I got a combo to send my heart a-flutter.

Also this one-shot ended up being more than 10x my suggested wordcount (basically, not 200 words but upwards of 2.8K lol) so hope you enjoy. :D

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sora opened her locker at the end of school one day, she noticed from the corner of her eye that something fell out of it.

"Oh - Sora, you dropped something," said Taichi, who bent down to pick it up just as she turned to do it herself.

She observed it with him as he held it between his fingers. A small piece of lined paper, folded a few times.

"Huh," she said. Seeing the quizzical stare in his eyes told her that Taichi was just as curious as she was. She took the piece of paper from his hand and unfolded it.

As she read the words on the note, she felt as though her heart stopped.

"Ah, well, look what we have here!" Taichi began. "You've got a secret admi-"

"Shh!" she hissed at him. "Don't talk so loud!" She looked around the locker room, paranoid that other students caught Taichi's words, but saw that no one else was paying attention. That didn't stop the heat flushing on her cheeks. "Do you know who did this?!" was her next adamant question.

Taichi leaned back a little, as though he was intimidated. "N-no, I don't! I'm just as clueless as you are!"

And Sora believed him.

But not completely. She shut her locker and walked away, processing what she had just witnessed. Taichi followed right behind her.

"Wait up, Sora!"

Sora walked hurriedly through the hallway, hearing a few students greet her but she was too focused on her own thoughts to answer. It wasn't until she heard her name once more when she realized that she was fast approaching someone and she was just about to collide.

"Whoa!" he said with his palms up.

Sora gasped as she halted, merely inches away from crashing into Yamato.

"Hey, Yamato!" she said with her voice unnaturally higher. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Deep thinking and power walking are not a good mix," Yamato replied, looking as though he hid his laughter behind his smile.

"Sora! Geez." Taichi appeared in a huff. "That note really got you, didn't it?"

"A note?" Yamato asked.

If her cheeks were pink, Sora wondered if the burn made them redder. She was suddenly hesitant to scold Taichi for mentioning it so freely.

"I found a note in my locker just now."

"Oh…" Yamato kept his eyes on Sora. "Should we be concerned?"

"What do you mean?" Taichi asked.

"Was it a good note, or a bad one?"

"I think that depends on how Sora feels about it."

Sora's voice seemed to be caught in her throat just as the two boys turned to face her.

"It's… none of your business." Sora turned away from them.

Taichi let out a sigh. "We're not going to get an answer from her."

"Maybe it's something she wants to figure out on her own," said Yamato. "If we need to be concerned, she'll probably tell us somehow."

The three of them walked to the front gate together, where they all would go their separate ways. Taichi was the first to walk ahead.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yamato asked.

"I think I will be," Sora replied. She smiled at him as she noticed his concern, then she remembered his question from earlier about the note. "You don't have to worry about it, Yamato. If anything, I thought it was a good note."

When they said their goodbyes and headed in different directions, Sora turned around to look back at Yamato. The way he stared at her and smiled at her comment made her wonder how much of a concern it all truly was to him.

With the note still in her hand, Sora set off towards her way home, smiling to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the next day, Sora had invited Taichi to help her find the mystery admirer after school. With eagerness, he said yes without another thought.

"Does this mean you've counted me out as your secret admirer?" he asked.

"I think you'd rather show up to my locker with flowers," she replied. "Besides, I could actually read the handwriting compared to your squiggles."

"Huh. Fair points. Want me to ask around? I could get the soccer club to investigate."

Sora shot Taichi a look. "I really don't want this to be broadcasted to the whole school, Taichi. I'm thinking we should ask our friends first."

Sora had also invited Yamato later in the school day, despite the fact that it was a day in the week that he usually spent time with his band. Somehow, she knew he would still come along with her and Taichi.

"I'm sure Yamato would've written out song lyrics if it was him," Taichi wondered aloud as the three of them walked out of school together.

"I'm sure that I wouldn't," Yamato retorted.

Sora agreed. "I'm sure you would make Yamato write out song lyrics for your note if you did it, Taichi," she added.

"You're probably right." Yamato laughed as Taichi frowned.

Sora had considered herself lucky that both Taichi and Yamato followed her pursuit without any objections. Their first stop was a visit to Takeru, whose eyes lit up the moment he saw Yamato.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked Mimi first," said Takeru after Sora filled him in.

"Well," Sora said, holding her hands together. "I texted her, and she said she'd ask around. She hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Hmm, well, I could totally make a wild guess! ...But it might be completely wrong." Takeru added, and Sora took notice of the shift in tone between his two sentences before he smiled cheerfully. "I'll make some tea and bring out the snacks!"

Takeru headed for the kitchen and Yamato followed behind him.

"It's been a while since we've seen Takeru, huh?" Taichi asked Sora.

"Yeah, it has," she replied.

Sora looked toward the kitchen where she caught Yamato's grimace towards Takeru, who must have been teasing him from the look of his cheeky smile. When they both returned to Taichi and Sora at the table, they brought some cookies and a tray with cups and a pot of white orange blossom tea, which Sora knew to be Yamato's favorite.

After making a quick stop to the convenience store, their next visit was to Jou's apartment, and Jou quirked his brow in confusion at the three of them when he answered his door.

"Brought you some pick-me-ups for studying!" Sora said with a smile and raising the bag of goodies in front of her.

"Oh…" said Jou with a tinge of exasperation. "Well, come in. You can drop the snacks on the table."

"Got an exam coming up, Jou?" Yamato asked.

"There's always an exam coming up. I don't know how long I've been studying..."

Sora watched Jou sigh and run his hand through his hair that had been longer than when she saw him last. His eyes had dark circles underneath. In normal cases, he would be fretting about tomorrow's deadline and scolding one of them as a result of his anxiety.

She turned to the other two and exchanged looks of worry.

"Hey, Jou, why don't I make you some tea?" Sora asked.

"I'm good. I've had so much already but I can't seem to stay awake."

"Then, why don't we walk this way." Sora took Jou by his shoulders and led him to his room. "When's your next exam?"

"It's in a few days, but I need all the study time I can get."

They reached his room, and Sora saw his desk cluttered with loose papers and an open textbook.

"You've studied enough for now." Sora sat him on his bed.

"I need… to study…"

At the touch of her shoulder, Sora turned and saw Yamato holding the textbook in front of her. Sharing a look with him, she understood and took the book to give to Jou, just as she got him to lay down in his bed.

"You can study while laying down, right?" Sora asked. "It's more relaxing that way."

Jou didn't protest. He lay against his pillow with the open book next to him, and it only took a few moments before he drifted off to sleep.

Their final visit was to Koushiro, whom they also brought snacks and his favorite bottled tea. His greeting was chipper but he had a distant look in his eyes, and when he let the three of them into his apartment, he led them to his room, where he returned to his computer chair, grabbed his mouse and began to click.

"What are you working on, Kou?" Yamato asked, hovering over Koushiro's shoulder.

Sora and Taichi hovered at his other side, but Sora couldn't make sense of what Koushiro was telling Yamato, who seemed to catch on to every word. She still watched and listened out of politeness, but caught wind of Koushiro's stomach growling which caused him to stop talking.

"Well, we brought snacks!" Sora said with a grin.

"Ooh, I needed a break, anyway," Koushiro replied. He thanked Sora for the food and tea, and he swiveled his chair away from the computer to continue chatting with the three of them. The longer their conversations went on, the more Sora noticed Koushiro's eyes gradually appearing less distant.

The sky was darkening as they left Koushiro's apartment and headed home.

"Well, we didn't find out who your secret admirer was after all that," Taichi quipped. "Has Mimi gotten back to you, Sora?"

"Not yet."

"We didn't even get to ask Jou or Koushiro about it."

Sora didn't respond, and turned to glance at Yamato, who was looking ahead. She knew that Taichi was following along and wouldn't press any further for questions, but she wondered what Yamato had been thinking. When she looked ahead, she could tell that Yamato was looking back.

After they said goodnight to Taichi at his building, Yamato turned to her.

"I can walk you home, if you want," he said.

"Aren't you already late for your band's rehearsal?" she asked.

"They can start practice without me."

Sora broke her gaze from his eyes to keep him from seeing her blush. She started walking a few steps ahead of him, and she went over the whole day in her head, including the plan she devised and knowing exactly how it would go. How surprising it was for everything to fall into place, even until that moment.

And at that moment, she couldn't help but feel nervous.

"It's a shame we didn't solve the mystery, isn't it?" Sora asked Yamato behind her.

"You don't seem too sad about it," he said.

"You'd think I would be. We spent a whole afternoon with three guys who didn't give us any clues."

"That's because they're the last three you would expect to have the answers to something like this."

Sora stopped walking, and her lips curled into a smile. Maybe he caught on to her plan, after all.

"I'm guessing you want to know why?" she asked.

"That would be my first question," he replied.

She continued to walk, knowing that he would continue following behind her. "Taichi's been complaining to us about how Koushiro never wants to hang out, and you've always mentioned whatever it was he likes to work on. I'm sure we'd all agree he needed a reminder of what other humans looked like."

Yamato chuckled. "Yeah. And what about Jou?"

"The other day, when Teacher mentioned exams, you told me you wondered how Jou was doing, and we all know how intense he can get when he studies."

Sora slowed to a stop and turned to face Yamato this time.

"And you always talk about how you never get to see Takeru, since you've been so busy with school work and your band."

A flash in his eyes told Sora that the dots were connecting.

"Are you saying that you planned all of this out for me?"

"I've been wanting to check in on them anyway, but I knew you've been wanting to see them, too. Especially Takeru."

Yamato stared at her with surprise. Then, he let out a soft laugh, walking a few steps closer to her. "I shouldn't be surprised. This was supposed to be for you. But you made it all about our friends. And, about me…"

Sora noticed Yamato look to the side as his face turned a tinge of pink, which forced a giggle out of her.

"...I shouldn't be surprised that Taichi didn't pick up on anything, either," Yamato added with a mutter. ""But, that brings me to my second question. Did any of this relate to solving your mystery at all?"

"I think we both know the answer to that, Yamato. I've already solved it."

Yamato's eyes returned to Sora's gaze, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.

"Tell me what you know," he said.

"Okay." Sora took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never. "Do you remember when Taichi seemed to think that song lyrics would give it away? Well… I think I know better."

Sora reached into her pocket and took out the folded note, held between her thumb and forefinger.

"This note was only three words," she continued, walking closer to Yamato. "There's a lot that goes into a note like this. It's hard to convey how someone feels when there are a lot of emotions. A few lines of a song might capture those emotions and reach another's heart, but why write a verse when three short words express more than enough?"

She lowered her hand, fixing her eyes on his as he watched and listened to her intently. She didn't expect him to respond; still, her heartbeat was quickening.

"I lied about waiting to hear from Mimi, by the way. You really can't get past her. And, I'm pretty sure Takeru would have been right on the money if someone didn't give him a look of death…"

Yamato's furtive glance to the side made Sora hopeful, and she kept going. "Mimi said his name, and Takeru was about to say it - the one person I've been meaning to ask, but I already know it's him. At least… 50% sure."

That was when Yamato scrunched his brows. "Why are you only half sure?"

"There's half of me that feels like I've known him for a long time. I know that when he wants something, he'll go for it. But he's going to have his doubts so he won't face it straight on. He won't be too melodramatic by hinting at it in a song, so he'll settle for sneaking a message into her locker."

"And what about the other half?"

Sora lowered her head, her eyes toward the ground.

"I have my own doubts. It almost seems too good to be true. How his note to me tells me exactly how I feel for him. I'd feel like a fool if I asked him about the words on the note and found out that it wasn't him, after all."

"So... why don't you ask me, Sora?"

A touch of his finger lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His blue eyes that glistened as he searched hers while he waited for her to ask him.

"What did you write to me, Yamato?" she asked in a whisper, her heart pounding in her chest.

And there, after a moment's pause, his gaze transfixed, he uttered the words that she had been wanting to hear:

"I love you."

Watching his lips move, hearing him say those words was music to her ears. She stared back at him with wonder.

"So it was you, after all." Sora suddenly stopped caring about the heat on her cheeks as her words cemented her realization. The light sting of tears crept onto her lids as she felt his hands hold her cheeks gently. "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly."

She laughed, overjoyed and relieved that it was him. When he laughed along with her, she could tell felt the exact same way, knowing that his secret was out.

"Does this take away the 50%?" Yamato asked, looking back in adoration and brushing his thumb on her cheek.

"It does," she said as she placed her hand on his.

"I know you mentioned it… but I wanna hear you say it, too, Sora."

The note was gone from Sora's hands. She must have let it slip for the light evening breeze to carry it away. Just three words - that's all he wrote, but those words were all she wanted to hear, and at that moment, they were all she wanted to say.

"I love you, too," she said, her hand reaching Yamato's cheek. Then, in that moment, she caught the glint of tears on his eyes and the warm smile on his lips before he leaned forward, pulling her closer until their lips finally met for a kiss.

[another-writer]

Stars in the Sky

Bucky x reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: tooth-rotting, cavity-inducing fluff. Kinda slow-burn. Kinda not.

Summary: You’re alerted to the fact that everyone seems to know how you feel about Bucky, except Bucky himself - you’re suddenly compelled to do something about it thanks to some quick intervention. Did I write another verison of something I already wrote because I like this better? Yes. Yes I did.

It’s a one shot on its own,  but it’s sort of a part two to this guy here

You often noticed a lot about Bucky’s habits. He drank green tea to help him sleep; he flinched at the sound of white noise from the radio. And sometimes - most of the time - he would glance up at the sky, raking in the moon, usually as he entered the compound after a mission. Once you prodded his rib, walking alongside him, and pointed up where the International Space Station could be seen - you remembered to look the date up for him - snickering endearingly at his interest. Since then, looking up at the ISS sort of became a thing between you both. Another time, when you tried to impress him again, he ended up correcting you -

‘That’s Mars, kiddo. Mercury usually comes around later in the year.’

Bucky would get the most smug look across his features, the only energy he would show as you both dragged your feet along with the rest of the team into the compound for a much-needed bout of recovery. It was well-natured competition, trying to spot the planets or map out constellations, debate who was right, or which constellation was better, or working to find the ISS first knowing when it would be in orbit. You knew little, but you would stay up to read random facts, just to fuel Bucky’s ramblings. Bucky could be grounded, earthed in reality, but his eyes absorbed the stars and held them close. It was poetic to see.

‘Hey, [Y/N]?’

‘Sam,’ you replied distractedly, looking up at him from where you sat on the living room floor, Tony’s blueprints spread out in front of you.

Sam had poked his head around the door frame. ‘So, Natasha and I know you’re into Barnes and I bet her ten bucks I could get you guys to admit it. For the sake of my pride, could you just ask him out and then give me credit if Nat asks?’

You blinked and your mind went blank.

‘Wait, what?’

'I said I could do it in two weeks -’

Blood rushed to your cheeks. ‘Okay, thanks Sam,’ you said through gritted teeth.

‘- and I really wanna win this -’

‘I know,’ you seethed.

‘Oh, and we know Bucky likes you too -’

‘I know!’

Wait - what?

Your mind scrambled immediately, only just clocking what Sam had said.

‘Hey,’ Sam cheered lightly, smacking the doorframe in victory, deciding to ignore your panic-stricken state, ‘yes you do, that’s the spirit! Also, if you don’t do anything about it, I’ll resort to telling him because we can’t take the pining.’

You gathered yourself, unable to even respond to his last statement.

‘Go - away.’

But Sam was already out of sight before you could speak. You heard his footsteps began to distance, and your shoulders slumped, realising just how tense you had become in the past thirty seconds.

Was Sam right?

You and Bucky had a relatively fast friendship; you both were able somehow to encourage each other in the most childish activities which developed into a mutual trust. You told yourself you appreciated your other friends in the same way, but you couldn’t help it - you had an undeniable soft spot for Bucky. It just was never considered romantic to you because ... well, it wasn’t as if it could go anywhere. It wasn’t as if Bucky felt the same way.

You ran your hands through your hair, clutching it at the nape of your neck. There was a chance Sam was wrong. Perhaps you were unknowingly obvious in your feelings for Bucky - which was embarrassing enough - but ... Of all the bad dates or failed relationships you’d had, it wasn’t as if Bucky decided to step up to the plate.

But what if Sam was right?

The idea of pretending that Sam had never said anything to you was more attractive than acting on his words. But the worry that he would go to Bucky weighed heavily on you over the next couple of days. Needing his own space, Bucky tended to be in and out of the compound, sometimes spending nights in his own apartment not too far away. You were banking on the probability that if Sam and Bucky weren’t in proximity, you wouldn’t have to worry too much.

But you felt slightly paranoid, and you busied yourself with work that wasn’t even important to find an excuse to spend time alone. You hated how irrational you felt towards the situation. If Sam was going to out you anyway, you figured you may as well take things into your own hands.

Sam had said two weeks. You could work with two weeks.

By the time the following Thursday had rolled around, you had come up with a semi-constructed plan. Or, more of a back-up plan. If things felt like they were going south, you could easily distract him with the meteor shower that was on that night.

You managed to set everything up within an hour, early in the morning, taking a little longer to bring everything there in the first place. For the sake of your sanity, and making sure no one could walk in on your masterpiece, you asked FRIDAY to keep the top floor on lockdown (after alerting Stark, the man would freak if he’d found out somebody had done so without any warning); you were shuffling back into bed by sunrise, mind flooded with every possible scenario of what could come.

You wondered if Bucky would have said something by now if he did like you. He hadn’t, but perhaps it was for the same reason you hadn’t either - you hadn’t really allowed yourself to feel that way. Sam had pretty much opened the floodgates. 

You took a deep breath and leaned back against your door, sliding to the floor so your knees were drawn to your chest and held your phone in your hand, pausing for a moment before messaging Bucky to come to the compound that night.

Around six in the evening, you had FRIDAY re-open access to the top floor and had been waiting since - purely out of nerves - for Bucky to arrive.

‘You been waiting long?’ he asked, stepping out of the elevator nearly an hour later at your agreed-upon time.

You leaned into him instrictively as he put an arm around your shoulders, walking with you to the balcony.

‘No, you’re just in time,’ you breathed, sliding the door open, walking out first and gesturing for Bucky to follow you.

‘And remind me what we’re doing up here again?’

‘We haven’t hung out in a while,’ you reasoned, ‘it’s been weird.’

‘It has been ... but if I think about it, we usually hang out closer to the ground.’

‘Just trust me on this, Barnes,’ you promised.

Or don’t, you thought. It could go horrifically wrong.

It was cold outside, but not windy or wet or humid. The air nipped at your neck and fingers and sliced through your clothes. You realised you had honed in on the strand of Bucky’s hair that had fallen by his eye, flicking slightly in the breeze and looked away at the skyline. The sky was clear, dotted with stars. You walked and maneuvered so that Bucky’s back was immediately facing what you had set up; he was looking at you curiously but didn’t seem suspicious.

‘What’s going on?’ Bucky whispered.

You put your hands on Bucky’s shoulders and pushed gently, prompting him to turn around.

The balcony overlooked multicoloured lights dotted around the otherwise pitch black city, lighting the fallen snow like stained glass, the foreground standing conspicuously against the ink sky.

There were electric lanterns placed on the coffee table and armrest of the couch emitting warm white light that spread over the couch cushions and a mountain of blankets. A reed diffuser producing the scent of a bonfire and another that smelled like roasting marshmallows sat on a smaller side table next to a record player that was currently silent. You stared at it in contempt, thinking it was stupid to have it there. God, this whole thing was stupid. But you honed in on the telescope you had worked on for three days to modify. For some reason, it grounded you; it was like a distraction.

You watched Bucky take in the surroundings; his Adam’s apple was bobbing and his lips curled into a smile as he shook his head and rubbed his forehead.

‘What is all this?’ he asked, but he sounded … contented. Gratified.

Your hands were in fists, pushed into the pockets of your hoodie. Frankly, most of you was ready to run away.

‘I know you’re to be obsessed with this stuff,’ you said. ‘There’s a meteor shower tonight ... Thought it’d be nice.’

He nodded, thoughts spiraling and eyes glazing over. ‘This - this is amazing, I - ... thank you.’

You bit your lip, smiling fondly at his reaction, perching on the arm rest of the couch with your feet on the seat. ‘What was that thing again, your mother getting you a telescope?’

‘You know that story.’

‘Yeah, but I like it,’ you reasoned, resting your chin on your hand.

Bucky looked down, and you noticed a pink tinge to his cheeks you weren’t sure was a consequence of the cold or your words.

‘When my ma piled together a few pay cheques once and bought me a telescope?’ He paraphrased your words, sitting next to you. ‘It must’ve been like this big –‘ he added, placing his hands about a foot away from each other grinning at the memory. ‘I could barely see anything from it but I -’ He paused, seeming self-concsious like he usually did - ‘I’d, like, imagine there was this city on the moon and I’d think about how I’d get there one day.’

You felt your heart flutter his story, almost overwhelmed with how endearing it was, and decided to distract yourself. You took one of the blankets and draped it over Bucky’s shoulders, not missing the knee-buckling yet contented look he was giving you. You picked up the silver thermos from the coffee table and the dark blue mug and poured out a helping of green tea.

‘Think you’d still wanna go?’ you asked, handing him the mug that he cupped with his right hand for warmth.

‘Maybe one day,’ he shrugged, sipping his tea before setting the mug on the table. ‘I kinda like it down here too much at the moment.’

The momentary silence that settled was relishing, and you shared a look with him that felt new, weighted with something - a sort of warmth - you hadn’t seen before. Or, perhaps you just hadn’t noticed it.

‘So, Barnes,’ you cleared your throat, and leading him to the telescope, ‘you are promised a clear night; Venus is in orbit and there’s a meteor shower predicted for nine o’clock right until five a.m tomorrow.’

You knew he hadn’t dropped his curiosity. To his credit, you wouldn’t have either. But nonetheless, he was transfixed as

‘What is this for?’ His tone, though somewhat calm, was becoming slightly taunting. You didn’t hear malice, but you were slowly becoming more and more self-embarrassed.

You couldn’t tell him. The words were caught in your mouth. Even if you were brave enough to let him know how you felt, you had no idea how to express it.

‘For the meteor shower,’ you shrugged, ‘why else?’

‘[Y/N] ...’

‘James.’

‘How come no one else is here?’

‘Well, not everyone’s a space nerd like you.’

You falted under his gaze, and then it clocked. Bucky was giving you that look. When he figured something out before you did, outsmarted you, when you conceded in the last debate over Perseus being a better constellation than Orion.

And you wanted to throw up. You folded your arms over your chest, feeling your entire stature become stiff.

‘Oh my God, you know.’

Bucky shrugged casually. ‘Yeah, but, I wanna hear you say it.’

You clenched your jaw, trying to stifle the embarrassment bubbling in your gut. You can settle this. You’re rational. Don’t say anything. Deflect it back to the telescope. Something. Anything.

‘Were you always this annoying, or is that new?’

Oops.

You hoped you sounded as nonchalant as you meant it.

Bucky scoffed, the laugh lines around his eyes creasing. ‘Oh Doll, ‘m sorry, c’mere,’ he snickered as he closed the distance between you, englufing you in a warm embrace.

His arms locked comfortably around your waist and you blushed furiously when you felt him kiss your forehead and rub his hand on your back soothingly. Stiffly, and slowly, you wound your arms around him, heart jolting when he took it as invitation to hold you tighter, swaying ever so slightly.

You were thrown and confused, more so than sad. You were preparing for dismissal anyway. But you still felt a hollowness. Still, it was the most physically comfortable you’d ever felt. Bucky Barnes in a blanket was a gift to the world and you didn’t want to let go.

‘In defense,’ he said, ‘I didn’t really know until today.'

'’M not actually upset Barnes, you know that,’ you said casually, though your voice was tight.

‘I know,’ he said quietly. There was an underlying uncertainty in his voice. ‘You - ... You’re braver than I am, you know that?’

You cringed at yourself. ‘Jesus, ‘m so sorry -’

‘[Y/N], no, shut up.’ He leaned back, to look at you, the distance only fractional between you both. ‘You’re doing what I couldn’t.’

Doing what he couldn’t?

‘I didn’t think I should tell you,’ he continued, not quite able to meet your gaze as his voice began to trail. ‘Things were so comfortable, I thought you’d want them to stay the same.’

Bucky was looking at you like … like you had put the stars in the sky. Like you had single-handedly painted the snow and built the city skyline. It was head-spinning and unfamiliar and it made your heart beat wildly when he leaned his forehead against yours. He paused for just a moment like silent question, before softly pressing his lips to yours, your eyes closing as you eased into the kiss, arms going around his shoulders, as if you had done a million times before, holding him until you both needed air. As he pulled away, Bucky pressed severeal kisses - once, twice, across your cheeks, making you grin helplessly before steadying him straight, catching him with glinting eyes packed with a thousand constellations.

Before long and as if fuelled by some new energy, you ushered him to look into the the eyepiece, wanting him not to miss anything. The rest of the night was taken up by Bucky searching the sky, playing around with the telescope to get a better view, and pulling you in front of him, showing you the stars and falling cosmic debris. It was breathtaking, undeniably, but you felt it was only fair to admit that the starry-eyed glaze across Bucky’s features was more distracting at that moment.

And sure, you owed Sam big time. But for now, you felt privileged in the way Bucky shared the stars with you.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 6 Part 1

Phew! After a short break, we are back. I have had a successful day’s NaNo-ing, and this entire chapter is queued up and ready to go, so let’s do it.

This is largely based on the unfilmed episode 3 bookshop scene, set in 1800, that is available in the script book. A lot of the dialogue is taken from there, although there are some twists!

Also, I did some minor edits to the last two parts, because I set up a subplot and then ground to a halt trying to write it, so I’ve taken it out for now.

Warning for a couple paragraphs of homophobia via analogy.

Link to the next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 6

AD 1800

A.Z. Fell & Co. stood before him on the street corner like an unwrapped chocolate box.

The door handles were polished bronze. A placard in the front declared that the grand opening was the coming Friday. He already had some marvellous ideas about opening hours.

He pushed open his front doors and strolled inside his new shop.

It was perfect. Just a few little jobs here and there. He summoned a stepladder and picked up the nearest armful of books. This, he would do without miracles. His shelving system would be both gratifying to himself and utterly incomprehensible to customers.

While he worked, the shop bell dinged.

“I’m afraid the shop will not be open until Friday, good people,” he called down. “But we will be having a grand opening immediately after lunch.”

The voice of the Archangel Gabriel said:

“We aren’t here to buy books, Azir -”

He broke off.

Zadkiel froze.

The hardback in his hands almost toppled to the floor. He shoved it into place and jammed his right hand in his pocket, hiding the gem on his finger from view. Luckily, his sideburns concealed the serpent-shaped gem under his ear.

He aimed a smile at his visitors. Gabriel was not alone. He and Sandalphon blinked up at him. Gabriel was impeccable in dove grey, Sandalphon frumpy in beige.

“Gentlemen,” he trilled. “A pleasure to already receive some interest. Mr. Fell will be delighted.”

“Uh. Good.” Gabriel eyed him like he was a woodland creature that had turned up somewhere unexpected. “Who are you?”

“Ezra Crawleigh. I’m Mr. Fell’s assistant. How do you do?” Zadkiel held out his right hand without thinking. He yelped, grabbed the nearest shelf, and toppled off the stepladder, which broke his fall in the loosest possible sense.

“Are humans normally that size?” Sandalphon asked Gabriel in a carrying whisper.

Zadkiel leapt to his feet, dusting off splinters. Sandalphon gaped. It was possible he’d just forgotten to close his mouth.

Gabriel coughed. “Sir, we are here to speak with... Mr. Fell, was it? Is he about?”

“He’s in the back. Please, make yourselves at home. Not that at home,” Zadkiel said sharply as Sandalphon picked up a book and sniffed it.

Both angels stared at him.

“Sorry! Everything’s new, that’s all. It’s like Christmas morning, you know, before the kids start screaming and the wrapping gets everywhere. It’s great that you’re here.” His smile probably looked a bit nauseous at this point. “Just a moment...”

He edged towards the back.

“Oh, Mister Fell! You have esteemed guests!”

He tried to stroll to the back room. Definitely no running. Nope, none of that.

“That human’s a bit… off,” said Sandalphon.

Gabriel agreed. The man had a very strange walk. It was sort of… swingy.

Also, his angelic senses all agreed that the man didn’t really feel human. There was nothing celestial or infernal coming off him, which would normally indicate a human, or possibly an animal, Gabriel wasn’t the best at identifying those. But the lack of an unearthly aura didn’t feel exactly neutral. It wasn’t as if that quality was lacking, more like it was… canceling itself out, somehow. Like opposites laid on top of one another. But that wasn’t possible.

Gabriel put it out of his mind. Impossible things were, well, impossible, and thus not worth acknowledging. As an Archangel, he didn’t believe in unknown unknowns.

Zadkiel, meanwhile, made it to the door to the back room, fell through it and split apart while saying “Aaaagh,” as loudly as he could get away with.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, wide-eyed. He flapped his arms and mouthed, “Get out there!”

“Where will you go?” Aziraphale mouthed back.

“I’ll hide! Keep them talking!”

“Pardon? Didn’t catch that?”

“Talking, Christ, Aziraphale - oh, blehhh -”

Aziraphale reappeared in the shop as if given a shove in the back. He waved to the men-shaped beings across the room.

“Gabriel - hello. Sandalphon - it’s certainly been a while.” He picked his way towards them. “Listen, if it’s about that business in Paris, um, it wasn’t my miracle…”

Sandalphon still looked baffled, but he usually did, so there was no reason to panic on that account. Gabriel frowned.

“I have no idea whereof you speak, oh Angel of the Eastern Gate.” The frown lifted slightly. “We are here with good news.”

“Oh! How lovely.” Aziraphale came to a halt. A tiny round table piled with books separated him from the two angels. Some good news would go down a treat after the scare he’d just had.

“We’re bringing you home.”

Aziraphale stared.

“Promoting you back upstairs,” Sandalphon added, helpfully.

Something wrenching and painful happened to Aziraphale. Hopes he had never voiced, even to himself, burst and shrivelled up like sickly pods under the glare of the sun.

“I’m opening this bookshop on Friday,” he said, small-voiced. “If Mr. Hatchard can make a go of it, then I think I can really…”

“It’s an excellent idea.” Gabriel clapped his hands together. “Whoever replaces you down here can use it as a base of operations.”

“Use my bookshop?”

Gabriel’s smile turned flinty. “You’re being promoted. You get to come home.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to spend five minutes longer in this world that they had to,” Sandalphon said.

“Aziraphale has been here for almost six thousand years. We must applaud such devotion to duty.”

There was a box in Gabriel’s hands.

“And it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

The box opened to reveal a medal.

“I don’t want a medal,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s very noble of you.”

Aziraphale swallowed and met Gabriel’s eyes. The diamond was hard and searching and reflected nothing back at him.

Gabriel knew. He probably didn’t know what he knew, but that didn’t matter. Aziraphale had strayed, and he was being gently, lovingly forced back into the flock, where they could keep an eye on him. His lips felt numb. For some reason, they were still moving.

“But only I can properly thwart the wiles of the demon Crowley.”

Why. Why did he have to mention Crowley? Nothing he could have said would be worse.

Gabriel’s eye widened. “I do not doubt that whoever replaces you will be as good an enemy to Crowley as you are. Michael, perhaps.”

Aziraphale thought a very faint noise came from the back room. He hoped to God he had imagined it.

“Crowley’s been down here just as long as I have.”

Through flood and cave and lakes of wine. Through three thousand years of silence. Through everything.

“And he’s wily, and cunning, and brilliant, and…”

My other half.

For an instant, his heart stopped entirely.

Gabriel waited for the pause to become sufficiently uncomfortable. “It almost sounds like you like him.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth and tried to pull something up. A deflection, a lie. Nothing came. He stood sweating in the silence.

Gabriel crossed his arms. His expression was not triumphant, only terribly knowing.

“Where is your assistant?”

“Pardon?”

“The man with the walk. Is he still around?”

“Erm. He’s gone to lunch.”

“It’s eight a.m.”

Aziraphale’s mind swore loudly and then erased the memory of having done so.

“He keeps strange mealtimes. He’s a very… singular man.”

Gabriel leaned towards him. He looked oddly conspiratorial.

“Can I have a private word? In your back room, perhaps?”

This was it. Gabriel knew about Zadkiel. He knew Crowley was in the back. Maybe if he and Crowley ganged up, they could take him down… and then what, impersonate him to Sandalphon? What was wrong with him, he was an angel, angels didn’t attack their bosses, not unless they wanted to plummet into a lake of boiling sulphur at any rate -

Gabriel swept past him and headed for the back without permission. Aziraphale bobbed along behind him.

The little stockroom was empty. Aziraphale wanted to cast an eye around for Crowley, but held himself in. He stood to attention before Gabriel.

Gabriel looked down at him. He snapped his fingers. Aziraphale almost flinched. Then he realised Gabriel had performed a miracle to soundproof the room.

“Listen. Aziraphale. Can we talk?”

Aziraphale gave a squeak.

“Here’s the thing. I’m concerned for you. Six thousand years - that’s a stretch. It’s bound to have an effect on an angel. Maybe they’d start to get… overly attached? To someone on Earth that they shouldn’t?”

Aziraphale’s heart rate reached a fever pitch.

“Your assistant,” Gabriel said.

“Oh!”

He gaped at Gabriel.

“Now, obviously it’s happened before,” Gabriel went on. “The whole Nephilim thing, you remember that, you were there. Of course we made sure that no offspring would ever again be possible between our kind and humans, and not a moment too soon. Wow, was that ever disgusting! But, I suppose, if one were that way inclined, it would still be possible to develop certain feelings, a preference for one human in particular, say? And I need to make it plain that that is totally and one-hundred percent not allowed. Under any circumstances.”

Aziraphale’s mouth made a few shapes.

“Right you are?” he managed.

“Any. Circumstances.”

The diamond shone, menacingly.

Aziraphale fought down an urge to laugh hysterically.

“Yes,” he choked. “Yes. I - I see. Well. Thank goodness you arrived and - and set me straight. Not a moment too soon! Of course, I would never - but if I had - I would certainly feel my, er, preference dissipating.”

Gabriel clapped him painfully on the arm.

“Good man. So, you can just tidy up down here, and then come back to Heaven with me and Sandalphon.”

The air of giddy relief evaporated on the spot.

“We’re… going right now?”

Gabriel screwed up his face.

“Well, you know what? I might squeeze in a visit to my tailor first. Give us a couple of hours.”

Aziraphale nodded mutely. Gabriel waved.

“Catch you later.”

He swept out of the room. Soon after, the shop door slammed.

Aziraphale tiptoed to the door and checked they had both gone. He could feel no pulse of celestial energy in his shop. No angels here.

He closed the door and sagged against it.

A tiny black snake crept out from behind a shelf. It turned back into a full-sized Crowley. He dusted his coat off, frown lines deep between his hat and sunglasses.

“Well, then.”

“I could use something strong,” Aziraphale muttered.

“No time. You’re about to be press ganged back Upstairs.”

“So it appears.” Things were dire if Crowley’s first reaction to hearing bad news was to skip the drinking. “And replaced by Michael, apparently.”

Crowley shook his head vehemently. “No chance. Michael’s a wanker. Sit tight, angel. I’ve got a plan.”

Before Aziraphale could react, he snapped his fingers and vanished.

---

(link to next part)

[tsubaki3192]

Luck. 1

[Various Ikesen x ??! MC/Reader]

Chapter 1: Nope.

Masterlist (TBA)

Notes: .... Should I keep Yoshimoto in? IDK how to write him, tbh. Pronoun (Y/N) will be used. IDK if Kennyo will be a love interest... Yet.

Tagging: @unstoppablelinda, @otome--fantasy.... 

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

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

Nope, nope, nope.

There was absolutely no way this was happening to you. 

Absolutely not. 

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. It was simply impossible for you to have fallen through some strange space-time continuum (a black and streaky grey, you recall) into some strange 500-years-ago dimension where the famous figures of the Sengoku Period were the same age, if not slightly older than you were.

Then again maybe it wasn’t impossible. Then again you had forgotten who you were; what you are. 

And then again- “Hey!”

And you fled, feet pounding against the mossy (unevenly paved?) ground beneath her. And it was only right you had done so, given-

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

“Hey, wake up! It’s dangerous to be sleeping during a fire!”

Following that strange warp you had passed through (and you stand by the black and streaky grey), you had been brought to a temple blaze with a man (laid in full Japanese medieval armour, might you add) at the centre of the room.Though your instincts told you to flee, your rather sensitive ears had heard the subtle yet distinct sound of geta against the somewhat crumbling tatami mats (or was it wood? There was too much ash to see clearly).

And then the sharp, metallic sound of a blade drawn. 

“Come on! We need to get out of here!”

The sword-wielding figure froze, unexpectedly finding another within the room- You. And if luck hadn’t given you it’s control, then you and the armoured man would’ve been killed- slaughtered- with no evidence of family. But no. Your curse (hex?), now applied to the supposed assassin, caused the beam to fall from above him. 

But he managed to step backwards in time, away from the crashes above. 

And if you needed to sigh exasperatedly, now was the time to do so. Apparently, just apparently, heat from a rather heavy (and uncontrolled) fire wasn’t something to wake from, but the crashes from a falling wooden beam was?

And though he was still disoriented, you grabbed the hand of the now-standing, once-sleeping male and tugged him towards the open doorway, forcing him to leap from the balcony. And you could only hope your bad luck tendencies wouldn’t appear during such a precarious deed.

Then, just moments after you landed on the ground and strode away from the building-

“Someone tried to do me away as I slept? How audacious. You there, woman. Release my hand.”

It took you several moments to realise exactly who he was speaking to, and exactly what he said. It wasn’t a request, but an order and certainly one you would’ve absolutely despised, if it weren’t for the fact his eyes glowed just as red as your own would, under some rather specific circumstances. 

“Who are you?”

Your narrowed eyes watched him skeptically, watching for any signs of danger (to yourself or he?). But your instincts informed you otherwise and your shoulders partially relaxed under his rather intense gaze. 

Yet your question floated through the air, undeniably stubborn.

“Do you mean to say you saved me without expecting a reward of some kind? I am-”

“You know what? I’m not interested after all. I believe I’ll dislike whatever I hear from you.”

You had decided he was someone you exhaustedly didn’t want to deal with (too loud with far too much ego), shrugging off his hand before he could say much else to you. But he only stared at you incredulously and continued speaking as if you hadn’t interrupted him with your unnecessarily rude comment. 

It had taken you several moments of ignorance before you realised just who you had impudently spoken to.

“You’re… who?!”

“Oda Nobunaga,” the man replied, watching your expression change amusedly, “The man who will unite this country under one flag.”

But you just silently eyed him from top to bottom shamelessly, blinking unamused. And you sighed. Of course he was. It wasn’t as if you didn’t recognise the name, nor the nameplate nailed to the wall of the crumbling temple behind you. Honnōji. Oda Nobunaga. They were both names you well and truly recognised from your high school history textbook.

But he was much younger than your textbook had mentioned he was when he supposedly died, and... Oh wait. ‘Honnōji’ and ‘Oda Nobunaga’ were two names that went hand-in-hand with ‘death’.

…. Did you… just… prevent the death of the so-called ‘Devil King’?

Oh shit.

And it was ‘oh shit’ indeed when another voice on horseback- the undeniable clops of a horse’s hooves rang through the crackling of the nighttime blaze- called the man now standing beside you almost hurriedly.

“My lord!”

If you had thought the so-called Nobunaga’s voice was far too low and almost didn’t match his face, then this newcomer’s voice was like a cool breeze on a hot Summer's day - that was, refreshing and sweet to the ears. 

The Oda-claimed man standing beside you had also been muttering something about, to quote him, “impudence”, but you had blocked out the sounds favouring your thoughts over his shockingly deep voice. And it wasn’t until moments lated that the late-teen, early-twenties-looking male with the surprisingly silver hair and lavender eyes had introduced himself as “Ishida Mitsunari”, to which you accidentally blurted a quick “You’re the tactician” before slamming your hand over your mouth.

Oops…? 

You peered at the indigo-kimono-clad male standing in front of you, slowly but steadily, relieving your lips the pressure of your hands. And if you had thought the damn man with the crimson eye and limitless ego had been attractive, then this guy was an angel.

“It’s, um, nice to meet you, Ishida… -san?”

And true to your word, you sounded unsure of yourself, unable to deny the fact that you were unsure of what to call him. Your head cocked itself slightly towards your right shoulder; your expression scrutinising your word choice. The said ‘Ishida-san’ just smiled at your expense, uttering a quick “Mitsunari is fine,” with that naturally angelic smile of his.

And if your impudence hadn’t already amused the one called Nobunaga, then your unease, indecisiveness and knowledge did. 

“How interesting to know-”

“Milord, if you don’t mind, I’ll retrieve a new set of clothes for her. ”

For the first time that night, you took a glance towards your clothing eyeing the char, grime and ashes caught in between the pleats of your plain drawstring tee and up the leg the casual deep-blue jeans you wore. Perhaps you really did need a change of clothes. And though you couldn’t say you hadn’t worn kimonos before, it truly wouldn’t your first preference of clothing. 

Then again it was the Sengoku Period, and all they wore were kimonos, much to your irritation.

(You had also ignored the fact that the ‘Nobunaga’ had began speaking simultaneously with Mitsunari and that he was now staring, again incredulously, at the said tactician.)

“Listen!” you sighed exasperatedly, sighing as you gazed into the distant mountains, “I’m not really from around here… As in this time period. I’m from approximately 500 years in the future, if I’m not wrong.”

And as if you had uttered something completely absurd (for the record, your words did sound rather strange after they left your lips), the two warlords, as far as you could identify, blankly stared at you. And-

You deadpanned. A storyteller, the raven-haired one had called you and ‘a storyteller’ was what the other man believed, though you weren’t sure if he really was gullible or bound by obligation (most likely the latter, but who were you to judge?). And despite your protests, you were whisked off to a nearby tent and handed an indigo kimono, no doubt belonging to the gentle male (given both colour and scent) who had brought you there, to change into.

When you exited, having finally managed to shake most of the ash from your hair, Nobunaga had been waiting for you outside. And much to your chagrin, he eyed you from head to toe and hummed almost contentedly. 

“You clean up well.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned your head away but followed him into the supposed main tent (the largest of them all) anyway, still disliking the whole scenario you had unwillingly been tossed into. But it wasn’t long after you were handed a glass of water that the tent flap opened again. And your eyebrows furrowed in increased discomfort as you realised you had not heard his footsteps-

“Milord, I see that you are well.”

“Mitsuhide.”

Your head shot up as you narrowed your eyes for a split second, analysing the male for any sign that he was the one who had planned the murder (history said it was him, after all) and sighed, not in relief but for the curious glance he had given her. If anything, he couldn’t have been the one who had planned the murder of the Nobunaga you had save (or ‘rescued’, as you smugly preferred to put it). If he had taken a bath between the time you had disappeared with the said lord, how on Earth did he have the time to dry it? Hair dryers certainly didn’t exist in this period, so on that basis, he was ‘innocent’.

But this once again new guy… If you had thought Mitsunari was an angel, then this man’s white hair, tantalising golden eyes and overall aura reminded you of your kind- A kitsune. You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the tent wall and a quiet sigh escaped your lips in an attempt to calm yourself down. 

And you almost lost the gratifying sensation a split moment later when Mitsuhide parted his lips, apparently wanting to say something to you.

But-

“Nobunaga-sama!”

At the sound of the suffix, your face near-blanched and paled in disgust, though you couldn’t deny that the new voice was far more attractive than you had anticipated it to be and you somehow figured- no, knew- he was a charmer, whether intentionally or unintentionally. The voice, however, had sounded rather flustered and you had heard the sound of hooves from perhaps a 100 metres away. 

But the sight of his ruffled caramel-blond locks and the sweat dripping from his face when he entered was a set for sore eyes.

Damn, why are all these guys so good looking?!

“Hideyoshi,” Nobunaga greeted, although somewhat curtly and you gasped quietly, mentally punching yourself in the face almost immediately after. You really shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the Sengoku period after all, and Hideyoshi was Nobunaga’s right-hand-man, or so to speak.

“Oh great. Here comes ‘Toyotomi Hideyoshi’...”

It had been uttered from beneath your breath as you sighed now uninterested, but apparently even mentioning his name had been enough to capture his attention. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, frowning even further at the sight of your displeased expression.

“Outspoken, are we? Have we met?”

And with a scowl, you couldn’t help retorting a quick “Oh, buzz off,” as irritated as you already were. You turned away from him, as in back facing him and all, huffing quietly as Mitsunari giggled at your expense. The kitsune-male only raised an eyebrow are your snark, finding you as amusing as his banter with Hideyoshi.

“Leave her be, Hideyoshi. She is the one who saved my life.”

Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide eyed you over - something you hated by now, but couldn’t do anything about - and glanced back at Nobunaga in interest.

“Such a slender thing! But it appears your courage makes up for it…”

If you had a choice, you would have cursed Mitsuhide with all of your ability, before baring your bite in his arm and disappearing in a flash of blue-white fox fire. ‘Slender thing’ or not, you were well and truly able to obliterate him on the spot if you really wanted to, though you were pretty sure you had a higher likelihood of dying from these other warlords standing ahead of you. And your history knowledge told you that you had not yet met all from Nobunaga’s end of the war.

Just how many vassals and retainers he have exactly?

But then again, as you watched Hideyoshi supposedly opting to argue with the said kitsune-like man there was just something very specific you knew of. And if you had the chance to interfere, you would’ve, save for the fact that they were so adamantly yelling at one another to the point you almost wished for some kind of headache relief.

(Did you even have a box of painkillers with you? You really weren’t sure-)

Glancing around your feet for distraction, you spied your leather-brown satchel laid at your feet and sighed. You had unconsciously clung onto the said bag (perhaps in fear? Then again your kind didn’t exactly fear fire) and only released the item when you had rested beside you. 

But you were thankful for that fact, for multiple reasons. First-

“Give us some time alone. There is something I’d like to speak to her about.”

...Nevermind the ‘first’, you had more ‘threatening’ things to deal with. From memory, ‘time alone’ with a warlord, let alone any male during Imperial Japan, was essentially agreeing to something you’d rather not think about (definitely not, considering what your occupation had been- a police officer-cross-detective).

As Nobunaga excused his fellow warlords from the tent, your hand reached towards your bag, pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled a short note. And before the Oda lord could face you, you crushed your bag against your chest and fled through the same entrance, hoping to never see them again, no matter how impossible you knew it was.

But the piece of paper flittered to the ground, folded and addressed to a single man she had met that night.

‘Akechi Mitsuhide’.

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

-and as much as you’d like to say your endeavour was successful, there was just this one thing: It was the centre of town and there were people about (the whole ‘temple on fire’ thing, remember?). It wasn’t as if you could just POOF! into a fox and expect to get away, right?

And so here you were, geta pounding loudly against the dirt floor as you ran towards the forest where you ironically felt most safe. But your thoughts were preoccupied with a host of strange thoughts and analysis of the people you met earlier. They appeared much different from how your history books stated, though there wasn’t much you could say considering how frantic you thought you were.

Nobunaga, the man you had rescued, was… Much younger than you thought. You had sworn your history book had stated he was nearing, or at, 45 years of age when his death came around. But here he looked to be in his mid-twenties, if not slightly early-twenties. His crimson eyes and raven hair seemed to stand out most amongst his equally black, ruby and white clothing. 

Hideyoshi, on the other hand, appeared to be skeptical of you and frankly, you couldn’t complain. His lean figure was something you had exactly expected, though his caramel locks had been somewhat surprising for the time period. He appeared to be just as protective (and loyal) as the history books stated he was. However-

-You hadn’t even ran 200 metres into the forest when you came across a clearing, occupied by a rather scarred monk with an attitude, might you add.

“My name is Kennyo,” he had introduced, staff jangling as he moved, “A travelling monk. May I be of assistance?”

Your almost imperceivable shake of the head torments you even further as your intruding thoughts (ones of doubt, anxiety and mental discussion) abruptly ceased. His hardened expression... appeared to be almost forced, as if he wasn’t used to being cruel; as if he was forced to hurt you. And if your kimono had been shorter, you’d probably kick his normal expression back to his face. Literally.

He had stopped in front of you, eyeing you carefully before continuing his words.

“You should return home quickly, Demons lurk in these woods at night.”

If the whole ‘travelling monk’ attribute hadn’t made you skeptical of him, then his last statement had. Demons? How could he possibly know about them? You, for one, could be classified as one if you weren’t careful but for he to address the demons would mean he-

...Oh yeah. He’s a monk...

Hurriedly, you rushed a rather flustered-yet-sarcastic, “Thanks for the warning!” before delving deeper and deeper into the darkness that enshrouded them. And you had to thank him- mentally- for not following you as you travelled further away from him.

But your feet (or rather, you in general) had come to a sudden stop as you were tackled unwillingly to the ground by someone far heavier than you were (and was that muscles you felt?). You groaned at the impact, before rapidly finding your will to sit upright; shoving the man from your chest. And unfortunately for you, it earned you a rather heavy glare from the chocolate-haired boy… Dare you say. 

(The truth was, he looked to be your age, but you refused to acknowledge the fact.)

“I save you, and this is what I get?”

Your head whipped around at his exasperated words, unsure of how to respond to his exasperated question. And you blinked blankly at the sight just behind you- A wide expanse of a forest, beyond the clifftop you now sat upon. 

Oh.

Not that it really mattered to you (you wouldn't have died anyway), but it seemed to terrify(?) the crimson-clad male that you would so willingly leap off a cliff, despite how unaware you were. Despite your nature to tease the soul out of the male, it was perhaps better courtesy to thank him for saving you the trek back up-cliff (though you wouldn’t let him know that. Ever.) So you did, though he, for some reason or another, seemed to doubt your gratitude for several seconds before nodding and shifting away from you with a blush on his face.

Oh. OHHH.

For sure, you would be teasing him the next time you met, that is, if you ever did. After all, he appeared to be blushing because of your proximity rather than his actions, and if anything, he reminded you of a shy, athletic, college boy. And just as you were about to ask for his name, you were interrupted by a rather amused (more mature and somewhat sultry), “Yuki, we leave you for ten minutes and you’ve found yourself a girl?”

And for once, you stared; anger, amusement and irritation suddenly drained from your thoughts. If the other warlords you had met that night were ‘good looking’, this guy was hot. Frat boy hot. 

If your jaw hadn’t dropped before, then it would now. 

How the hell were you supposed to handle all these good-looking men?

Something told you that even if you ran away now, they would find their way back to you no matter how far you fled. But you just stared at the newcomer (or rather, you were the newcomer, but screw logic for the moment-), from the smirkingly egoistic smile on his face to the crimson-maroon colour of his kimono. And his open chest. You didn’t deny that. 

And given your initial impression of him (a flirt, and you were sure you were correct), it was easier to just turn around and leap off the cliff. But again, you didn’t want to insult this so-called ‘Yuki’ for saving your life, so you just huffed, crossing your arms indignantly.

There was, after all, no room to flee (unless you wanted to scare the shit out of the men in front of you by leaping backwards… Something you were tempted to do-).

And as you contemplated, he muttered something about “Honnōji” and “ghosts” and something- something- “seen?”. He was probably flirting with you, if you knew him well enough (and for the record, you didn’t). But your ears had caught onto something else, directing your attention elsewhere for the moment: Another rustle in the bushes, and a flash of white-

Oh. This guy… seemed cold, to say the least, which somehow had become a rather fresh change for you given how warm the other men you had met seemed to be. From top to bottom, his aura and style alluded loneliness and the freezing temperatures of blue. And he was heterochromatic, simply an aspect of him that added to his mysteriousness.

“Your ability to spew cheap pick-up lines never ceases to amaze me.”

…And you were right. Which was rare, considering your luck, or lack thereof, you usually had. 

“You there, could you step into the light? Thank you.”

Amusedly, you hadn’t even shifted (or spoken, but whatever), but you complied out of curiosity rather than obedience. The raven-haired man standing beside the freezing-looking male was pretty, you didn’t- couldn’t- deny it. His braided hair, completed with a stunningly pink kimono, was nothing to laugh at either. He was one of those… ‘art appreciation’ people. Not that there was anything ultimately wrong, you’ve just had several pretty interesting run-ins with people of his kind, that was all. And-

“Would you be willing to exchange your kimono with one in my collection?”

Your eyebrows furrowed themselves, mind immediately either leaping to a single question (rare, for someone of your profession): Was he… flirting with you? To exchange a kimono to one from his collection… Didn’t that mean he was claiming you? Maybe? Maybe not? It was difficult to tell with this guy. 

But all you did was give him a gentle smile, refusing politely with a shake of your head. And before you could take a step backwards (and off the cliff), a large hand, though heavy, clasped itself over your shoulder, drawing you close to a very warm wall.

“Sorry Yoshimoto, I saw this angel first.”

Okay, that was the final straw- you really were going to leap off the cliff, accidental or not. There was no way you were going to spend the night warming their bed, as their words implied. And perhaps it was because of your exhaustion, or perhaps not, but your irritation originating from the interaction with Nobunaga’s men had once again risen. You slipped from his arm and backed towards the edge of the cliff. 

“What are you doing?!”

Your heels hung off the precariously crumbling edge as the athlete yelled at you with eyes wide. And you just stared at ‘Yuki’s’ concern (which, you had to admit, did touch you slightly), before whispering a quiet ‘sorry’ at him and tilting your entire body backwards.

And in a split second, the men rushed to the edge of the cliff, unable to do much save for watch you fall without so much of a scream. And as if to spite you, the one who had clasped his hand over his shoulder, peered over the edge of the cliff and waved at you (winking, might you add), though a clear sign of worry and doubt was evident on his handsome face. 

“Takeda Shingen! Remember it!”

But you had disappeared within a blink of an eye, leaving almost nothing behind (a faint blue tinge, maybe, but it was far too faint to be considered much else than a trick of the eye). And for several seconds, the men blinked confused at your sudden ability to fade. And then-

“Why-? How-?”

The questions fell from Yuki’s lips almost innocently as he gaped in surprise at his lord’s strange actions. But the lord just smiled almost nervously in response, as if doubting his eyes, and responded to his question somewhat smugly.

“-Did I know that she would be alive? There’s no way a person would so confidently fall from a cliff- suicidal or not- unless they knew they were going to survive.”

[honeyedlashton]

“Waiting for you to take the show.”

Word count: 1814

Warnings: language. (Should I even make that a warning anymore?)

A/N: I was in the mood for some domestic Lashton, so basically get off my back. It’s so cute. I don’t really have a substantial plot. I have extreme writer’s block for some reason smfh. But the idea was cute, so I’m here. This is basically just fluff. Like the whole thing. Every single bit. So enjoy some pretty much entirely mindless fluff.

———————————————————————

“Ow, Ash, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Luke answered through gritted teeth. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Ashton continued cleaning Luke’s injured fingers with the peroxide and a cotton ball. Thank god he’d had the foresight to buy a first aid kit. He applied the Neosporin, and secured the band-aids on the cut fingers.

“There. It should be good as new by morning,” Ashton kissed each bandaged finger softly and looked up at a pouty Luke.

“Thank you, Ashy,” Luke sounded tired.

“I don’t mind, baby,” Ashton assured him and put the kit away. “How were you supposed to know the guitar string would break?”

Luke cuddled up to him when he sat back down. He was still somehow able to fit his large frame in Ashton’s arms, so Ashton held him close. He kissed Luke’s forehead and rubbed his shoulders, trying to think of something, anything he could do to take Luke’s mind off of it.

“What if we went to the beach later, hmm?” Ashton offered. “If you wanted? We always have a decent time at the beach.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed softly.

Ashton couldn’t be convinced that having Luke live with him wasn’t the perfect set up. It was like touring again, or back in the early days when they all lived together. Except this was just he and Luke. With Calum and Michael only a phone call away.

The idea was to heal each other—though at first it was just drinking and fucking to forget about what was going wrong in their lives for a little bit. But as time progressed, they started untangling their assorted issues, one by one. It was gentle, and slow, and like trying to unravel a tight knot. But they were getting somewhere with it at the very least.

But it hadn’t been enough yet. Luke was still going through it mentally, and Ashton felt somewhat helpless at times. He felt so useless when things were bad. But he stood by him unflinchingly, because he knew things were going to get better.

Ashton suspected the pain had somewhat subsided in Luke’s fingers when he heard him sigh quietly. Ashton played with Luke’s growing hair, wrapping the curls around a finger so he could see the way the ringlets looked. He loved Luke’s hair like this, and it was only getting longer, and more beautiful. He especially loved when they went to the beach and Luke’s curls got all big and wind blown. Maybe that’s why he suggested it, now that his mind had wandered.

Petunia gave a huff from where she was sleeping beside the couch. She was awake now, Ashton gathered, and Luke perked up at the sound.

“Is that my pretty girl?” Luke smiled and looked over from where he lay on Ashton’s chest, and held out his arm to her. “Come here, piggy baby.” Ashton was basically just holding Luke up now.

Petunia’s nails clicked as she trotted over at Luke’s call. “My baby,” Luke hummed and leaned over to kiss her on her nose.

“Hey, pig,” Ashton whispered softly and stroked her back and sides fondly.

“Did you have a good nap?” Luke asked, holding her whole face. “I hope so, darling.”

Petunia just looked at the windows where Luke had drawn all over them in bright red expo marker.

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Luke pulled a fake voice for her. “And I’m not gonna look at you till you offer me f-o-o-d.”

Ashton giggled.

“Laugh all you want, Petunia and I have an unspoken routine: she ignores me till she gets hungry, then she cuddles me when she’s fed. It’s a really good system.”

“You’re a lot like that too, you know,” Ashton smirked. “You only love me after you’ve raided my kitchen.”

“So what do you call this, then?” Luke smirked and gestured to how he was lying on Ashton.

“Some strange swap in the multiverse,” Ashton smirked, “unless you’re actually hungry.”

Luke considered it. “I mean, I could eat.”

“I honestly don’t know why I expected you to say that you weren’t hungry,” Ashton sighed. “Get up. I’ll make you some food, I guess. But only because you’re injured.”

Like got up and examined his fingers. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten.”

“Well don’t tell me that,” Ashton smirked. “I’m the one giving you food, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I’m so injured. I honestly don’t know how I’ll make it through the night.”

“That’s it. That’s the drama I’m looking for,” Ashton teased and went to the kitchen. “You want leftovers? Eggs? A sandwich?”

Luke and Petunia followed, and Luke perched himself on the island counter. “Surprise me.”

Ashton decided on sandwiches. Luke kissed him softly as a thank you when he handed it to him, and dug in immediately.

“Alright, Piggy,” Ashton said to a very patient, but very expectant Petunia. “You hungry, girl? You want some food?”

Petunia must have recognized the tone and the words, because she practically pranced at Ashton and huffed excitedly.

“Well, come on then. Let’s get you fed, princess,” he giggled.

And once everyone was occupied with chewing, Ashton felt at peace.

“Stop stealing my chips, you bastard,” Ashton swatted Luke’s hand away.

“Please?” Luke practically begged, “one more, I swear.”

“Yeah, I gave you one more, three chips ago. Now you’re just robbing me,” Ashton pointed out.

Luke made a pouty face in response.

“Luke, don’t do that. Don’t pull the face. There’s a whole bag over there.”

“I don’t wanna walk. I just want one last chip.”

“I have a hard time believing this is the last one.”

“Ashy... Baby,” Luke grabbed Ashton’s hand, and looked into his eyes. “Please?”

Ashton sighed and pushed the plate towards Luke—who kissed him in excitement and gratitude. “Whatever, get off me,” Ashton added melodramatically but leaned into Luke’s hug.

“Thank you, Ashy,” Luke continued, kissing his cheeks and jaw. Eventually, he settled down and ate the chips gratefully, and Ashton sat on the floor to spend time with Petunia, who nuzzled him now that she was fed.

“All you Hemmings’ are the same,” Ashton smiled fondly. “You only love an Irwin when food is involved. But I’ll forgive you cause you’re so fat and cute.” He kissed her forehead and scratched her back till she rolled on her belly, and then he scratched that too, cooing soft words to her.

Ashton looked up at Luke to find him videoing them. “No flash photography,” He held up a hand to the camera, “Leave Piggy alone, please.”

Luke just giggled and adjusted his position to point the camera at them again. Ashton tried to block the camera, again. And when they both were giggling messes, he tried to grab the phone from Luke’s hands entirely.

“Civilians can’t film her without her permission,” Ashton attacked Luke by tickling him. “It’s against the law!”

Luke fell to the floor in a fit of laughter, practically writhing out of Ashton’s hands. Even Ashton was laughing uncontrollably now. “Stop stop, Ash, I cant breathe,” Luke practically wheezed.

“Shoulda thought about that before you broke the law,” Ashton teased, but slacked up. He kissed Luke’s smiley and blush blown cheeks.

Luke caught his breath, and kept his grip on Ashton’s shirt so he’d stay in place right over him. “Every time you tickle me we end up in a compromising position,”

“Yeah well maybe if you’d keep your legs closed...” Ashton teased, and smacked the outside of Luke’s thighs from where he rested between them.

“Are you calling me a slut?” Luke said in obvious mock offense. His eyes got that teasing twinkle, and the corners of his mouth were twitching.

“Indirectly,” Ashton smirked. “Why? Are you gonna deny it?”

Luke bit his lip on a smile, “fuck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather fuck /you/,” Ashton smirked.

“Mmm I’m sure you would,” Luke’s flirtatious tone practically told Ashton that he’d rather that, too.

“Am I that predictable?” Ashton hummed.

“Yeah, kinda,” Luke looked up at him, and widened his legs to accommodate Ashton more comfortably.

“Careful, Lu.”

“What?” Came the innocent response and lip bite.

“If you think I won’t fuck you here on the kitchen floor, you’re wrong,” Ashton nearly growled. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Mmm. Good, it’ll keep me warm,” Luke rubbed one of his calves up Ashton’s legs.

“Such a slut,” Ashton shook his head fondly and kissed Luke. He felt Luke’s arms circle around him, pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

The sound of familiar clicks and pants came around the kitchen island, and Ashton felt a cold wet nose hit his cheek. He broke the kiss and giggled. “Petunia’s obviously not having this.”

Luke laughed at the displacement, and how Petunia was pretty much shoving her head between theirs, “Petunia’s eyes say: ‘dads chill out. It’s cuddle time.’”

“They say: ‘dads, chill the heck out, I eat in here.’” Ashton giggled got off of Luke to cuddle both of them. “I’m starting to think making out on the kitchen floor is a bad idea. Every time we do it we get interrupted.”

“That’s right! I forgot Calum called us last time.”

“When it’s not one child, it’s the other,” Ashton smirked.

“She’ll fall asleep soon,” Luke sighed petting her soothingly. “Pretty baby wanting to cuddle with us. So sweet. I love you.” Ashton was about to make a quippy comment when Luke turned to him, “and I love you.”

Ashton hummed. “I love you.”

“What will we do at the beach?” Like asked examining the bandages on his fingers.

“Get you some ice cream, write our names in the sand, swim...” Ashton kissed Luke’s forehead, “Whatever you want, baby.”

“I wanna swim. And write our names in the sand. And eat ice cream. Get a double scoop and I’ll share the cone with you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Ashton took in this moment, and the moments just before—the smiles and happiness and giggles. He would trade everything he had to keep that smile on Luke’s face. There was nothing more gratifying than seeing his band mate—his best friend, his /soulmate/—with a genuine smile again.

And he knew the moments like this wouldn’t last forever, but he would hold him through a million bad days for the hope of one good one.

“Hey, Lu?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay here forever.”

There was a slight pause. “Okay.”

Ashton leaned onto Luke’s shoulder and got an excited lick from Petunia right across his nose.

“I want you here, too, Piggy,” Ashton assured her.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Ash,” Luke sighed softly and leaned onto the top of Ashton’s head.

“I’d bandage your guitar injuries every day if you wanted me to.”

“And make me food?”

“Only because you’d be injured.”

Luke giggled.

“C’mon then,” Ashton got Luke up and smacked his bum. “I want to see how nice your ass looks in swim shorts again.”

“Okay, okay.” Luke laughed, and turned to Petunia. “C’mon, Princess. Maybe we can convince daddy to get you some ice cream, too.”

And they definitely would.

[sophygurl]

Hi! I was just browsing through my activity and noticed that after I responded to your ask about ships a while back, you reblogged and shared your thoughts about Spuffy. I'm so glad you were able to read my opinions and understand them, even if you didn't agree with them. I just wanted to stop by and ask what your thoughts and feelings are on Spuffy? I'd love to hear your perspective :)

Oh wooooow, you have no idea how happy you just made me! I feel like I talk about spuffy quite a lot but without ever really saying much of anything because inside of me it’s just a lot of (!!!!!>?>>?!!?!>fjhghhf?!?!?!?!!?) YKWM? Like feels central exploding all over the place and it’s really difficult for me to put into coherent words. 

But I’ve also been wanting and meaning to write some serious spuffy meta and kinda dissect what it all means to me personally, as a survivor, for some time now. And like. Especially with all of this purity culture stuff coming to a head, it feels like a good time to take the time to try and do it because, yea, shit not only doesn’t have to be pure to be helpful - but sometimes the darker stuff IS the Most helpful. 

And I really did appreciate your perspective about the relationship because you talked about the ways in which it did and didn’t work for you without ever shaming anyone for the way it does work for them? And I wish we could all do that more. 

So thank you so much for sending me this ask, and asking for my perspective because sometimes all it takes for me to finally settle down and write something I wanna write anyways is to be asked by someone else to do it! 

This is absolutely gonna get long so have a read more cut.

For context, let me start by saying that I didn’t watch Buffy when it first aired - it was, mmm, I wanna say about 10-11 years ago when I decided to try it out. And while I was watching it, I was also in the midst of doing some heavy duty therapy work on my PTSD stemming from childhood sexual abuse and then some further traumas in my young adulthood that happened because of poor processing of said abuse. I’m not gonna get into details about my personal traumas except for some specific ways in which they relate to the lens in which I watched and processed the relationship between Buffy and Spike. BUT, due to that lens, there very well may be triggery content in this post. 

My experience watching Buffy, in general, started out with me being really unsure what the draw was in season 1 and then slowly getting more involved in the characters and relationships and mythos as the series developed into a more mature and nuanced show. I was really hooked by season five, and season six is my favorite, with seven a close second. 

I liked Buffy, the character, okay in the beginning but it wasn’t until she started really going through and processing her traumas that I started to personally connect to her. So season six was like, my jam. She was raw and stripped down to the nerve, and cycling between like outright rage to pure numbness and just lashing out trying desperately to feel and to make sense of her experiences and I was like - yea, Buffy, same, Same. And then in season seven she starts really contextualizing her trauma and using the pain of it to give herself more power and then sharing that power with others and it was just … fuck, I can’t even begin to tell you what that meant to me. In that last episode, I felt her handing me back my OWN power - like I FELT it - it really … anyway. We’ll get there.

And then there was Spike, who I loved right away. I love me some snarky villains. I love me the bad boy who has hidden depths inside of him. I love the villain who doesn’t … really fit the mold of the other villains in-verse. I love the villain who doesn’t mind working with the heroes if it fits his agenda. Basically, Spike was fictional catnip for me right out of the gate.

I adored Spike and Drusilla together for a lot of reasons, but for Spike to develop beyond just Big Bad, he had to fall out of her orbit, so I was okay with that ending.

On the other hand, I was never into Buffy and Angel. Watching the series as an adult, it just felt creepy to me how this old vampire basically stalked a very innocent-seeming to me teen Buffy. Their romance reminded me of girls I knew who fell for older guys when I was in high school where the older guy seemed sort of dangerous and mysterious and I get the draw from Her perspective - but not necessarily his? I don’t know, I just personally never really bought them being truly in love - they were sort of practice relationships for one another? Her as a young teenager, and him as someone just starting to re-learn humanity. I never Disliked them together… I just never shipped it. The idea of them being one another’s One True Love’s was just sorta meh to me. 

So when Spike started having his crush on Buffy? I was so ready for that. Because it was so silly at first, right? It was not serious. It was creepy and weird and wrong. But in a way that appealed to me. 

How do I explain? I guess, it had to do with all of the reasons that Spike was Not Like All The Other Villains/Vampires. Angel was always different but ONLY because he was cursed with a soul. It was a thing done TO him and when he reverted back to Angelus he was literally a whole different person and did not have any desire to turn back into Angel. When he was Angel, he was all brooding and guilt-ridden and terrified of his other self. 

But Spike was always different just because he was different. This didn’t mean he had a soul or a capacity for love or the ability to be a Good Guy. It just meant he worked a little differently than the other vampires. I truly think he loved and was devoted to Dru. I don’t think she was capable of returning that love in the same way. 

So, anyway, Spike is back and he’s split with Dru because Dru could just … tell … something was off and Spike was wanting to deny that but then suddenly - crush! Not love, not attraction, not lust, not desire - a freaking schoolboy crush.

But of course it was creepy because hello - soulless vampire who has never had a healthy relationship of any kind in his LIFE. But he starts doing these odd things, like wanting to comfort Buffy when he sees that she’s upset and being willing to take care of Dawn when no one else was available and HE doesn’t get it either, but somehow he’s becoming a slightly more decent person because of this weirdass crush? 

IDK, that’s appealing.

And let me clarify. It’s not appealing to me because I see myself in the Good Girl who can make a Bad Boy into a better person. That is never what’s appealed to be about these types of relationships. 

In large part because of my abuse, I see different layers of myself in each character. 

I went through a large portion of my life pretending very hard to be a Good Girl and then when I finally came out of denial about the abuse realized that was because inside I felt like a very Bad Girl and then as I pursued more recovery realized it’s all a lot more complex than that but really I’ve been more of a Decent Person who felt like a Bad Person trying really hard to be a Good Person. I hope that makes sense.

But the point is. I see myself in both the Good and the Bad characters in these sorts of push-pull love-hate dynamic relationships.

And what I love about spuffy, specifically, is that they’re both … both. Eventually. I’m getting ahead of myself. But yes, Spike suddenly wanting to be decent here and there because of his weird developing feelings for Buffy appealed to me - and especially to part of me that feels Bad. I’m Spike in this scenario, not Buffy. 

But I’m also Buffy, being really grossed by this Bad Person’s interest in me. When Buffy throws her money at Spike and says he’s not good enough for her - that’s me hating myself and saying I’m not good enough. But it’s also, strangely, me taking a stand and saying I’m worth better than the ways in which I was treated.

Gods, this whole abuse recovery dichotomy can be so confusing to explain because like. I never abused anyone. But the ugliness I feel inside of myself has to do with what happened to me, and also with what I know people in my family have done to others. So there’s this idea of Badness there. And the idea of there being forgiveness and redemption for that Badness is very very appealing.

And at the same time? There’s this beauty inside of myself that I always thought I was faking but that it turns out - is fucking real and precious and important. And standing up for that broken beautiful part of myself and saying no to being used and abused again is so powerful.

So in that scene? I’m the ugliness in Spike being hated by Buffy but I’m ALSO the powerful beauty in Buffy standing up for herself.

You can maybe see how this all gets even more tangled up the further we go, yea?

So Spike gets chipped and becomes a part of the team - all the while simultaneously reminding them that he’s still a Bad Guy AND slowly becoming a slightly better person because of his interactions with them and his feelings for Buffy. He’s not even close to redeemed, okay, he’s still a villain. He’s just a more and more intriguing villain, an anti-villain, even, eventually.

And then season six. And Buffy comes back. And she’s broken and raw and needing something that her friends cannot give her. She is needing to connect to the darkness inside of herself, and who is waiting there for her? 

And so yea, okay, hatesex is very appealing to me just inandofitself. It’s like double the passion and it’s animalistic and there’s something so sexy and gratifying about two people just using one another with equal force, yk? 

And Spike and Buffy are physically matched perfectly. She can take all her anger and pain and rage out on him without permanently damaging him. And she’s NEVER been able to let loose like that before. Her first time with Angel was a more tender and sweet moment and then - welp - turns out they can’t do the do. And otherwise she’s been with humans who she’s had to hold back with. There was zero holding back with Spike. 

So from Buffy’s perspective, there’s this amazing relief and release and yea, even, empowerment in being able to just freely let herself go in this way. 

From Spike’s point of view, it was about more. And here is where I feel for him because, at this point he’s still not really capable of love in the way we talk about it as being something from a soul. He’s chipped but not soul’d. He has strong feelings for Buffy that no vampire (besides cursed-soul Angel) should be able to have. But it’s not … quite … love. It’s passion and it’s care and it’s wanting and it’s even becoming something like friendship. But it’s not love, much as he thinks it is.

But he does Think it is. And he’s thinking it’s the same for her, but she just can’t admit it, yet. The hatesex to him … is just  … sex. And he fully believes he’s winning her over. And so her constant rejection of him as a fully human person with a soul and feelings guts him - even as he’s still trying to convince himself that he does love her and she does somehow secretly love him back. 

The fact that she keeps using him physically, and also keeps coming to him for emotional support, supports this belief and keeps him from understanding the reality of the situation.

Now, I think I mentioned than when I was watching this for the first time I was in heavy duty therapy mode yea? Well, there was another even heavier duty therapy mode a good tenish years prior when I had first admitted to the abuse I experienced and got really good and fucked up and made some bad personal decisions and here is where some of that comes to play because I saw myself in this scenario - again from both sides.

I am Buffy learning to enjoy the pleasures of my body and sexuality for the first time but also making really bad decisions about who to share that with because I am still so new to processing my trauma.

I am also Spike - longing for something more and better and being told (by myself) that I was not good enough, that I was bad, that I was not a full human person who deserved good things or good relationships.

(There, there, pastme - it does get better)

Back to first-time-Buffy-watching me. And I am enjoying the HECK out of the spuffy sex and I am feeling for poor pining Spike and feeling for Buffy who is hating herself for what she’s doing and also shipping them like WHOA because there is so much about their dynamic that is just sexy and fun and FEELS everywhere. 

But I knew Seeing Red was coming, because I did have a few things spoiled for me just by existing in the world for years without having watched the show yet myself. I really didn’t wanna watch it, or the rest of season six. So I got into a spiral of just watching the earlier parts of the season over and over - specifically the musical and through the 3 episodes of heavy spuffy sex. I did a LOT of processing during this time and then eventually girded myself to watch what I knew was coming. 

And Seeing Red is awful. Traumatic. Triggering. Terrible. But also, like, gods, did it make sense for where these two characters were at this point in time? I didn’t feel like it was contrived or somehow put in just for the heck of it. It made sense in the narrative. Spike legitimately just did not get it. He did not realize he was attempting rape until … finally … he did. 

And the horror of that, the horror of realizing that he almost did that to the ONE person in the world that he has ever cared that much about? Broke him. Sent him off on a magical quest to get his fucking soul back.

No one did that. Even Angel was Cursed with his soul, right? No vampire ever wanted to get their soul back - even had enough non-ensouled feelings to have the ability to want such a thing. Not to mention going through the trials of actually getting it back.

Season seven Spike is such a different beast. He’s messed up from the soul-thing, but I honestly believe Most of his messed-up-ness came from what The First was doing to/through him. Because … gods, okay.

When Spike goes through the flashbacks and recognizes what his trigger is? (Like the show legit uses PTSD terminology here - it was a Trigger) He processes his Own old traumas and he is able to tell Robin basically - fuck it, I know who I am. I know I did terrible things without my soul, but I can’t and won’t beat myself up for that (for example the way Angel does) because it wasn’t entirely my fault and all I can control now is who I am now and what I do now.

Now THAT spoke to me as a trauma survivor. Stop hanging on to all of this so-called badness inside, forgive yourself, and move on. WOW. Fucking powerful. 

And what he DOES choose to do is to be there for Buffy in any way she will allow him to.

Ensouled Spike is no longer creeping around her or making weird assumptions about her or trying to Get something From her. Ensouled Spike defends her when others attack. Ensouled Spike holds her all night when she needs it and gives her pep talks and asks what he can do to help and accepts when he can’t help and just stands there quietly willing to do battle With her. 

I just … phew… that makes me emotional. 

Because, again, I look back at some of those dysfunctional relationships I got into in my early 20′s and like. None of those fuckers would have done anything like that. 

And my attraction to the Fictional Bad Boy with a Hidden Heart of Gold was never about expecting any of them to. I was with them, unconsciously or even some cases consciously, on purpose to punish myself or to work out past traumas with or just to Feel Something. I never expected or even necessarily wanted deep love from them.

So, here’s the thing. None of those fuckers would have done anything like that for me. Nor I them. 

So Spike slowly gaining his redemption through his willingness to become a better person because of his love of Buffy? Fucking spoke to me.

And Buffy slowly accepting the darker parts of herself through her willingness to let Spike into her orbit because of her feelings for him? Fucking yes. 

And when she hands him the - shit it’s been a long time - that medallion meant for a champion? And he doesn’t think he’s worthy, but she says she knows he is. Fuck!!! That is ME accepting ME, okay? All of myself, the good and the bad, the ugly and the beautiful, the messed up and the slowly healing. All of it. 

And when he sacrifices himself in the end??? When that’s how she’s finally able to defeat The First? All that power sharing with all of the other women was *chefkiss* but it also took Spike. Spike who stormed on the scene in season two with snark and a twisted sense of love and no desire to ever be a hero? That Spike!? Sacrificing himself and STILL NOT BELIEVING BUFFY LOVES HIM. 

Because by then, let’s be clear, she did. Maybe not the same way he loved her, but she did love him. And he doesn’t believe it, can’t believe himself worthy of that love. But he sacrifices himself ANYway?

THAT Spike? Is no longer asking anything in return. He gives all of himself and won’t even accept her statement of love in return. “No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it anyway.” Just AUGJH?!? You know??? 

That was me … redeeming me … for me…. 

So anyway. 

I just want to add that AS I WAS WRITING THIS OUT, I got another ask in my inbox stating “People who like problematic or villainous characters are apologist for shitty people and should rethink their life because they’re shitty people.”

And this is the exact WRONG time to come for me like this because I just poured out my entire traumatized abuse surviving soul into the internet to explain why watching a problematic villain evolve and learn to do better helped ME to contextualize and process my fucking trauma. So fuck you. People who write anonymous hate without knowing the full story are being shitty and should rethink their actions because they’re shitting on actual REAL LIFE COMPLEX INDIVIDUAL PEOPLE. 

The end. 

[hakuoki-dreams]

Hello, how are you? I think your blog is amazing and the dedication you put in each ask is lovely. Could I ask baka trio headcanons when their crush flirt with them in joke? I hope you've a nice day!

Oh wow thank you!! I’m great, how are you anon? This prompt is so adorable omg 😭 I’m getting back into writing fics after a long hiatus and honestly having requests to answer is very helpful because I need a lot of practice writing the Hakuouki crew. So thank you for sending this!

With these I’m assuming it’s a reciprocated crush, or that there’s at least some level of interest on both sides. (These also turned into another set of f/m headcanons–I’ll try to keep things more inclusive in the future!) Get ready for a text wall let’s gooooo

Shinpachi

You would totally knock him off his game!

Shin is definitely no stranger to women thanks to the red-light district. In front of you he always insists that he just goes to have a few drinks and let off some steam after a long day, but he’s also spent a good amount of time flirting with and being flirted at by geisha and oiran. It’s the sort of female attention he’s comfortable with, because there’s this mutual understanding on both sides that it’s all a pleasant business interaction.

But you’re a different story. Flirting coming from you just feels…weird. You’re his friend.

Well…

If he’s honest with himself, he’s started having some feelings for you that go deeper than friendship. But that’s not a reality he’s not remotely ready to confront, because he’s not sure you feel the same way about him.

Because shit, what if you’re not even trying to flirt with him at all? As far as he knows you haven’t had a really serious relationship before. Maybe you don’t realize what you’re doing. Maybe you don’t know how a guy takes it when a girl teases him for showing off his (albeit very nice) muscles, or accidentally brushes arms with him too often, or laughs at even his dumbest jokes. Maybe it’s all just your way of kidding around with a guy you only see as a friend. It sends his mind traveling around in circles. Shin has trouble thinking straight with you.

In the beginning it all started as good fun between two friends. From day one Shinpachi was someone you just felt comfortable around. He was honest, he spoke his mind, and he didn’t really have a filter with you. It was refreshing; the other men seemed to watch what they said around you a bit because you were a girl. Not Shin.

This did cause some awkward moments at first. You’d notice him double-taking at a pretty face walking past, then he’d realize you caught him and feel compelled to apologize to you for some reason, and you couldn’t help laughing at the sheepish way he scrubbed at his hair when he got embarrassed.

After a couple repetitions of this he finally started loosening up–it even became a type of I-Spy game you’d play together during walks through the city.

‘Ooh…cute maiko coming up on the right…’ You tip him off. Watching the sly way he glanced the girl over was like witnessing a master practice his finest craft. He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Eh, bit thin.’

The first time you responded in kind about a handsome young samurai, you’d think you shattered his entire world to pieces. ‘What? What’s with the face? Girls notice too, you know.’

He’s still staring at the man warily, as if he was a sudden threat. ‘I guess.’

‘Though he is a bit thin…’ You repeat his words without thinking. For a second you both catch each other’s eye, then break away in awkward laughter, the mood between you suddenly shy.

Day by day something shifts in the way he acts around you. Where at first he had no qualms giving back a brash retort when you teased him about his taste in women, now he seems especially chagrined by it. There’s something so gratifying about seeing him ruffle at your playful prodding, this big lug of a guy who used to share all kinds of details about his preferences for everything from women’s hair color to their shoe size.

It’s a little bit…no, it’s very adorable. You find yourself drawn to him more and more because of those moments, and for some unknown reason it makes you want to find small excuses to touch him. You prod him with an elbow, or give him little knocks with your shoulder, trying to let him know that it’s all in good fun.

Eventually Shinpachi will reach a breaking point with you. He’ll realize his fear of misunderstanding your relationship has been eclipsed by the need to know just what the hell is going on between you two, and why you keep picking on him in a way he doesn’t feel equipped to deal with anymore.

‘Come on, Shin…you can tell me! Who’s your type, anyway? I know you how much you love Kyoto women, but there’s so many kinds to choose from. Is it short girls? Tall girls? Blonde girls? What type do you really–’

He wheels around on you. ‘You, okay?!’

You blink up at him, suddenly feeling very small faced with his broad frame. ‘…Me what?’

‘My type is someone like you, all right? It’s you. You’re my type.’

There’s a tinge of pink across his cheeks, but he’s looking down at you with a pure and serious determination that makes your insides feel very warm.

‘Oh…’

Sanosuke:

To be honest Sano never thought he could have a thing for such a spirited woman. He tends to go for the sweet type, so realizing he has feelings for a woman who acts so playful around him would be kind of a new experience.

The truth is he’s very direct and open about his emotions. If he’s crushing on you, you’re going to know, and he’s not going to feel an ounce of embarrassment about something so natural as caring for someone. The fact that you’re actually flirting back without hesitation will be unexpected, even if for you it’s a bit of a smokescreen. It flips the script on him.

Inside? He makes you very nervous. Maybe even terrified. He’s just so full of confidence all the time, about everything. He says and does things that knock the wind straight out of you–like telling you that you look pretty when you laugh, or reaching over to calmly brush a stray leaf out of your hair with that warm smile. You realize you can either melt into an incoherent puddle every time he’s around, or you can find a defense mechanism, fast.

So you start evading the intensity of his attention with humor. It’s supposed to lighten things up between you, maybe keep him at a bit of a distance, but it soon becomes clear your plan is rapidly backfiring on both of you.

When you deflect his serious attempts to get to know you better with a coy joke, instead of putting distance between you, it only seems to draw him closer. His tawny eyes linger on your face, seeking to read your true feelings there.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ He’s looking down at you with that expression of kind concern, you can hear it in his voice, but you know better than to meet his eye.

‘Oh of course, Captain Harada! You know me–’ You make a big production of shifting the stacks of papers in your arms, trying to distract from the loud thump of your heartbeat. What if he’s close enough to hear it too… ‘The chief’s busy applying for new headquarters, and I’m his right-hand girl, so I can’t take it easy can I? But how sweet of you to worry.’ You cast him your brightest, most impish smile, still not quite looking him in the eye.

‘Hmm.’ His response is thoroughly unconvinced. ‘I do worry. You can’t keep working so hard all the time, you know? You’re going to get sick if you overwork yourself.’ And before you can do anything to stop it, he’s placed his cool palm against the skin of your forehead.

‘Ah, thought so. You’re warm. Probably got a fever…your face is all pink.’

‘N-no!’ It comes out more of a yelp than you intended. ‘No, I’m sure it’s just the weather–Kyoto summers are much hotter than I’m used to–’ You manage to twist away from his contact. ‘Besides, you shouldn’t go around putting your hands all over a girl’s face. You’ll give her the wrong idea.’

He’s thoroughly amused by you. ‘Oh? Like what?’

‘Come on, you know what I mean…’ Somehow you manage a breezy laugh. And then you high-tail it away from him with a string of excuses about your work, feeling his gaze on your back all the way, clinging to your crumbling facade until you’re at least out of his sight.

His persistence only makes it harder to keep putting him off. You can’t help being attracted by everything you learn about him; from his kindness toward women and children, to his bravery as a captain, to the look on his face when he’s listening to you talk about your day. It makes a sharp ache rise in your chest. You’re starting to panic.

Because you’re not supposed to fall for this guy–he’s a soldier, a man who stakes his life every day on his honor and his duty to his chief and the shogunate. Falling for someone like him could be disastrous. You have to stay aloof. And whatever you do, he cannot know that you’re starting to fall for him in spite of yourself.

But Sano is Sano, and he’s rapidly figuring out what’s going on here. It’s a strange kind of summer weather indeed that only seems to affect your face when you’re near him…

Very gently at first, he starts to test the waters. In a way he can’t help being impressed with your dedication. Even in moments when he turns up the charm in an attempt to catch you off-guard, to levels that have won over many women in his past, you somehow manage to respond with your own slew of defenses. It becomes a kind of sparring match between you two; each one equally determined to emerge from the fray on top. He’s only more attracted to you because of it.

And you–you start to realize that you never stood a chance against him in the first place, not under the full weight of the Harada charisma. He’s rapidly disarming you.

‘Hey, did you hear what I said?’ His voice calls you out of your daze. With a jolt, you realize you’d been staring at his mouth as his words went in one ear and out the other.

‘Oh! I’m sorry, Harada. I think I must be…tired or something.’ Had he been standing this close to you the whole time? He’s so tall that you have to angle your head back to meet his eyes. Something in his face is very serious tonight; it makes you feel like you’re rooted to the floor in front of him.

He feels it, too. His body bends slightly in your direction. ‘Listen. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while…but I’d like to know it’s something you want, too.’

Oh? Oh. Oh no. A string of disconnected retorts pass through your brain, none of them gaining traction. You can feel the warmth from his body as he leans dangerously closer.

There’s a pause, like a question hanging between you both. His eyes are soft as they read your expression. Unbidden, you feel your chin tip upward toward him. He meets you in the middle…and then his lips are on yours and his arms draw you in to press against his chest and you find your hands seeking his shoulders.

It all only lasts for a moment. He’s first to break away, and you could swear now that his eyes are laughing at you. ‘No comeback?’

‘Give me a minute.’ You’re already rising on tip-toe, ready to wipe away that smile. ‘I’ll think of something…’

Heisuke:

You are laughing at him and honestly he is offended!

Not really, truly offended. You two have been friends since day one, because after all, this is Heisuke we’re talking about. The guy could make friends with a houseplant.

He’s offended in the way he gets pissed at Nagakura and Harada for their good-natured teasing–lots of ‘hey, quit!’s and rambunctious play-fighting–only now it’s with you, this young woman his age who still teases and openly pokes fun at him. He’s never met a girl like you before. He doesn’t know how he’s allowed to respond. It’s alarming, quite frankly.

For a long time he’s torn back and forth between annoyance and attraction toward you. You do little things that get under his skin, especially ragging on him about his size. Heisuke’s taller than you, but not by much; a fact that you’ve innocently brought to his attention more than once. He reminds you at one point that he could still beat you up with both hands behind his back, a remark that’s unfortunately overheard by Nagakura and earns him a slap to the back of the head for being such a ‘fucking idiot talking that way to a lady.’ You only laugh a little bit.

But it’s not always a catfight between you two. He almost wishes it was; that would make this all much easier to figure out. It only makes him more confused when your mood suddenly turns softer or sweeter toward him. There are moments when he catches you watching him at dinner, though you quickly look down when he catches your eye, your expression almost shy. You can be surprisingly easy to talk to, on the nights when it’s just the two of you sitting out on the porch in the breeze.

Heisuke finds himself looking forward to those moments with you, particularly after the memorable night when you dozed off against his shoulder. You’d grown very quiet beside him, when out of nowhere he felt a light pressure and looked down to find your head pressed on his arm, your lashes two dark crescents across your cheeks, breathing through slightly parted lips. He sat frozen still until long after the feeling left his legs.

Pretty soon Heisuke’s frustration about it all will boil over and he’ll need to pay a visit to Harada-Sensei for lady advice. Harada will listen in bemused silence as Heisuke rambles out his thoughts, pacing circles around the floor.

‘…and sometimes she’s just…she’s so cute, it’s stupid! How do I tell her that when she treats me like her brother? Maybe I should just give up, I don’t think she even sees me as a man sometimes. And she always knows just what to say to make me embarrassed! Damn it–’

‘Sit down,’ Harada will sigh, ‘You’ve got this all wrong…’

Dejected, Heisuke will slump down in a sad pile of boy and wait for Harada’s words of wisdom.

‘Didn’t you ever throw rocks at a girl when you were little, because you thought she was pretty and you didn’t know how to tell her? She’s doing the same thing to you, kid.’

‘What are you saying? You mean she…likes me? But you guys see how she always makes fun of me–plus she calls me short all the time and you said–!”

‘So what? She’s short too, dummy! How about that! Why don’t you stop whining and grow a pair and go get her if you like her so much?’

Heisuke will leave thoroughly chastised, but full of new energy at this startling idea that maybe…maybe he’s been a gigantic blind idiot this whole time…maybe all those moments he thought you were making fun of him, you were just as stiff and clueless as he felt inside. He finds you out in the courtyard, thankfully alone. Best if no one else is here to see this.

His expression catches you by surprise. ‘Heisuke, what’s wro–’ Two hands come down on both your shoulders, gripping you firmly in place. He’s stronger than he looks!

‘Look.’ His eyes are clear and determined. ‘I like you, okay? And I think you like me too, because you keep throwing rocks at me and stuff–’

‘Rocks? What are you–’ So much is happening at once; your chest is pounding.

‘Forget it, doesn’t matter now, just listen. I think I figured out why you give me so much crap and tease me all the time. You don’t have to say it out loud if you’re not ready, but I still want to tell you all the same. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, and I think you’re cute even when you’re being annoying and trying to pick fights with me, and I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time actually. Oh!’ he remembers something. ‘And you’re really short.’

‘You–!’ Your protest is cut short by his lips on yours, an awkward and sudden kiss that somehow leaves you short of breath all the same. When he pulls away, he’s glowing with a pure happiness that you just don’t have the heart to resist. You melt closer into him. ‘I think…I think you’re cute too, Heisuke.’

His beaming face falls a bit. ‘You shouldn’t really call a guy cu–’

‘Oh shut up, I like you back, just kiss me again–’

[longroadstonowhere]

this is it

the final chapter of wild child

six and a half years ago, i wrote a little story with an open ending, and i thought well, maybe i’ll come back to this, who knows - i was just starting to get back into writing again, after taking several years off because nothing really inspired me to write

and then there was homestuck, and there were friends to encourage my writing, and after a while i thought, well, why not try continuing that seed of a story

six years ago this saturday, i published the second of what i thought would be six or eight chapters at most - clearly that estimate was completely wrong, haha - but i’m glad i continued this, because i’m proud of what i’ve done here

to everyone who’s read any part of this story, thank you

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 ao3)

Paul collapsed on the couch. John had stormed off through the front door after Jade had made her escape, and he couldn't blame either of them.Probably one of my worst parenting moments to date, he berated himself. Honestly I can't imagine how much worse I could have done.

Roxy settled on the couch next to him and stroked his back. "Well, that was a little bit of a shitstorm."

"Doctor!" Paul raised his head and looked at the stairs. "Your daughter -"

"Left to go find the others. They'll be fine." She sat back, tapping her hands against her thighs. Suddenly, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to get myself something to drink. Would you like some?"

He frowned. Early in the day for that, isn't it? He didn't voice his thought, though, just a simple "No thank you." Rubbing at his temple, he continued, "Really feel like I need to smoke, though."

She hummed in acknowledgement as she clattered around the kitchen. He heard something being poured into a glass, a pause, and then liquid splashing down the drain. He turned his head and saw the doctor filling two glasses with water. Coming back around the couch, she handed him one glass and held the other out. "To curbing vices," she proposed, with a facetious twist to her mouth.

With a matching half-smile, he tapped her glass and took a long sip. Swirling the water a little, he said mournfully, "I don't think John's ever been this angry with me, and I can't blame him. Every choice I made in this matter was the absolute worst choice I could have made. I can't expect him or Jade to ever trust me again."

"Well..." Roxy said thoughtfully. "It might be true that you could've handled things differently and it might have turned out better, but that's impossible to know for sure. Unless you have secret time travel powers?" she teased. Paul snorted out a little laugh despite himself. "No? That's sad, I could've used a new project at work. As for their trust..." Here she sighed. "I'll be honest - I've done my best for Rose, but I've done plenty I'm not proud of, either. Somehow, in spite of all my fuck-ups, she still loves me. I don't know how much she trusts me, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "All children discover their parents are human eventually. We can only hope they still love us when they get through to the other side."

Paul considered that for a moment. "I suppose... I just hoped that day wouldn't come so soon."

Roxy patted his shoulder in consolation. "From what I've seen, you've done a good job with both of them. With a little time, they'll come around."

John stomped away from their house, no goal in sight except just getting away. Dad is such an asshole! he fumed. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us for so long! I was so excited to show Jade what high school is like, and she knows the librarians so well, and what does any of it fucking matter?!? His feet kept pushing along with no interference from his brain, until he found himself near a small ostentatious building near the edge of the clearing that had been made around Rose's house. He didn't really notice the building, though. He was still too focused on mentally ripping his dad a new one. Tired of wandering at random, though, he started going around and around the little structure in a neverending circle.

"John?" Rose's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She stood some distance away, her arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. "Are you attempting to create a moat of some sort with your feet alone? I'd admire your perseverance and admittedly misguided ambition if that were the case - but I must inform you we don't often find ourselves under siege, and if we were this building would not be worth any particular attention."

"Oh, uh..." John shuffled his feet, a little embarrassed and still kinda angry at his dad. He didn't really want to unload any of that on Rose, though. "What is this thing, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a building with pillars outside of like, City Hall."

"Well," Rose stepped forward, her hands moving to clasp behind her back, "this edifice began its life as a mausoleum for my former pet Jaspers. When he passed, my mother had this building constructed to give his mortal flesh a worthy final resting place." She smiled a little. "Then, after some self-reflection and a strongly worded letter from one of my teachers, she decided that was a little fucked up and decided to give Jaspers a more traditional burial for a simple pet - a shoebox buried beneath the flowers. Now we use this thing as a gardening shed."

"Huh. That's... really weird actually."

"That is but the tip of the weirdness manifesting itself as my mother," Rose said. "However, while I could continue to overshare emotionally scarring anecdotes from my past, I think I would serve better as an open ear than an open mouth. So," she carefully settled herself on the grass near the bizarre mausoleum-shed, "have a seat and let's, as the youths say, rap about your feelings."

John snorted without really meaning to. "You sound like a forty six year old woman trapped in a teenager's body saying that."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean by that, young man," Rose stated primly. She patted the grass beside her. "I must insist on the sitting, though. I'll strain my neck if you continue to stand while we talk, and it is simply impossible to find a good masseuse in this neck of the woods."

"Well, I wouldn't want to do something ungentlemanly like cause you grievous bodily harm," John joked as he sprawled next to Rose, his legs stretched in front of him. Once he was sitting, though, he had no idea what to say next. Rose had helped bleed some of his anger away by distracting him, but he could still feel it boiling away in his heart. "I dunno if there's much for me to say. My dad's a jerk and Jade's gonna have to leave, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Rose tilted her head slightly, like she was accepting what John said without agreeing with it. "I'm not so sure that last statement is true, but we can circle back to that. Let's talk to your father first. Does he often spring news on you like this?"

"... No. He usually tells me stuff way before it matters. He always says he wants to give me space to get used to something new, but this is like one of the hugest things that could ever happen and he just drops it all at once?" John exhaled in disgust and fell backwards, his arms stretched out above his head. "I'm already fucked up about high school and growing up, why does this have to change too?"

Rose sighed. "Change can truly be a brutal taskmaster, one with no mercy or compassion for those swept along in its wake. But, well..." Rose paused for a long time, long enough that John wondered if she was done talking entirely. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence for once, though - it felt weirdly okay to just let time pass. He watched a few wisps of cloud slowly drift across the sky. Finally Rose started to speak again. "Honestly, I generally find change to be a shitty joke played on the unprepared fools we all are, but sometimes it can be an unexpected boon. For example," she turned and gave John a surprisingly genuine smile, "though I've only known you a short time, I find both you and Jade to be quite pleasurable additions to my life, an outcome I'd certainly never have predicted in advance. So, even if all the events leading up to our meeting have been exceedingly shitty, I would deem the end result quite satisfactory."

John took a few seconds to process all those words before snorting in laughter. "Wow, that's one of the dorkiest ways I've ever heard someone say 'Let's be friends!', ahahahahaha!" He curled in on his stomach, unable to stop laughing.

Rose sniffed in disapproval. "Such boorish antics... truly it is a mystery how you have ever befriended anyone. 'Tis a riddle I should have to devote my life to unraveling, if I were so inclined to such an activity." Her words sounded kinda mean, but she didn't make any moves like she was going to walk off and just leave him there. And she'd come out to find him after he'd stormed off, which said a lot more than her words did.

Well, maybe not a lot more... John thought, considering how many words Rose generally said. But it does mean a lot, at least. John sat back up and smiled at Rose. "Thanks. I guess I kinda needed that."

She nodded graciously. "My pleasure. I've found something of a fascination for delving into the psychological depths of those around me, so it is gratifying to find a material beneficial output for my knowledge."

"Uh, sure, okay." That sounded kind of like 'you're welcome', if he didn't think about it too hard. John stood and dusted bits of grass off his shorts. Looking at the house, though, he wasn't ready to see his dad again yet. Besides, he had something very important to do. "So, where do you think the tallest tree is around here?"

Jade swung her feet in the air, her eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar horizon. Off the island for months and I still run for a tree when something's wrong, she berated herself. Growing up, climbing trees had been both fun and beneficial, since it gave her the best view of her surroundings, letting her scope out unplundered plants or useful scrap that drifted onto the beach.

Trees had also helped her escape from the beasts that had grown bold after her grandpa's death, animals that Bec could take on one at a time but could easily overwhelm him with numbers. Most of the ones who were chasing her for food couldn't climb, though, so the higher she went, the safer she was.

There weren't any beasts like that here, though - nothing that would kill her, tear her to shreds for a decent meal. She was safe here, probably the safest she'd been in her entire life.

And yet she still ran.

I'm better than this, she thought angrily. I've been around people all the time, and I didn't hurt Rob at all when he tried to fight me, and... Ugh!She fell backwards, hanging off the branch upside down. I can't believe how dumb I'm being about all this!

She sat like that for a while, letting the blood rush to her head until it started to hurt. She let it pound away, the pulsing in her head matching her anger at herself. It got so loud that she almost missed Bec's quiet warning bark - no danger but he saw something that needed her attention.

Straining, she looked down at the ground upside down and could see John at the bottom of the tree approaching Bec carefully. He stopped a few feet short and held his hand out to the dog, who padded forward and let John scratch between his ears. His light laughter drifted up the tree towards her. He gave Bec one last big scritch and looked up the tree at Jade. "Hi Jade! Cold you come down a couple branches? I wanna talk but I don't really want to shout, and these trees are harder to climb than the ones back home."

Home. That word hurt more than she thought it would. She'd gotten over the idea of having a home to belong to years ago, right? Home was about people, after all - that's what her stories had said, and all she had was Bec.

John stood quietly at the bottom of the tree, but he was shifting his weight back and forth, like he was trying to decide if he should leave or not. Finally he tightened his fists and nodded to himself before approaching the tree. He jumped and just barely caught one of the lowest branches, pulling himself up until he could straddle it. Balancing against the tree trunk, he slowly stood up on the branch and looked for the next one. He eyed one just out of reach, but before he could make a jump for that one, Jade called down, "If you're gonna be stubborn, fine, I'll climb down a little." He was super bad at climbing, after all, and dealing with a broken leg or something would just make everything even worse.

Jade casually dropped down the tree until she was a few branches above John. She settled into the nexus of several branches and waited for him to say something. He was the one who wanted to talk after all.

"So..." John said as he sat on his branch again, his legs dangling in the air. "That's some shitty news, huh? Kinda wish Dad had told us earlier, but I guess there's no good time for that kind of news. It's weird to think he could mess up like that, though. Adults aren't supposed to fuck things up."

Jade pressed her back into the tree, trying not to think about what parents should or shouldn't be like. Imagining how things could go wouldn't change what was happening.

John sighed loudly. "Wow, I suck at cheering people up. Rose is way better than me at this." He shook his head vigorously and slapped his hands to his cheeks. "Okay! Here's what I really need to say!" He looked straight at Jade, locking eyes with her. "I want you to come home with me and Dad, and I don't care what anyone says about it. You're my sister, and you belong with us, and anybody who thinks differently is gonna regret it, even if they are some hotshot lawyer with... a briefcase and... and a carphone!" He scowled at the ground, one hand on his forehead. "Wow, that last part sounded stupid, just ignore that bit. The important thing is you're my family, no matter what anyone says."

Jade froze, not sure what she should do. No one had ever made her feel important like that, not since Grandpa... No, she admitted, not even Grandpa. Before she realized it, she was dropping down towards John, grabbing him in a strong embrace when she reached his level. "Whoa - !" John flailed and nearly fell off, but Jade made sure they stayed. Once they were stabilized, John hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time.

Bec's soft whine, followed by some scratching noises, finally convinced Jade to pull back. She looked down through surprisingly watery eyes to see Bec pawing at the trunk of the tree. "I'm fine," she told him, a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. And she was, for once. She actually was.

Beside her, John wiped a few tears out of his eyes. "Wow... now I know how Cameron Poe must have felt when he finally gave Casey that bunny," he laughed.

Jade laughed too, and shoved at him a little. "No more lame movie references, we are having a serious moment!" John was too distracted trying to stay seated on the branch to argue. Jade let the smile drop from her mouth as she gathered her thoughts. "... Do you really think they'll make me leave you guys?"

John furrowed his brow in deep thought. "Custody can be really weird sometimes. But, you know..." John trailed off, looking around at their surroundings. "If you did have to live somewhere else, this wouldn't be the worst place probably. Rose is pretty cool, in a super nerdy way, and it does look pretty."

"I guess... but... " Jade gathered her courage. "I don't want to. I want to go... home."

John wrapped one arm around her. "Okay. That's what we'll do."

John sat on the couch, doing his best not to fidget nervously and absolutely failing on all fronts. Jade lay on the floor in front of him with Bec, the pair tussling half-heartedly over one of Bec's toys that they'd brought along. Rose sat on one of the other couches, knitting a scarf or something and looking for all the world like she didn't care about anything else besides her project.

The day before, they'd all had a real long talk about strategies and feelings and everything in between. There had been more than a few manly tears shed, as well as some hugs so tight they squeezed the air out of everyone's lungs,, but at some point all they could do was wait for the lawyer to come and discuss everything with them.

The adults were with the lawyer now in Dr. Lalonde's study, discussing the dry details of Uncle Harley's will. Rose had tried to argue that all of them should be present, but Dad thought they would run out of steam if they had to listen to the minutiae, so he'd suggested the kids come in once all the boring stuff was over. On the one hand, John couldn't really blame his dad - he could barely pay attention to his teacher's lectures, and he could understand what they were talking about for the most part.

On the other hand, that left the three of them out here with nothing to do but obsess over whatever was happening in that room.

Unable to keep still any longer, John leaped to his feet and started pacing between the couches and the stairs, carefully stepping over Jade and Bec on his way. Neither girl seemed to pay him any mind, but he knew Jade at least was probably keeping an eye on him. Probably Rose too, really. They were both scarily observant of where people were at all times. They'd probably get even scarier about it if they ended up living together.

Nope nope nope! John shook his head sharply. Jade's gonna come home where she belongs, and that's that, even if I have to kidnap her. He stopped pacing, one hand coming up to cup his chin. I'd have to drive, since I don't think we could get on an airplane without some kind of adult, and also tickets would be super expensive. Driving can't be that hard, right? I should be tall enough to reach the pedals on Dad's car, and I know where he keeps his keys. Food, though...

"Um, John?" Jade's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see her kneeling on the couch, looking at him in concern. "What... are you doing?"

John laughed nervously. "Oh, I was.... planning how to kidnap you?"

Behind Jade, he could see Rose shaking with suppressed laughter. Jade half-smiled, but her heart definitely wasn't in it. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head - she was just as nervous as he was, if not more, and he had no idea how to fix that.

Jade looked down the hallway towards the study. "How much longer do you think they're gonna talk?"

John shrugged helplessly. "I guess Uncle Harley had a lot of complicated stuff in his will? He was technically like a billionaire or something, since the Betty Crocker company belonged to him." He looked down the hall as well. "They could be in there for a really long time probably."

Rose set her knitting aside and confidently stood up. "Well then, I suggest we go see how they're getting on for ourselves." She came around the couches and strode past John towards the hallway. He gave Jade a quick look before following Rose, and he could hear Jade scrambling over the couch to join them.

Outside the study, Rose kneeled in front of the door, one ear pressed close. She motioned for John to be quiet as he approached. He frowned - he wasn't stomping around like an elephant or anything, and he knew better than to give away that they were eavesdropping! As proof of such intelligence, he didn't give Rose a piece of his mind then and there. Instead, he knelt next to her, pressing his own ear against the door to try and hear what was going on. Jade stayed standing and leaned over the both of them, one hand on John's shoulder to keep her balance.

The adults were talking quietly, making it difficult to hear them through the door. Okay, so maybe Rose had a good point about being silent, he thought ruefully. He had to breathe really slowly through his mouth to be quiet enough to have any chance of understanding what they were saying.

"As you can see, Mr. Harley was quite thorough in protecting the trust for Jade." That was the lawyer's voice - they'd introduced themselves to everyone before disappearing into the study with Dad and Doctor Lalonde. "And since he tied everything about access to the trust with whoever has Jade's custody..."

There was a barely audible sigh, which John recognized as coming from his dad. "Yes, I can see why you said you needed to speak with me in person. This is far more complex than I'd even imagined." A pause, with some furniture creaking that suggested his dad was moving around in some way - leaning forward maybe? "Why was he so particular about this? He must have trusted his business partners well enough, since he left them in complete control of the company while he was... gallivanting around the world."

More furniture creaks, and Dr. Lalonde said, "Jake was never very good with people - that's why he liked exploring so much, it meant he could just leave whenever he started worrying about whether he was offending someone or what have you." She laughed a little. "I think he might've left Jade to me just because he could stand being around me for at least a week at a time."

"I'd also like to note," the lawyer said, "he didn't leave his partners completely alone while he traveled. He had access to some extraordinary technology across the years - we take cell phones and their communication abilities for granted now, but fifteen or twenty years ago that instantaneous correspondence was just barely beginning to enter the public eye. Mr. Harley's island was kitted out with a whole host of machines that allowed him to check on his company far more often than one would have expected, and he could give them instructions as well. He was more hands-on than the company would lead you to believe."

The furniture creaked again, and John's dad said, "So he was still running the company from all the way out there?" His voice was getting louder and softer - it sounded like he was pacing back and forth. "He went to all those lengths, just to avoid his business colleagues while still keeping control of his company?"

"That's Jake in a nutshell, really. He had a great deal of pride in his family's company, so he couldn't let it pass from his hands while he was alive, but he couldn't stand living in the same 'humdrum reality' as the rest of us." The doctor's voice changed a little as she said those words, and Jade gripped John's shoulder a little tighter. Guess that's her Uncle Harley impression. It must be pretty good for Jade to react like that, John thought.

"Okay..." Dad still seemed to be pacing back and forth. "So he accepted his business had to pass into other hands on his death, but he wanted to provide a good future for Jade, and so he put all his wealth into this trust fund for her. Would his business partners really try to get at his wealth through Jade? I know it's quite a bit of money but -"

The lawyer interrupted. "They already have tried, and not just his business partners. Several parties have come forward inquiring about Jade's custody since they learned of her current situation. Somehow word's gotten around that Mr. Harley's fortune will not be funneled back into the company, as so many presumed it would, and regrettably some of those who made such presumptions are much less scrupulous than one would hope."

"Yeah, Jake had good reason to make his will so strong, unfortunately," the doctor said. "With what he knew, he made the best choices possible. I just wish he'd known a little more."

"It's unfortunate that he and Mother fell out of contact," John's dad sighed. "This all could have been avoided. And you're certain there's no way to accept custody of Jade without also gaining access to this trust fund?"

"No, that was one thing Mr. Harley didn't think of," the lawyer replied. "Of course, he assumed with everything else in place that Jade would go to Doctor Lalonde here, and he knew her to be in an extremely secure financial situation. As such, and because he personally knew her, Mr. Harley was certain that Jade's money would be safe in the doctor's hands."

"Yes, I wouldn't dream of touching her money myself, outside of providing for whatever lessons she desires in the future," Dad said. "But... if I try to take full custody of Jade, those vultures circling around Uncle Harley's will would try to argue that my motivation is purely financial, won't they?"

The lawyer responded, "Yes, I think it's safe to say they would certainly challenge your claim on those grounds, considering your own situation. After all, you've been holding up admirably, but even with just the quick glance you graciously allowed me, I can see that you've been struggling on that front for some time."

"What?" John said, unable to help himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth as Rose turned to glare at him. Oops.

The conversation in the study paused, and then footsteps came towards them. John and the others stepped away from the door, just in time to avoid stumbling through as John's dad opened it. He looked down at the three of them, smiling a little and shaking his head. "I suppose we should have expected you to tire of waiting for us to finish," he said. "Well, if you're going to listen, you should join us so you can speak as well." He turned back into the room and returned to the table they were all sitting around.

Rose wasted no time entering the room and claiming a chair for herself. John entered a little more cautiously, making sure Jade was right behind him. He felt sort of timid, which was a really weird feeling for him - most of the time, he jumped into a new situation too fast to feel anything more than excitement or anger or whatever. After that first rush, he usually just felt dumb about jumping in, but not timid. That was an alien thing.

He swallowed, trying to gulp down this weird feeling at the same time. "So... is that why we've been eating spaghetti all the time? Because we're poor now?"

"Oh John," his dad sighed. "We're not... yes, having another person in the house has strained our financial situation somewhat, but we're doing fine. Besides, I'll take any hardship to give you the life you deserve." He looked at Jade. "Both of you."

John glanced down at his hands, pride in his dad overwhelming his ability to say anything else. The lawyer politely cleared their throat. "That is extremely admirable, Mr. Egbert. I could only wish all parents were as devoted as you."

Dad blushed a little. "Well, it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he muttered.

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "You know, you almost sound like Jake when you say that." She sobered quickly, turning back to the lawyer. "So, as much as I hate to be all serious, did Jake leave any provisions for what would happen to Jade if I were..." Her eyes flickered to where Rose was sitting. "Let's say incapacitated?"

"You can say 'if you were dead', Mom," Rose stated, deadpan. "I'm well aware of how mortal our flesh is."

The doctor chewed her lip. "That's not the only thing I meant, Rose." Mother and daughter looked at each other, communicating something John couldn't even try to understand. Rose nodded, just a little, and seemed to relax slightly.

"In the event that you were incapable of serving as Jade's guardian," the lawyer diplomatically continued the conversation, "Mr. Harley specified that, to put it in simple terms, Jade was to be provided for in an identical way to your own daughter if at all possible. Any other contingencies specifically require your incapacitation."

"Ah, no luck there, then," she said lightly. "It was a long shot, anyway."

"Um..." Jade raised her hand a little. Where'd she pick that up from? John wondered - she obviously hadn't attended any real classes yet, but maybe she'd marathoned some school show and hadn't told them about it. "Can I say something?"

"Of course! This is your future, after all," the lawyer stated.

"Right, okay." Jade took a deep breath, in and out. "So, Grandpa wanted Doctor Lalonde to be my guardian, and made it really really complicated for anyone else to get the job because of this money he set aside for me, right?"

John's dad nodded. "That is a good summary of the situation, yes."

"So, um... is it possible for both you and the doctor to be my guardians?" Jade asked, looking at each of the adults.

The lawyer leaned back, stroking their chin. "Partial custody.... you know, I think that could actually work. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues who are more versed in these things, but that should satisfy Mr. Harley's conditions regarding Doctor Lalonde as Jade's guardian, as well as allow her to spend most of her time living with the Egberts." They looked at the doctor. "I'm fairly certain you would have to host Jade for some significant period of time, though, or else you could be challenged on whether you were acting in good faith as her guardian."

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "How about... oh, say, six weeks every summer?" She turned to John and his dad. "I'd be more than happy to house the two of you, as well. It wouldn't be the same without everyone here."

Dad smiled wide, exuberant joy pouring out from his face. "That sounds absolutely perfect, Roxy. I would be more than happy to accept those terms."

"So... that works? I get to stay with John and Mr. Egbert?" Jade asked, like she had to hear someone say it straight out before she could believe it. Honestly, John couldn't blame her - he felt the same way.

The lawyer smiled. "As I see it, you get to stay with your family."

John whooped in joy and tackled Jade to the ground. "You get to stay!" he shouted - he was so happy, he wanted the whole world to know why.

Jade laughed and hugged him back. No matter what came next, John would remember this as one of the best moments in his entire life.

[aeroknot]

@yellowflasher​ said: tell me abt this show bc i have been thinking of watching it

ahhhhh!! i’m so glad you asked me to talk about this show!! haha

as usual I’m a fucking insufferable, over-talkative spaz!!!

ummmmm ok!! it’s kinda like... Jessica Jones mixed with Tombstone mixed with Grimm?? and X-files as far as Monster of the Week and agents who pine for each other goes? & i’ve seen peeps compare it to Supernatural but I never watched that so... SHRUG. 

so the premise is that our wonderfully complex anti-hero chick wynonna earp returns to her hometown of Purgatory (somewhere in the U.S. near Canada; I personally think Montana because it’s the most western state bordering Canada (in the first ep Wynonna asks a fellow bus passenger “your first time out west?”) that’s not Washington or Idaho, bc neither of those seem like its setting esp. since Idaho is just a sliver of the whole border, tho it could be North Dakota or Minnesota I guess?--  EH it’s kind of not been touched on as far as I know and anyway it doesn’t matter shut up aero just---). she is the great-great grandaughter of wyatt earp, the righteous 19th century wild west u.s. marshal raining down hellfire on USDA grade A Assholes. but then he’s cursed!! and his kills are actually cursed in hellfire!! even if they’re killed, they resurrect from hell the next time a new heir turns 27 if not all of them have been defeated, and they’re demons trapped within the borders of Purgatory (har har go figure), or in the show’s terms, also called Revenants. earp had a renown 77 kills, and the only way to break the curse is for his heirs to hunt down and shoot all 77 kills before the heir dies-- the heirs have the power to wield his mystical gun Peacemaker which sends Revenants back to hell. wynonna is our fantastically loveable resistant heroine because she was never meant to be the heir-- her older sister, the firstborn, was supposed to be, but shit went down (which got her ostracized and locked up in psychological institutions) and now she is the heir. and I’ll move on from synopsis to opinions because I don’t want to start spoiling anything and the show should just speak for itself!

reasons I’ve enjoyed it!!!:

Wynonna Fucking Earp. early on I described her as a “slightly perkier” Jessica Jones. That was wrong-- in the SLIGHTEST part. she is a WAY WAY PERKIER Jessica Jones. and I fucking cannot get enough of it. Like... Dark-haired leather-jacket-wearing harrowed-past-having orphaned-and-outcasted-as-children anti-heroes are mostly typically supposed to be deadpan, snarky, grumpy, sexily standoffish, and often secretive and hard to read, and only rarely invested in others. And she is that, often, yet SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. She is: GOOFY!! CRASS!! EMBARRASSING!! PLAYFUL!!!! She smiles a lot!!! She celebrates victories! She cracks jokes! She expresses her desires upfront and unabashedly, and without games! She is emotionally vulnerable with loved ones and friends and grows even more in this throughout! She actually asks people for support and comfort!! & She busts balls endearingly! She’s courageous and helpful! She’s brash and brazen--and yeah, this gets her scolded by others, but rarely does it feel like she’s punished for her impulsive heroics by her writers, as I often feel (male) writers of female heroes (or usually side-heroes) tend to do (probably she’s not punished because mostly women are writing this story, gee isn’t that weird? hah). There’s consequences, yeah, but it usually works out and she’s still the hero ultimately. She’s basically the plucky hero wrapped in anti-hero fodder, and I have completely fallen for her. She makes me laugh so much with her dialogue and makes me feel represented with how WEIRD she ultimately gets to be. Plus, she is emotionally vulnerable almost every episode, and her sister even succinctly chides her with “for a lone wolf, you sure are needy.”

getting to that, HER SISTER!!! Waverly is amazeballs. I think she even used the term amazeballs in an episode, recently-- she’s that amazeballs. She’s still growing a lot, but she’s definitely quintessential underdog baby sister, and I’m here for it, because she’s also reinforced as an integral part of the story and gets her own romance even before Wynonna and it’s so wonderful. Waverly constantly has a new skill or tidbit of information up her sleeve-- she’s inventive, thorough, super super damn nerdy, and also social and kind and popular. Plus, she’s with Nicole Haught (and I just cannot get over the playfulness of some of these names in the story, lmao) and they’re just fantastic together and I’m so happy to see them together every time. So far it’s good lesbian content. My face honest to god always cracks into a smile when they’re together. also um!! i want her entire wardrobe!! 

The Earp Sisters are just... Their sisterhood is so rich and complex and SATISFYING. Like I actually feel like I’m watching REAL SISTERS. They are gross and raunchy with each other, and I laugh so hard. They are sweet and supportive to each other and I cry. They are competitive and jealous and conflicted with each other, and I’m relieved to see this-- to see all these layers to them. It’s great writing and acting for a sister bond and I’m just excited to see sisterhood being such an integral theme for a t.v. show. 

the SYFY effects are sometimes silly but I still enjoy it. the ENTIRE CONCEPT is actually pretty silly and sometimes goes cheesy, even, but I still am endeared by its approach just the same. The storyline itself is... often confusing me, and I LIKE that, believe it or not. I don’t mean “confusing” as in the plot doesn’t make sense-- it does-- I mean “confusing” in the sense that it’s, hm, how should I say... I guess kind of disjointed? There’s always a Random Revelation thrown in suddenly, or weird Twist that literally had NO foreshadowing, and often it seems like the story progresses with big chunks of time in between episodes which can be hard to place and pace the action and relationship developments... Usually I’d probably nitpick all this, but actually, it keeps me very transfixed because usually I can completely predict what will happen next due to a show’s use of foreshadowing, but this show often completely bypasses such a dance with the audience, and though I sometimes question if that’s effective storytelling, I honestly think I’m really starting to respect this method, and so I want to stick around for it. I could probably go into way more detail with this, but then I might start spoiling things, so I’ll leave it at that. Someone who constantly predicts the “reveals” in a show, even at an episode-by-episode pace, gives this a seal of approval!! Nothing “revealed” is particularly earthshattering and it’s often given away in such a matter-of-fact tone, but it propels the story in interesting ways without a ton of hoopla in trying to ever pull one over its audience, and I like and respect that. They’re like “oh fuck! This weird idea we had is A Thing now. Let’s explore that more together, viewers!!”

(I will say some of the deaths are not as effective as I think they could be because of the above evaluation of the approach to plot/pacing/twists/reveals, but I’m still interested in those choices. brings me to a legit critique tho: they should uh... stop killing so many Cool Women right after immediately introducing them. It’s starting to worry me. :\ but also...? I’m trusting? I think? still? anywho!)

I’m a Tombstone-loving Fuck and Doc Holliday is one of my favorite real-person enigmas of history and this Doc Holliday incarnation is supremely gratifying. He is consistently entertaining and intriguing!

I was initially all in for Holliday and THEN FUCKING DEPUTY MARSHAL XAVIER DOLLS CAME FOR MY WHOLE HEART. Go! Look at his special eyes! Look at his HEART EYES at my DAUGHTER WYNONNA. He has my whole approval. I’ll buy the ring for him. I’ll plan the proposal. DO IT.

-- ok aside from my shipping bullshittery also Dolls is just. An amazing guy. I love him. He’s a boss in so many senses of the word, and he constantly surprises me. I feel like he’s... A Capital-A Adult? You know? He’s mature, and methodical, and clever, and talented, and confident. It’s funny to me that he’s called “the stick in the mud” and yet through small tidbits we see he’s really not (he can be playful or perverted, too), he’s just Grown. A Man. Focused, with an Agenda and a Goal. It’s lovely to see him come out of his shell a bit and be cheeky and then at the end of S1 just like... OPENLY ADORE the people he’s around. But it’s also a breath of fresh air somehow to see An Adult Man. I don’t know, maybe it’s what the actors bring, too, because both Doc and Dolls really just strike me as assured individuals, each of them just really secure in their sense of identity, which makes them GREAT foils to Wynonna, and it’s just fabulous, really. I like adulthood being given this reverence and care. It makes someone like me, hedging out of her twenties, feel a little bit more like there’s still a space in media and storytelling for people over 35. lmao. (and admittedly 35 is still fucking young, but Hollywood would have us believe it’s time to go out to pasture at this age)

and on that note DOC HOLLIDAY AND DOLLS TOGETHER. I JUST. *clenches fist* THEY’RE SO GREAT. AND WITH WYNONNA I JUST. It IS A LOVE TRIANGLE, in the barest evaluation, yes. And I prefer Dolls with Wynonna, yes, and usually I, yes, Fucking Can’t Stand Triangles, but the way these writers are approaching this has me fucking bowing down to them. I am really enjoying the way they’re taking this so far. I laughed to myself the other day because the realization suddenly dawned on me like “oh.... Fucking Anciently Old Immortal Pale Guy + Mystically Endowed Outcast Brunette Girl + Man of Color With a Secretive Monster Backstory” is fucking..... Twilight. This is Twilight. If it had a Wild West spin and was written, you know, WELL, and the characters were a thousand times more interesting. Is Emily Andras trying to come for Stephanie Meyers? MAYHAPS. 

I’m gonna give some rapid fire thoughts to wind down: GREAT MUSIC SELECTIONS, fun shootouts!!, LESBIANS!!! <33333, mostly interesting villains, good cinematography, action!, mystery!, HUMOR!!! THAT DIALOGUE!!!! WRITE ALL MY LIFE AND INTERACTIONS W/ OTHERS W.EARP WRITERS!! 

I could go on and on which is in my fucking nature I’m so goddamn sorry look at this pit you’ve opened but ultimately my answer is: It is so fucking fun. It is a Delight! A DELIGHT I TELL YOU. I get joy from this; I laugh, I’m entertained, my brain thinks hard but not too hard, the characters have infiltrated my heart so damn quickly. DELIGHT. I’m so sad I’ve caught up but also I fucking bought a Season Pass on Amazon prime for s2 so even though I don’t live with cable anymore, I’MMA BE ON THIS.

[thezolblade]

Fanfic ask game~ C, F, G, and V. If that's not too much :')

Okay let’s try these for some of the fandoms we have in common, though not all apply to each letter.

C: What member do you identify with most?

- FF7

I was going to say that I don’t particularly identify with any of the cast, beyond feeling for them as the story plays out. But then I remembered, omg Shera. It was obvious from the start that she did her job and saved Cid’s life, but he gaslighted her for not telling him what he wanted to hear, and only realised that she was right after bullying her for years? Wtf Cid, go die in a fire if that’s what you really want. It left me thinking “…And…? Will Shera be okay? Will she finally leave and get on with her life?”

I don’t care what Cid named after her in AC, I want to know if she recovered her self-esteem & career & personal life. If you have a techy skill, and people who don’t know better try to undermine you, that can be such a tough situation to handle… Years of it would be horrifying.

- Revolutionary Girl Utena

Anthy most of all, I think. Not the drama and trauma at the end, but the solitude she maintains when it’s not yet clear why. The show did a good job of showing that school can be hell for a lot of people, for all kinds of reasons. And damn, it was painful seeing Anthy spending so much time alone, offering everyone a false smile, avoiding the crowds because they really weren’t going to do her any favours. It got frustrating in the early episodes, seeing Utena push her into things when she’d said she didn’t want to about as clearly as she was ever going to. And it was pretty gratifying to see Utena apologising for that at the end.

I mean it was also relatableto see Utena trying to do the right thing, and getting frustrated at the world when it was never easy. I’m still impressed that they managed to demonstrate so much emotional realism in the conclusion, at least as far as you can extrapolate reality for magical near-immortals or whatever they are. With the show being heavily metaphorical, and ending with everyone trying to take the same journey in the movie, it seems like Anthy’s struggles were meant to have universal elements - showing how you can self-sabotage by hurting others, and hurt yourself by telling others what they want to hear. How you need to be able to imagine better options before you can walk away.

- Golden Sun

Uh, Alex, somehow. He’s an embarrassing mess, he makes so many bad decisions which are all ‘wft are you doing?’, and Dark Dawn got into near-wallbanger territory where I was disgusted with both him and the game, bc the gratuitous damage seemed pointless and inconsistent from a gameplay perspective, and so far across the line from a characterisation perspective that it’s really hard to see why Kraden was programmed to say that Alex may have been 'helping in his own way’ or something like that. But in the first two games, at least, there was some complexity to his attitude. (And bits like that of the 3rd one indicated that the canon may still have been trying for nuance, only pretty poorly executed. #.# )

Still, gotta admit by now that judging from the amount of meta and fic I keep writing from his pov, something about his thought process is relatableenough that you can see why he’d think what he thinks, even if he’s wrong. When he actually provides factual information, it tends to be correct. He uses relatively inarguable facts to try to influence people, and the trolling is kinda unrelated. The manipulation isn’t emotional “Leave or I’ll be disappointed in you for picking this fight” - it’s attempted-impartial “Don’t pick this fight because your opponent(s) are too strong / your parents won’t be released unless you keep your side of the deal with those people.” Plus a side of “Lol you think I’m trash don’t you?”, demonstrating that he’s not trying to use a personal connection as leverage bc he’s burning those bridges, and still somehow expecting people to listen. ’I’m not on your side! But you should take my advice!’ Embarrassing mess…

And yet the others sometimes come across as relatively young and distracted by comparison, making assumptions about the world that he wouldn’t, and arguing over petty details. What is the point of panicking over things you can’t change?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oh I like so much dialogue, tough choice. Uh well this probably isn’t the best scene, the oldest oldfic is still a messy WIP and I can tell it’d need a lot of work to match the newer stuff, and even to get it finished as what I originally envisioned I need to schedule a whole lot of time to work on it. But I want to, because I still love it, and since I haven’t managed to communicate the whole story yet to its readers, it feels like a self-indulgent choice. I’m pretty attached to the parts where Alex and Isaac get incredibly annoyed at each other, making the situation worse even while trying to work together, though they can’t each recognize genuine effort in the other - for a variety of reasons by this point.

“I… am sick of receiving derogatory communications from the aether, the last one wasn’t nearly as offensive, it wasn’t even real, - ”

“Wait, it’s… What?” Isaac was having trouble making sense of this. “Have you been getting obscene messages from the gods?”

“Can’t you go five minutes without bringing the gods into this?” Alex snapped, looking down again, seizing the chance to change the subject. “We are the ones with infinite potential!”

“Yes… but…”

“And you are the one capable of taking the rest…” It was only after Alex added this that Isaac realised he’d meant the two of them, not humanity in general. For a moment, he’d thought they were of the same opinion there.

“But is it… really…?” Isaac gestured at the paper, wondering how its message could be so irrelevant to Sheba’s fate. If it wasn’t about Sheba, what use was it?

“If you do not intend to believe anything you hear from me, why tell me to speak?”

“No, it’s… uh, don’t worry. I’ll take your word for it, for now.” Isaac smiled, realizing that 'don’t worry’ was slightly inadequate even as he said it. “We have to make sure it comes into existence the way it’s supposed to. First things first. We’d better head upstairs and tell the others the plan.”

“Bring them to me.” Alex could see that Isaac didn’t understand why he would request this. Shouldn’t it be obvious? Why would he want to go back to them, to approach them entirely on their terms? “Whoever would be involved, bring them here.”

“If it happened upstairs, you should probably try it there.”

“Do you think I still need higher ground?” Alex asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the water behind him - boiling water flowing from the cold tap.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Often from start to finish in as few sessions as possible, though if it’s long enough to take more than a few days, I end up jotting down dialogue notes, and then trying to put the notes in order, which gets more fiddly the more there are. The multichapter longfic get big chunks written out of sequence, which sometimes makes it easier to fill in the gaps by joining the dots, and sometimes leaves me blocked on how to tackle the parts in between.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Not sure I could choose anything; other people’s stories are their ideas, and I generally want to hear more from the authors because they’re not the kind of stories I’d have intuitively come up with. Reading fic does tend to spark plotbunnies, but more those that place a headcanon in its own verse showing how else it could play out - different characterisation even if I’m adopting a headcanon I like. Back when I read more fic, I used to get the urge to play with the more macguffiny plot elements of things too, but never got to the point where I had a divergent fan-fan-fic that I could have asked the author about as far as I remember.