#okay i'm done why can i only remember a fraction of these things

[allthegothihopgirls]

i am here again asking the good people of tumblr.com for comic recommendations... i am in such a reading slump and the world is so big and i don't know what to start

i'll take anything that's not batfam or harley/ivy centric. it doesn't just have to be dc either... and a shorter run is always appreciated

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Y'all want my hot take on why we didn't have a Marshall movie for the second movie, but this time not focusing my answer on Skye?

THEY WERE AFRAID OF AUDIENCE REACTION.

No, really.

Marshall is a fan favorite, NOT ONLY AMONG KIDS - they gotta please the kids parents and relatives too, it's the parents and relatives who will spend their fortunes on buying Paw Patrol merchandise for their kids and throwing birthday parties with custom "I'm the Paw Patrol kid's dad/mom" matching shirts.

THEY KNOW IT'S NOT ONLY KIDS WATCHING THEIR SHOW AND MOVIES, heck they're all adults working there and you need TO LOVE kids stuff to create and/or work on GOOD kids animations. And EVEN MORE NOW after the Mighty Movie, they KNOW two things:

1- The younger kids might not care MUCH, but the older ones will and the percentage of adults that follow the show will as well: Everyone who loves Marshall will NOT be satisfied with just anything.

Usually the people who work on movies are not all the same from the show, so both things can run and get produced without interfering with each other. The people working in the movies are bound to know how the audience is reacting to the show in order to get things done okay in the movies as well, or at least do whatever they can do under what orders they receive.

They know people have been unhappy about Marshall being put more in the sidelines, they know people are unhappy with how they're following orders to give Skye more spotlight in the show which means she's been doing rescues that usually would be more suited for Marshall. It's like she's pushing Marshall to the sidelines. I don't even remember when was the last time I saw Marshall work as EMT and I don't remember last time I even saw his Ambulance in the show (I'm currently at the beginning of 7th season). They might even know how people miss Marshall's interactions with other pups, especially with Chase, as in the beginning they were portrayed as best friends, playing together, doing things together, and now it's like they're all just coworkers. My guess on that is because they're avoiding situations that can be used for shipping characters XD Given the whole issue with ideologies and whatnot now, I wouldn't be surprised they're avoiding anything remotely close to that.

They know people are unhappy and wish for Marshall to get his spotlight back.

2- THEY KNOW WE'RE UNHAPPY WITH HOW MARSHALL HAS BEEN PORTRAYED IN BOTH MOVIES SO FAR. Especially the whole issue about his clumsiness, which is barely hinted at in the movies, even if we see a lot about it in the show. Not to mention how it's treated mostly as "natural clumsiness", things that could have happened to literally ANY of the other pups, not because of his "clumsy condition". I mean, tripping while dancing, yeah, that's normal. Getting startled when a hologram shows up in your face? Any of them could have gotten startled outta their fur at that. Chase literally spawning by his side when you had just seen him all the way across the room not even half a second ago? I'D HAVE SCREAMED AND THROWN THAT FIREBALL OUT AND AWAY DUE TO SUCH JUMPSCARE TOO.

He didn't do MUCH in the movies at all, maybe just taking over the matters when Chase had his panic attacks in the first movie. Which also makes sense, we gotta admit that: Police AND FIREFIGHTERS are usually the ones who are more suited to do crowd control and deal with people. I'm not even going about how Marshall would take over, it's just that he's the more suited to go substitute Chase in ANY CASE. It's not just because they're close friends.

But aside from that? The main focus were Chase for the first movie, and Skye for the second. Marshall was along for the ride, as well as all other pups, but fans are ESPECIALLY UPSET literally because they felt Marshall was supposed to have the spotlight for the Mighty Movie and it turned out it just wasn't going to be about him XD He didn't do muuuuuch, he barely had not even a fraction of his signature clumsy moments.

And after how people complained after the first movie, they weren't going to do anything about Marshall just yet anyway. Now fans are even more pissed and I'm here holding my bucket of popcorn watching this circus catch on fire and waiting for our beloved firepup to come for the rescue.

Sort of literally XD

At least we know we're gonna get a third movie by 2026. Now it's a game of wait and see what it'll be like.

[thedancingcockroach134]

Human Tito x Reader pt. 2

Chapter 4: Try staying away

A few minutes later, Jerry called his whole gang to present his plan. You payed attention as he gave the schedules of how or where. You notice Tito really bored and upset at the same time for some reason. You realize that Tito didn't look very down and bored when y'all were in his room. You get the pictures in your head and realize he was actually trying to r4pe you as he was taking off your clothes that time and touching you in areas. You decide that you should probably stay away from him since if he's your best friend and crush, why would he try doing that? It's like sex is the only thing that keeps him from getting upset. You start questioning yourself like: "Did he r4pe people?" Or "Is this a normal thing he does to his best friends?" You feel better staying away from him as far as possible. As Jerry was done planning all that stuff to find ways of escaping, Tito comes up to you and ask you a question. "Do you wanna go back to my room, Y/N?" You respond with something serious. "Why did you do all that to me? I-I-I'm your best friend, Tito! It's like you actually found a way to distract me by making me thing about something else with all that...touching...whatever you were doing! I couldn't even stop myself because I trusted every single word you said to me in your room! I-I'll just hang with the other's for a while.." You walk away as you actually felt like you shouldn't have probably said all that.

Chapter 5: ✨oZzIe TiMe✨

You decide to hang out with Ozzie as he was playing with blocks alone. He was the only person in the whole Institute that only had toys since he's autistic. You sit next to Ozzie's note book and pencil to see if he'll notice you. He looks the other way and gasped in fear. He started to write down in his journal: "Hi, Y/N! I jumped right now because you scared me." You asked Ozzie a question. "Where did you get that note book from? I never seen you have it." He writes down: "They gave this to me today so I won't have to keep using paper. Pretty smart, to be honest. Do you agree?" You nod. You look down and feel very scared to go near Tito again. Ozzie looks at you and starts writing down: "Are you okay?" You respond. "Yes, I promise." He writes down: "Are you sure?" You think to yourself and ask: "Am I sure?" You decide to change the subject. "Hey, I remember Jerry telling me that your favorite subject is math, do you wanna solve some math problems?" Ozzie smiles and claps his hands as he nods. You give him problems to solve like algebra, the quadratic formula, division, fractions, decimals, and so much more. You're very surprised that he gets at least all of them correct.

Chapter 6: Staring at me

Staying away from Tito for 2 whole weeks felt very hard to you for some reason. No matter how hard he tried getting your attention or talked to you, you ignored him, completely. Even though you stayed away from him, you still had love for him. You tried finding ways for him to get out of your mind and try finding new crushes, it never worked. Although, he's been staring at you for a very long time. You were hanging out with Cammy and Sara while he was staring at you. After a very long time, you finally had the courage to talk to him. "Why do you keep staring at me? What do you want me to do? Boo? Scare you or something?" He still felt very upset. "What? I can't stare at people? You don't controll me or anything." Sara decides to ask you. "Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen with both of y'all?" You shake your head. "No, I-It's fine." You still feel very creeped out as you can feel Tito staring at you. You start shaking as you think you're gonna be stalked or hunted. You were pissed about it and decided to reply. "How about we move over there?"

✨ pArT 3 cOmInG sOoN ✨

[justmybookthots]

One Dark Window

4/5 stars

Okay, this was muuuuuuuuch better than A Study in Drowning. Like, I was actually kind of scared it'd be a double-flop for me after my disappointment with the other book, but thank goodness it wasn't. It started off as strong as A Study in Drowning did for me—like, I wouldn't say SUPER strong, but I was following the plot with mild interest—and it continued to be equally interesting. 

I'd like to preface something: I AM AN IDIOT. Somehow, I had it in my brain that the Nightmare was the love interest, so when the actual love interest popped up, I didn't care and was wondering why the heroine kept mooning over him. I thought he was the second love interest or something but by the time I was one-third into the story, I was like, SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT. So I went and Googled reviews of the book and to say I was flabbergasted that the Nightmare WASN'T the love interest would be an understatement.

I was soooooooooo disappointed at first, lmao. I mean, Ravyn just seemed to be the classic brooding love interest. Even until the end when I had long gotten over this revelation, I didn't care much for the romance. I don't particularly dislike it either, though; I'm mostly indifferent. I think the problem for me was that I actively disliked the romance in A Study in Drowning, but I do feel a vague fondness for Ravyn and the heroine. That said, some of the PDA the leads were exhibiting was making me cringe. Maybe I'm just not a fan of PDA; I remember this being a small complaint of mine with Love Theoretically.

(What is with me and my shit memory? I can't remember the heroine's name. I always forget the heroine's name because the book's in her POV and I just meld with her brain. Okay. I refused to Google it and sat here thinking and I finally recalled her name: Elspeth. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong.)

I still feel that the Nightmare was a much more fascinating character than Ravyn but whatever. Also, I am especially fond of Elm. Some of his banter was so amusing, specifically when an anxious Elspeth was sitting on the horse with him, and he was like: "Trees. Could your arms get any tighter? It's like I'm wearing a corset." (This is not quoted verbatim.) I really hope we get more of him in the next book because he's one of my favourite characters (him and Ione????? I've got my eye on them 👀). I must state, though, that I don't LOVE anyone. They're all just alright. It's ridiculously hard for me to get invested in characters, I'm beginning to realise. My loss.

Anyway. The world-building is done rather decently for my taste. I don't get paragraph after paragraph of info-dump; it's all integrated very smoothly into the plot. THIS is how you do world-building – I keep thinking of Crescent City and I get shudders. (I must fairly add that A Study for Drowning also had really nice world-building.) The concept of cards with magic was fun, though when I think about it, nothing much REALLY happens throughout the story. They were supposed to collect three cards to complete the deck, and the only real action is claiming the first card. The second card was just handed over by the heroine's father, and the third still hasn't been collected yet. The fact that the word count can be stretched so far and NOT feel dull is honestly quite interesting.

I sort of delayed reading this until the sequel came out. But I'm still hemming and hawing about reading the next book right away. The thing with fantasy is that it's always best to read the sequel before I forget the world-building, but I seriously don't feel invested enough to continue immediately. I want to explore something new already. ;w; I wish I was like half of BookTok and could be a fraction of how madly invested they seem in this series. Like, I kid you not, this book was BLOWING UP.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed this moderately, and that's good enough for me. I definitely plan to read the sequel at some point. The reviews on BookTok are really good, and a lot are saying it's better than the first. I hope to find out for myself… eventually.

- 22 Oct 2023

[josilverdragon]

A frozen "todger" and lost tea

Been slogging through Prince Harry's "Spare" and it's not that it isn't good, or that it makes me sad I am reading it, it just is emotional, internal, and I cannot escape real life. The types of books and fanfiction that really allow me to read fast and fly through it are those that allow me to suspend belief, to forget about my life, and so on. His memoir is full of emotional trauma, internal turmoil, and a lot of truths he himself wanted to avoid. In other words, things myself I wish to avoid. LOL

I also have been flipping back and forth between using my old Kindle Keyboard (from 2010!) and my 2017 Kindle Fire 8 tablet because I love the lightness of the keyboard (3rd gen! if you can believe) and the backlighting of the Fire. I think when I get to a point when all my vehicle maintenance has been done and I finally get myself a newer laptop, I'll get a new ereader but for now I'll keep going back and forth. Unless of course the keyboard and the fire die suddenly lol.

Decided to divest my YouTube watch later list of Karen videos and car crash vids. They are guilty pleasures but also so negative and so I am removing them for now. I'll still follow the channels so I can go back if I need a distraction (not likely because I have so much other little projects that I want to do lol) or need to be mindless for a while (more likely, because I deleted Tiktok off my phone).

In the last two weeks, the week I had a cold and this week, where I no longer have one, I have increased my amount of tea intake many times that of what I had before. Indeed, I even went through our tea cupboard, which was lacking in attention and organization, with my mother who loves that sort of thing and we got rid of a lot of tea that neither of us drink. The roommate saved it all because when she moves out, she wanted it for her stash. Which neither Mom nor I minded because I was going to give it away anyway. My point is that I have drank tea every day for that last two weeks and I still enjoy my morning coffee, so you know what: win-win.

Continuing along those lines, there was a tea made by Celestial Seasons (which was founded by a cult leader apparently lol) called Imperial White Peach and it was my favorite for YEARS and I hadn't drank it for years, so I went searching and lo and behold, it's discontinued. I was so disappointed. Until I found the lone last tea bag of it that was hidden away in a enclosed container. So I shared that cup with my mother and it was as delicious as I remembered and it made me sad a little. Eventually I hope to find a good white tea with peach that tastes even a fraction as good and I will count myself satisfied.

Honestly, I don't know why I am suddenly blogging again. Maybe I said why in my last most recent post, but right now it's a mystery to me. I'm not complaining (other than I have a lot to say apparently, as I only intended to post about reading "Spare") but it's just surprising. I haven't blogged in any sort of regularity for, again (like tea-drinking) in many years. Anyhow, we'll see how long this stint lasts. Maybe it will last as I've been trying to get out of the habit of checking my phone for social media updates on Twitter (which is breaking, slowly, as the apartheid child gets his way with it) and tumblr, though I don't mind tumblr as much.

Anyway, hope you all are doing okay. Live long and prosper.

cross-posted here.

adventures in tea drinking, personal, reading, using that ending unironically

[nostalgebraist]

Writing Almost Nowhere is really exhausting.

(Just to be clear: I'm not complaining. I like doing it. If I didn't want to do it, I'd stop.)

I write in long, continuous intervals, many hours at a time. It takes me 1-2 hours to rev up to full speed, and once I'm there I keep going for much longer, for 6 or 8 more hours.

During these trances, I rarely get distracted. I don't take breaks, or think of taking breaks. I don't do anything except write, steadily and slowly.

A single day of this isn't enough to produce a chapter. Usually it takes two. (The work required can fit into a single weekend, but only if I do very little else that weekend, and only if I'm okay being kinda useless the following Monday.)

As an example, according to my git logs, the most recent chapter (#28) was written in two long stretches:

One lasting 7 hours and 33 minutes

Another lasting 11 hours and 17 minutes

Chapter 22, the one with Sylvie talking to the Ells, was written in a single sitting. But it was a very long sitting.

As you might expect from this description, I feel utterly drained every time I finish a chapter. Not just physically or mentally but like, spiritually.

At the time, I always think about characters in fantasy stories who can call upon magic powers, at the price of a little bit of their soul. Like the Madoka girls, or like Rose in Homestuck, the kind of stories Rose is a riff on.

I know this comparison is probably like, "extra" or "cringe" or something, but it is what always comes to mind.

I often feel a sudden apathy or even revulsion towards what I've written, once it's done. I specifically remember feeling this way toward Chapter 22, that one with Sylvie and the Ells. I had to hold my nose, so to speak, and force myself to post it, against my sleep-deprived gut sense that it was wholly without any value. (It seems strange to remember this now, because when I've re-read that chapter I like it a lot.)

Writing this book is always an intense experience. It feels like, I dunno, taking a final exam? Or like taking the qualifying exam for one's major, maybe, is a closer analogy.

I don't really know why it's like this. TNC was like this, I think, except with much shorter chapters and a much shorter book. I think Floornight was sometimes like this, but less so. Although I don't remember Floornight as well.

Some of it is just that AN has a particular style, and that style is really effort-intensive to produce. I have to linger over every word and sentence, not even so much in the name of good writing as because it's impossible to write in this style without lingering over every word and sentence. It's a lingering, deliberate style.

The amount of calendar time I've spent on the book exacerbates the intensity, too. By now, a lot of the events I'm narrating are ones I came up with literal years ago. I've been playing them over and over again in my head for a very long time. And now I feel I have to produce a string of words that does justice to those years' worth of daydreams.

I guess that's why a qualifying exam comes to mind. You've spent years studying the subject, but none of that matters now, no one can see it, all they can see is what you do in the next few hours -- which is suppose to sum up those years of studying. Got that? Good. Now go.

Anyway, that's a lot of why the book's taken so long. It is simply difficult to fit around the rest of life.

I said I would finish it in 2022, and so far I'm more or less on track. And that is no more or less than what it sounds like: spending a significant fraction of my weekend time inside of these intense, exhausting trance states. It's a weird thing to do to oneself, and I wouldn't choose it as a long-term lifestyle. I definitely would not have done it organically, without the target date pushing me.

I don't know if I'll continue writing after I'm done with this book. I probably will, sooner or later. If I do, I'll try to write something with lighter, more flexible requirements of me. This book, though, is just what it is -- that ship sailed long ago, and I do want to see its voyage through.

[phoenixyfriend]

Hey, I have a question? I hope I'm not imposing though. You've done Ben being Dad-Shaped to Anakin and Ahsoka, and Anakin being Dad-Shaped to Baby Ben and Baby Soka. And all of them being flung into the past. Have you considered Ahsoka being Mom-Shaped, or older sister-shaped to little Obi-Wan and Anakin? To complete the set? :)

I have, actually, but not really with Ahsoka being a mom? It's more like. Okay.

Trauma time!

Ahsoka is about three bad minutes away from having a meltdown. She holds it together, because she has to. The adrenaline is still holding her up, but she has no idea how long that's going to last.

"Did someone call Cody?" she asks.

"He's on his way," Jesse assures her.

Good. Great. Okay. Cody can be in charge.

"Who's Cody?" Anakin Skywalker, age nine, asks. "Is he another Jedi?"

"No, he's the Marshall Commander," she says, and then clarifies with, "It means he's ranked very high in the army, and we need his opinion on how to handle, um, this."

"This being..." Obi-Wan Kenobi--age... fourteen? She thinks fourteen--prompts her.

"Well, er," she dithers, because even if Obi-Wan's been polite enough to not demand an explanation from her when she'd tossed tiny little Anakin at him in the middle of a warzone and screamed at him to take cover while she handled the droids, she hasn't had the mental energy to figure out how to explain what's going on. "You... being here... like that."

One of the clones laughs for a fraction of a second, choked and a little hysterical. She thinks it's Hardcase. She doesn't bother to acknowledge it; the situation is insane, and he deserves to find humor where he can.

"Like...?" Obi-Wan prompts again.

"Fourteen?" She says, voice pitching up in hesitation for the explanation, and also a little because she's not sure he's actually fourteen and not a different age.

He stares at her, both disbelieving and waiting.

"Where's Master Qui-Gon?" he asks, after a few long moments, clearly thinking she's insane. Anakin perks up, recognizing the name, and the way he's clinging to Obi-Wan's robes is really just adorable. It's probably because Ahsoka had charged him to take care of little Anakin, and Obi-Wan had actually followed through...

"Um," she says instead. "Dead. About twelve years ago, now."

Obi-Wan's eyes widen, face paling beneath the dirt and soot of the battlefield, and he steps back. Anakin moves with him, still clutching at the tattered padawan robes that Obi-Wan's dressed in.

"Right," Ahsoka says, grimacing and running a hand over her face. "You need a sitrep."

"A sitrep?" he demands.

Right. Nobody really used that military terminology until the war started.

"This morning, you were thirty-seven," she tells him, as plainly as she can. "Anakin was twenty-one. You've lost about twenty-five years, and he's lost about twelve. I'm not going to pretend to know why that much, but since Ventress was mucking around on the battlefield with what I'm pretty sure is Nightsister magics, I'm going to go ahead and say it was her fault."

"I have no idea who that is," Obi-Wan says, and Ahsoka's eyes track how he tucks Anakin into his side with that.

"Yeah, she crawled out of the woodwork when the war started," Ahsoka mutters.

"...there's a war?" Obi-Wan asks, and he sounds scared and resigned, and her heart pulls, but... no. She needs to keep it together.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asks, fighting the urge to lean over. They're not crechelings, or at least Obi-Wan isn't.

"Mister Jinn was taking me to the Naboo ship," Anakin says, voice quiet and hesitant. "I just said goodbye to my mom, and Mister Jinn was going to take me to Coruscant to be a Jedi."

Ahsoka only barely knows the surface details of the Naboo clusterfuck, but she's pretty sure the worst parts of it happened after Tatooine.

"Melida/Daan," Obi-Wan says. She doesn't recognize the name, and he must read it in her face. "Planetary civil war, two factions, blood feuds. I've spent the past six months... well, the past six from my perspective, aiding a third faction made up of the children of the planet that wanted that war to end. I didn't expect to be welcomed back into the Jedi, but I gather that I was invited back at some point, since you seem to know my older self personally."

Oh great, Obi-Wan's come out of one war where he was in charge of child soldiers and directly into another... where he's in charge of at least one child soldier--Ahsoka herself--and the clones that are technically younger than--nope! Nope. She has to keep it calm and cool and handle this. No philosophical misery. She's got shit to do.

She shakes her head, hand to her forehead. "Right, that. Okay, as of two years ago, the Jedi were put in charge of an army of clones by the Senate. I am not the right person to explain all the political kriffery that went into that decision, but suffice to say, we didn't get much choice about it. All considered, I'm pretty sure you guys don't remember the future at all, so that means that, as the more senior padawan here, I'm currently the highest ranking Jedi on either of the ships."

"How big are the ships?" Anakin pipes up.

"Big," she says. "Over a thousand meters long."

"Each of the Venator class ships are set up to house a force of seven thousand, four hundred personnel for long-term campaigns, with cargo space for up to two years worth of supplies when rationed, but they can carry up to two thousand additional troops if necessary," Rex rattles off behind her. She thinks he'd be amused at the questions, if this were an actual child. It's not. "The one we're on is called The Resolute."

"Cool," Anakin whispers, and then immediately clings to Obi-Wan's robes again.

"Yep," Ahsoka agrees with him. "Unfortunately, I'm... not sure what to do with either of you, since I don't know how to get you back to the ages you're supposed to be, and I'm sure as hell not dragging a nine-year-old into battle--"

"I can help!"

Obi-Wan looks pained. Given what little information he's just given her about Melida/Daan... yeah. No.

"Cool, then you can help the engineers do repairs after," she says. "Still not taking you into battle. You're small, you can help fit into weird places that need wires fixed."

Anakin wrinkles his nose, but nods. Obi-Wan is relieved. So is Ahsoka, admittedly.

"Right," Ahsoka says. "Okay. With you two no longer fit for duty... until Cody gets here, Captain Rex is in charge. If anyone questions this, point them at me."

"Why would they question it?" Obi-Wan asks.

Ahsoka eyes him for a moment, and then sighs. "Just... I mentioned they were clones. Some of the admiralty--the natborn officers we picked up from planets with active militaries that could contribute to the war as tactical advisors--don't always respect that the clones know what they're doing. Also Rex isn't technically ranked as a commander because of some really stupid reasons, so isn't the SiC of the 501st on paper, but that's what happens in practice, so he's in charge until Skyguy's an adult again."

She senses Rex give a jaunty, jaded salute from behind her.

"Commander Cody is the CMC of the Third Systems Army," she continues, "and the SiC for High Jedi General, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan's eyes are already on her, but Ahsoka gets to the feeling that she'd have snagged his attention with that no matter what.

"You said I was thirty-seven," he points out. "I can't be a master y--"

"Master and Council Member," she corrects. "As of age thirty-six, I believe. And, well, you're only a month away from thirty-eight."

Anakin's whisper breaks the silence. "You're old."

Obi-Wan's irritation can't pick a form.

Ahsoka grimaces. "Most Council members are High Generals; I'm pretty sure you were elevated to the Council in order to make you a High General because you had more prior experience than most Jedi; I only know about the stint in Mandalore, but I've been told there's more; I'm guessing this Melida/Daan thing is included."

Obi-Wan is going a little less 'irritated' and a little more 'upset' as she talks.

She keeps going anyway. "The GAR consists of ten systems armies plus special forces. Your older self, as a high general, is in charge of one of those systems armies, which is... just under three hundred thousand clones, plus assorted Jedi, admiralty, civilian officers, and other personnel."

Obi-Wan is currently full of horror.

"I can't..."

"And you won't," she says, sharp as she can. "You're fourteen. You're the same age I was when I was thrown into this, which means padawan, which means commander, which means two thousand, three hundred, and four troopers maximum, and even then you'd be relying on the battalion majors to do most of the leadership until you got accustomed to it. I am damn well not suggesting we put a teenager in charge of a systems army; I may be just a padawan, but I'm pretty sure the Council will say the same."

Obi-Wan just stares at her.

"Which... I do need to talk to them," she admits. She sighs and rubs at a montral. "Kix is our CMO; follow him to medical to get a full workup. He can check for the normal stuff, but please be patient for the other scans. If we're lucky, the bloodwork or something will turn up whatever Ventress used. Unless you have questions?"

"You were friends with older me, right?" Anakin asks.

"Ah, you--I mean, he?" She waits for Anakin to shrug, and then forges on. "He's my Jedi Master, my teacher. Basically my older brother, since the age difference is only five and a half years instead of the usual twenty or more. So, um. Yeah. 'Friends' works?"

Anakin nods seriously. He seems to be thinking very hard about something.

"Ani?" Obi-Wan prompts quietly, running a hand over Anakin's hair.

"We have our clothes," Anakin says carefully. "So it's not just our bodies that changed, right?"

"Your older self has a prosthetic arm that one of the shinies managed to grab from the battlefield, so we have proof that that's happening," Jesse confirms.

Ahsoka waits for Anakin to put his thoughts together.

"Mister... um, Master Qui-Gon turned it off already," Anakin says, eyes on the ground, "so I don't think I'm going to blow up, but what if this stuff accidentally turned it back on again and it explodes?"

Ahsoka feels her stomach drop, and she's not the only one. She's not sure what he means, mind jangling with ideas, but there's a haunted look in Obi-Wan's eye that says that maybe... maybe he does.

"Anakin?" Ahsoka asks, going to one knee in front of him and tugging his chin up to look at her. "I don't know what it is that you're talking about. Why would you blow up?"

He blinks at her, innocent as anything. "My slave chip. If I get too far from the remote, boom!"

He does a little move to emphasize it, and Ahsoka freezes.

"Kix is going to do a scan for it and take it out," she says, not even asking for confirmation from medical. She doesn't have to. They'd do this, of course they'd take it out. "You're not going to blow up. I promise."

"Okay," Anakin says. He's relieved, but blase about it in a way she hates. "What do I call you?"

"Your older self calls me Snips," she tells him, still feeling a little far away. "But if that feels too familiar, you can call me Ahsoka, or Padawan Tano."

"Okay, Ahsoka."

Kix leads Anakin away, but Obi-Wan hangs back. They don't look at each other, just Anakin walking off and listening to Kix explain the basic shape of a medical exam.

"You knew what he was talking about before I did," Ahsoka says.

"I have experience with such things," Obi-Wan tells her. "It was only a few days for me, though. Explosive collar with Force-nullifying properties."

She sighs heavily and presses the heel of her palm to her eye. "Right. He seems attached to you already; do you mind taking point on childcare until we can get him to the Temple? I'd ask one of the desk jockeys to handle it, but--"

"But I'm a Jedi," Obi-Wan interrupts. "And I'll know what he needs better than someone Force-Null would, and until I learn your protocols and regulations, I'm less useful than the so-called desk jockeys are."

"No, you're still more useful than the natborn officers," she assures him. "Half of them cause more problems than they solve, just by hating the boys. But no, it's more that Anakin trusts you, and since your future self was his Jedi Master..." she trails off, trying to untangle the look on his face; she's better at reading humans than she used to be. "Ah, yeah, you guessed already?"

"There's a ghost of a training bond," Obi-Wan admits.

"Yeah, you'll have an easier time handling him," she says, relieved. "Right, um, you catch up with those guys, and I'll go... explain things to the Council, I guess. Rex, with me?"

----

When Ahsoka finishes explaining to the Council why she's the one debriefing, and not either of her more qualified teachers, she gets a round of silence.

Half the council is eyeing Yoda, as if it's his fault that the entire lineage is prone to... this sort of mess.

(Ventress is Dooku's fault, and Dooku isn't actually Yoda's fault. Probably. Ahsoka's pretty sure.)

"Kenobi's most recent memories are of six months into the Melida/Daan conflict?" Master Windu asks. This is not the first time someone's pinged off of that part in particular.

"Yes, Master." It's not her place to question this. Master Kenobi never brought it up for a reason, and she's not going to dig while he can't make informed decisions about what to tell his grandpadawan.

She wants to know why he was there, and where Master Qui-Gon was, and why he thought he wouldn't be allowed back into the Jedi, but it's not her place to ask.

It's not.

"Is there anyone nearby that specializes in this sort of Force trick?" she asks instead. "I have no idea how to go about reversing it myself, and need to request aid from a Master. Barring that, I'd like permission to send a trooper to Coruscant with Anakin. He's Initiate age and I'd like to keep him off the field if we can't get him back to normal."

"You think it's a good idea to keep Kenobi with you?" Master Ti asks.

Ahsoka shrugs, not quite able to meet Master Ti's eyes. "He's the same age I was for Teth. Keeping him with me isn't my call, but I assumed he'd be shuffled into an open commander position with an active general. I can handle things for now, but I'm just a padawan."

"Tutor him, you would?" Yoda prompts. "To teach him, you intend?"

"I mean, if we can't get him turned back into an adult?" Ahsoka tries. She wishes she could look to Rex for support. "I don't know that I know much I could teach him that doesn't relate to the war. I'm only barely older than him, and my grades are... not the best, considering."

"If we cannot reverse the the age adjustment, then keeping you two together may be our best choice," Master Fisto muses. "You're not old enough for a knighthood, of course, but that wouldn't be what we're asking for. Admiral Yularen is a talented tactician, and your field skills are comparable to a General's. It would be a stopgap measure, but you and Padawan Kenobi combined are likely equal to a Knight in this regard."

She doubts it.

"Nobody's asking you to take him as your own padawan," Master Tiin says, and she thinks he's laughing at her behind the stoic, stern face. "Just to take point and keep him alive until we can either reverse the situation or adjust for it."

"Well, yeah," she says, trying not to show that she'd been weirdly concerned that it was what they were angling for. "Master Skywalker was barely old enough to take a padawan, and he was twenty, and had been a padawan for over ten years. I'm sixteen, and I've been a padawan for two."

Nobody argues with this.

"We'll not be sending in a knight ready for a padawan," Master Billaba muses, slow and considering. "Nor can we spare a master, I think."

"Depa?" Master Windu prompts, low enough that Ahsoka thinks he wasn't planning on the microphones picking it up.

"A fresh knight with the two padawans as support, but not actually the master to either," Master Billaba proposes. "It's an experienced legion, one that can largely run itself; it'll be fairly easy for this theoretical new knight to manage until Skywalker is returned to his more competent self. We need a more comprehensive plan for the Third Systems army, the council seat, and the 212th, but I believe that may be the best option for the 501st."

Realization seems to dawn on the rest of the Council. Ahsoka has no idea what that realization is, but she stifles the questions. They have a plan. They definitely do.

"My fleet is near enough that I can come to assess possible solutions to the age problem," Master Plo offers, and that, that right there, is what Ahsoka needed to hear.

"We look forward to your arrival, Master Koon."

----

"Barriss!"

Ahsoka throws herself at her friend, squeezing tightly. Barriss hugs her back, if hesitantly. "Hello, Ahsoka."

"What are you doing here?" Ahsoka asks, pushing away and looking the other girl up and down. "Did you change your look?"

Barriss smiles faintly. It doesn't reach her eyes. "Ah, a little. I've been knighted. They've asked me to head the 501st until your Master is well again."

A fresh knight with two padawans as support, but not Master to either, Master Billaba had said.

"I'm glad it's you," Ahsoka tells her.

Barriss smiles, but it's pained. "I hope it is only temporary, both for the sake of your masters, and for your chain of command."

Ahsoka's brow furrows. "What?"

"Your legion is deeply loyal to you, Ahsoka. I've seen that. I outrank you now, but what is to happen the first time we disagree on a course of action for a battle?" Barriss shakes her head. "The council did make it clear that this wouldn't last very long, at least. Transitioning a legion to new leadership hasn't gone smoothly more than a handful of times, especially when a padawan remains. With my knighthood being as fresh as it is--"

"You are willing problems into being." Ahsoka knew all of this already. She claps a hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezes. "We can make it work, okay? And when in doubt, we just make Cody or Rex decide."

"I outrank Captain Rex now," Barriss points out. "I already did, even as a commander."

"Ehhhh, debatable," Ahsoka says, wincing. "Rex has functionally been the commander for the legion since Skyguy got it. They couldn't officially promote him high enough because he's a CT, so he's technically a Major since that's how high they could promote him, but everyone knows he's basically the clone commander for the legion."

"...if he's a Major, then why does everyone call him Captain?"

"He says it feels like part of his name at this point, and if he's not going to have an official rank in line with his responsibilities anyway, then he might as well have people call him the one that sounds cooler."

"...I see."

Ahsoka gets the feeling that Barriss does not, in fact, see.

That's fine.

----

"Ahsoka!"

She turns and kneels, catching the nine-year-old flinging himself into her arms before she can even think. Barriss and Yularen pause in their conversation, but Rex keeps going.

Good man.

"Hey, Skyguy," Ahsoka greets, and she pulls back to look at the brilliant grin this tiny human child is giving her. It scares her, how small Anakin is. She's used to him being the tallest person in the room, even if she's catching up. "I thought you were supposed to be packing?"

"Obi-Wan said to come find you. A clone called him, someone called Cody?"

At that, Rex stops talking too.

Ahsoka doesn't frown, but it takes some effort. "Okay. Do you know why he called Obi-Wan?"

"He said he'd be arriving soon and wanted to know if Obi needed to be updated on anything before he got here," Anakin says. He bites his lip and looks away from Ahsoka. "I think he was worried about Obi."

"It's a worrying situation," Ahsoka tries to soothe. "Cody's pretty close to the older Obi-Wan, and the two of them are responsible for a lot of people. So Cody's stressed because he has to manage the army, and he's already worried about Obi-Wan, so it's making that worry stronger."

"Yeah, okay," Anakin says, pressing his face into her shoulder. "Can you come talk to Obi? He's being sad, too. I think he was looking at stuff about the war on the holonet, and I think he was trying to figure out if his friends from that other war he was in that he remembers are still alive."

She'd known it was coming. She'd known it when she gave him a datapad from the commissioned officers' storage. She'd known it when he'd wandered off, Anakin at his elbow, to sit in the rooms they were still occupying.

(She'd brushed off Anakin's questions about why they couldn't get their own datapads from their older selves with a comment about classified information. Obi-Wan's look had been almost too knowing.)

"I'm still sharing the general's quarters with Anakin and Obi-Wan, since it's set up for multiple people as a knight-and-padawan suite," Ahsoka says to Barriss. "We prepared one of the empty officer's rooms for you, if that's alright?"

"It'll suit just fine," Barriss assures her. Ahsoka has no idea if she's actually fine with it or just putting on a face. She's gotten harder to read, and being refused the actual general's rooms is arguably an insult to her new rank. Barriss is rational, though, and probably recognizes that it's worth keeping the two-bed suite for Ahsoka and her masters. It's not that much bigger than the empty room they've prepared...

"Do you mind if I take Anakin back to our rooms?" Ahsoka asks. "Admiral Yularen and Captain Rex should be able to handle anything that crops up, I think."

She hopes Barriss gets the message that she wants to check in on Obi-Wan. Ahsoka has no idea if she's been briefed on exactly when and where the other two's memories cut off, but... Obi-Wan's memories and body cut right into the center of his traumas. It's a horrid time to be pulled from, and the present a horrible one to be pulled to. Ahsoka's kept a montral out for his distress all day.

"Of course," Barriss says, dismissing them with a short nod.

Ahsoka picks up Anakin and sets him on her hip, ignores the slightly disapproving look from Barriss, and heads for their rooms.

(Anakin's too old for coddling, sure, except he's been torn from everything he knows and thrown into a war. If he finds comfort in Ahsoka carrying and cuddling him, then she will oblige. The rest of the Jedi can argue about it 'til the bantha come home, but Ahsoka's the one that actually has to deal with having a youngling on board.)

"Hey, Obi-Wan," Ahsoka says, and doesn't acknowledge the sniffles she hears, or the sleeve her grandmaster is rubbing at his eyes. She sets Anakin down, and while he hugs her for the moment, he runs back to stuff himself under Obi-Wan's arm as the door hisses shut. "Okay. I'm thinking we all need some tea. How does sapir sound?"

"You have sapir?" Obi-Wan asks, voice rough.

"Your older self visits our ship often enough that we keep a stock on board," Ahsoka tells him. She goes to the kitchenette and starts up the electric kettle. "I can't promise I'll make it perfectly, but it should be passable, at least. Sugar or honey?"

"No, thank you."

"I can have honey?" Anakin asks, and Ahsoka hears Obi-Wan pull the younger boy closer. She imagines she'd see something stricken and protective in his face, if she turned around. She doesn't.

"Sure can," Ahsoka says instead. "You'll have to mess around with how much, though. Older you mostly drinks caff, and tastes change with age anyway, so I don't know how much honey you'd want."

By the time she gets to the table with everything, the honey bobbing along in the air behind her, Anakin is still tucked into Obi-Wan's side. He pulls away a little when Ahsoka starts pouring the tea, and Obi-Wan...

Ah. He's an ugly crier. She wouldn't have guessed. His face is... very splotchy. His eyes are all reddish. She's not sure if that's normal for humans. She hopes it is.

"Thank you," he says, when she passes him the cup. He takes a sip, and contemplates. He meets her eyes, and smirks just a little. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Adequate, I'd say."

She snorts. "I'd certainly hope so."

You taught me, after all.

----

IDK that’s where I ran out of steam

[damiano-mylove]

Condescending Bitch

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x reader

Wc: 2.5k

Cw(s): swearing, kissing, crying, probably typos (as per usual, tell me if it sucks)

Summary: Reader breaks up with their boyfriend and Thomas consoles them.

Masterlist

If honesty be a virtue, you'd be virtuous to plainly say you'd fallen out of love with your boyfriend and you had done so a while ago. It wasn't deliberate, it was a gradual fizz wherein you found your heart warming for someone else. You felt horrible about it and that guilt had been eating at you. There was no cheating, but you didn't think you'd be able to avoid it for much longer. Not to mention, it wasn't only the non-existent feelings, Luca was just an asshole when you weren't blinded by love.

There comes a time where one must throw in the towel, and now was that time for you.

You couldn't do it at a restaurant; knowing Luca, he'd cause a scene. You couldn't do it at some meeting place; it would ruin that place forever and ever to both of you. And that shit's just not fair.

In the end, you couldn't make the decision. So you put every single item of Luca's clothing in a bag (and a couple things he'd left around your flat), and drove over to his house while you still had the nerve. You'd gathered and lost the nerve a couple times before, but the plan was already in motion now. Hell, there was no plan, but whatever you were raring to do was up and running.

You drove straight to Luca's mother's house in record time. Time flies when you're laser focused.

"Y/n!" Luca's mother exclaimed joyfully as you entered the kind looking house. How someone like Luca came out of Mrs. Batali was a wonder in and of itself. Once Mrs. Batali spotted the bag in your hand, she frowned. "Has something happened, Bambino?"

Somehow, the hardest part of this breakup would be bidding goodbye to Luca's mother, and not Luca himself. You sighed, "I'm sorry, Signora. Luca and I have been having issues for a while now."

"Oh, don't be sorry, Bambino." The older lady's kind smile returned to her face, which struck a heart string you hadn't even known existed. Mrs. Batali swayed toward you, in all of her vanilla scented goodness. She hugged you around your neck loosely, which you returned around her wide hips. "You're always welcome for dinner and a roof. Don't let the stupid boy stop you from seeing me."

God gave two gifts to this world; one of them was Mrs. Batali.

A smile cracked across your face as your chest continued to tighten and hurt. You loved this family like your own, and you loved Luca at some point. So many memories were made in the throws of this relationship, and it was all going to be thrown out the window by you. But it was too late now.

"Ti amo." Mrs. Batali placed a kiss to your forehead which made your smile even more genuine. She patted your shoulder, finally releasing you from her motherly grasp. Sadly, she raised her arm to the stairs to Luca's bedroom. "I'll be down here, if you need me."

You smiled once more to the older lady and bowed your head in silent thanks. If you uttered a word, the word would lead to tears. It seemed the two of you knew this.

It was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but you had to seal the deal.

Without your consent, your feet began moving toward the stairs then up the stairs. Your heart beat in sickening rhythm with your footsteps, but your heart seemed more heavy than your feet. It was ridiculous. You were ready to throw up, pee, or meltdown - you didn't know which one, if it was one at all.

At long last, after walking down the longest hallway of your life, you stood in front of Luca's closed door. You remembered all the times you'd breeze in, going straight into Luca's arms for a kiss. His breath wasn't always good and he was a bad kisser, but he made you feel infatuation. Now it only seemed a fraction of what you felt for the other person. Yes, God, that was why you had to do this.

You knocked. Your heart was deafening.

"Come in!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You pushed open the door, feeling like you were having a heart attack. Luca smiled brightly at you from the light of his computer. Then he laid eyes on the bag. Don't know how, it was dark as fuck in the room. And smelt of cheap body spray and dirty clothes.

"Hey, Babe, I wasn't expecting you," Luca smiled, trying to act off the bag of his clothes and gifts in your hand. You flicked on the light as he stood up to close the door behind you.

This room is fucking disgusting. It was truly noxious.

"Alright, Luca, sit down, we've got to talk," you told him, putting on your bravest and thickest voice. It worked because the air in the room changed. The air grew thick and impossible to breath. It could've been cut with a knife. Luca sat on his bed, hands in his lap. You placed the bag on the ground and sighed, "We're breaking up."

For a second, he was unresponsive. Luca didn't say a word until he looked you in the eye, what felt like a full minute later. His bottom lip quivered. "You're dumping me?"

"You can tell people you dumped me, I don't mind," you quipped, trying to make the situation better. You did not, in fact, make the situation better. You potentially made it about thirteen times worse.

"No, you're not." Luca stood up again. Your breath caught in your throat. "We're not breaking up."

He took a few quick steps to you. You stood your ground, trying to be as brave as possible. Your mask was slipping. The last thing you wanted right now was for Luca to see that you were cracking under his gaze. That would be fucking horrendous.

All of a sudden, Luca barked out a laugh. He looked like a madman. "This is about that Thomas bitch, isn't it?" You didn't answer, and your facial expressions gave nothing away. Then Luca snapped, "Isn't it?!"

"If you want to fucking shout, we can shout," you seethed. Luca blinked angrily at you. "We're adults - act like it."

"You're a condescending bitch."

"And you're an ugly prick, but I've never complained about that. You've called me a condescending bitch about 3 times and a flat-out bitch more than a dozen," you recalled quickly, with venom dripping off each syllable. It shut Luca up. However, he began to cry. You felt nothing but hatred now. "You're one pathetic bitch to be crying over the girl who you treat like a fucking doormat." Luca only cried harder. No sympathy. You spun on your heel and opened the door.

Without a glance back, you left.

Mrs. Batali smiled at you on your way out and gave you a freshly baked bun, which you thanked her profusely for.

It didn't take long for reality to set in, however. The adrenaline faded as you drove back to your flat complex. You began crying at the wheel and completely broke down in the car park. Tears streamed down your face like rivers, snot clogged your nose. Your mouth tasted horrible so you started to eat the bun Mrs. Batali had baked. It was so good that you started crying harder.

How the fuck could you do that? At this point, you were too sad to give a fuck about sobbing in a car park at 6 in the evening. You just threw in the towel of a year long relationship, in the blink of an eye. Like it was nothing and meant nothing to you whatsoever, which wasn't true at all. You felt like a horrible person.

Your chest clogged up with emotions and stale air, your throat grew a lump that you couldn't swallow down. Now you were the pathetic one. Crying in a shitbox car over your ex while eating fucking bread.

A tap on the window scared the Jesus out of you.

When you looked at the source, the other person was looking right back at you, looking worried and confused. Leave it to Thomas to look sad just because you were sad. Thomas looked so fucking good even though a blur of teary eyelashes. He made the hand crank motion, so you rolled down your window.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked. You just started laughing. What a stupid fucking question. Thomas began chuckling, realizing how stupid it was himself. "Fair enough. Fancy a cup of tea and a chat or shall I leave you to your car bread?"

How the fuck could he make you laugh in times like these?

You smiled then shooed him away from your car door so you could open it. He obliged and moved back, for you to get out, still with bread and keys in hand. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows as you two began walking back to the flat complex you both lived in. "Aren't you going to roll up the window?"

"How the fuck is anyone meant to steal it when all the windows are up?" It was your turn to earn a laugh from Thomas. Thomas' laugh hit your ear like honey. The sort of honey that your mother gave you to cure your sore throat before nursery. It was soothing and just the right thing for the situation.

As you walked up the stairs with Thomas, you realized he was taking you to his flat. To be fair, he was the one who offered you tea. What's he going to do? Offer you your own tea?

Thomas unlocked the ugly blue door of his flat that everyone in the building had a copy of. The second you both walked into the flat, warmth enveloped you, along with sandalwood and spices from Thomas' extensive spice cabinet. He must have been cooking earlier because it smelt Heavenly. Everything was in perfect place with just the right amount of mess and disorganization to make it seem like a home.

"I'll put the kettle on, sit anywhere," Thomas instructed after you both took your shoes off. You were wearing ratty trainers while Thomas was wearing perfectly clean Vans.

You nodded and flung yourself on one of his couches with a sigh. The couch was soft, warm and welcoming and you felt tired from crying and yelling and just the day in general. It was a shit day, that started with your toast burning and ended with this shit. A nap would really do good.

However, Thomas had other plans entirely. He placed a purple mug, full of tea with what looked like your golden ratio of milk and sugar. Thomas was your best friend, of course he knew your golden ration. You knew his. With a smile, you sat up which allowed Thomas to sit beside you and drape his arm over the back of the couch.

"Feel like telling me why you were crying in your car?" Thomas asked. You laughed lightly and sipped the piping hot tea.

"Broke up with Luca about-" you checked a clock. "-30 minutes ago."

As horrible as it sounds, Thomas' face lit up. His facial features remained the same but his beautiful green eyes lit up like candles in a dark room. "Is that so?"

"He called me a condescending bitch."

"So he hasn't gotten a new script," Thomas smiled. You chuckled lightly and sniffed. Your nose was still clogged from all the crying. You just didn't feel like blowing your nose like an elephant in front of Thomas right now. "He'll never get the chance to get a new script for you now."

"Thank God above," you sighed out with a laugh to your words. Thomas smiled. "I'll miss his mum though. Wonderful lady."

Thomas sipped his own tea and you discretely moved closer to him. It wasn't as discrete as you'd thought because Thomas picked up and moved a bit closer to you with a stupid smile on his face. "So how'd it go down?"

Like friends do, you told him everything, down to the detail. All but Luca being right, with Thomas being the other man who'd stolen your heart. That wouldn't be a key detail here because the last thing you needed today was to dump your boyfriend then directly after scare your best friend away from you forever.

But he wasn't scared off by you telling him Luca though you were leaving him for Thomas. Thomas actually smirked at that part, like the thought amused him. You didn't think anything of it actually, except for how cute Thomas was when he was smirking.

Eventually, the conversation faded and you were hip to hip with Thomas. With a sigh, he rested your head in the crook of Thomas' neck. His feather soft hair tickled the side of your face but you wanted nothing else for the moment. The scent of Thomas' cologne was prominent when you were this close to him, but you weren't going to complain about that. His arm fell from the back of the couch to around your shoulders.

Feeling Thomas' head turn to you, you looked up at him. Thomas' hand lightly squeezed you arm. Your breath hitched in your throat as you thought you were imagining Thomas observing your face.

Those gorgeous green eyes that you could stare into all day were scanning your face gently. They landed on your lush lips, then back to your eyes. All it took was a small nod for Thomas to lean in.

It was slow. It was slow, but undeniably sweet. The passion was palpable the minute your lips met his, just as you had been dreaming of for months now. His pillow-like lips were perfectly moisturized, but not over-saturated. The lip balm he used was strawberry flavoured and you'd never admired strawberry flavoured lip balm as you were in this moment.

As suddenly as it began, it ended.

Thomas leaned back for a second, looking guilty. "You need time to get over Luca, this is wrong."

"I've been over Luca for months." You placed a kiss to his lips, which Thomas accepted for a second, then backed out of again. You groaned. "Thomas, Luca was right. I'm in love with you."

In a stunned silence, Thomas' cheeks turned bright red. A broad smile grew on his face and you felt confident in your confession. You meant it, surely, but now you were confident that you did the right thing in telling Thomas.

"I've been in love with you since we went to the Capitoline." Thomas' voice cracked as he made his confession. Your heart bustled with warmth. He'd been pining for you all this time just to watch you run with Luca.

You couldn't take your aching heart. Grabbing Thomas' face gently, you pressed your lips to his again. He gladly returned this kiss with fervour and renewed zeal. Nothing else mattered while your lips were joined with Thomas' lips. Nothing would ever be able to induce the utter happiness and peace you'd felt in this moment.

After the kiss lasting for a while, Thomas pulled you to sit on his lap. He cupped your sweet face gently and smiled into your brilliant eyes. He kissed your nose. "May I tell you something else, Y/n?"

"Anything."

"I don't think you're a condescending bitch."

[maplecornia]

chapter 18

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.43K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: why does tae look so precious in the banner ;-; i cri

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

Looking over to your hands so close to the other, Taehyung smiles before wrapping his fingers tighter around yours, intertwining them in an unbreakable bond.

The action sends your heart flying and you snap your gaze to him. He notices your sudden change in demeanor and tries to cover it up by turning to the window.

"What?" he murmurs, his ears tinted pink. "You looked cold."

You can feel your face heating up and you refuse to let him see. You aren't some little fangirl fawning over her idol, not right now. At this moment, you are the lucky person who gets to be so close to someone she admires.

Right now, you want to be the random stranger who bumped into him.

Right now, you want him to see you for you, and you to see him for him.

“I’m sorry, but we’re nearing our destination, do you want to come in to get it or should I just go instead, sir?” Minhyuk asks, breaking the silence and Taehyung shakes his head slightly.

“What have I said about calling me, sir? It’s like having my father call me, mister or even worse, hyung. Please just call me Taehyung, Minhyuk.” He corrects him, and Minhyuk gives him a slightly condescending look in the rearview mirror.

“If you would just pull up in front, I’m sure they’ll give it to you so we should be fine,” Taehyung responds, and Minhyuk nods as he directs the car into much more steady traffic, nearing a market area. You don't recognize it, and as you stare out the window you don't think you’re anywhere near the apartment complex where you're staying. Biting your bottom lip a bit in anxiety, you look at Taehyung again.

He’s staring at the window, like you were, smiling faintly at the familiar sights and people roaming the streets beside you. Each one is busy, each one has their priorities, their life. Neither is the same, everyone is different from the rest. Much like the snowflakes which fall every winter. He enjoys the uniqueness of every single person, how they act, what they do. He finds it fascinating how some people can be so alike and yet so different.

Perhaps that's why he enjoys photographs so much. He’s able to capture those moments within a small photo. That, to him, is one of the most beautiful things in the world.

At your soft tap on his shoulder, he breaks his gaze away from the beauty of life before him and turns to you. He raises his eyebrows a bit in surprise, his mouth doing the slight downturn that it has always done whenever he is confused or curious.

“What is it?” he asks, tilting his head a bit as you look at him, pulling your hand off his shoulder. A bit nervous that Minhyuk would be offended at your question, you glance at him to make sure that he’s not paying attention. Once you’re sure, you beckon Taehyung to lean down a bit so that you can whisper in his ear. He does, but only a mere fraction of an inch.

You roll your eyes, beckoning with more ferocity, and he goes another inch to try and hear you. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you drop your hand and give him a look. He chuckles a bit before smiling and whispering sorry. Then he leans down….another fragment of an inch!

Tired of his shenanigans, you reach out and pull on the neck of his shirt fiercely, pressing your lips tightly together. He gags a bit but laughs once he’s in your safe space. At your look, however, he cuts himself off and coughs to chase his chuckles away.

“Okay, okay, okay I’m sorry. Now, what did you want to say?” he apologizes as though fearing for his life, and you have to hide your smirk before asking the question.

“Is Minhyuk going the right way?” you ask, softly. So softly that you’re not even sure if he heard you. He’s not sure of it either, and crinkles his brow a bit in amusement, not sure if he heard you right.

“I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch that last bit.” Your face falls at his comment and pouting a bit, you poke his cheek. He mouths an Ow and you roll your eyes before tugging on his ear a tiny bit. He dutifully leans his ear towards you, ignoring the slight shiver that runs down his spine as your breath tickles his eardrums, your lips mere inches away from it. You take a breath before continuing and repeating your question.

“Does Minhyuk know where to go? That is, is he going the right way?” as soon as you whisper the question, you pull back. He wears a pondering expression for a moment before registering your question and understanding what you were trying to ask. As he does, his eyes light up in a little aha moment and his mouth opens slightly. It quickly grows into a soft chuckle as he shakes his head and nods, grinning broadly.

“Yes, he does. I texted him on the bus to bring me some food, so he’s just going to pick up what I ordered. I mainly got it for Jimin, but now that I’m late….” He responds and you nod, realization sparking in your chest as you stare a bit embarrassed at the car seat in front of you.

“Now that I think about it, though, I’m going to need your address.” He says absentmindedly and you turn to him. At your look, he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks a bit, amused. “I mean, I promised you I’d take you home, right? How can I do that if I don’t know where you live?”

You open your mouth, wanting to say that it’s not where you live, it’s not your home, it’s just a place where you're staying right now.

But then you remember.

It is your home now. It has to be your home now. This is where you live, this is where your life will be. This is where you have to stay from now on. You don’t know when you’re going to go back home. You don’t know if you can even call that place home anymore. All you know is that this, right here, right now. This is home. You live here, in Seoul. You aren't visiting, you aren't a tourist. You have a job, you have an apartment, you have your responsibilities.

Then again, If that’s all true…

Then why is it so hard to forget what you thought you could leave behind?

The car shakes a bit as Minhyuk pulls to a stop, having reached his first destination. As he pulls up in front of the restaurant, despite what Taehyung advised, he unbuckles and declares that he’ll be right back.

If he expects anyone to hear, he is out of luck.

At one glance between you staring off into space, your hands absentmindedly playing with your string, and Taehyung waiting expectantly for an answer; Minhyuk slowly pulls himself out of the car, closing the door securely behind him.

“I know when I'm being a third wheel…” He grumbles under his breath as he darts through the rain to receive the food order Taehyung gave.

Beside you, Taehyung, growing impatient, waves his hand in front of your blank expression, and you blink awake from your reverie.

“I’m sorry, what did you need again?” you ask him, your wandering mind forgetting just what it was you were talking about to get on the topic of your homesickness. He opens his mouth to answer you after he gives you a strange look, but you jolt sitting up straight in your seat as you remember on your own.

“Oh! You needed my address right?” Tae nods slowly, smiling a bit perplexedly as you turn to your bag and pull your phone out. You need to get working on learning your address now that you are the only one living there; you're lucky that in your rush this morning you didn't forget your key to the apartment, but what can you say? You haven't been in this city for more than 24 hours, it's ridiculous to imagine that you have it memorized by now.

Making a small note in the back of your mind to accomplish that tiny task, you pull up the address you saved in your Google Maps, and turn to Taehyung, holding out your phone to him. He drops his hand from his face and takes it out of your hand. Shaking the strange incomplete feeling that erupts in his chest as he reads your address, he starts a bit.

“I know this place.” He murmurs and you turn to him, an intrigued look on your face. You peer over his shoulder as best as you can, trying to make sure you didn't pull up the wrong address. Once you see the name of it, however, you know that there’s no mistake.

“You do?” you venture, tapping his arm a bit to see the screen better. At the tap, he pulls back and watches as you peer at the screen, your face one of peculiarity. “When did you visit Jaejin?”

At the words, Taehyung snaps his fingers and pulls the phone closer to him, you pulling back out of surprise. He zooms in a bit on the apartment and smiles proudly before looking at you fiercely. You flinch, a bit confused, but he doesn't seem to care. His broad smile is all that can be seen and the brightness in his eyes nearly blinds you from their light.

“That’s right! This is Jaejin’s apartment isn't it?” you nod mutely, looking at him as though he had a screw loose, but he doesn't notice. He turns back to the screen and sighs with nostalgia.

“I remember now, he hosted one of RM’s birthday parties there! Besides the one that we celebrate together with ARMY, Jaejin wanted to do something special for him. He talked with BTS and got together every one of Namjoon hyung’s friends to attend it. It was a huge surprise, and he even managed to get some GOT7 members to attend. TXT was there as well. Jackson liked it, I remember.” His eyes getting that distant look eyes to tend to get when you talk about good times from the past, he smiles faintly as he turns to you.

At that moment, it’s as though he’s sharing that memory with you. You can hear the music, you can feel the joy and laughter, it’s almost as though you were there yourself. A soft feeling of love, friendship, trust, and loyalty fills your heart, and you feel the lump in your throat turn.

Those are feelings that you left behind, feelings you miss even now.

“It seems so long ago now.” His voice is soft, and in the back of his throat, there is a guttural sound as though he is struggling to keep down a rise of emotion.

After a moment, Taehyung clears his throat and raises his head, turning to you and returning your small smile. Just as he does, Minhyuk opens the door, setting two brown paper bags filled with food and beverages on the seat next to him.

Taehyung lets out a loud but clear sigh shaking himself a bit as though that will erase the loneliest sorrows.

“Ahh….if I’m being honest, I’m still trying to get used to the fact that you are his replacement now.” He remarks before tapping Minhyuk on the shoulder. Startled, you blink in shock, staring at him as he shows Minhyuk the address, and Minhyuk proceeds to save it.

How did he know you were going to be Namjoon’s assistant? How did he even know you were working at BigHit? You certainly didn't tell him, and you know you didn't run into him when you were at the building. You would have remembered that, just as you remembered the bumpy encounters with Jungkook and Namjoon.

So how? How did he know that?

It takes a moment but once he has everything situated in the front of the car, and secure, Minhyuk pulls out of the restaurant area and back into traffic. Taehyung leans back in his chair and hands you your phone. Catching sight of your face, he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you okay--” he begins, but as soon as you hear his voice, you turn on him, startling him to silence.

“How did you know I was replacing Jaejin?” At your question, Taehyung’s smile fades as though he had said something wrong. Something he hadn't meant to say. He licks his lips nervously, turning away and clearing his throat.

“Jimin told me.” It’s a simple answer, but a careful one and you wonder just what exactly he’s trying to hide. You don't think the answer is a lie, but it seems to you that he’s tiptoeing around something, trying to be extra careful with his next words.

He doesn't want you to know, not just yet.

“How did Jimin know?” you ask him dubiously.

How do BTS know who you are even before you've had a chance to meet them yourself? You knew that Jaejin had a pretty important job in BigHit and was involved, but he never told you it would be like this.

“He got it from Namjoon.” He explains. When he notices your opening your mouth to ask another question, he cuts you off by pressing his finger against your lips to shut you up.

“Hyung was going crazy all morning because you didn't show up on time, it's like he was afraid you fell off the face of the earth or something.” At the mention, you grow a bit sad and resigned. You feel terrible for doing that to Namjoon. Taehyung reaches forward, at the sight of your sadness, wrapping his hand around yours as a sign of comfort.

“Don't worry, though. I'm sure Joonie is alright now, he was just being a bit paranoid.” He reassures you, smiling softly in your direction and you sigh before nodding, not quite believing him but doing the best you can. Once Tae is sure you won’t fade into yourself again, he continues, reaching into his back pocket to fish for his phone.

“Anyway, Namjoon was getting worried. He sent out a picture of you so that we would be on the lookout for you in case we saw you come in or whatever. That way he would know when you arrived and could see you as soon as possible.” Taehyung continues, pulling up his messages and scrolling through until he finds Jimin’s name.

“This was the picture he gave us, and that’s how I know.” He turns the phone around to you. After a moment's hesitation, you peer closely at the screen.

It takes you a moment to register just what exactly the picture is, but once you do, your eyes widen and you give a slight start of surprise. Your cheeks already rising with the feverish heat of embarrassment, you reach for the phone to steal it from Taehyung. He pulls it away from you just in time and holds it out of your arms reach. You let out a muffled aggravated growl as you reach for it, practically almost climbing over Tae until your seatbelt locks up and you are forced back.

“Taehyung!” you cry out fumbling over his body as he continues to dart the phone out of arm's reach.

Curse your tiny arms.

“Give it to me! Let me delete that!!” he laughs at your protest, and if you weren't so mad, perhaps that laugh would have made you laugh too.

Jaejin will die when you see him next.

“No! I like the chipmunk version of you better.” Taehyung snorts, staring at the photo with adoration.

“See? The little chippie thinks she can fit that huge bite in her mouth.” He remarks as you give him the death stare. He turns back to you, the widest smile on his face, but the glittering playful malice clear in his eyes.

“She couldn't do it.” He says, pouting in mock pity. Narrowing your eyes, you lunge forward once more and he laughs, dodging your attack for the second time.

“For your information, that was in the midst of me fitting it! I was able to do it in the end!” you grunt as you stretch as far as you can to reach the phone that he holds high above his head.

It’s not fair! How come his arms get to be so long?

“Now….let…..me….delete it!” you growl through gritted teeth.

Taehyung shakes his head as he scoots farther away from underneath your grasp, and lets you fall on the bench face first. You stay there for a moment, your chin resting on the leather padding. Smirking, he flicks your forehead, and that's when you get up, lunging for the phone.

After a few more moments of this, it somehow ends up with you stretched across the bench, on your back, your head on his lap. He dangles the device above your face, incessantly teasing you as though you were a child. Once, he even touches it to the point of your nose and when you swipe for it, he pulls it away.

“It’s not fair.” You murmur, pouting as you cross your hands over your chest. He looks down at you, fondly, dropping his hand and the phone with it on the bench next to him.

Biting his bottom lip, he opens his mouth to say something, but Minhyuk interrupts by stopping the car abruptly. Taehyung glances up, and you bolt out of his lap at the motion, looking around to try and identify where you are.

As you peer out of the tinted windows and Minhyuk turns around in his seat to look at the pair of you, you realize.

You're home.

Tae peers out the window to see if it's still raining, as you begin to pull apart the makeshift compress on your ankle. Without Taehyung's help, you're going to need your shoe.

Tae requests Minhyuk to hand him your coat just as you lay the last wrapping on the bench next to you and pull on your wedge. It doesn't hurt when it’s around your ankle. To make sure, you test your strength, leaning on your foot with as much weight as your able. The pressure you put on it is still painful, but bearable enough to walk to your apartment room. Zipping up your wedge, you turn to Taehyung and find him looking at you with concern.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No, you did a great job.” You reply, and he smiles to himself before situating your coat, opening it so you would be able to easily put it around your shoulders. Taking a deep unsteady breath and licking your lips a bit, you let out a small sigh.

“Thank you.” You say in hushed tones, and he pauses from what he’s doing to look at you in surprise. You hesitate before continuing, receiving the coat from his open arms and sliding it on around your shoulders. “I never thanked you for helping me before. So thank you, I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there to help me out.”

At his silence, you secure your coat around your body and pull your satchel off of the floor, hauling it on your shoulder before you leave. You wait a moment for him to say something if he will. When he doesn't, staring at you in a frozen shock, you chuckle to yourself before opening the door and letting in the once muffled noise of the storm.

“Goodbye, Kim Taehyung.” You say to him, smiling kindly over your shoulder, something to which he responds with a hard swallow as though preparing himself to speak, but you don't see that. You have already turned and have stepped your good foot out of the door before he stops you, calling you back.

“Wait!” he calls, and you turn around, leaving one foot outside, and angling yourself using your other foot as an axis. Slowly, he reaches out and takes your hand within his own, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss along your knuckles. You suck in a sharp breath as he does, your heart aching.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers as he lowers your hand and pulls away. “I won't forget today.”

And neither will I.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: we coming to the end of the rainy day pretty soon

chapter 19 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[angelic-serenade]

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty 

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms) 

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

[eradicatetehnormal]

Rambling About Sk8 Infinity 'Cause I Just Caught Up

So yeah, when I initially watched it, literally my first reaction was "aw man, it looks like this show will have no real consequences for any of the main characters' actions, that's the typical shonen formula I guess." Then, as if a direct frick you to me, there WERE consequences. It didn't come from the reckless skating or beefing with scary competitors, no, it came from the person who's kinda the hero of the series, Langa, being TOO good at fulfilling his role and leaving Reki to feel left behind and like he can't match up to the rest of his comrades. Now this is resolved rather quickly within the span of 3 episodes, but what I think made it stand out to me was the way it was resolved and the perspective that this conflict was seen from. You see I think Reki's little mini arc here goes to show you the shonen hero from the perspective of his weaker companion. We've had stuff like this before but I think it's special here because 1.It shows the perspective of the weaker comrade and STAYS there. 2. Even when these characters get frustrated at their lack of strength, there's usually a scene where the protag will say some pseudo-inspirational garbage at this character. This is never genuinely done by the writers to empower the weaker character. It's done to make the hero stand out even more for being a nice person ON TOP of being a badass shonen hero. (man, aren't we getting the whole package...>:/ ) and the way the resolve this, isn't by having same "manly" fight scene where the weaker character tries to prove their worth or some sh*t, no, Reki and Langa talk it out after Reki remembered why he skates. And why wouldn't they be able to do that? They're friends :) It's moments like these that kinda almost make the show feel more like a Shoujo than a Shounen to me. Good series is good series, 7.7/10 to bullet point the things I didn't like -Langa isn't really shown to have any flaws or insecurites, it is only season 1 though

-the character design is low-key kinda weak. There's a reason why I keep comparing them to Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Kingdom Hearts characters, it's because their designs are super generic that you mix them with character designs from other anime and anime-like media in your head. Even with the designs I do like, Reki and Miya's, I feel like their silhouettes aren't that interesting. You can black them out and put them next to any spiky haired character (with reki) and any character with cat ears (with Miya), and they'd blend in together with all the other character if it weren't for those skateboards -creepy villian. Man with bad touch... (seriously though, why is the default for making a villian scarier, making them rapey? they did it with Sephiroth in ff7 and Scar from the lion king if you saw that deleted song...It's weird) Alright now lets's talk about the important thing here. The real reason I kept watching, and it's not the skateboarding scenes (though those are well directed). It's, T H E Y. Not even because of the ship, but because their relationship is just really cute, healthy, and just like wholesome my dude....BUT NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE SHIPPING ASPECT SHALL WE?

wow, there's so much gay in these two, they could rid the world of heterosexuality with a doom impending glitter gay bomb lol. Seriously though, I knew everyone shipped them so I expected them to be extremely close and maybe have a little bit of not-straight implications. Shounen tends to have moments between its male characters that are very intimate and can be seen as romantic, regaurdless if that was the intention or not, but I didn't expect the implications to be THIS blatant. I feel like even the "dude-bros" had a hard time trying to keep it straight. From the very beginning they get along almost immediately and never really went through any real rivalry phase. Even when Reki avoided Langa and quit skating, it wasn't because of any bitter feelings towards Langa, but because he was getting insecure and felt like he couldn't stand to him. For most of the series, they continue to inspire each other throughout the series and become each others main motivations for waking up happy and just skating. One of the biggest examples is the scene where Reki races with ADAM and another being when Langa races with Kojiro. Even when Reki gets, dang-near molested and the race track and loses courage, it's Langa's words that reminded him of what he was fighting for and gets his head back in the game, even if he does end up losing. With Langa, it wasn't until he saw Reki's face and heard his voice from the crowd, did he start to feel passionate about winning the race, as his hearts not in skating, if he can do it with the person who got him into it (he really asked Reki if they could skate for infinity ah *cries*) (It kind of makes me wonder if the original manga writer wrote a bunch of BL before writing Sk8 and is stuck in this awkard phase were they are literally incapable of writing to male main characters who AREN'T into each other or if they are just going to make Reki and Langa a couple. I'm gonna guess it's the first one, because let's be real, when companies see that people ship a gay pairing, they WILL pander to the fraction that ships it shamelessly and then will never go through with it in the end. I'd be happy to be wrong here though.)

Aw yes, one more thing before I go. I like to think that these two scenes were meant to parallel each other:

uhhh Okay, so you can barely tell but these pictures are basically Reki, Langa, and Adam tangoing with each other on skateboards. I like to interpret as Langa being able to turn what has been seen to be spirit breaking for Reki into something positive, if only for a brief moment. A more intellectual queer could put the relationship between these 3 through a queer theory lens and say that they represent being in vs being out of the closet, a metphor for grooming, or perhaps even trying to reclaim your youth, but to be frank, my a** is not fat enough, nor is my brain big enough to be this person.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (1/?)

What started out as an idea for a short one shot grew into a multichap that I'm almost done editing. I think 🤔 it'll be either 4 or 5 chapters long depending on how long each chapter will be after I'm done editing. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy.

In this fic you learn how easily things can change, but how it effects you isn't always a bad thing.

________________

Chapter 1: The Phenomenon

There was little difference to what was happening around you at the moment. There were no little green men, or yellow submarines, neither were there tangelos, or bags of golden rings, but there was a blue-haired man with plenty of dreams. Still, life was swell; summer was around the corner, and you were reading in the garage just to be near Zeta-7; he was working on his latest piece of tech, and you were distracted by his charming quirks and ticks. If you hadn't known any better, you'd say it was business as usual. Yet, it was because you had been acquainted with Rick that the previous blindspots of your world were made known to you; conscious of the rare events which were going to take place in another quadrant of space.

A phenomenon was going to occur; one which would not happen again for another 1000 years; the blooming of the Milleannos flower. Legends say that those who touch its pollen might live forever, and those who smell its perfume might be cured of all that ails them, but those claims were supposedly unsubstantiated. There was to be a gala to celebrate the occasion; all in attendance were respectable, distinguished guests and because of Rick, you were also invited, but there were rules; strict guidelines which were to be obeyed unless you wished to throw away your life. And although you weren't happy about them, you were willing to abide by them for Rick's sake. However, there were a few things you didn't understand. "Rick, why won't we be allowed to dance together?"

His hands paused their activity, and his body sagged a little; dreading the reminder not because he's informed you already, but because it pained him to remind himself that he couldn't spend a once in a lifetime occasion with you. "B-because according to the laws of Petram Viridios IV, you are assigned a um - a party companion which is determined according to the alignment of your spine, carbon dioxide levels, as well as daily water intake. And due to the variety of guests, everyone must stand at least six feet apart to avoid air poisoning. However, if given an a-air helmet in order to assist with breathing, then I believe that the last rule isn't as severe. It's - there is a-a lot to remember."

Currently, he was piecing together the circuits and connecting the wires which would power his reflective shield. It was going to be worn under his dress shirt and would be undetectable under their scanners; as a precaution of course. "Ricky, you know I barely drink water." You weren't a fan of water, but you enjoyed flavored beverages and if you did drink water, it was always carbonated first. "I mean, I can get past the distance thing, but what am I supposed to do if I'm assigned to someone I don't like, and have to spend hours being bored and jealous that you're next to gorgeous, realistic fembots from Westworld?"

Unlike you, Zeta-7 drank so much water, you wondered how he wasn't rushing to the bathroom every five minutes. The only other people who drank that much water were beauty gurus who wanted to keep their skin in tip-top shape; you could really try harder if you wanted to. Good naturedly, he answered. "Gosh, y-you don't have to worry about that. I know a fembot when I-I see one."

You raised a brow at this, but seeing as he meant it literally, you listened on. "No s-siree, I won't be assigned a party companion because I'm going t-t-to be assisting the king in protecting their sacred relic."

How Rick became designated to assist with such a task was beyond you, but there seemed to be a glimmer of slight pride in the fact that he'd be so lucky and privileged as to be near the legendary flower, as well as to the beings who revered it. He was determined to find out the truth behind its properties, and if his hypothesis proved true, then he had a plan. You enjoyed when he was diverted with schemes; not the kind which was evil in nature, but the ones which could end happily or inconclusively. Anyway, you two were discussing how to go about it all.

The discussion had gaps of pause where he'd need to concentrate on bits of wiring that needed to be soldered or bent. Without distraction, you were more aware that it was humid, especially with the garage door being fully open for proper ventilation; bits of your hair stuck to your face and to the back of your neck despite how you'd try to tie it. As annoying as it was, it did have its draw; every so often, you'd catch Rick staring and you'd feel a thrill for it could be a year or ten years, but his shy tendencies would never stop being endearing; why he felt the need to reign himself when you were cool with him checking you out was something you hoped he'd someday become more comfortable with, but for now you'd simply giggle and wink at him to let him know you knew. He did his best to focus on the task at hand, but it wasn't going as well as he had hoped for it happened more than once that you'd have to hand him a tool he was blindly reaching out for. "You wouldn't happen to know who my party companion is," you inquired, as you were tying your hair up for the umpteenth time. "do you? And if you do, can't you change them?"

Giving you that look which always preceded his speeches of why he couldn't do that random illegal thing, he explained with kindly patience. "I could change th-the records, and assign you to someone I know, but that wouldn't be legal."

"I know."

"However," he brightened as he paused his work to face you fully. "I do have a copy of the guest list. Give me a-a moment to pull it up on my computer. Hmm," he wondered more to himself then out loud. "that's odd."

"What is it?"

Drumming his fingertips on his workbench, he double-checked his calculations, then went over and wrote it all out on a chalkboard to be sure. Tapping the freshly used chalk tip to his chin in thought, leaving a little powder on his face, he nodded when it seemed satisfactory. "According to um - to my calculations, it's possible that it's either the Salamandrian chemist, V'gha Khadaka or the Chordatan Knight, Noathamas."

"Is there a correlation between the two?"

"Other than their similar water intake levels, they both enjoy their privacy. However, I'm a-a little stumped as to how it might be possible to be assigned to them both. None of your occupations are similar, neither is there a species similarity, but I'm sure I'll figure it out before the event."

Great, just great. That sort of information wasn't all that helpful, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek to ease the worry which he had been hiding. You wondered if it was too late to back out, but for the most part you were determined to be there for him, even if it meant odd company. "Alright. Um… is there something I should keep in mind before I go dress shopping?"

A quick glance at your current outfit made him smile. You were wearing an old band tee and jeans with so many patches, that they were more patch then jean. "I-I don't think so. Almost anything is fine. Though, y-you might want to avoid plant-based materials in favor of synthetics just in case."

"Okay, I think I can do that, but don't be surprised if I look like I just walked out of a 1980s prom. I'll have you know that being slightly flammable is a dream of mine."

He chuckled at that and patted your shoulder. "Hohoho, I'm sure it'll be fine. You - you always look pretty in whatever you wear."

"If you mean that I'll be so fine, that I'll light up the room with my razzle-dazzle, then you better watch out. You never know who'll be charmed without my knowing."

Now, there had been little to no weight to your phrasing just now, but he felt differently. Giving your shoulders a squeeze, there was a distant, far off look in his eyes that you could only recall from specific occasions. It was a mix of longing, sadness, and regret, but you couldn't pin it on what exactly. It was as though he were trying to convey by sight that there was something he ought to do, that he ought to say, but as quickly as it had appeared, it left and was replaced by acceptance. He pulled away and returned to his previous task while you used a spare computer to begin the search for the perfect dress. He said it'll be fine, and you certainly hoped so.

____________

Adjustments in gravity made you feel as though you could jump in and out of craters as though you were wearing moon shoes; that is until you stepped onto a ship or station, then you felt as though you had fifty pounds tied to each foot. You were grateful for the terrain stabilizers that Rick placed in your flats a few adventures ago, otherwise, you would've already been worn out.

You two arrived a few minutes apart by way of the designated ship which held a variety of guests. To explain, the ship itself was a marvel and a work of beauty as far as intergalactic travel was concerned; its mechanical parts were held together by a compound whose main ingredient was a type of scarlet amber. Piece by piece, it had been crafted by a mixture of living matter and tech so advanced, that it'd have taken 300 years of Earth-based studies to understand a fraction of how one of its panels could work; probably sooner for someone like Rick.

Your eyes trailed the conduits as you were led through hallways that seemed to spiral and spill into larger hallways with varying temperatures and design and you wondered how it was those conduits crossed over and branched off like veins, but you had no time to find out and didn't feel privileged enough to ask as you were led into a cabin. Multiple voices hushed, but resumed to their usual loudness once you had settled into what appeared to be a loveseat with the coloring and texture of a pumpkin; it was your assigned seating, but it was not as soft as you would have liked.

It wouldn't be till later that you'd find out that Rick had traveled in a cabin on level 4 while you had been on level 2. In your cabin was a being composed of pure energy, with a name not spelled in letters but in frequencies, who was one of the musicians. A few feet away, was V'gha Khaḍaka; he was tall, sure-looking, had smooth, striped skin which glistened, and a tail strong enough to break someone's spine in a blink; the good thing was that he hadn't been trained in combat, but was simply a scientist who enjoyed the pursuit of knowledge. And a few feet away from the Salamandrian chemist was the knight Noathamas; he stood at half your height, but his chest was puffed out in such a way that made him appear larger, while his round amber eyes and curly whiskers gave him a soft, cuddly appearance; you had been warned by Rick that his appearance did not reveal much about his character and to watch out for him.

It was uncommon but not unheard of to be assigned multiple party companies as you had been; you were matched up to both V'gha and Noathamas due to your odd chemical makeup. Who would've thought that drinking a La Croix before leaving home would confuse their scanners? Goodness, you were grateful that it was a quick trip, and when it was time to depart the ship, you were escorted by two guards before you were given a helmet; it was nearly invisible except for its indicator light which was shaped like a flower, and it blended in with your dress; a colorful sequin cocktail dress you found on eBay. Not far from you were both your companions, who gave off the impression that they were your entourage rather than dates for the night. You saw Rick from a distance, and you knew he was trying to play it cool, but his eyes were sparkling with affection, although he knew he was supposed to suppress it due to the strict traditions imposed by the royal family; he looked away as he was escorted by six guards, but part of you wished that he hadn't.

You took a deep breath to calm your giddiness; this wasn't the time to allow your emotions to carry you away and affect the mission which was to get through the evening. V'gha could pick up on your subtle changes in body language, and thanks to a universal translator in your helmet, you could understand him. "From what I understand," he commented with a surprisingly smooth, velvety voice. "he's the smartest man in the universe. Is that true?"

"Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, "but he's more than just a brain. I heard he's a great lover. Not really my type," you lied because Zeta-7 suggested that you keep the details of your relationship with him a secret; again for safety, but you thought boasting up his reputation wouldn't hurt. "though, to each his own."

"Do you know him personally?"

When questions like this were thrown at you, it made you wonder about the curious people who meant it to sound nice, but in actuality wanted to test the waters as to how much can they ask so soon. Glancing at your nails, you feigned disinterest. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to give out that type of information."

"You two are the only humans here." he stated matter of factly. There were humanoid beings but he was right. "It doesn't take rocket science to figure that much out."

"How would you know," you retorted with an air of certainty. "you're not a rocket scientist."

"You're right, I'm not. However, I do dabble into it from time to time. I'm sure he does too. I can smell the exhaust from here."

Hmm, perhaps this event was going to be more interesting than you thought. You shared a look of understanding with the chemist, and thought that perhaps you wouldn't need to be so wary of him; his charisma gave him a charm you hadn't yet decided if it was welcomed or should be ignored; whether his earlier comment was out of egotism or curiosity. And before you could make a comeback, Noathamas commented. "Shall we find our assigned seating and continue from there?"

"Sounds fine. Why don't you two walk ahead," you suggested with a coolness you didn't know you had. "I'll be sure to follow."

When you were sure that they were far enough, you took out your miniature glass terrarium necklace, which held a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals; the one Rick had given you after a memorable date; it was made to remind you of how he saw you and you were very glad it had gone undetected under the scanners you passed through. And in your mind's eye you could still see the glimmer and shine of his electric blue eyes as he had taken in your appearance this afternoon before you two departed Earth; oh how he had wanted to kiss you and hug you but had refrained from doing so in order to double-check if he had all his supplies. His compliments had been many as he drove into the inky blackness of space, but when he parked at the station which was at the midway point, and you two lined up to board the ship which took you to this strange world, his face became neutral; his job made him good at that. You kissed your lovely necklace, replaced it so that it laid underneath your dress collar, and your heart called out to him in the void which was Petram Viridios IV; hoping you wouldn't have to go the through the evening without seeing your beloved again before you made yourself appear neutral and made sure to stay at least six feet apart from everyone in your midst.

Tbc

[yehet-me-up]

*busts through the door like I'm the Kool-Aid man* BONJOUR FUCKERS I'M BACK!!! It is I, the Theatrical Gay Anon™! I hope you're ready to endure my endless babbling for a bit cuz I've got lots to say holy shit. Consider this part 1 of like, 1000 cuz I think Tumblr got rid of the submissions feature. I apologize in advance for the spam hehe.

Okay, with that out of the way. Ms. Yehet-Me-Up, may I call you Sarah? Sarah, what the fuck!? I can't even rn. I I give you a simple suggestion, no expectations behind it. I say "Hey, don't you think it'd be cool if Zitao was in the Exodus Mall universe?" to which you said "Yeah, that'd be neat, I might do that. Perhaps make him work at an Irish pub or something" and then I flip out with gratitude and excitement thinking you're gonna do like, a DRABBLE. 500 words at MOST -Theatrical Gay Anon

Imagine my SHOCK, my STUPEFACTION, upon realizing that you wrote OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS about Huang Zitao aka the wind beneath my wings, the rain to my drought, the corny joke to my Junmyeon. And not only that! But you did this A MONTH AGO. I could've been reading this for so long and I had no idea! How foolish am I? I can't believe you wrote all of this based off of a silly little suggestion I made. I feel like bowing over how not worthy I am Wayne's World style -Theatrical Gay Anon

NOW IN REGARDS TO THE CONTENT OF THIS MASTERPIECE OH MY GOD WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN!? I am floored by your preeminence. First things first, the title? Perfect. Full disclosure, I suck at titles. I've been writing for over a decade now and I'm still shit with titles. It's so hard to come up with just a few words to encapsulate everything you wrote but you do it SO WELL. The moodboard? Amazing. I've always loved that picture of Zitao and it fits so well with the pub setting -Theatrical Gay Anon

I'm afraid you've written "Fractions of Tomorrow" so well that I don't see there being a need for anyone to write anything else...ever. Stories? CANCELED. Poetry? CANCELED. Biographies? CANCELED. It's all over folks. Sarah has written The Best Thing Ever. We've peaked as a society. After I finish writing these asks I'm gonna become a hermit in the woods and make friends with all of the woodland creatures that inhabit it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

But seriously though, I love absolutely everything about this story. As a Zitao fan, I'm used to getting breadcrumbs. Not a lot of ppl write fics about him. I can count on one hand how many long fics of his you can find on Tumblr. But THIS?? This was no breadcrumb, this was a whole fucking bakery. And it all appeals to me so much oh my god? The sappiness of it all, the flowery prose, the rebellious rejection of cynicism, it's all so beautiful I want to marry it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

If I discussed all of the sentences in this fic that made me giggle with joy and kick my feet around I'd be here all day so keep in mind this is just a FRACTION of the ones I loved but I couldn't go without mentioning at least some of them so here we go. "It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention" SHUT UP this line is go good it's so simple yet so nuanced I adore it. Seriously, why hasn't anyone hired you to write a screenplay? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles" God, this line is so CUTE it's DISGUSTING he's fond of the reader's un-wrinkled clothes that's such a specific thing to like and is totally the type of thing I've done with the ppl I've crushed on throughout my life. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Zitao,’ he says finally. ‘Cute.’ You say" this is such a little thing but I love that you included his full name in this. I love his full name so much it sounds really pretty. Whenever I hear him refer to himself as "Huang Zitao" in interviews my heart soars. Hearing him speak Mandarin in general is a delight as well. It's an audibly gorgeous language and any racist who says otherwise can EAT MY ENTIRE ASS -Theatrical Gay Anon

"For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature" DEAR GOD I LOVE THESE TWO! I love these movie loving lovesick fools. I love that everyone in the world knows they love each other except them. I love seeing bits and pieces of their story throughout this written universe. I can't wait to see it all come together in Baekhyun's Exodus Mall fic. It's gonna be GLORIOUS -Theatrical Gay Anon

Also! I know you enjoyed my song recs that I thought fit perfectly with All Our Broken Places so here are some for when the Baek x Hitchcock fic drops. I know it's not done yet but I just *know* what it's gonna be like I can feel it in my bones. "Sidekick" by Walk the Moon and "Tongue Tied" by Grouplove. As for Fractions of Tomorrow I knew right away what songs I'd pick. "Dreams" by The Cranberries, "Jumpstarted" by Jukebox the Ghost and "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey -Theatrical Gay Anon

Gosh, this fic filled me with so much energy and joy I feel like a toddler on caffeine. But I really should sleep now though. It's gotten so late that I can see the sunrise peaking up sdksdksl. I'll see ya soon! I will be spamming you with more compliments about this fic once I wake up though! - Theatrical Gay Anon

Hi! I'm back. Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about some of my favorite lines from the story. "‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you. ‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh." I LOVE that you made Baek the one Zitao was close with. I miss the beef brothers so much. I'll never forgive SM for what they did to OT12. They were all such good friends 😔 -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you." GOD, HE WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS! HE'S SUCH A SHAMELESS FLIRT I HATE HIM *narrator voice* This was of course a huge a lie, he in fact loved Zitao immensely -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’" You've captured Zitao's unlimited confidence so well and that makes me really happy. It's one of my favorite things about him. The man truly loves himself and I think that's awesome -Theatrical Gay Anon

"Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’ 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?’" ASDKDSDSL SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA SAY THAT PANTY DROPPER LINE AND GO BACK TO BUSINESS AS USUAL ZITAO???? HUH??? IS THAT WHAT WE'RE GONNA DO??? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’" Something I love about EXO fic writers (myself included lol) is that despite all of the different ways they'll write the other members, there is one member who is always written the same and that's Baekhyun. He will always be written as a cheeky little shit cuz he *is* a cheeky little shit. That's just who he is. Messing with ppl is a favorite past time of his. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"'So, love, huh? There’s not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?’" Thank you for not being heteronormative with the "are you dating someone?" convo. I know it might not seem like much but I really appreciate it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm" OOF, this one got me. So very true. The beginning of love is so scary! -Theatrical Gay Anon

"I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it" OKAY BUT PASSIONATE LEATHER JACKET WEARING ANARCHIST ZITAO IN A ROCK BAND IS SUCH AN ATTRACTIVE CONCEPT!!! There's nothing sexier than a bad boi that will hate capitalism with you! He'd probably be the one to give ppl rides to protests and stuff I LOVE IT -Theatrical Gay Anon

"If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?" Listen I don't mean to be dramatic or anything (wait, who am I kidding? I'm literally the Theatrical Gay Anon being dramatic is like my Thing) but if a guy ever said that to me my trans boi pussy would be open for business IMMEDIATELY

Alright, so, uh Final Thoughts. This may be my new favorite work of yours, and no it's not just cuz it's got my ultimate bias in it lmao. This year has been so shitty and it's made my depression + anxiety reach the highest possible levels but reading this, this love story filled with hope and certainty despite not knowing what the future will hold for them, made this year seem easier to cope with. Thank you so much for making this, it means the world to me. -Theatrical Gay Anon

ALRIGHT, LAST ASK AND THEN I'LL SHUT UP I PROMISE but I personally headcanon that Double Shot + Zitao stayed together till the very end. They didn't get married cuz they hate formalities but they got matching tattoos and even when they're old and grey you can still them clear as day on their wrists. When they're asked how they met no one believes their answer lol. And when Double Shot died of old age before Zitao he would sing her favorite song by her grave every Saturday -Theatrical Gay Anon

OKAY SO I know I said I was done and I know I've already sent in like, 30 bajillion asks but I'm curious does Yifan or Luhan also work at the Irish pub?? Or do they work somewhere else in the mall? Inquiring minds want to know -Theatrical Gay Anon

When I tell you this made my entire month (when you sent it weeks ago, I’ve been hanging onto these because they seriously bring me SO much joy holy crap) I am not remotely kidding j;oaisjdflkasdjfa

I am absolutely going to put on these song recs while I work on the next chapter! 

a;osdfjlaksdfjasl the fact that you stayed up late to read this warms my heart so much. It reminds me of all the times I stayed up til the ass crack of dawn reading fanfics because I simply could NOT stop reading, so the fact that you enjoyed this like that makes me helllllaaaa emo 🥰

I just??? 2020 was indeed such a long year and affected my energy and creativity and honestly don’t really remember writing this hahaha. I kind of go into a fugue state with these longer fics and they just EMERGE. So to see you reflecting back some of what I wrote allows me to enjoy the process so much more. Makes writing and tumblr fun and I seriously wish everyone writing and creating could have someone as passionate and thoughtful and hilarious as you hyping them up 🌟 it honestly feels like a GIFT and I will absolutely keep writing this series and hoping to be worthy of it 😘

We will definitely get to see more of these two in the finale fic! I got into EXO after Tao, Yifan, and Luhan left so I’m not quite as familar with their personalities, but I could definitely see Yifan working at the US Bank haha. Business suit by day and partying/flirting by night. As for Luhan I feel like he’d work somewhere like the bookstore or the music store?? somewhere quieter and more contemplative. 

Thank you again for sending this and for being you <3 I hope 2021 is a wonderful year for you and that you know how AMAZING you are 💖💖💖💖💖

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Wasn't sure if you were still doing your prompt list or not. I'm in desperate need of some 4 and 108 Rami fluff. I love teaching, but this school year is already starting off badly and I'm not looking forward to it. I'm already feeling overwhelmed, stressed, and run into the ground. 😢

I GOT YOU SO SO SO MUCH. Fluffy sweetness is on its way and I’m gonna make it happen with Elliot. 

As an aside, you are a damn hero, and I know your year WILL get better!

* * * * *

It had been a few days since Elliot received a text from you that was longer than a few words, and sometimes your texts were only as long as a single frustrated or crying emoji. He knew the beginning of the school year was a stressful time for you, so at first, he backed off with requests to see you and just sent texts of simple encouragement.

Elliot never really seemed to sleep, so every morning during the first week of school, when you woke up, it would be to a series of spaced out texts:

I miss you but I know you’re busy.

You’ve got this, baby.

It’s Wednesday—only three more days until you can sleep in.

I admire you so much.

Elliot’s words in the morning helped you make it through until lunch, and you knew when you checked your phone, he would’ve sent another positive text. Every year, Elliot memorized your schedule, even quicker than you did, so he knew when you would need some encouragement from him the most.  

Elliot had a difficult time seeing the good in the world, but through your dedication to a career that paid too little and caused unimaginable stress, he was able to put aside his dreary outlook and be a beacon of hope when you needed it the most, often surprising you with just how perceptive he really was.

Even though Elliot had been following the same pattern as he had last year, something just felt off. You were more overwhelmed and more distant than you had been at this same time last year. Elliot stared at his phone at lunchtime on Friday, typing and erasing a hundred messages before he finally settled on one:

Are you okay?

When you got his text, you fought back the tears that had already been threatening to fall all throughout lunch.

You took a deep breath and confessed:

No.

In less than a minute, Elliot replied that he was coming over after school, no excuses.

Okay,you replied, ashamed that you felt this shitty and it was only the first week of school.

You took a few deep breaths and started straightening up your classroom, letting mundane tasks distract you while you willed yourself to pull it together before the bell rang.

And when the bell did ring, you were ready to greet your flushed and eager kiddos at the door, a smile on your face that was brighter than the sun, hiding every stress and feeling of helplessness under its radiant surface.

* * * * *

Elliot was waiting for you, his hands in his hoodie pockets despite the August heat, but he did have his hood down, his hair looking stylishly messy as usual. Despite your awful week, seeing him made you smile.

“Hi,” you said as you turned the key in the door.

“Hi,” Elliot said, a small smile playing with his lips. “I didn’t want to startle you, so I just waited outside.”

You shook your head.

“We’ve been over this, El. Mi casa es su casa.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled as he hesitated in the entryway.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you kicked your shoes off.

“No, I am. I’m bound to be a little snappy. That’s why I haven’t wanted to see you. I’m afraid I’ll be horrible because I have no one else to take it out on.”

Elliot bent down to untie his own shoes, lining them up beside the entryway mat and also picking yours up from where they landed and placing them neatly beside his own.

You were already unloading your school bag at the kitchen table, spreading out the things you knew you needed to accomplish over the weekend. Even Elliot could feel the tension radiating off of you, only getting worse as you looked at the mountain of work.

“Hey,” Elliot said as he reached for you, turning you to face him instead of the table. “Go upstairs and take a bath. Relax. I’ll order a pizza.”

“I really should at least organize—”

“No,” Elliot said, taking your face in his hands. “No.”

You chuckled, enjoying that Elliot was forcing you to relax, knowing that you sure as hell needed someone to give you permission, otherwise, the guilt of ignoring everything you needed to accomplish would eat at you.

“Alright. You win,” you said, reaching out to take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, pulling him in to kiss him sweetly.

You must’ve dozed off in the tub because the buzz of Elliot’s voice from the doorway was the next thing you remembered after kissing him downstairs at the kitchen table.

“Huh?” you said, blinking your eyes.

Elliot smiled, a sweet upturn of one side of his mouth.

“The pizza’s here,” he repeated.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” you mumbled as you shivered from the chill in the water.

Elliot pulled the fluffy towel you had laid out off of the sink and held it up as you climbed out of the tub. He wrapped you up in it, squeezing you close for a few minutes as he breathed in the scent of your hair. Then, he started toweling you off, making sure you were completely dry before wrapping you up again.

“Thanks, El,” you mumbled, still a little sleepy.

He kissed your forehead in a gesture meaning, you’re welcome, and then your stomach growled, the noise obnoxiously ruining your quiet moment.

You laughed and said you’d throw on some pjs and meet him downstairs.

When you rounded the corner from the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen, you nearly burst into tears for the tenth time that day, except that these would’ve been very happy tears.

While you were in the bath, Elliot had done your dishes, taken out the trash, and tidied up. You glanced at the kitchen table and saw he had organized your paperwork, alphabetizing each of the forms your students’ parents had filled out.

“Oh, Elliot. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Elliot had been taking plates and cups out of the cupboard and hadn’t paid attention to your reaction. When he looked back and saw your tear-filled eyes, he put the dishes on the counter and came over to hug you, clutching onto you and holding you for as long as you needed him to. Again, the tears only threatened, so after a few minutes, and after another obnoxious growl from your stomach, you thanked Elliot again before the two of you tucked into the pizza.

Once your stomachs were full and the two of you were curled up on the couch, settled in to watch something fluffy and mindless on TV, Elliot asked you about your week.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe you needed someone to listen.”

And listen he did—Elliot may be a little more complicated than most, but he was a fantastic listener, never forgetting anything you said.

You talked through your week, trying to pinpoint what was so different this year than in the year’s past.

“I just feel . . . helpless,” you said, finally deciding on a word that seemed to sum up how you’d felt all week.

If there was anything Elliot understood with crystal clarity, it was what it felt like to feel helpless, to feel like no matter what you did, it was never enough or it was always wrong.  

Elliot was quiet, but you could feel him working over what he wanted to say. You shifted, settling your head on his chest, your arm draped across his waist while his arm rested behind you, his fingers moving every now and then, tapping a rhythm out on your hip.

“Do you remember the first time I saw you? You were helping a little boy, a little boy who was a lot like me, scared and unsure of how to make friends. You talked to him, gave him some suggestions and even introduced him to a few kids.”

“El—I have a thousand conversations like that a day.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you remember every conversation with every kid. What matters is that you talked to them, made them feel valid. You may not remember, but that kid sure as fuck does. Kids remember how you make them feel,” Elliot said, his words rumbling through his chest.

“I know you try your best every day, Y/N. And I am positive that even your version of the worst is better than 95% of everyone else’s best. And your new kids are gonna know that soon enough.”

Elliot’s words shattered every successful battle you had fought and won not to cry all day long, so when the tears came, you let them. You cried into his shirt while he held you, whispering quietly, “Baby don’t cry.”

After a while, the tears stopped, and you sat up. Elliot handed you a few tissues from the side table, even reaching out to swipe at a few tears before smoothing out your hair.

You smiled weakly and attempted to make a joke to lighten the mood. “I didn’t even get to complain about the horseshit my principal wants me to do before I cried an actual river.”

Elliot’s face lit up as he said, “Do you want me to hack your principal? I bet I could find something. Or maybe even that parent you told me about earlier in the week? I know I could find something on her.”

This time, you laughed out loud and Elliot softly joined in. The funniest thing was that you knew he was serious. If you gave him permission, he would fuck up anyone that made you cry, relishing in the fact that he alleviated even a fraction of your stress.

“No, El,” you said, running a hand across his jaw. “I’ll fight my own battles.”

Elliot shrugged his shoulders and held out his arms for you to settle back into your spot. As you snuggled back onto his chest, he said, “Just a little hack?”

You laughed again, and it was music to Elliot’s ears. He smiled and kissed the top of your head as he moved his hand to start massaging your back, lightly working away the knots and the kinks until soon enough, you were sleeping peacefully in his arms.

[ernmark]

Ok, I'm also super loving the married in Space Vegas au, and I gotta know what happens next. How is Peter gonna navigate "we should really get this annullment" and "revealing my name to more people is going to end badly" and "ok wait but I actually really like this guy"?

Thank you all for being patient with me.

I’m still out of town, but now I’ve got a little more time to myself to get some writing done. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  

For some reason, Peter assumed that his new husband would look a little more respectable after a shower. Instead he’s as surly and disgruntled as a wet cat, with the same uncanny glare that manages to be simultaneously wide-eyed and suspicious. 

It’s only thanks to Peter’s tremendous skill as a criminal that he manages to maintain a straight face until he’s put the bathroom door between them. Only once he’s got the water running does he allow himself a smile and giddy chuckle. He always enjoys charming a mark, but there’s something especially fun about Juno Steel. He’s that perfect combination of grumpy and vulnerable that makes him a challenge without turning into a chore, and when Peter does manage to slip through that prickly shell, the little smile or soft half-chuckle he earns is so satisfying it borders on thrilling. 

That’s why Peter foregoes the hairdryer waiting in the shower and simply emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, hair damp and towel-tousled. His reward– a swallow, a sweeping glance quickly averted, a darkened cheek– is brief enough to be a treat, but one that he savors all the way downstairs to the restaurant. 

Along the way Peter takes mental notes: Juno isn’t fond of Peter holding doors or pushing elevator buttons, and he’s too reluctant about touch to take Peter’s arm when it’s offered to him. An accidental brush of hands while they stand in the elevator is enough to make him fidget. But when Peter speaks, Juno’s eyes linger on his face and hands for a beat longer than necessary before he looks away. More than once he catches Juno staring at Peter’s reflection in the polished metal, drinking him in as if he’s committing him to memory.

By the time the two of them sit down to breakfast, Juno is significantly drier but no less grumpy, but it’s all a show. For all his grumbles and growls, there’s something apologetic in the way he slouches in his chair and the way he doesn’t quite look at Peter over the rim of his coffee mug. 

“It’s quite the predicament we’ve landed ourselves in,” Peter says, spooning sugar into his own cup.

“That’s one word for it.”

“So where do we go from here? Do we have to fill out the paperwork jointly, or…?”

“I… think so.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Most of what I know about it is just hearsay and what made it into my secretary’s favorite streams, okay? I haven’t exactly done this before.” His slouch deepens, as if he’s trying to melt into the table. “This is my first time hitting rock bottom.”

Peter leans in with a coaxing smile. “Come now. Is it really so bad to be married to me?”

“You should be asking yourself that question,” Juno mutters, averting his eyes. “I’m more worried about what my secretary is going to say.”

Another raised eyebrow. Speaking of stereotypes…

But no. As soon as Juno catches his meaning, he grimaces. “What? God, no. She and I aren’t like that. But she’s not the type that’ll ever let me hear the end of it.”

“Ah.” That shouldn’t come as nearly so much of a relief as it does. Peter covers by cracking a smile. “I don’t see why she would have to find out. it’s as they say: what happens on Venus stays on Venus.” His grin turns conspiratorial. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“You haven’t met my secretary,” Juno says dryly. “She has a way of finding things out.” 

Peter makes a mental note: it won’t be enough to simply remove the files. He’ll have to scrub them thoroughly.

“And what about you? I’m afraid I don’t remember if you told me last night, but what is it that you do? It must be quite impressive if you need a secretary.” 

Juno lets out of a breath like a derisive laugh. “I’m a private eye.”

“Really?” Peter allows his eyes to go wide. “That must be quite exciting.”

One of those rare, tiny smiles crosses Juno’s face. “It’s alright.” He lets his gaze rise to Peter’s eyes. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not making terrible choices on resort planets?”

“Nothing nearly so interesting,” Peter waves him off. “I deal in art and antiquities. I thought the travel would be a perk of the job, but more often than not I’m too bogged down by paperwork to really get the chance to enjoy it.”

They’re interrupted when the waiter delivers their breakfast. Peter nibbles at his crepes as Juno pours hot sauce on his cloned beef hash. It’s potent enough that Peter can smell it across the table, and he can’t help but wonder how long the sting of it will linger on Juno’s lips. 

“Is that why you’re so calm about all of this?” Juno asks. “You’re hoping to get in some extra sight-seeing while we’re stuck on this planet?” 

“Is it that obvious?” Peter lowers his eyes coyly. “It may be a hassle, but it’s all a little bit exciting, isn’t it? Stranded on a far-off planet, married to a mysterious stranger– it’s just like an adventure.”

This time it’s Juno who raises an eyebrow. “You really don’t get out much, do you?”

Perhaps it’s meant to sound derisive, but there’s a note of protectiveness in Juno’s voice.

Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be. Peter’s delighted.

“There’s… ah… just one thing,” he says, infusing his tone with a flutter of nerves. “The company I work for didn’t exactly give me clearance to come to this planet. They think I’m… ah… sick.”

“You’re playing hooky from work?” Maybe Peter’s just imagining it, but the annoyance in Juno’s voice seems to be entirely feigned. “You gonna be able to stay out here long enough to get this annulment?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Peter says. “It’s just– I’m a little worried that word of me being here might get back to my employers. Do you think– just in public– you could not call me by name? Anything else would do, really.”

“I can do that.” Juno shrugs, but he hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Just in public...?”

The smart thing would be to tell him to do the same in private-- to let repetition erode away the memory of Peter’s name in favor of some fake pseudonym until it disappears entirely-- but it’s been so long since Peter’s heard his name spoken aloud, and there’s something enthralling about the way Juno says it.

“Just in public,” he assures him. “Between the two of us, I’d rather be Peter Nureyev.”

[notsiriusatall]

What if I'm Someone I Don't Want Around?

He laughs at the door as it slams, any emotion or scrap of warmth dying inside of him as soon as it had surged forward.

“Don’t know what I expected.” 

Sirius glances at Grim who has now crossed to the door and is pawing at it. They’ll find him in time. He’s got food.

The fraction of a reason he had left has just slammed the door in his face. Sirius doesn’t really see a point in carrying on any longer. 

He should’ve bought a gun, like he’d planned before. But Sirius had chickened out, like always. He wasn’t strong enough to do this, he wasn’t strong enough to finally bring the people who still care about him for some stupid fucking reason some peace.

That changes today. 

He looks at the vodka bottle in his hands, excepting to feel something, anything. Nothing comes beyond the numbness, no fear, no regret, no fleeting memories of Doe, no shame for the way her face had looked, no guilt for having the last time she saw him be this time….a little guilt. Maybe he shouldn’t…

Sirius shakes his head and unscrews the bottle. He takes big, gulping drinks, as much as he can stand at once, choking slightly as the burn slides down his throat. The bottle is gone and he doesn’t even feel drunk, so he opens the freezer and gets to work on a second, downing half of it before he feels the familiar feeling of drunkenness spreading from his brain all the way down to his toes.

Numb. This shouldn’t even hurt.

He takes the empty bottle and knocks it against the kitchen island, barely registering Grim’s noise of concern as the bottom half of it shatters.

The broken jagged edges of the bottle catch the overhead light and sparkle, and Sirius feels himself swallow hard. He takes a deep breath and is surprised his hands are shaking as he raises the sharp end of the bottle to his right wrist.

It’s not going to hurt. It’s just going to be like falling asleep except he doesn’t have to wake back up. It’s going to be over soon, even if it hurts. 

Soon he’ll finally feel nothing. Soon he’ll finally be nothing.

They’ll be safe. It’ll be worth it.

He drags the glass across the delicate skin of his wrist, horizontal first, a test. The red of his own blood is shocking and Sirius takes a breath in, waiting for the pain, the sting of his skin tearing-but nothing comes.

Is he dead already? Is this how it ends? He laughs despite himself. Of course even the ending of his own life wouldn’t go according to plan. He digs the glass in deeper, feeling something close to satisfaction as he makes himself bleed. Sirius isn’t shaking anymore. He knows what he’s doing is right.

That is, until a wet nose pushes against the elbow of his uninjured arm.

Sirius’s eyes find Grimm, who barks softly, and pain shoots through his arm as his vision blurs out. In an instant, he’s realized what he’s done. In an instant, he realizes he’s made a mistake. 

He wants to live. He’s not entirely sure why, and he doesn’t even know if he needs a reason, just that the want to keep breathing is there and stronger than it’s been in months. 

“Grimm-”

Sirius catches himself on the kitchen counter, breathing hard from his nose as the glass bottle falls out of his hand and shatters beneath his feet. He’s able to right himself and vaguely registers his dog barking louder and louder behind him, pressing his body against Sirius’s and whining softly when his good arm absentmindedly touches soft black fur. 

“Help.”

Sirius isn’t sure who he’s speaking too, but saying it out loud seems to motivate his body to cling harder to the counter. He pushes himself down towards the sink and grabs the dish towel Doe had laid out.

Doe. Fuck. If he survives this, she’s going to be even more pissed at him, if that’s possible. And if he dies….

Sirius doesn’t want to die. He wants to be able to tell her loves her again. He wants to mean it even more. 

Sirius wants to hear her say it back. 

He gasps as more pain shoots up his arm when he pushes the dish towel to the open wound. The light blue fabric is quickly muddied by the color of his blood and instinctively, Sirius knows this isn’t enough. There’s only one person who might be speaking to him who can fix this.

Thankfully the phone is right next to the couch on an end table, and as Sirius makes his way towards it, able to stand a little straighter due to the surge of adrenaline, it rings.

It's always been like this between the two of them, ever since they’d made their first blood oath in 6th grade. They’ll think hard about the other and within minutes there will be a phone call, or a random pop in, or they’ll pass each other on the street. James said it was coincidence, self fulfilling prophecy, a bunch of other smart science-y stuff, but Sirius knows better.

Its a magic that the two of them share, something they’ll never fully be able to explain but at the same time, each understand. 

“James-?”

Sirius’s voice doesn’t sound right, even to him. It’s too hoarse, raw. Someone else’s. He hears James hear it too when his best friend breathes in sharply. 

“Siri-are you-what’s wrong?”

“I did-I did something really stupid.” Sirius hears his voice crack and he’s crying before he can stop himself.

“Please come.”

“I’m coming. What’d you do?” 

“I...I’m bleeding, James.”

The phone line crackles, Sirius thinks vaguely that James must be covering the receiver.  

“Okay, okay. Can you-do you have something you can stop the blood with?”

“I-” The room tilts and Sirius sinks to the floor, the digital handset clutched in his grasp-his lifeline.

“I don’t wanna die.”

He whispers like it’s a big secret, cause it honestly is. Saying it old loud makes Sirius’s will to live that much more real, it makes the blood he’s losing all the more dire.

“You’re not gonna die, Sirius. You’re not dying, understand?” James is doing a poor job at hiding his panic and Sirius just nods against the phone.

“I’m coming right now. I’m on my cell, okay? I’m staying with you.”

“I really messed up.” 

“You didn’t, bro. We can fix it. I can patch you right up.”

Sirius shakes his head.

“James, I messed up.” 

He doesn’t just mean hurting himself. He doesn’t even just mean any of the things he’s done in the past twenty four hours. He’s messed up and he has been for months and months-and he doesn’t even know how to fix it. 

“Hey-hey, hey, stay with me, Sirius. You’re okay. You didn’t mess up.” 

“Would you be better without me?”

He hates himself for how childish his voice sounds, how stilted and tired his speech is, for the panic laced even in James’ breath.

“God, Sirius. No. Of course not. Quite the opposite.”

He hears James get into his car and start the engine. 

“I’ve got a towel.”

“A towel?”

“For my wrist. Where I’m…”

Sirius can’t finish his sentence, shame sobering him. For fifteen straight seconds, all he hears on the other end is the sound of James driving.

“You slit your wrists?”

“....just one.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Panic shoots through him and another surge of adrenaline spikes up.

“You can’t. Please, James. You can’t. I can’t go- they’ll-”

“Hurt you? Sirius.”

James’s voice is tender towards him when it should be angry. Gentleness he doesn’t deserve. Fleetingly Sirius realizes just then that if he makes it through this, he’ll never be able to repay James.

“I can’t-” His voice breaks off into a sob and he feels his breath start to get short. All the things his mother drilled into him for years seep into his brain. Hospitals are only there to take you away from me. 

They just wanna hurt you.

They won’t believe you. No one will believe you. 

Anything they do to you will hurt more than what I do.

If you loved me, it wouldn’t hurt. 

Why can’t you just be good?

You don’t need anyone but me. You won’t need anyone but me. Remember that. 

If you’re hurt it’s your own fault.

It’s your fault.

It’s your fault.

It’s always going to be your fault.

“Sirius! Sirius!” 

He squeezes his eyes shut hard, trying to stay present, trying not to fall backwards, trying not lose himself more than he already has. He presses down on the cut on his arm and cries out in pain, but the sound of himself brings him back. He feels something wet on his elbow again, and when he looks over, Grim is right next to him. Sirius lets out another sob and clutches onto the dog with his good arm, the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear. 

“Sirius!”

James is screaming his name into the phone, almost hysterical. 

“James-no hospital.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay. You just scared me, man. It’s okay. I’ll try to make it so you don’t have to go, okay?”

“Okay. Are you here?”

“I am so close, buddy. I am so close.”

Sirius hears the sound of a horn blaring as James accelerates. Grimm whines beside him and Sirius start to pet him.

“Was that Grimmy?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“He keeping you company?” 

Sirius can hear the fear in James’ voice still, but he can tell he’s trying to calm down for his benefit. 

“Yeah. James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really scared.”

Sirius can’t ever remember saying that out loud. Not to James, not to anyone. He’s thought it more times than he can count, increasingly so since everything fell apart eighteen months ago. But he’s never let himself think about it for more than a second. He didn’t dwell, and he definitely didn’t say it out loud. Sirius had learned very early in life that showing weakness, being afraid, doing anything other than laying there and taking it was a good way to get hurt. But here he was, more hurt than he ever could’ve imagined, and beyond the point of pretending otherwise.

“Me too, Siri. But it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay.”

Grimm nudges his arm, gets him to keep petting him, keeps him tethered to the life he’d been so determined to leave. James keeps reassuring him in his ear, and Sirius keeps repeating okay every minute or so, not sure of what’s being said, only registering soft black fur beneath his fingers. Soon, Sirius hears a car screech to a stop outside.

“I’m coming up, Siri. I’m here. Is the door unlocked?”

“...yeah.”

He can feel his pulse in the cut now, but he doesn’t think it’s bleeding as much. Sirius shifts so he’s sitting up more against the wall, clutching Grimm with both arms now, suddenly terrified about what’s going to happen when James walks in.

Normally, Grimm greets visitors at the door, but he doesn’t move, letting out a short warning bark when the knob starts to turn.

“S’okay, boy.” Sirius mumbles, shifting more, realizing as he’s trying he doesn’t have the strength to get up. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall, opening them again when he feels a hand cup his face.

“Hey.”

When he looks into James’ dark eyes, filled with concern, Sirius loses what he has left. He releases Grimm and throws himself at his best friend, holding onto James with strength he didn’t know he had. He relaxes as he’s held, sobs stealing his breath as James rubs circles on his back. He’d found him in rough shape a handful of times before, but it’s never been like this.

Sirius hopes it’s never like this again. 

“Let me see your arm.”

It’s only when James speaks that Sirius realizes he’s been crying too. He pulls away, his hand on his uninjured arm still gripping James’ bicep. James gently pulls the towel away and breaths a sigh of relief. 

“Alright, Pads. You didn’t get deep.”

Sirius’s eyes work double time and search James’ expression. 

“What-what does that mean?”

James’ offers him a watery smile.

“You’re gonna be just fine. No hospital.”

Sirius breaks down again, relief flooding him as James readjusts them so Sirius can lean against James properly, his arm around his shoulders keeping Sirius on Earth. Grimm puts his head in his lap.

“I’m not gonna die?”

“You’re not gonna die. Not on my watch.”

They sit there for what could be forever, Sirius quietly crying into James’s chest/armpit, letting years of pain out on the floor of his living room. When he’s done, James lets the silence surround them, reaching over to scratch Grimm behind the ears as Sirius’s breath turns back to normal.

“I have to ask you, Siri.” 

Sirius nods against him, not moving his head up to look at him even though he should.

“I know.”

“How much did you have to drink.”

He lets three heavy seconds pass before he has the guts to answer.

“One and a half.”

“Drinks?”

“Fifths.” 

James sucks in a breath. Sirius wants to cry again, realizing how consistently he’s been letting James down. He pulls away, lifting his head up even though it feels far too heavy.

“I...James. I need help.” His voice cracks but he pushes through.“Please.”

James nods twice, standing and pulling Sirius up with him.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll get you help. Let me bandage you up first.”

He drops Sirius off on the couch and disappears into the bathroom. Grim jumps up beside him and whines again. Sirius reaches for him but he touches something else soft first. The blanket Doe had slept with. Without thinking, without caring, he wraps it around himself, wrapped even around his head. He breathes her in, tears streaming down his face again.

He has to see her again. He has to tell her he’s sorry. 

And he will.

He’s asleep before James even finds the first aid kit,he’s completely exhausted. His sleep is mercifully dreamless and for the first time he can remember, Sirius is looking forward to waking up.