#only one vending machine worked and by worked i mean it just gave you something randomly

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

calling nhs 111 is great because in the first two minutes, youre told that you can do this online three times.

like buddy, i get it, ive tried 111 online and they tell me to call 999 immediately.

[simjaexy]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙔𝙤𝙪 | 𝙋.𝙅.

Pairing ⇀ Popular Boy! Park Jongseong x Fem! Reader

Synopsis ⇀ Jay is the stylish and confident basketball player, always turning heads with his impressive skills and cool demeanor. He's the guy everyone wants to hang out with, known for throwing the best parties and having a great sense of humor. Despite his laid-back vibe, Jay would be dedicated to his sport and academics, coincidentally you are too.

Genre ⇀ Smut, Angst

Warnings ⇀ MINORS DNI!!, Drinking, Blowjob, Cum Eating, Soft Dom! Jay x Sub! Reader, Crying, Unprotected Sex, Semi Public Sex, Making Out

A/n ⇀ This is part 3 of Wanting You Series.

Read Heeseung here.

Jay was the epitome of cool. With his effortless charm and killer basketball skills, he was the heartthrob of the school.

Everyone wanted to be around him, not just because of his talent but also because of his laid-back personality and infectious humor.

He was the guy who threw the best parties, the one who could make anyone laugh, and the one who always seemed to have it all together.

But there was one thing Jay hadn’t conquered yet – you. His two other friends tried their luck, but it was Jay’s turn now. He wasn’t nervous, though. He knew exactly how to play it cool.

On a specific day Jay was practicing basketball as usual. He was thinking about ways he could swoon you.

Maybe inviting you to one of his parties would be nice, but he knows that Sunghoon and Jake would be there and most likely try to talk to you.

So instead, Jay sauntered over to the vending machine, a basketball casually tucked under his arm.

He noticed a girl trying to look for money, struggling. He walked over and his eyes widened.

It was you. You were pouting and staring at the vending machine in defeat.

“Hey,” he said, flashing a sweet smile, “You need help?”

You looked over at him. You gave him a soft smile, “If that’s fine with you. I don’t wanna interrupt-“

“No worries, I have extra money anyways.” He but you off. He slid the money in easily and your drink came down.

He grabbed it and hand it to you, your fingers slightly brushing together. You blushed and thanked him.

Before you could walk away he grabbed your wrist, “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he began. “I’ve seen you around, and I think we have a lot in common. We’re both dedicated to what we love, whether it’s sports or academics.”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly amused and confused, “Oh really? And what makes you think that?”

Jay chuckled, “I’ve noticed you. You’re always so focused, whether it’s in class or when you’re working on something. It’s impressive.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Jay. That means a lot.”

He grinned. Now’s his chance, “How about we hang out sometime? Maybe I can show you some basketball tricks, and you can teach me a thing or two about your favorite subjects.”

You thought about it for a moment, Jays a nice guy, always counting people in and being nice to teachers, you decided to agree. “I’d like that.”

Jay’s eyes twinkled, “Great. It’s a date then.”

You eyes almost popped out, “Wait I didn’t know you meant it as a date-“

“I’ll see you later.” He winked and walked away. You stood there shocked.

How would Jake feel about this? You stared down at the ground, you already did something bad enough with Sunghoon.

But Jake’s been becoming more distant than you’d like. More like now he just sends you short messages. Yeah you still like him, but it feels one sided.

Jake on the other hand was outrageously pissed off. It only took a few students to find out that you and Sunghoon made out on a balcony at a small gathering. A fucking balcony.

He told Sunghoon to meet up with him in a secluded room. Sunghoon came not long after and the first thing he feels is a harsh impact on his face.

“Fuck dude! What the hell?” Sunghoon snapped. His brows furrowed.

“You fucking bastard! You fucked her!” Jake bellowed. Sunghoon rubbed his cheek.

“She wanted it. After how you were treating her? I don’t blame her.” Sunghoon grinned.

“I was fucking doing it cause it was your turn! Doesn’t mean you have to guilt trip her into to fucking your weird ass!” He growled. Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

“Well then why did you fuck her? It’s cause you liked her isn’t it? I think it’s too late, she was crying on my dick already-“

Another harsh blow was thrown in Sunghoon face, this time Sunghoon stopped.

He didn’t know why he himself was acting like this, maybe it was because he also took a liking to you, but knowing that Jake took your virginity made him feel jealous.

“Don’t fucking go near her. You’re not different from any other person here.” Jake said. His fist clenched almost as if he wanted to punch Sunghoon again.

He left Sunghoon in the room, slamming it shut leaving Sunghoon with his thoughts.

He hissed in pain, rubbing his jaw. He didn’t even care if he got a bruise, he felt like he deserved it after saying those things about you.

Maybe he was just jealous in general. You never belonged to him anyway in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, Jay made good on his promise. He would meet you after school, and you’d head to the basketball court.

He showed you how to dribble, shoot, and even a few fancy tricks that left you laughing and breathless.

In return, you helped him with his studies, explaining complex concepts with patience and clarity.

One evening, after a particularly intense game, you both sat on the court, panting and laughing.

You’re not gonna lie, Jay made you forget about Sunghoon and Jake, for once you felt like you could be yourself with someone that’s popular.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over everything. Jay looked at you, his expression serious for once. “You know, I never thought I’d enjoy studying so much,” he admitted. “You make it fun.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “And I never thought I’d enjoy basketball this much. You’re a great teacher.”

Jay reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks,” he said softly. “I feel like I’ve gotten to know the real you, and I like what I see.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “I feel the same way Jay.”

He grabbed the basketball, “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home?”

You shyly smiled, “If that’s fine with you.”

You both left the gym and walked to your house, you liked how it wasn’t to far from the college.

It was a comforting silence as you and Jay walked side by side. The wind blowing softly.

Once you made it home you turned towards Jay, “Thank you for walking me home. I appreciate it.”

He shrugged, “It’s no problem. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be walking home alone anyway.”

You blushed and opened your door, bidding him goodbye. As you opened the door Jay thought this was the perfect time.

“Hey, do you wanna go to a party?” He suddenly asked. You stopped walking and turned to him, “A party? I’m not really a fan of those.”

Jay pondered, “Well I’ll be with you, so you don’t need to worry. Just think about it?”

You nodded. You didn’t know why you couldn’t say no, maybe it was because you felt comfortable with him and feel yourself slowly slipping into his tricks that you don’t know of.

The party was thrown at his house from what he told you. You bit your lip, anxiously walking past a group of people making out or dancing. The music was loudly booming in your ear.

Jays house was big, you knew you could get lost if you’re drunk. Before you could continue looking for Jay a harsh grab was met with your arm causing you to yelp.

Your eyes widened when you were face to face with Jake, “What the hell are you doing here?”

You gave him a confused look, “J-Jay invited me. What are you doing here?”

Jake shook his head, he looked mad, “Go home Y/n. I’ll text you later.”

You suddenly felt that pang of anger and hurt in your chest like how you felt when Sunghoon told you about Jake. You ripped your arm away.

“Text me later? Only for you to not text me at all!” You snapped. Jake stared at you shocked, he didn’t expect you to be mad.

“Listen Y/n baby I can explain later but right now go home because-“

“Y/n?” A voice interrupted. You saw Jay pushing pass people and making his way towards you guys. Jake cursed and ran a hand through his hair.

Jay gave him a look that looked like he was saying ‘back off.’ Jay softly grabbed your wrist, “Wanna go get a drink?” He asked.

You looked over at Jake and saw him giving you what seems like a pleading look. You felt hurt that he lied to you, and he would probably do it again.

You averted your gaze back to Jay, “Y-Yeah let’s go.” You said. Jay smiled at you and looked at Jake before walking you to the kitchen.

He filled a cup and handed it to you, “You okay? You look upset.”

You gulped the drink in one go, leaving Jay speechless, are they sure you’re innocent?

“I’m fine. A lot of things happened these past few weeks. I just wanna forget them.” You croaked. Jay rubbed your back in understanding.

“I know how that feels. Wanna go to a more quiet area?” He questioned. You filled up your cup and gulped down your drink again. Jay was starting to worry you’re gonna get drunk.

So far it looks like it’s kicking in a little, so he stops you, “Don’t drink your emotions away. That’s bad.”

You give him a teary eyes look, “Why is everyone after me?” You hiccuped.

Jay paused. He suddenly felt bad, you looked stressed. He grabbed your arm and took you upstairs, not knowing that someone saw you guys leaving.

He opened a door and brought you in, setting you on the bed. You let your tears fall free as Jay sat next to you.

“You can let it out. It’s okay.” He whispered. You broke down in his arms while he rested his head on top of yours.

He didn’t know what happened between you, Jake, and Sunghoon. But he’ll make sure to give them a lecture when he sees them again.

You lifted your head up, no longer crying, but giving him a look, “Jay, has anyone ever told you were handsome?”

Jay gave you a flustered look, “Sometimes? It’s not new that’s for sure.” He joked. You giggled and before he could laugh he felt your lips pressing against his.

He felt himself slowly closing his eyes, your lipgloss sticky and sweet. He softly broke the kiss.

The way he stared into your eyes made yourself feel sober.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Do you wanna do this?”

You felt a pressure spread across your chest. “Please Jay.” You whispered. And that’s all he needed before pressing his lips against yours.

You felt impatient and broke the kiss and lowered yourself. You began unbuckling his belt and pulled them down with his boxers.

He hissed when he felt the cold air hit his dick, it was hard and leaking with precum. You stroked his dick softly, he groaned when you softly squeezed it.

“I-I’ve never gave anyone a blowjob before.” You admitted. Jay chuckled and rubbed your head.

“I’ll teach you princess.” He rasped. He slightly lowered your head, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue.

Jay cursed at the view and softly placed his dick in your mouth. He sighed in measure when he felt you closing your mouth around him.

“Hollow your mouth.” He commented. You felt yourself breathing deeply before hollowing your cheeks, trying to take him in.

You felt your eyes prick with tears, feeling him deep in your throat. Your moaning cause vibration go through his dick making him throw his head back, moaning.

He started to go a bit faster, thrusting in your wet mouth. You felt his hands tighten on your hair and his dick twitching.

“Shit princess I’m gonna cum.” He moaned. He took his dick out while you stuck your tongue out, your expression pushing him on the edge, he stroked his dick as cum dropped on your mouth.

You felt yourself feel even more wet than before, wanting his cum in you. You stood your ground and pushed him on the bed, kissing him fast and sloppy, he wasn’t complaining.

You took off your shirt and bra, revealing your perky tits. Jay felt himself get hard again, “You seem confident.”

You giggled, it was definitely the alcohol in your system. He suddenly flipped you two over and went on top of you. He kissed along your jaw and took off his shirt too, his tan body making you drool.

He was now completely bare while you still had your skirt on. He pulled them down and prodded at your underwear.

He felt impatient and moved your underwear to the side, “Shit you’re so wet.” He mumbled. You sighed when you felt him sliding his dick between your folds, biting your lip.

He groaned when he finally slid in, he already knew you were prepped, with the way Jake and Sunghoon looked at you in the hallway there’s no way they haven’t fucked you.

You still felt a bit tight so he waited until you felt comfortable and telling him to move. He first went at a slow pace, enjoying your expressions.

“Please faster Jay!” You cried out. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He suddenly thrusted at a fast pace making you arch your back.

He cursed and kissed your jaw again. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan when his dick was being sucked in.

He picked you up and went near a wall, facing you towards it and slamming his dick back in to you. You cried out in pleasure feeling him deeper in you.

“You’ve been fucked how many times? And you’re still so tight.” He groaned. You whimpered and grind back.

You felt your orgasm coming and whined, “I’m gonna cum Jay!” You moaned. He put his hand on your clit, rubbing it fast. Your eyes rolled back, feeling your orgasm wash through you.

You felt your legs shake, feeling like not being able to stand up, “J-Jay please cum inside. I’m on birth control.” You whispered.

Jay came from hearing that, cumming inside you. You sighed feeling his cum fill you up. He pulled out and picked you up, setting you on the bed softly.

He went to the bathroom and took out a wet rag, wiping you slow, making sure not to hurt you in any way.

“Thank you Jay.” You said.

Jay gave you a smile, “For what?”

“For taking care of me. These past few days you made me feel better.” You replied. Jay didn’t reply, instead he softly kissed your cheek.

But Jay likes proving that sometimes, the coolest guys are the ones who are the most genuine and caring.

[metalhoops]

‘Of course, I remember you.’ 

As far as first words go, Eddie’s were a hell of a head-scratcher. 

To catch up the uninitiated, everyone in the world has a soulmate. It’s been debated and speculated if a person can have more than one, but the mechanics behind soulmates was a pseudo-science at best and downright magic at worst. The first words a person’s soulmate spoke to them were inscribed somewhere on that person’s body, typically in their soulmate’s handwriting. 

Doesn’t handwriting change over time? The uninitiated might ask, to which Eddie would repeat, it’s pseudo-science or magic. Either that or something like quantum mechanics, where people are pretty sure, one day we’ll understand how it works, but right now there are a lot of theories and only a little bit of evidence, most of which contradicts itself.

Most of the time, the words are boring and wholly unhelpful. He could count on two hands the number of people that simply had some variation of ‘hello’, tattooed somewhere on their body. From Eddie’s point of view, he got lucky. 

He had a sentence of scratchy scrawl written on his inner arm stating, ‘of course, I remember you’. And really, what the hell was Eddie meant to make of that? 

Typically, your tattoo lets you know you’d found your soulmate upon first meeting, but his words implied he’d meet his soulmate before they first speak and that it would be memorable. Wasn’t that goddamn frustrating? 

His soulmate’s first words were right up there with ‘hello’ in Eddie’s list of ‘top five worse soulmate marks,’ because how the hell were those poor bastards meant to know if they’d just met the love of their life or if it was just their weird neighbour Tom? With his number one spot reserved for Gareth’s truly horrific, ‘I’d thought you’d be taller’. His soulmate was original. He’d give him that. 

There was no surefire way to know your soulmate’s gender, same as there was no surefire way for a mother to ‘just know’ a baby’s gender before it was born. Yet if Eddie was being sacrilegious, as he so often was, he’d say he ‘just knew’ his soulmate was a guy. 

There was nothing in the handwriting that gave it away. Nothing particularly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ about the lettering. But ever since Eddie was a kid whenever he thought about his soulmate, he’d always think of them as ‘him’. 

He would like this or that. He wouldn’t be an asshole, like the meathead jocks at Hawkins. He would be different. He’d be kind, caring, and of course, a total badass. Eddie just had to wait to meet him. 

Steve’s soulmate mark drove him crazy. 

‘You might not remember me’. 

What the hell was Steve meant to do with that? Soulmate tattoos were meant to let you know when you’d met your soulmate, not that you’d already met them. In the days before Steve received the shake-up of his life in the form of Nancy Wheeler and the Upside Down, he had a reputation for sleeping around. He knew back then he’d been a little hopeless, but surely he’d said more than a couple of words to a girl before he slept with them. 

It horrified Steve that he could meet his soulmate, in some respect, know them, and yet had never talked to them. Could he really be that much of a jerk?

He’d never thought Nancy was his soulmate. He knew their words didn’t match up. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. Statistically, the odds of meeting your soulmate were somewhere between getting crushed by a vending machine and winning the lottery. Steve’s parents weren’t soulmates and boy did that show, but a guy could dream. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Steve was holding out hope for them. 

He’d almost thought his soulmate was Robin. It fit, right? They went to the same school, but they’d never really talked. He’d been so busy with his first day at a real job, he’d missed Robin’s first words to him. It wasn’t until later he’d started to expect it might be her. That was, until the pair were huddled beside each other on the floor of a bathroom stall. Robin was a lesbian and her first words, although interesting, definitely proved they weren’t soulmates. 

When Steve was a kid, he’d spend hours daydreaming about what his soulmate would be like. She’d be outspoken. She’d be bold. She’d be able to make him laugh. When he’d gotten older, something changed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, at least not ones he was ready to say out loud. ‘She’ didn’t fit his soulmate quite right. So after high school, he started wondering what ‘they’ would be like. ‘They’ felt not quite right, but closer. 

Their handwriting was distinct. It was all sharp-edges and odd-angles. It looked like it was trying to replicate something Steve couldn’t quite place until he walked into the record store at Starcourt and caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden album cover. That gave Steve his first real clue as to what his soulmate might be like. 

It would be another year before the same handwriting would stop him in his tracks. Dustin had marched into the Family Video store as they were shutting up shop, brandishing a notepad and talking about needing a ride to go play his fantasy game. Steve was always going to drive Dustin, but he’d been dragging his feet, to show the kid he wouldn’t always drop everything to take him places. A familiar sharp edged, odd angled handwriting stopped Steve cold. 

“What are those?” Steve asked, trying to fain disinterest as his heart pounded in his ears. 

“They’re notes from the last session. You know, so we can keep track of what’s happened so far in the campaign. Who’s doing what quests, how many hit points everyone’s got. Mike is currently—.” Steve couldn’t give a crap about Mike. 

“Who’s writing is it?” Steve tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

Robin must have known something was up because she moved to Steve’s side. With one glance at the notepad, she understood why Steve was acting so strangely. She’d seen his tattoo, she knew it was his soulmate’s handwriting. 

“Our D.M.’s” Dustin replied. He might as well have been speaking in freaking code. 

“Alright, I’ll drive you,” Steve gave in, hoping he could catch a glance of his soulmate. Maybe his tattoo was wrong, maybe he’d know his soulmate when he saw them. 

They pulled up outside of the high school. He saw a group of people loitering outside the auditorium. Dustin had brought a lot of loose sheets of paper, so it only made sense Steve helped him carry his notebooks in. Most of the people there were familiar faces, the kids he’d babysat with a few exceptions. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite bard. I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” an oh-too-familiar voice crooned. A boy broke away from the crowd to meet Dustin. 

He was Steve’s age. They’d gone to school together. The dude used to do all these weird soap-box sessions on their lunch table. They had gym together, and history. Steve didn’t think the two had ever actually spoken.  

“I would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t had to play twenty questions with Steve. Steve, you know Eddie, our D.M.? Weren’t you two in the same year?” 

Eddie was practically shooting daggers at Dustin’s side profile, shaking his head discreetly as though hoping Steve didn’t remember who he was. He supposed Eddie always had a reputation. 

“You might not remember me,” Eddie spoke before Steve could answer. 

Holy shit.

“Of course, I remember you,” Steve argued and watched as Eddie’s eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. 

Both boys stood, slack-jawed and stiff-shouldered, peering at one another. Steve’s brain short-circuited, because holy shit, Eddie Munson was his soulmate. Holy shit he’d found them, him. 

Steve dropped Dustin’s notes and swarmed forward without thinking, throwing his arms around Eddie. Much to his surprise, instead of freaking out, like any normal person, Eddie was waiting to catch him, leaving both of them to tumble ass backwards onto the parking lot asphalt.

They held each other in a bone-crushing hug. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck, surprised at how naturally the action came. He’d never hugged a man like this, hell he’d hugged no one like this. He was clinging so desperately to the man that he’d never thought he’d really find. Eddie pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face. The guy’s eyes were alight with wonder and mischief. 

“That was quite an entrance, Harrington. All for little old me?” 

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” Steve admitted. 

“Well, clearly you’ve been doing a shit job of it,” Eddie argued which earned a snort from Steve. His soulmate would be able to make him laugh. 

“You’re not disappointed, you know? That your soulmate is the town Freak?” 

Steve had given up on caring about labels, on caring about what other people thought. Since high school, he had changed. He was different.  He didn’t want to be just another, shallow, meathead jock. He wanted to be different. 

“No. Absolutely not. Why would I care?” 

Dustin shattered the moment, clearing his throat and proclaiming,

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell just happened?” 

[his-saiko]

Nothing's Changed

— Sano Shinichiro x Reader

A collaboration with @quirrrky/@nekorei. Valentine's Smut Giveaway 2022. Given to @shnchiro

This is a repost from my previous blog. Edited [minor]. Explicit terms.

wc. 1.6k

! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

“Emma, is this such a good idea? I mean, if it was just the two of us I’ll be fine with it, but with your brothers?”

“Well, I can’t be the only girl. It’ll be boring then.”

You huffed out your tenseness. “It’s just that I haven’t seen your brother in a long time…”

“Everything will be fine.” She put your hand in hers and gave you that bright cute smile.

Your mind was in a bit of a turmoil. First time coming back to your hometown and you found yourself in a situation you wish you could avoid.

You decided to meet them in the terminal. You heard Emma’s voice call your name. You turned and saw her and Mikey waving at you.

Emma jumped you for a hug. “I’m so happy you could come!”

“How was your work?” Mikey asked.

“They needed to cut a few of their expenses so they had to lay me off. Fuck ‘em.” You cursed.

Your mind went back to how some of the people calling the shots were unfair but yfinding a new job might be even more difficult.

“I’m sure you’ll find a better one.” Mikey smiled as he said his version of comfort.

You all got in the bus. Everyone was excited for the nearing outing save for you and Shinichiro except for the occasional chit-chat you get from the younger ones.

You arrived at the onsen and booked your rooms. You got in yours and dressed up and sat down on the bed. You jumped a bit when Emma knocked on the door inviting you to join her to the spring.

“You can go on ahead, Emma. I think I need a little bit more sleep.” You confessed. “I’ll join you later for sure.”

“Oh, okay.” Emma’s dejection gave your heart a squeeze. You always had a soft spot for her.

You plopped yourself on the bed and closed your eyes. When you opened them, the evening sky greeted you from the window. You got up in time for Emma to call you and join them for dinner.

You’re in good spirits now at least. You joined everyone for dinner and was able to interact with them with no guilt.

You asked them to pass something to you but they were too busy. A fimiliar hand reached towards you holding what you wanted.

You looked and met with Shinichiro’s gaze. He had a familiar gentle smile on his face. You smiled back subtly and thanked him for his help.

You joined Emma to the hot spring. You felt everything melt away once your body felt the warm water. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back.

“Did you ever have a boyfriend after Nii-san?”

You opened your eyes and saw Emma looking down on you. You felt your cheeks heat up when your brain processed her question. “Eh, I don’t remember- I don’t think- I never was your brother’s girlfriend though?” You questioned even yourself.

“Huh. Nii-san never denied you being his girlfriend though.” Emma recalled.

“I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you guys were dating back then. Everyone thought you were dating.”

You can only chuckle. You couldn’t help but reminisce your childhood. You smiled. “No. I never had a boyfriend.” You finally answered.

~~~

Everything was quiet. You had a craving for a late-night snack and drink. You quietly opened your door and got to the vending machines. You jumped and quickly put your back against the machine when you heard something unusual.

You saw Shinichiro with a bag of food and drinks.

“Oh, did I scare you?” He chuckled apologetically.

“Yeah…” You breathed out. “I was looking for something to eat and drink.”

“Oh… well, I only got beer and chips.” He raised the bag in his hand. “We could share.” He suggested.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded. “Your room or my room?”

“Let’s go with my room. I don’t want trash in yours.”

You followed him to his room and sat on the floor. He sat beside you and opened one of the beers for you.

“Thank you.” You took the beer and chugged it down.

You talked about the motor shop and told him that you were happy that he’s able to do one of the things he wanted. He talked about how he’s got good business because of the people he’s with and how Mikey uses the bike now. You reminisced the moments you had when you were kids and how each of your mannerisms didn’t change.

Silence blew in the room and the laughter died down.

“How was it?” He softly asks.

“How was what?” You wiped your chin with your hand. “Oh, well, it really wasn’t different from anything else. But it was difficult to be a newbie in the company. Most of my seniors were jerks.” You spilled and sighed.

“Was it worth it?”

You felt one of the corner of your lips twitch up. You chuckled nervously. Your ears were burning up from both the alcohol and the question. “Well, I got the experience that counts for something.”

You drank the last of your beer and laid your head on the bed and so did Shinichiro.

“You know, Emma asked if I had a boyfriend.” You nonchalantly chuckled. “Never did I ever one though.” You slurred and sighed. “It feels like everyone doesn’t get what relationships are supposed to meant these days.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed and leaned on his shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe, if I hadn’t fucked up. Maybe, if I wasn’t greedy. Some things wouldn’t have to change.” You closed your eyes and sighed deeply.

“Why? What changed?”

You lifted your head to look at him. Your eyes met his and the gap between your faces made your face burn.

“I…”

You felt something pulling you close but you can only look at it as he looks down at you gently.

“I still think we ended up where we needed to be.” Shinichiro tucked your stray hair behind your ear. “And you’re still as beautiful as ever.” His hand rested on your cheek.

You giggled uncontrollably and put your hand over his. “If only men are more like you, if only it were you…” You mumbled.

“Well, we’re here…” His eyes darted from your eyes and lips back and forth. “Isn’t this what we needed?”

You closed your eyes and felt his lips on yours. Your body pulled back on instinct but he pulled you closer to him and it made you squeek.

He lifted you off the floor and placed you on the bed. He crashed his lips on yours and slowly trailed his lips down to your neck. His hand traced your inner thigh to your slit, making you moan. He hastily removed our clothes.

He started to pepper his kisses from your lips down to every curve and nook of your body. When he reached your pussy, he very slowly licked it while he fixed his eyes on you to see your reaction. Seeing you struggle to keep yourself from squirming under his touch was like a drug that he has been waiting for.

He inserted his fingers and moved them in and out to stimulate your g-spot while he plays with your clit with the tip of his tongue. He paced himself with your breathing until you came.

He lifted himself up and crawled over you so your eyes would meet. He kissed your forehead and chuckled to himself. “I might have done this out of order. What I wanted to do was say 'I love you.’”

You laughed and cupped his cheeks and let your foreheads touch. “Well, better now than never?” You questioned if your words fit the moment. “I love you too.” You whispered.

You kissed each other and Shinichiro lifted your hips put get the pillow under your back. He set himself and put his cock in you and the sound of the both of your moans sounded like it was the only sound in the world.

He moved his hips slowly so you could adjust around him but you couldn’t help but squeeze him in at the mere sensation of him inside you.

“Mmm. Fuck! I won’t be able to stop myself from cumming if you keep squeezing me.”

You just whined.

He got in deeper and stayed there before kissing you. “Just relax.” He whispered as he ran his fingers through your hair. “You can catch your breath if you want to.”

You embraced Shinichiro and breathed slowly until you relaxed.

Shinichiro wasn’t bothered by your embraced and even kissed your cheek. “You ready?”

You nodded.

He started moving slowly. The two of you could only hear yourselves moaning.

“Shin.”

When he heard you say his name, he started moving faster. You whimpered from surprise but couldn’t help from wanting more. If only you could find the words to say it.

“Shin...” You moaned one more time.

“Fuck.” You felt him get in a better position and went harder and faster. His moans became more frequent and he started saying your name.

Your legs started to tense up and you squeezed his waist. His movements became rougher and you both started moaning out each other’s name until you both reach your climax.

His movements finally became slower and the both of you catch your breath. He lied down beside you.

You immediately lay your head on his chest and he played with your hair.

“What’s your plan now?”

You hummed. “Why don’t we sleep first then I’ll think about it in the morning?” You chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He tucked the both of you in and kissed your forehead.

© 2023 Alfi. Do not replicate.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days Chapter 4: When Archeologists Dig This Up, They'll Either Laugh or Cry

(babypunk!Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

also, please take my favorite live performance of rise above by Black Flag as a companion piece

Hey!

I do not like you college brat

I do not like you and your frat

I do not like you at the shore

I do not like you drunk on coors

I do not like your average life

I hope you do not take a wife

I hope you don’t decide to breed

Cause that’s one thing I do not need

~

Well, they did it. They’ve got a van full of booze, and a sense of self satisfaction.

It had taken a while to fit everything in, and the guy at the pickup spot hadn’t been very nice, but they did it.

Mike seems more calm when they show up to The Strike, happy to see them, even.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you giraffe of a man!” He pulls Rodrick into a hug, heartily patting him on the back. Rodrick does kind of feel like a giraffe, Mike only comes up to the middle of his chest.

“Hey, if there’s anything else you need, just let us know!” Rodrick gives him a smile.

He grabs a box of bottles and heads through the back door of the bar. The guys work like ants; grab a case, march to the walk in, march back. They’re done in no time. He wonders if the delivery center is hiring, because that was easy.

Mike shoves a bundle of money into his hands, and gives him another pat on the back.

“She was right about you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve got the spirit,” he smiles, “like a young Henry Rollins, slingin’ ice cream. See you tomorrow. Show up at 5 PM, load in here. Got it?”

“Got it,” Rodrick nods.

The spirit. He has no idea what that means, but he’s grateful for the sentiment. Especially if you’d said something nice about him… he finally has ammo to tease you back.

Mike disappears into the back of the bar, and the guys regroup to count their unexpected pay.

“Dude, he gave us a hundred dollars!” Chris says, shocked.

They recount again and again, coming to one hundred every time. They can’t believe it, and they speed away from the bar with the radio turned all the way up.

The rest of their day is spent planning. They craft the perfect setlist, they find their tightest jeans, they even find time to learn a surprise cover song. It's one he'd heard on your radio shift, and it's been stuck in his head all day.

Everything has to be perfect.

Rodrick is sure everything is gonna be perfect.

~

It’s only 5:30 by the time they’re done setting up, and they find themselves just standing in front of the stage, awestruck.

It’s not huge by any means, but it’s high off the ground and covered in lights. There’s a full PA system, and even a pole to hang their homemade bedsheet flag from.

The bar is empty, except for a guy in the sound booth, Jimbo by the door, and two bartenders prepping. Rodrick doesn’t see you, and immediately gets a pang of sadness.

“Hey,” he starts, leaning on the bar.

“We can’t serve yet, sorry.” A girl with tight blonde curls shuts him down.

“Oh, no, I was gonna ask… where’s the other girl that works here?”

She thinks for a moment, then makes a face of realization.

“Oh, she’s not working tonight. She’s headlining.”

Rodrick’s eyes go wide. Headlining? You? His mind is blown.

The bartender goes back to prepping without giving him a second thought. Rodrick walks back to the stage, zombie-like, deep in thought.

Now they really have to be perfect.

A few people have come in through the back, and they’re setting up portable tables along a wall.

“You guys need one?” A girl with tall, spiked hair asks.

They look at each other. Merch. Duh. They're pretty sure they have an unorganized cardboard box of t-shirts and buttons in the van. Ward had spent all his high school graduation cash on some real ones from a print shop.

Ben and Chris wedge the table out from between two vending machines, and Rodrick digs the box out of the van. It’s not a very impressive setup, but they’re pretty happy with themselves.

The doors open at 7, and it doesn’t take long for the place to fill up. Mike comes by and gives each of the guys three little paper tickets, like you’d get at an arcade.

“Beer tickets,” he says, before they can ask, “one of these gets you anything canned or bottled. Be nice to the bartenders, please.”

Ward and Ben high five and head straight to the bar, Chris heads to the bathroom, and Rodrick does a full scan of the area by the stage. Where are you? He needs to make fun of you for being nice to him, dammit.

Ward and Ben get back, looking a little shaken up.

“Rodrick, hey, do you want us to get you a beer?” Ben chuckles nervously.

“Nah, I can get it myself,” Rodrick starts to walk towards the front.

“No, no,” Ward puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You should really let us get you one!” Ben makes urgent eye contact.

“Why...?” Rodrick is starting to get freaked out.

“‘Cause we’re buddies!” Ward pats him on the shoulder.

Something is definitely up.

Rodrick pushes past Ward, walking through the tall arch that leads to the bar area. It’s absolutely packed. His heart skips a beat when he sees a flash of golden blonde hair.

Oddly familiar golden blonde hair.

The girl turns around.

No. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell that it’s-

“Heather Hills,” Rodrick whispers, grateful for the loud house music.

She’s sitting at the bar with a large group of people. Some douchebag with a double popped collar has his arm around her. They’re all laughing- the kind of laugh you do at someone. Snotty.

Any attraction he’d had to her has been completely gone for years. He feels a mix of hatred and nausea. They’re at the far end of the bar, by the door, so Rodrick blends in at the other end.

Please don’t look at me.

He gets a beer from the bartender from earlier, making sure to tip as your snarky reminder rings in his head. Also making sure to avoid Natty Light. He turns fast to get back to the stage, and right before he’s through the arch-

“Rodrick? Rodrick Heffley?”

He wheels around. She’s right fucking behind him.

“Oh, hey, what was your name again?” He rolls his eyes.

“Real mature, asshole.” She scoffs, “What are you doing here?”

“Playing a show. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aww, you don’t wanna play nice with me?” She drags a finger down his chest. It enrages him.

“No. And you know why?” His voice goes low. He leans down so his face is close to hers, and he’s about to let everything out. Her face is smug, and she raises her eyebrows.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his back.

“Hey, you’re on in ten. Soundcheck time.” You peer around to see Rodrick's face. He looks pissed. You’re not sure what’s going on, but it’s none of your business. You’re just the messenger.

Rodrick’s eyes bug when he sees you, and his face relaxes a little.

“Um, excuse me, we were talking.” The blonde girl sneers at you.

“You can talk later. We gotta get this shit rollin’.” You don’t wait to see her reaction. You just turn around and head back to the stage.

If you’re honest, it's a little disappointing seeing Rodrick with, you assume, his very pretty girlfriend. It makes sense though. He's a nice looking guy. Your official assessment is toxic on-again, off-again high school sweethearts. Oh, well.

Just keep walking. Stay on schedule. Five bands, twenty minute sets, ten minutes for stage change. You repeat it in your head like a mantra.

Heather’s mouth is hanging open. Rodrick winces.

“Gotta go,”

He practically runs to the stage.

They’ve never done a real soundcheck before, and it’s kind of an intimidating process. The sound engineer is very no nonsense. Rodrick checks his drums one by one. Then bass, guitars, mics. Each adjustment is barely noticeable to them, and they end up just giving a thumbs up every time the engineer asks a question. Finally, they run through the whole chorus of a song to hear everything together. By that point, the dance floor is almost entirely full.

Rodrick takes a deep breath, scanning for Heather. He hopes she just left.

They've come a long way since their high school days, no longer unpracticed wannabes. Their sound has become pretty good, if they say so themselves. Tonight's only adjustment is to play faster.

The sound guy points at them, and Ben clears his throat.

“We… are Löded Diper!”

The chatting in the crowd subsides, and falls silent.

Rodrick hears snickering, and a voice saying oh my god, that IS him!

He panics, and right when the tension is almost too much to bear, a loud WOOOOOOOO comes from the very front. He looks and sees you, trying to rile up the crowd. It seems to be working. Other people are giving half-hearted cheers, which is something at least.

“That's more like it!” Ben yells, and they launch into their first song.

They only have a five song set, so everything has to count. Ben’s wails are powerful, he's really embodying a frontman. Chris is whipping his hair around, and Ward is the true picture of a bassist. Strong, still, and holding it all together.

Rodrick is hyper-focused on keeping the rhythm. And maybe showing off, just a little bit. He puts his whole body into hitting the drums, his mouth pulled into a tight “o”.

You have a perfect view from the front row, and what a view it is.

He's killing it. So focused and steady, but it looks like he's having fun. He leans into the mic to sing backup, and you get a flash of his sharp canines. You can see the muscles in his arms clenching, and the front of his hair is wet with sweat.

You feel your face getting hot, and you're reluctant to admit it's not just from the packed room. You’re suddenly faced with the very real possibility that you're very attracted to him.

He gives you a huge grin and a wink between songs, and it's no longer just a possibility. Fuck.

Blasts of air from his bass drum cool your face down, and you stare at him a little closer, analyzing.

You've been infantilising him a little bit, you'll admit it.

Kid. Cute. Baby boy.

Although you’re pretty sure the two of you are the same age, he just comes off like a teenager. You couldn’t help but haze him a little bit, especially after he just wandered into the bar with no plan. He’s really proving himself right now.

The crowd is going crazy. You’re holding yourself up on the edge of the stage, but behind you, a sizable pit has opened up. People are loving them.

“We have one more!” Ben shouts. People are screaming.

“We learned it just for you!” Rodrick yells. There’s something snarky about his tone. You like it.

You recognize the song immediately. Their rendition is just a little clunky, but it works. You can't help but smile, and wonder if Rodrick somehow heard your radio shift last night.

It's such a good choice for a first show. Perfect, really. It's like they're saying, we're here, fuckers.

You let the crowd swallow you up as you sing along.

Society's arms of control

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

They think they're smart, can't think for themselves

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

Laugh at us behind our backs

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

I find satisfaction in what they lack

(Rise above, we're gonna rise above!)

We! Are Tired!

Of your! Abuse!

Try to stop us!

But it’s! No use!

The aftermath of their set is chaos. Good chaos, but chaos. They tear down their gear and load up the van. On their way back in, people are yelling and patting their shoulders as they walk by.

Hell yeah, dude!

Good set, bro!

It feels good.

A small crowd has formed at their merch table. Chris takes on the task of handling the sales, and before they know it, their box is nearly half gone. They hadn't expected that.

Another unexpected side effect of playing a good set: booze.

Once the merch crowd is gone, old rocker types materialize, holding out shot glasses and cans. One guy hands Rodrick a shot of something that burns, and puts a heavy arm around his shoulder. He starts up a conversation about drumming, which is really more like a monologue.

You were great out there, man. Who's your favorite? Like, who's your guy? It's Lars for me, bro, 100%. I saw Metallica in ‘88, bro. Busted a knee in the pit, and now I can’t play a double pedal no more. Where'd you learn to play like that? You could play like Hellhammer with those arms. Fuckin’ rock on, brother. Oh, hey, sorry, I was supposed to give you this lime to help with the tequila...

Rodrick’s head swims as the guy babbles, nodding his head like he's listening.

“Thank you,” he finally sighs out. He’s exhausted from just listening to the guy. He pops the lime in his mouth, and it does help quite a bit.

People just keep coming with shots, and beers, and stories, and the guys end up piss drunk before the second band is done setting up.

Rodrick smiles and looks around. He's having fun. They did what they came to do, and people actually liked it. The rest of the guys are making conversation with the other bands. Heather and whoever else had been laughing at him are nowhere to be seen, and he's happy.

Even happier when you appear in front of the table.

“Heyyy!” He yells, giving you a singular finger gun, his other hand occupied with a beer can.

You take one look at his half lidded eyes and lazy smile, and realize he's wasted.

“Are you drunk?” You cackle, “It's not even 8:30!”

He turns, and spits a sucked-dry lime slice into the trash can next to him.

“Shut up! You're drunk!” Rodrick points at you, smile still wide.

“Oh, man. You're gone. Your girlfriend is gonna be pissed!” You laugh.

The drunk-happy look fades from his face.

“My huh?”

“That girl you were talking to you. Girlfriend, right?”

“No fucking way!” he bursts out laughing, “She’s a rich, stuck-up asshole! She's an evil witch from hell!” He downs the rest of his beer.

“Harsh, but I believe you.”

Well, that settles that.

You wonder if Rodrick has ever been this drunk in his life. He doesn't seem like he knows how to handle it, but he seems to be having a good time, at least.

“Hey. You did really, really good. You killed it. I mean it.” You lean on the merch table and smile up at him.

Rodrick’s eyes are sparkling, and his smile is somehow bigger than before.

“You liked us?”

“I loved you guys. Everyone did. They're totally gonna have you back.”

He looks like he might cry.

"Hey, don't I get a shirt? Wasn't that part of our deal?"

Rodrick thinks hard, finally remembering.

"Oh yeah!" He shouts.

He ducks down under the table and rifles through a big box. You lean over and tell him your size. He looks deeply focused.

He finally resurfaces, and holds up the shirt, triumphantly. You take it and sling it over your arm.

"Thanks," you smile, "I'll wear it all the time."

He beams.

You hold out your hand, and he hesitates for a second before grabbing it.

“You wanna come stand with me? The next band is up.”

Rodrick’s heart soars.

You lead him to the middle of the crowd, where three other people are gathered, talking.

“This is my band: Maureen, Jessica, and Eddie.”

Rodrick is seeing double at this point, but he smiles and waves. He thinks he sees a girl with ridiculously long black hair, a girl with very short green hair, and a guy with little round glasses.

“Good set,” the guy gives him a fist bump.

Before they can talk any more, a microphone squeals. Everyone in the crowd is at attention. Rodrick blinks to try and focus in on the stage; the next band has set up a giant, inflatable palm tree and some yard flamingos. They're all dressed for the pool, it seems like. Big, bright board shorts and floaties. The singer is barefoot, and has a megaphone in hand.

“May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please,” his distorted voice comes through the megaphone, “The president of the United States is an insect! All your lives are a lie!”

The next few minutes are a blur of sound and color. Rodrick can’t process anything that’s happening in front of him. The music is weird, but good. Messy. The words don’t make any sense. His body is starting to sway uncontrollably, and he’s worried he might topple over.

His shoulder bumps yours, and you look up. He doesn’t look so good. You grab his hand again and lead him out of the crowd, all the way to the front patio, stopping to grab a water on the way.

Cool air hits Rodrick’s face, and he feels at ease. You help him into a low metal chair, and he stares up at you, helplessly.

“Are you good?” You push his hair up, away from his forehead, and hand him the cup of water.

“That was a lot,” he breathes, dazed.

“Chug that water, you’ll feel better,” you lean on the railing next to his chair, “and no more booze, big boy.”

“I thought I was baby boy,” Rodrick slurs, smirking.

“I think you’ve transcended that term,” you laugh, “unless you want to be baby boy.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re so weird,” you give his chair a little kick.

He sticks out his arm to catch your leg, and chugs the whole water in one go.

He lifts your leg a little higher, slinging it over his shoulder. You’re speechless. That’s pretty smooth.

"You said something nice about me," he slurs in a sing-song voice, "Mike told me."

"Oh yeah? What did I say?"

Rodrick thinks hard. What was it again?

"Something about... spirits? And ice cream."

"Okay, buddy." You shush him, "Just take some deep breaths."

It’s kinda nice, just sitting with him in silence. The last bit of daylight is leaving, and everything is shrouded in a faint blue.

“I think I like you,” he says quietly, not looking at you.

“I think you’re drunk. Get back to me in an hour.”

“Can I like you in an hour?” He holds your leg a little tighter.

“Go nuts,” you chuckle.

You don’t move your leg, though.

You sit together until the set ends, and people start to file out onto the patio.

“You wanna go back in? Your friends are probably worried.” You bounce your leg a little to get his attention.

“Yeah. I have to pee so bad.”

Another trans-am’s wrapped itself around a telephone pole

“I ain't drunk, officer, I just fell getting out of my car.”

Don't worry about it, son. We were that way when we were young!

You've got all the skills to make a damn good business man!

~

Rodrick stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, breathing deep. He feels a lot better after some fresh air and the longest piss of his life.

A stall door opens, and a familiar face shows up next to his.

“Heffley? Shit, that really is you.”

Bryan Kent is a bonafide asshole with a football scholarship, who'd made Rodrick’s life a living hell back home. He really doesn't feel like reconnecting right now.

“Yep. It's me.”

Rodrick turns to leave, but Bryan blocks the door.

“You're not even gonna say hi, diner dork?”

“Fuck off, Bryan. I'm not in the mood.”

Bryan pushes him, and Rodrick feels all that old rage bubbling up. He's still a little wobbly on his feet.

“Did the cops ever catch you for what you did?” Bryan takes a step towards Rodrick. He feels all the blood leave his face.

“Actually, one of my buddies from back home just passed police academy. You wanna come back to our table and put in a little confession?”

“Fuck off,” he pushes Bryan back hard, sending him right into the door.

You're waiting outside the bathroom, and starting to get just a little worried. One of Rodrick’s bandmates- Ward, you're pretty sure- is still by their merch table.

“Hey,” you smile at him, “Rodrick went into the bathroom kind of a long time ago. He was pretty wrecked, and I'm starting to get worried. Could you…?”

Ward is around the table before you can even finish your sentence.

“Don't worry, I got him.”

As Ward opens the bathroom door, another guy walks out, laughing.

“What the fuck?” Ward yells.

You come up behind him and see Rodrick, lying on the floor, face bloody. Your mouth twists into a sneer. Fucking frat boys.

You march to the front of the bar, and lean in towards Jimbo’s ear.

“Him. Out.” You point at the offender, who's still flexing his busted knuckles like a jackass. Like it's something to show off.

“Had a feeling.” Jimbo sighs, standing up.

Rodrick’s head is pounding.

He opens his eyes to see Ward, looking devastated.

“Dude, what happened? Can you get up?”

“Fucking… Bryan Kent,” he coughs out.

Ward helps him to his feet and hands him a bundle of paper towels. Rodrick dabs at his bloody nose and lip in the mirror.

Of course. Of fucking course one of those assholes would show up tonight, of all nights.

He takes a few moments to just stand there and recover.

“That was fucked up.” Ward breaks the silence.

Rodrick just nods.

They emerge from the bathroom and there's what looks to be a full on brawl at the front of the bar. Rodrick sees you walking quickly towards him, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Jeez, look at your lip.”

You bring your hand to his face and take a closer look. It doesn't look like he needs stitches or anything, but his bottom lip is swollen, with a dark line in the middle. Blood is quickly drying up in one of his nostrils.

Rodrick jumps a little, and suddenly feels a whole lot better under your gentle touch. He gets lost for a second, just looking down at your worried face.

“I shouldn't have let you in there alone, I'm so sorry.” You murmur.

He smiles, but a yell from up front brings him back to reality.

“It’s cool, I'm fine. What's going on up there?”

“Well, we asked your... acquaintance to leave, and he didn't want to. And he's got friends.”

“Should we go up and help?” Ward clenches his fist, smiling slightly.

Rodrick’s other bandmates have joined the circle.

“I'd stay out of it, they've got it.”

You all observe as Jimbo drags Bryan out the front door by his ear. A second drunken dickhead is yelling I'm a police officer! Get off me! as a second, equally huge guy hauls him off.

Rodrick notices Heather following them out, rolling her eyes.

“Are we all good?” Someone from the stage asks into a microphone.

Oh yeah, there's still a show going on.

You all shrug, and head into the crowd together.

You take Rodrick's hand again, and give it a little squeeze. He turns to look at you, and smiles.

"Are you really okay?" You yell over the music.

"I'm really okay." He squeezes your hand back.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[bingodotorg]

Precious Iris

Ship: Zombie!Ruby/Leon

Description: Leon sucks at puzzles so much even his zombie stalker decided to be chill for once and just see what happens, out of curiosity.

Tags: Canon/OC. Human/Zombie. Ruby is basically Mr X. Manic Pixie Nightmare. Possible OOC Leon.

TW: RE typical gore. RE typical stalking. Soft Necrophilia (Zombie). Suicidal thoughts but in a…Ruby way. The stupidest puzzle you have ever read.

WC: 1176

Having these games and puzzles in these places was always a bit of a confusing concept to Leon. So many intricate mechanisms for things that could just have a…lock. It honestly sometimes feels as if someone is watching him through some hidden cameras and just wants to see him suffer through these veiled tasks. This was one of those tasks.

It seemed like he needed to insert the right gem into a slot in the wall, in order to open a door. He was able to find gems around the area, so that part was over. Now the problem was…he didn’t know which one to use. The only clue he had was a piece of paper that was as vague as words on paper could be. 

“The colors of fear and desire Her dream is his nightmare”

To say that these sentences mean absolutely nothing to him is putting it lightly. He looked around, nearly turned the whole office upside down trying to find something else but no…this the only clue he had.

As Leon suddenly hears loud breathing near his ear, he looks back to see…Ruby. God, she always sounded out of breath. He’s not sure if he should be creeped out or flattered at this point.

This monster was following him right as he entered the building. She seemed more aware than most but also more dangerous because of it. No sane person would choose this life willingly, but she decided that being controlled by immediate desires is better than…whatever she did before. She saw liberation in rotting and there are not a lot of things that can stop someone with nothing to lose.

This is the first time he was so close to her without being attacked. Ruby was genuinely curious about what he was doing, to the point of ignoring him as a target. Even when he looked back at her, she didn’t try to bite, just waited for his next move.

- Um…hi.

He said, a bit awkwardly, getting a rotten, sharp smile in return.

Leon still wasn’t sure if she would stay like this or suddenly lunge at him, but he couldn’t really do anything for now…only wait and see. Leon looked at the note in his hand again but reading suddenly became a bit harder, as he felt her get closer, bending down, trying to read it too. Her eyes darted around but it seemed like they weren’t really focusing on the words, as if she’s acting like she reads to fit in.

- Can you even read?

Leon asked in a slightly mocking tone. She shook her head which pushed a chuckle out of him. The unreadable scribbles on paper bored her pretty quickly and she approached the office table next to him to jump on it and sit down. 

He would still glance at her from time to time, making sure that she’s sitting in one place. Everytime she moved he would watch her closely only to see her do something dumb instead of attacking him. 

In the span of 10 minutes she managed to:

1) Start beef with the vending machine

As he was looking at the door, she suddenly came over and poked him in the shoulder. Leon shuddered but gave her the attention she was asking for.

- What?

Ruby points at the vending machine standing in the office and Leon doesn’t get what she wants to say until she makes the “money” motion with her fingers.

- I doubt it works

The machine had an obvious indent and the lights weren’t even working but it didn’t stop Ruby, as she let out a growl. Fearing for his life, Leon pulled out a coin out of his wallet and passed it to her.

He was right, the machine didn’t work. The coin just fell into the slot, without giving anything in return. Ruby was less than happy as she started shaking the thing, making Leon watch her again as there’s no way he’s getting anything done with all this noise.

2) Do circles on a chair with wheels that then fell over.

Leon tries to hold in a laugh as he sees Ruby smack her face against the floor.

- You alright?

He asked, mostly out of habit. He doubts that something so minor will have lasting damage on the already rotting body. She shows him the okay sign.

3) Hide a gem and watch Leon try to find it.

It ended up being on the highest shelf, of course.

- Don’t do this to me.

Leon sighs, dreading the moment he will have to stand on a chair to reach it. Ruby doesn’t say anything, only smiling in return.

4) Stand WAY TOO CLOSE.

The more ridiculous things she did, the more he became accustomed to her presence. Leon even got comfortable enough to sit down by the table and start writing down his own notes as he analyzed the clue and thought about where he found each gem. Ruby couldn’t stay in place for long but she would sit on the table he was working on to watch the man…in between doing dumb shit.

As she layed on the table and Leon glanced at her once again, something suddenly clicked.

- Wait…Is this about you?

He realized, looking up at her. Ruby sat up straight, with a widened eye, she was as surprised as he was. Leon got up and grabbed her face as she growled in response, trying to slightly move away but also not fighting it full on. 

- I need to see something.

She sat still with a confused look as he analyzed her eyes. He slightly opened her eyelids with his fingers, as her left eye was permanently squinting. Behind the rainbow glint of spilled oil he could see the blue sky peaking through. 

He picked up the shattuckite gem, the one that reminded of the ocean mixed with oil. As he puts it in place, he hears a click but…nothing happens. 

- Is it stuck?

Leon whispers to himself and approaches the door. He pulled on the handle, but nothing happened. He decided to try and push it with his shoulder, hoping that this will somehow trigger the mechanism to work.

Ruby silently watched him but then noticed that there’s another slot that Leon didn’t see. She approached the gems laid out on the table and glanced at him once again, trying to notice a glint of color in his detriment squint. She took the blue beryl in her hand and twisted it around, watching it glint under the ceiling lights. Ruby placed this gem into the slot, which triggered the door to open right away, causing Leon to fall onto the other side. 

As he started to get up, he looked back to see Ruby just…standing there, in the entrance, watching him. He could see, no, feel, her eyes change. She was watching him like a hunter, ready to pounce at any second. Just being under her for a brief moment evoked something. As Leon heard her neck crack, he knew the chase was on.

[downbadperture]

You said you're more likely to do obscure characters so I'm curious: can you write something short about a male reader and The Announcer(it's the guy who talks in the background saying stuff like "you've been in suspension for 9 9 9 9 9")? I'm just curious about what you could come up with.. I imagine it's him as a robot (more like body less) and like, maybe the reader just walks around aperture talking to random unanimated stuff and the unanimated stuff starts talking back. It could be platonic or romantic, whatever you want

DUDE THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOOUUUTT. I LOVE THIS, i love this a lot like actually. This is what we as the fandom need in this day and age. I fully support this, and I will totally do this.

~Male!Reader x Announcer~

~No warnings apply~

You might have officially lost it.

After the events of 'The Incident', you were the only living soul wandering around in this godforsaken facility. Maybe it was the humidity when you were only a floor separated from the incinerator below and making your work shirt stick to your skin, maybe it was the silence that threatened to make your mind feel hollow if it weren't for the facility constantly reminding you of how it was digesting your very being with every little scrape of metal or gear grinding in the distance.

But maybe you finally lost it when you started talking to inanimate objects, anything to make that aching loneliness numb for a few minutes. It started with talking to the cubes when you would hide out behind the walls of a testing chamber, it didn't even have to be the pink ones with the little hearts that were put in place to boost test subject morale, sometimes it would just be the dull blue ones staring at you with pure indifference. For some reason you felt more comfortable around those ones.

Then it started turning into having lively conversations with a can of beans you were eating, then sitting on the floor by a chair and talking about your day with it, and you started talking with any object that you deemed friendly enough to talk to. Never really talking to the Turrets though, they gave you a sick feeling whenever you heard their voices.

But talking with objects helped you stay sane or as sane as you could be while in this hellhole.

You were wandering the corridors of the dorms the test subjects used to reside in when they had to stay in the facility for multiple days at a time, the company not wanting outside forces interfering with the testing. The halls reminded you of a hotel almost, the nicely carpeted floors and the lights lining up against the ceiling. They even had some fake plants lined up in some places too, usually near the broken elevators or a vending machines. You were about to get some soda for your parched throat, after not having drunken anything in days the thought of some carbonated orange soda sounded like an oasis in a desert.

As you walked up to the machine, the artificial plants caught your eye. The greenery gave you an aching yearning from a time before, but it also made you feel a warmth that was so rare in a place like this.

You stopped mid-way, your lab coat swaying behind you as you turned towards one of the artificial potted plants. There was a little smirk hidden behind your tangled and overgrown beard.

"Come here often?" You ask with no hesitation.

"..."

"Heh I hear that. it's one of the more nicer parts around here," You replied flippantly. "Not many areas you can get carpet and chairs besides the offices, but who wants to hang around at work all the time am I right?"

"..."

"Yeah..." You let out a small dry laugh, "Well, i'm gonna get some soda from the vending machine right over here. You want one? I'm guessing since you're all plastic and foam you have a different diet from real plants,"

"..."

"Whoa! Take it easy there," You lifted and waved your hands defensively, taking a step back. "Sorry, I mean OTHER TYPES of plants. Didn't mean to press a button there, just wanted to see if you wanted some soda" your smile stretched into more of a jester like grin.

"..."

"Yeah yeah, now the soda is definitely on me," You playfully rolled your eyes and stared at the glowing orange machine. Citranium was written in small white letters, the logo being the Aperture brand but in the shape and color of an orange. Shame really that there wasn't really much variety, but you can't bite the hand that feeds you unless it starts choking you in the process then definitely bite it. But there was no biting required in this specific circumstance.

You pressed a button to see if maybe someone accidentally left a few dollars in the machine and forgot to order, but suddenly a speaker on the ceiling was triggered and your spine shot out of your back from the piercing hiss of the old intercom.

"Aperture science proudly announces it's newest and sweetest product since the m-" it cut out, leaving a horrible garbled mess of static before clearing up, "- Citrianium! Now test subjects can experience the wonders of science with every sip. Citrianium sources it's oranges from the farms founded in the agronomy department within Aperture Science itself. So we guarantee that by supporting Citrianium, you are also supporting your local farmers and is sourced organically. Note: The measures of organic may vary with each can and may cause unprecedented side effects depending on the amount,"

The voice from the intercom was robotic, but not monotone. The best way you could describe it was that you could feel the toothy smile the man had while talking. It had a pep to it to put it simply.

You must have triggered some sort of advertisement for the soda. It was almost foreign hearing an actual voice after so long of just faint sounds and inevitable silence as responses. But as you stared at the speaker with your head craned up high, it felt like a friend talking to you.

"W-well, do you think you can do a guy a favor and get me a soda? I'm kinda on the broke side right now," You asked the speaker, digging your hands into your lab coat pockets. You can feel the lint and dust at the bottom starting to pile up.

There was a small silence, but then there was a response.

"Citrianium can now be found in grocery stores and gas stations near you! Science in a can now at the low low price of two dollars each in American currency," The Announcer semi-replied cheerfully.

"Well, I don't really have two bucks on me right now," you huffed, sighing as you started eyeing a cushioned chair near an elevator. A smirk creased your lips when the light bulb went off. You cracked your knuckles, meandering towards the unsuspecting chair.

"Sorry pal, but a guy needs his drink," you mumbled before picking up the chair by the wooden armrests, it surprisingly being so light you could hold it over your head. You stared at the vending machine with determination, starting to charge towards it and preparing to smash it with the chair until it finally gave you a damn soda. But before you could take the swing, a bright shiny can was dispensed immediately.

"All staff get a complimentary Citranium for the hard work they give here at Aperture Science!" The Announcer chirped, "We appreciate your commitment, complacency, discipline, and respect! Keep up the hard work and remember that science starts with you,"

You almost dropped the chair on your foot when you fumblingly placed it on the ground. You couldn't tell if this was just coincidences or if you were finally going crazy or something else. Your attention drew to the speaker hanging over the machine. You couldn't recall the announcements themselves ever being sentient, but then again this place loved giving things sentience even when if it would be more humane for it to just be a simple object or mechanism.

You hesitantly picked up the can, the tin shimmering from the ceiling lights. It was still chilled in your grip. Your gaze lifted up to the speaker hanging over the machine once more, your mind flooded with intrigue and curiosity.

"Thank you," You chirped.

There was a loud hiss like it was struggling to give a proper response, "Ap- welco- Aperture Science welcomes yo- Wel- Welcomes you," was all he said before cutting out.

"Ha Well... I'll see you around," you sighed, shrugging off as you popped the can up to reveal the citrus smelling fizzing liquid inside. Maybe it was science in a can considering how long this soda was able to last.

You started walking down the corridors, going to go find stairs to hopefully find your way to the cafeteria the test subjects would lounge in every once in a while. But in every corner there was an intercom of some kind put in place, including the rooms as well if you could actually get inside them (Not that you particularly wanted to, not really in the mood to see a possible dead body).

But then you got another idea.

"Hey uh... Announcer guy? You don't happen to know where all the food is stored right," You ask, your eyes once again fixed onto the intercoms.

"Aperture Science cares very deeply about their test subject's and staff’s health and well being, which is why we found the food octagon back in 1965," he immediately replied, "Breakfast, lunch and dinner that have all categories of the food octagon are held in the dining hall on the first floor of the building,"

“Hm,” you hummed, “Are you gonna be sticking around me for a while?”

“Aperture Science constantly surveils their staff to see if they’re keeping up with their company mandated work quota to make sure science is being done throughout the day and they are following company policy,” he responded

“I’ll take as a yes,” you smile, happy that you’re finally talking to someone that talks back somewhat.

[viviennevermillion]

Finding Hope

notes: i had no plan what i was gonna do with this, i just opened a tumblr draft and started writing words and this is the result.

contains: diluc x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, this is 60% me exploring diluc's mental state and 40% actually including reader, diluc processing his trauma and learning how to see the good in the little things and how you make him see them

warnings: diluc's ptsd from learning a bit too much about the fatui while he was abroad, dottore's horrifying nightmare experiments (including: addiction, child abuse, test subject vending machine), angst

As long as he kept himself busy, Diluc would be fine. Maybe part of the reason why he'd hunt down monsters every night wasn't only for the protection of Mondstadt. Maybe part of it was selfish. For a brief moment, being the Darknight Hero gave him the illusion that he was able to do something about the presence of evil in this world. The presence of evil that had never truly left the back of his mind ever since he returned from the cold lands of Snezhnaya. In a way, it had latched onto him, infested him to his very core and now? Now he carried it with him wherever he went.

He had come far with the underground intelligence network he had joined in his absence. Perhaps that was something to be proud of. That he contributed to something bigger than himself. But in the grand scheme of things, Diluc never felt like his work was finished. Like he could truly rest. The monsters of the abyss kept coming, the Fatui were now in possession of the anemo gnosis and Il Dottore was still conducting his experiments without a care in the world.

Peace for Diluc would mean to ignore the things he could never truly bring his heart to find closure with. Ignore the fact that his father had never received the recognition he deserved. Ignore how involved the Fatui were in every nation across Teyvat. Ignore the horrors he had seen and the full scale of justice that never came. Ignore how the rest of Teyvat seemed to be blind to it and how he was a lone observer, silently calling out to the world to answer his indictments. Diluc sometimes felt like a ghost haunting a past that had long since gone by and a present that seemed far out of his reach. He was just there. Doing his self-appointed duty, running his winery, working as a bartender at Angel's Share on some nights; all whilst the shadows in his mind never truly left him. That was the curse of having come face to face with the bottom of the iceberg. Of having been ripped away from the life he led growing up, traversing into the unknown in search for answers. In his search for reasons, Diluc only ever found more why's. There were things that were never meant to touch him and yet they did. Death did. The abyss did. Evil did. He felt like he had ventured out behind the curtains of his little world equipped with nothing but a wooden sword and shield. Driven by anger and the need for justice.

He read it in the books when he was a child. That good things would come to those who chose to be good and that victory would come to those who were dedicated and worked hard. That was what he truly believed when he had joined the Knights of Favonius. His mind used to be so naive, unable to comprehend that reality was a lot more complicated than the principles he had accepted as the foundation of fate. Fate itself seemed like a fairytale now. Life had no rules of cause and effect, at least not in the way he had counted on long ago. Life was unpredictable, it could bring him happiness in one moment and throw him off his path in the next. Life was a constant dance on a tightrope and Diluc had traveled far, trying to find out how to find stability in his cloudy mind and below his weary feet again. And in the process he had grown but he had fallen too.

Images of the past would resurface when he least expected it. Waiting in line to get lunch from Good Hunter. While Adelinde talked to him. While petting the cats at Mondstadt when he was done doing his duty at night and about to go home. As if there was a shadow hanging over him, reminding him with a stab at his heart: No. You're not allowed to be happy.

Diluc knew that wasn't true. There were plenty of happy moments in his life. Simply counting all the moments and memories he had with you were enough to consider himself truly lucky.

But through it all, Diluc had returned to Mondstadt and felt that the world has gotten a little too small for him. So before he learnt to love you, he had mostly kept to himself. He saw the people of Mondstadt go about their day; talking about the weather with their spouse, throwing coins into the well in hopes that their wishes came true, drinking away their stress from work at the tavern... The people of Mondstadt hadn't seen evil the way Diluc had. And he wouldn't wish it upon them to do. He was glad that they were living simple lives, worrying about things like whether their little shop made enough to expand their repertoire of products or how to get rid of the noise their neighbors made when they were trying to rest. But still, it made Diluc feel alone. Like he was standing between busy people and chatter, pondering the state of this world with knowledge he maybe would have been better off without.

He remembered the connections he had made in the underground network, remembered receiving the news of his comrades dying after being caught trying to gather intel. He remembered overhearing the Fatui soldiers laughing about how pathetic they had looked when they had killed them.

He recalled the ones who were raised and sent to fight for the Fatui; who never had a choice in where their lives were headed. The ones who had begged him not to hurt them when he destroyed their strongholds; the ones he let live. Those whose wounds he treated because they were people just like him, trying to make the best of the situation they were in. Who just wanted to go home to their friends and loved ones but were used like mindless worker drones in someone else's grand scheme. He had shared meals by the campfire with people he should have considered his enemy. People who should have killed him on sight but didn't. They had gone their separate ways soon enough, but Diluc remembered every single one of them. Dmitri who grew up in the House of Hearth to be sent to the front lines but always dreamt of being a painter. Alina who was pregnant and terrified for her child in light of her work but distracted herself by spending her evenings knitting plushies for her unborn daughter. Alexei whose colleagues loved the stew he made and who'd smile and tell the story of how an old lady had taught him the recipe after she had found him when he was injured from battle and nursed him back to health at her house. Diluc wondered if they were still alive and how they were doing.

And then, Diluc remembered the day the he and his colleagues from the underground intelligence network took over one of Il Dottore's many laboratories and investigated it after all the Fatui were gone. There was an apparatus Diluc could only describe as a "vending machine", filled with people Dottore considered his 'test subjects' and candidates for the experiment of the next day, squashed into the small space to wait for their end. A man was sitting in a corner, injecting archon residue into his already mutated arm over and over again while rocking back and forth. There was a little girl in a cell who flinched when Diluc opened the door. He had sat down in front of the door and waited, patiently talking to her and explaining to her that they had come to get her out of here so that she could have a better life. He had asked her for her favorite color and talked about what things he liked that were also purple. He remembered asking her for her name and her replying with a six-digit number. One of the network members had sat down next to him and asked her what name she would like to have if she could pick one. Diluc remembered giving little Sophia the teddy bear Crepus had given him when he was just a baby, deciding that the girl needed it more than him. He remembered the segment of the Doctor, not much older than 5 years, clutching a ruin guard hand in his arms and asking if anyone was coming back for him...

"Diluc?"

He had seen the abyss not only outside the gates of Mondstadt while fighting as the Darknight Hero but he had also seen it in the hearts of man. He had seen it in his own heart, in the moments when he left the dinner on the table because of the sinking feeling in his stomach. In the times he couldn't sleep at night, staring at the ceiling mindlessly. In the times he had cried and didn't even fully know why. In the hopelessness he felt looking at all the problems he couldn't fix and how small he felt in comparison to them. Diluc had left Mondstadt, the little bubble that kept him safe from the horrors of this world for 18 years, and now it wasn't letting him back in. He doubted it ever fully would.

"Diluc."

He snapped out of his thoughts, being met with your concerned expression. Looking into those eyes he loved so much. It was a sunny day in Mondstadt and the two of you had decided to visit the Cat's Tail, sitting across from each other at a small wooden table outside, playing Genius Invokation TCG.

"I'm sorry for zoning out", he apologized, looking at the cards on the table, trying to make sense of the state of the game in front of him, but failing to do so. His mind felt like it was scattered all over the place. You obviously noticed.

"We don't have to continue playing if you don't feel up to it", you reassured him, taking his hand in yours. You could see how he hesitated, not wanting his negativity to put a damper on your afternoon. You got up and walked around the table, sitting down on his lap and cradling his face in your hands. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, brushing a strand of his red hair aside. "Would you like to go home?", your voice sounded so kind and your smile told him you'd be okay with whatever answer he gave you.

And so Diluc wrapped his arms around you, hugging you close and nodding. "Thank you."

"You know you can tell me whenever you want to do something else or things get too much for you, right?", you reminded him and he helped you pick up all the cards and put them back in their box. "I know", he sighed and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "sorry."

You held his hand as you exited the city; the sun already setting. You were pointing at the sky, pointing out how the clouds looked a little like his hawk right now. "I guess they do", he commented, watching you amused and a smile finding its way onto his face again.

You always did that. Distract him in the best way possible. When destruction had him in its clutches, you would be there and around you everything else seemed so much more alive. You reminded him that there was beauty in this world. That there was hope.

You reminded him of the flowers that grew by the wayside and what a miracle it was for life to even exist on this world. You reminded him that he was loved and that there were so many things he had grown to love.

There were the afternoons you'd drag him to the library to pick out a book with you, reading it to him in the evening as he rested his head in your lap and slowly fell asleep to the sound of your voice. There were the idle moments you'd spend sitting on a bench at the market place, listening to a woman play the violin as you rested your head on Diluc's shoulder. There were your walks to Mondstadt and back to the Winery; there was the little boy in Springville who had stopped Diluc to show him the cool frog he had found by the pond.

There were the cats he'd pet and sometimes feed at night as he was walking the streets of Mondstadt. There was that time you tried mixing grape juice with honey lemon tea and asked him if it tasted good, unsure of your own perception of the taste. These were the golden moments he'd frame in his mind like a work of art.

Your smile and the butterflies he felt in his stomach everytime he looked at it. How excited you got whenever he sat down at the grand piano in the winery, playing some tunes his father had taught him. You brushing his hair before the two of you went to bed, always ending up trailing kisses down his neck and telling him how many things you loved about him.

And he didn't know whether he could ever truly be at peace again. But there was you and there were things he cherished. There was the monsters he protected Mondstadt from and the moments he allowed himself to just be a winery owner and a bartender, deeply in love with his significant other. That was all he could do at the moment and you showed him over and over again how much that mattered.

author's note: remember that however many bad things are out there or haunt your mind, there's so many little things all around us to cheer us up. it's easy to fall into the trap of tunnel vision and feel like there's darkness all around you but there's strangers that could grow to be your friends and people dedicating their time and volunteer work to help others. allow yourself to see the good in the world around you. allow yourself to look at a cool frog or listen to someone play the violin too. ❤️

[twokisses]

stress relief (ficlet)

it's been a long time! here's a simple, spicy something i found in my drafts, also available to read on my ao3 @twokisses

Synopsis: It's been a shit day, but Baz knows just how he can get the release that he needs from it. (Rated M)

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Baz had had the worst fucking day of his life. Most of it he could put down to the general incompetence of his fellow group mates; and their lack of enthusiasm for anything other than parties and members of the opposite sex. Then add to that random break-downs of critically important machinery—the printer in the library, the vending machine, his car—and the universe had found the perfect combination of things that could send him into a raging fit. He never got into fits. They were beneath him.

Snow knew about everything by the time Baz got on the tube (horrifying), and was doing his best at soothing him, alternating between righteous anger on his behalf—“what a bunch of arseholes. u rly deserve better baz”—and hopefully placating promises—“we can order food when u get back & put smth on the telly”.

Largely, it was working. But Baz had had a fire growing in his belly since noon. A vibrating tension that had spread to his shoulders and fingers by the time they were wrapped—as loosely as possible—around one of the tube’s handholds. He was practically singing with it. At first he considered finding a remote clearing in a wood somewhere and casting a whole fucking Shakespeare play—anything to get rid of his excess energy. Then he realised there was a much more practical solution at hand. Literally in his hand; Snow’s messages kept popping up on his screen, and as Baz read through them it dawned on him that all he wanted—all he needed, really—was for his loyal, determined, steadfast, golden boyfriend to lock them both in his room and fuck him until he forgot group mates, vending machines, or the tube even existed.

Baz sent a new text, cutting across Simon’s latest (sweet, but now unneeded) message about how doing the best you could didn’t always guarantee success, and asked whether Bunce was home that night. nah, was the reply. out with shep 2nite. why? To which Baz didn’t even bother replying, because he was already at his stop and definitely tapping into his vampire speed as he strode toward Snow’s flat. (He only used it in truly dire situations.)

It was a good night. A good night to slam the door shut on a shitty day. “I need you—” Baz pronounced clearly into Snow’s mouth, once he’d successfully manoeuvred Simon into pinning his hips against the refrigerator, “—to fuck me so hard—” and by then Snow’s teeth were marking the delicate hinge of his jaw, and that delicious growl was rumbling straight from his throat into Baz’s chest, “—that I forget the concept of university even exists. Can you do that for me, Snow?”

Snow’s response was emphatically non-verbal, and Baz, too, became incoherent almost immediately after that.

The first round was quick and hard. Mercenary, almost—the ends justifying the means. It was everything Baz needed. For him to release himself from his mind and just be his body, that vital, natural thing that it always became in Simon’s hands—a forest being blazed through with fire. (It always came back to their first kiss; maybe because there was just no better analogy for them than how they started. Two bits of metal too stubborn to bend anywhere other than the forge.)

The second round, Baz wanted Simon slow. Purposeful. Where before his face may have been lost in the hurry, hidden in Baz’s neck, his stomach, beneath his own hair, this time Baz wanted the intensity of his eyes. He wanted Simon to talk to him, ask him for permissions and guidance he didn’t really need to ask for, but which made it all the more intentional—all the more intense. He wanted the sex positively liquefying. And he got it. Everything he wanted, Simon gave. And then some. Simon took him so far out on the edge of pleasure he was aware of nothing but the wrenching, irresistible pull in his gut to fall over it—let alone remember the concept of university.

He was breathless in the end. And as smug and languid as the fattest cat in the world. When Simon laughed at him, Baz decided he didn’t mind. He’d already gotten what he wanted.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter One: Initially (Jason Todd's POV)

Terrence McGinnis. Case number two-sixty-seven. Breaking and entering, vandalism, petty theft, and armed robbery. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I thought he'd be taller. He was small, almond-eyed, rosy-cheeked. He looked painfully familiar. "Terrence—. No one calls you Terrence, huh? You gave me a look," I whispered as I reached to shake his hand.

"Terry... And I don't shake hands," Terry replied. I nodded.

"Terry, did anyone tell you who I was?" I questioned.

"You're supposed to fix me, right?" Terry asked. I raised an eyebrow.

"Depends on whether or not you think you're broken, Terry. Is that what you think of yourself?" I asked. Terry shrugged.

"Does it matter what I think? I've heard what everybody's been saying," Terry replied, "They talk about me like I can't understand what they're saying."

"I'm not here for them... I'm here for you, and I'm here to listen to you. Speaking of your wants and needs, do you want a soda or something? I missed breakfast," I replied. Terry fidgeted with a number sticker on the table, nodding. "What do you want?"

"If you press ginger ale on the Hansen's machine, you get two sodas free. Press ginger ale, and then press the pictures for whatever sodas you want," Terry explained. I grinned.

"Good looking out, Terry. What flavor do you want?" I asked as we stood up and walked toward the vending machines. I pressed the ginger ale button and got a soda for myself and one for Terry. "You've got me for two hours, so feel free to get snacks while we're here."

"Why?" Terry asked.

"Because it's four o'clock, and you're a fourteen-year-old kid. I know you've gotta want a bag of chips or popcorn or something," I replied, "And when I was in your place, the man that took me in got me something to eat. That's something that stuck with me."

"You were in my place?" Terry asked.

"I was well on my way," I replied, "I was boosting tires, B-and-E, lifting from stores and stuff... Do you want something to eat?"

He picked out a bag of chips. I let him eat while I pulled my thoughts together. "Thanks," Terry whispered. I nodded. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"When you need advice, who do you talk to?" I asked.

"Like an adult?" Terry asked.

"Or a friend," I replied, "Do you not have an adult that you feel understands you? And before you answer, that doesn't mean the adults in your life are bad. It just means that they don't relate to you."

"They don't get it. I know they're busy with the divorce and my brother and everything, but they—. You know about that stuff already," Terry mumbled.

"Yeah, but on paper, they're just facts. My job is to find out how you feel about the facts and how we can navigate your struggles together to make your life better. My job is to help you make your life better," I explained.

Terry took a sip of his soda. "Until I get out of here, right?" Terry asked.

"Nuh-uh. As long as you want me around. I'll give you my card before I leave today, and you can call me anytime you need me," I replied, "Now, let's get into what you want moving forward."

Terry liked to talk. I think that's what surprised me the most. He told me about everything he'd ever done and how he didn't know what to do once his parents finalized their divorce. And I listened. That's all he wanted. He talked so long that I almost forgot we only had two hours. Terry was an interesting kid. Insightful. By the end of the two hours, we were both hesitant to leave. I gave him my card and told him I'd be back in the weeks his parents couldn't visit.

"Jason Todd... Mr. Todd, are you gonna come back for real?" Terry asked.

"Two weeks. After your Mom and Dad visit you, I'll be there. First Sunday and last Sunday," I replied, "I promise, Terry... And call me Jason. Mr. Todd was my father."

I left our visit feeling recharged, but I didn't expect anything to come from it because kids forget so fast. So, I went home, wrote notes on everything he told me, and cross-referenced them with his case file. Terry's mother worked for AstroTech, and his father worked for Wayne-Powers. He came from an average family, but I couldn't help but feel strange about him. It felt like he didn't fit into his own puzzle. I had an appointment to meet his father in the morning but couldn't sleep.

I hadn't felt this way about a case in years. I stopped killing a while back because the criminal element in Gotham shifted. It used to be adults. It used to be simple. I stopped killing because the criminals got younger, more impressionable, and more cult-like. These kids weren't thinking for themselves. They were picking up where the criminal element of my time left off, and I had to change my angle. I couldn't go around killing children, so I tried my hand at rehabilitation. Terry was supposed to be my last case. He was my semi-retirement. The kid looked like a simple case on paper, but meeting him changed everything. Terry wasn't meant to be a criminal, and I think he knew that deep down. Still, Terry would require time, attention, and something I couldn't quite see yet. I wanted to help him, and I wanted to know him. I couldn't bear to take cases like his. The attachment was unbearable because the kid and I could do everything right, but Gotham could still swallow him up. It could still take him out because that's how the city was. Good kids and easy cases worried me because the kids with angles and sharp edges were built to make it. Gotham hated good kids. It chewed them up and spat them out with no remorse, and goddammit Terry was a good kid.

So much for semi-retirement. I put a sticky note on Terry's file for books I thought he'd like. Then I put another sticky with questions for Terry's father. I couldn't close my eyes. Every time I wanted to sleep, I thought of something else I could do. There was always something more for me to do. I think it was my way of paying penance for the sins of my youth.

Not that I regret killing the degenerates I snuffed out in my day. No. I felt guilty for the victims that I eventually forgot. Killing villains was alright, but it stopped making sense when I lost sight of the people I did it for.

My alarm went off while I was sitting at my desk, and I turned it off, made breakfast, and took it to my office. My assistant offered me a coffee, and I asked her to wait until Mr. McGinnis came. Terry's father, Warren, was a serious man. Over-stressed. He came in holding hands with a little boy I suspected was Terry's brother, Matthew. I hadn't met him before, but he looked exactly like Terry. Just younger. "Sorry, it was spring break, and there was no use in Mary and me taking the day off," Mr. McGinnis apologized. I nodded.

"It's alright, Mr. McGinnis... There's a playroom in the building if you don't mind separating for a little—."

My assistant stood up, and Mr. McGinnis nodded, allowing her to escort Matthew to the other room. "I spoke with Terry yesterday, and we had a lengthy conversation," I stated.

Mr. McGinnis looked sick to his stomach. "You can call me Warren... Um... Terry hasn't always been like—."

"Oh no, I might've misled you with my tone. Terry was great. He opened right up," I interrupted, "Personally... I think he'll be fine, but we both know he needs extra attention and support moving forward to keep him on the straight and narrow."

Warren nodded. "Has he said anything about the divorce?" Warren questioned.

Poor guy. I could tell he loved Terry to death but was missing something. He didn't understand Terry, but not for lack of trying. The man was exhausted. "He doesn't want to choose... This leaves you and Mary in a difficult situation," I replied. Warren frowned.

"We've already decided... But we weren't sure how to break it to him. We think it's best that I take him on full-time," Warren announced.

"You look worried," I noted, "This is your time to voice your concerns. If we can address them, we can help Terry."

Warren nodded before setting his glasses on my desk and hiding his face in his hands. "I'm never gonna be what he needs me to be," Warren choked on his words as he gave way to tears.

I pulled a box of tissues from my desk drawer and offered him one. "Mr.— Warren? You're trying... You raised an amazing kid—. Amazing kids... And some kids need more support than others. It doesn't make you a bad parent. You're only a bad parent if you give up on your child or demean them when they don't turn out how you imagined... You haven't done that," I reassured him.

I reached out to touch his shoulder and heard Bruce's voice in the back of my mind. You did everything you could, Jason. Then bile. I could still taste it. I shook the thought from my mind. "It's so hard... I didn't think it'd be so difficult with him," Warren cried softly.

I started to cry tears of my own. I wept for things I longed to feel again. "Warren, I'm here for your family. I'm here," I promised through my tears. I couldn't look up. I couldn't face Warren. He was everything that I wasn't. I wished I was in his place. But I guess the grass is always greener on the other side.

[razorsadness]

maybe we’ll hug each other in a past life (part one of three)

So much to say, and where to begin. “Begin at the beginning, and when you come to the ending, then stop.” I guess I’ll begin with the Giant Paddy O’s Show on September 7th, as that was the first big event of these past two+ months, and I jotted down so many notes about it.

We were truly blessed that day; it was the first day in months when it was chilly enough to be leather jacket weather, which was perfect for the outfit I was gonna be rocking that night. I was vending at the White Lilac, a new venue in Kenosha (well, they’ve been open about a year now), and also performing on the stage there at the end of the night. The day before, I’d been told by one of the event organizers that I had to bring my own card table for vending, unless I wanted to use one of the small high-top bar tables at the venue. I have a card table I could’ve taken, but I really didn’t want to haul that around on top of all my merch, etc., so I was just like, fuck it, guess I’ll use a small table. But, blessing number two, when I walked in to the White Lilac and explained my situation, Kelly—the owner, who was also working the door alongside his wife that night—said: “No worries, we have an extra table you can use!” and pulled a long folding table out from under the stage. And right after that, he gave me a free bottle of water and a free basket of popcorn fresh from their popcorn machine. The little while after that was spent setting up my table and waving away the yellowjackets that flew in the open door and landed on my popcorn, then I went outside to have a cigarette before the first performer went on stage. That’s when Pookie and Dean showed up, and I was like: “Holy flashback to 2000-2004, Batman.” Dean said ‘hey’ to me but we didn’t talk much, he seemed anxious and wanted to stand off by himself chainsmoking, which hey, I get it. But Pookie, he came up and gave me a huge hug and said: “It’s so good to see you.”

Here’s a little summation of my friendship with Pookie: he is one of the few friends from that era of my life I had a totally platonic relationship with. Though actually it requires a more nuanced explanation than that. When I say “platonic relationship,” I don’t necessarily just mean people I never hooked up with, I mean people that there wasn’t even any flirtation or romantic/sexual spark with. And actually he and I did make out—once. It was at a Halloween party at Paddy O’s in 2003, and a bunch of us were out back in the beer garden, and Beagan and I started making out (because that is the kind of friendship we’ve always had), and Pookie and Beagan had made out before so they started making out, too, and we were all drunk and back then Pookie and I were both single and we were both makeout bandits, so we made out for a little while before stopping and just looking at each other like: “No.” Later, we talked about it, and we were both like: “No offense, I love you, man, and it’s not that you’re unattractive, but there was no there there, and I feel like if we ever made out again it would just make me feel weird and sad, so, let’s not?” And then we cheers’d each other and that was that, there was never any awkwardness between us afterwards, we just both knew we did not at all feel that way about one another. We had a great friendship, the kind where you can give each other a hard time in an affectionate way, but also have deep, meaningful conversations, and know that the other person always has your back. Like, we could talk shit to/about each other (he’d call me a dirty Mick and I’d call him a filthy Frog—though I have French ancestry too, he’s mostly French; we’d make fun of each other’s favorite music), but if anyone else seriously talked shit about one of us, or did something fucked up to one of us, and the other one found out? Heads would roll. He was one of the only guys that were part of the Paddy O’s crowd/Kenosha scene who a. believed me and b. cared when I started telling people that the King of Kenowhere had raped me. Yeah, we were great friends, but I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in at least a decade until that Saturday night—not because we’d had a falling out, just because life happened—and then he hugged me, and let me tell you, I hadn’t been hugged like that in such a long time. It was the biggest, warmest hug, full of love and 20+ years of friendship. He hugged me, and then we immediately went on to reminisce about ye olde days.

Back inside the White Lilac, the first act, Kenye, a glampunk poet/musician, went on. He performed songs about being bipolar, and about class war, and one called “Emily Dickinson Was Right,” and then he performed poems about heartbreak and ghosts (specifically about haunted places in southeastern Wisconsin). So clearly I have a lot in common with this fella! I went up to him after his set, to say I really liked his stuff, and to talk about ghosts. I told him some of my own stories of local haunted places, and mentioned that I’d also done a lot of research about haunted places in southeastern Wisconsin for a blog post when I was writer-in-residence a few years back. Kelly overheard us talking, and jumped in with his own spooky local story, and it was pretty neat, to be chatting about ghosts and haunted places with a couple likeminded folks.

Codes Within Codes (aka Cody) went on next, and I got really into his stuff. It was like Radiohead meets the Chemical Brothers meets some heavier industrial bands. I was messaging with Yoni at the time, and was like: “Oh hey, check this guy’s stuff out,” and he did, and said he dug it, and might play it on his radio show at some point. Then I got my first beer of the night, a tallboy of Garage Beer. I’d never had it before, or even heard of it, but I liked the name and specifically chose it because it has a low ABV. Even with the low ABV, I sipped it slowly, because it was still early on in what was gonna be a long night, and I did not want to get blotto before my set. I sipped my beer, watched (d)VICES’s set. One of the people vending at the table next to mine was this gorgeous woman; I immediately got a teensy crush on her. She came over to look at my stuff, bought a copy of my mini art zine, and we chatted about various stuff, art and music and zines and the like. Somehow the topic of train hopping came up; it turns out we both used to do that. And then we were talking about our favorite cities and it turns out she has a New Orleans connection, too, and even knows some of the people I know there. Shit like this happens to me all the time—meeting new people and discovering they have connections with some of the same people and places I do—but every time it happens, I’m amazed all over again at how fucking small this world is. Also, she had a leopard print sweater tied around her waist, and I noticed that she had a leopard-spot tattoo on one of her arms. I was wearing a leopard print shirt, and I rolled up my sleeve to show her my leopard-spot tattoo. She said: “Leopard twins!” and we fist-bumped.

Then it was time for me to head over to Paddy O’s to see The Yates Kids. Oh, The Yates Kids. One of my longtime Kenocore favorites. (There’s a lot more I could say about that band, but I’ll get back to that later.) I’ve seen them at least a dozen times over the years, but it had been over nine years since I’d last seen them, and, other than the Bikini Kill concert in April 2023, I hadn’t seen any live punk show since pre-pandemic. So, needless to say, I was stoked. All the Paddy’s bands were playing on an outdoor stage, back in the beer garden, so first I walked in through the front door, and waited at the bar to get a drink. It was packed, so I had to wait a while, and while I waited, I noticed my friend Hank was standing at the bar next to me. He was standing next to a guy I vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. They were talking about feeling old, and I jumped in and said: “I know the feeling.” Hank said: “Oh yeah, you’re like the same age as us, huh?” And I said: “I think I’m a little bit younger than you are.” (Hank is 48, I’m only 42.) The other guy said: “Jesus, Hank, are you saying she’s an old man, too?” Then, turning to me: “You don’t look like an old man. You’re beautiful.” Hank said: “Hey, this is my friend High Life. High Life, this is Jessie.” High Life reached out to shake my hand, and said: “It’s great to meet you.” I said: “Oh, we’ve met before,” because at that point I’d realized who he was, but he was adamant that we had not met. “No way. I wouldn’t have forgotten you. You’re way too hot to forget.”

Let’s go back in time for a minute. Back in the days when I spent most of my time at Paddy O’s and The Port (or at least, most of the time I was in Kenosha), High Life was a regular at both bars, too. He was a sexy, fucked-up punk rock dude, and I was a fucked-up punk rock girl (and all the Kenosha punk dudes found me irresistible, ha ha), and when none of our other friends were around, we’d drink together, and flirt. Eventually, we ended up hanging out outside of the bars, one-on-one or at parties; we’d make out and do drugs together, and we fucked a couple times. It was never anything serious, but it was what we both needed (or at least what we wanted) at that point in our lives. Then I stopped hanging around those bars quite as much, and by the time I was back in that scene he’d gotten married and had a kid and stopped coming to the bars much at all for a while. We’d still run into each other at shows occasionally, but we never really talked, and before September 7, we hadn’t seen each other in over nine years. Still, I never forgot him. He was a good dude, despite his issues, and aside from the sex and drugs, we also shared great conversations. I’d sometimes think of him, and our brief symmetry, fondly, especially when I was nostalgic for my misspent youth of wild parties and brief flings. So yeah, as soon as Hank introduced us and I heard his name, I knew who High Life was. And even if that hadn’t rung any bells for me, I would’ve figured it out by the time I went out to the beer garden to see the band, because did I mention he’s one of the guitarists for the motherfucking Yates Kids? Yeah, he is.

So there I was, feeling really fucking awkward, because he was sorta hitting on me (which, don’t get me wrong, was great—he’s still a cutie and I don’t get hit on so much these days) yet insisting that we’d never met. It’s not that I was upset that he’d forgotten me—our little thing ended 20+ years ago, and as I said I hadn’t even seen him in nearly a decade, and we’re older and look different and I hadn’t even recognized him at first, and not everyone’s memory works the same way mine does—it’s just. What was I supposed to say: “We’ve definitely met. We used to fuck! We’ve shot up together!”? I was not going to do that. What I said was: “Oh, y’know, it was like twenty years ago, back when everyone was at this bar every night. No worries.” He said: “I really think I’d remember you. But we’ll talk more later, okay? I gotta get out to the stage.” He headed outside (Hank had already wandered off, to talk to another friend of his); I got my drink (whiskey & ginger ale), then I headed towards the beer garden, too. On my way, I saw Lily. She gave me a hug and said she had a gift for me. I asked her to bring it over to the White Lilac later, so I could stash it in my suitcase rather than trying to carry it around; she said she would. Then I saw Honey, who said: “I just texted you YATES KIDS NOW!!! because I knew you wanted to see them tonight.” “Thanks,” I said, “but I’m way ahead of you on that one, babe.”

Outside, I made my way through the crowd and got a spot near enough to the stage I could see the band, but far enough away I wouldn’t be bumped into by anyone in the slam pit. Then The Yates Kids played, and it was awesome, just what I needed. I danced my ass off and sang along to all the songs I knew, which was most of ‘em, and I watched everyone in the pit and was happy that there was a pit and that it was mostly women and old punks. Joni, who was also there dancing and singing along, came up and gave me a big hug and then went back to dancing, and I sipped my drink and looked around at all the familiar faces. There were also some faces who notably were not there, and I don’t just mean the dead punks—I mean a couple of dudes who were part of the Kenocore scene who have now been kicked out of bands and banned from most events because word got out they were rapists and abusers. It’s been really heartening to see, actually. The tide is turning—people are less likely to tolerate that type of shit these days, at least as far as I can tell—and what’s been especially heartening is that most of the people making sure these fuckers don’t show their faces have been other (cis, straight, white) men. Back when the King of Kenowhere raped me, well…

Granted, it took me a while to tell anyone (other than Jenny) what had really happened, but… Okay, so. K.K. had a reputation for being a heartbreaker/womanizer type. There were a lot of girls and women in southeastern Wisconsin who “hooked up with” or dated him, and then weeks or months later were like: “Fuck that guy.” I was not the first, nor was I the last. The guys in the scene—his bandmates, other dudes that ran in the punk scene or just hung out at the same bars—they just assumed he’d broken our hearts and moved on to the next girl, and that’s why we hated him. But a while after he raped me, I started talking to the other women that hated him, and discovered that no, he hadn’t broken our hearts. He’d either raped us or emotionally/physically abused us, or some combination thereof. We kinda became a whisper network; we spread little bits of what had happened to all of us in a way that wouldn’t “out” any of us individually, to try and warn other girls away from him before he got his hooks in. (He was really good at turning the charm on so you wouldn’t notice all the red flags, and if you did happen to notice one of the red flags? Well, he’d tell you some sob story about his life that made you think: “Poor little sad baby boy, I will take care of him in a way no other girl ever has, I can fix him, and he will understand me.” And now I’m thinking of Kathleen Hanna’s “True Love:” And then she met this boy (the anti-hero) who had these beautiful sad eyes and looked like a lost and abused little child and he said, “I am wild like you, I am fun loving like you and understand what has happened to you, I will love you.”) I’ll never know for sure, but I can only hope that our whisper network kept at least some women from being hurt by him. But yeah, the guys just never knew. Or didn’t want to know. And when I finally tried to tell some of them what had really gone down, most of them responded with: “Oh. That sucks.” And that was that. They didn’t kick him out of their bands or kick him out of bars or beat his ass or even seem all that concerned about what had happened to me and all those other women.

So, yeah. It’s just heartening to see that the women in that scene are now being believed, and the men are now keeping the creeps and abusers and rapists out as much as possible. (Thankfully, K.K. was also not there, nor were any of the guys who brushed off what he did to me.)

After The Yates Kids’ set, I walked back across the street to the White Lilac. I stopped outside, in the purple lilac dusk, first, to have a cigarette. Micah walked over at that point, and we talked for a while. Micah is the guy who sets up the whole Giant Paddy O’s show every year; that night he was also performing not one but three sets—one solo and two with different bands. Oh, and he’s my best Beagan’s ex. We’ve messaged each other a bit since they broke up, but I hadn’t actually seen him in person since, and that was two and a half years ago. My loyalty is of course to my bestie, but she’s never told any of her friends to cut off contact with him (it wasn’t that kind of breakup), and they were together for such a long time that he and I became good friends in our own right. It was really, really good to see him. After our chat, we both went into the White Lilac, and it was time for Micah’s solo set, as Torrahbull. His solo stuff is electronic and really fucking good; it reminded me a lot of The Prodigy and some other big beat stuff from that era, mixed with abstract hip-hop, and I once again danced my ass off. (Micah messaged me the next day and said the highlight of his set was looking out into the crowd and seeing me dancing.)

Then I just sat at my table, watched some other poets and musicians perform, sipped another beer, talked to people that stopped at my table. A few people bought zines; I made some new friends and talked to more old friends. Lily came by, gave me the gift she had for me—a miniature horse skull replica, because we’ve been trying to get a Mari Lwyd happening in our area for the Yule season for years now, but there’s always been some hiccup or other. (Fingers crossed, it may actually happen this year!) Now that night had fallen, there were no more yellowjackets flying in—there were moths flying in, instead. But moths are significantly less bothersome than yellowjackets. Cody stopped by my table; we traded stickers. I told him that I’d recommended his music to a radio DJ friend in Philly, and he was stoked. He also told me that he’d recently been making connections with some electronic musicians out in Philly, and so might actually end up playing some shows out there in 2025. And again, it was a moment of meeting someone new who has a connection to some of the same places and/or people I do.

Every once in a while, I ducked outside for another cigarette and a moment alone, or to talk to people who were hanging outside. Hank had come over to the White Lilac by that point, and we had a big long conversation about everything from local poetry community drama to politics to parenthood to punk. He told me how his other friend (meaning: not High Life) that had been at Paddy O’s had left after the Yates Kids set, because he thought things were getting “too crazy.” He said: “I mean, he’s from here, but he’s lived in Oregon for a long time now, and I think he forgot what the midwest punk scene is like.” We talked about how midwest punks are a rare breed; how most of us are lifers in the scene even if we don’t go to shows and party hard every week like we did when we were younger. We agreed that Midwest is best and that midwest punks are more hardcore than punks anywhere else. Then we were just quiet for a bit, looking around at the neon signs of restaurants and bars and the lights bending and refracting on the water in the harbor, and it was like a hundred thousand nights before and it was just as beautiful as the first time. I said something about the lights on the water, how poetic it was, and he said: “It is poetry.” There’s not too many people I could have that exchange with without feeling like a huge dork, but Hank gets it.

Then it was time for Joni’s set, and my set, with Honey (as Dead Language Decoder) backing us up. I had brought my tripod so I could get video of the whole thing, but when I pulled it out, I discovered the locking pin was missing. Fortunately, one of the people at the table next to mine had electrical tape, and when I got the tripod to the right height, he helped me tape it into place. Joni went first, and she brought the house down—she’s a fucking amazing performer (as well as a phenomenal poet). When I went up, I said: “I don’t know how I’m going to follow that.” I wasn’t actually looking for encouragement—I wasn’t feeling bad, I was just simply trying to acknowledge how fucking great she was, in a mildly self-deprecating way—but still, a few people shouted: “You got this!” And I did have it. My performance went great, too; I’m not the same kind of performer Joni is, but when I’m on I’m on, and that night I was on. Afterward, we hung around while Honey did some of her music solo. I started packing up, while also talking with more people. Pookie gave me another big hug on his way out, said: “I love you.” (Oh, to be told you are loved by an old friend! That’s the stuff!) One of the other poets who’d performed earlier in the night came up to me, and said she was heading home to immediately go write some new poems, because my stuff had inspired her so much. (That’s the stuff, too—being told my writing inspired someone else is probably my favorite compliment ever. Though being told my writing made someone cry is a close second.)

After my stuff was packed up, I stepped outside for one last cigarette and to chat with a few more friends/say my goodbyes before hauling my stuff to my car and heading home. I talked to Hank some more, and then: oh, High Life was there, too. Turned out he’d been in the crowd for my set. “Hey,” he said, “your stuff is really good.” “Thanks,” I replied. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, “I uh…I do remember who you are. We used to…” “Yep, we did.” “You must think I’m a complete asshole, or maybe just stupid, huh?” “Nah, it was more amusing than anything. Like I said, it was a long time ago.” “Yeah. Oh, but hey—I did mean what I said. I think you’re hot.” “Thanks.” “We’re all going over to The Port for the after party. You should come.” “Wish I could, but I’m kinda beat. Plus I don’t wanna get too drunk before I have to drive all the way back to Racine.” “I get it. Maybe I’ll see you around again soon?” “Yeah, maybe.” Then he gave me a hug and moseyed off to the after party. I said goodbye to Joni and Honey. Honey said: “It’s so good to see you. You need to come out more often.” “I for sure do,” I said, and she hugged me. Then Joni hugged me and said: “I love you. Your stuff is so awesome.” “So is yours,” I said, “It was so good to perform together again. It’s been too long.” “We should do it again soon!” “Yes we should! I love you.” And with that, I went back inside the White Lilac one last time, grabbed my stuff, put it in my car, and drove home.

My whole family was already asleep when I got there (no surprise, as it was well after midnight), but I couldn’t fall asleep. I was still fired up from all the love, and the music, and the adrenaline spike I always get when performing. It didn’t help that through the open window of my bedroom I could hear both an owl hooting in a nearby tree, and a loud accordion from someone blasting norteño music a few streets away. When I finally did fall asleep, I had sex dreams about High Life.

The next morning, I received Facebook friend requests from both Dean and High Life. I accepted both. Dean and I immediately got to chatting. He apologized for not really talking to me when he saw me the day before, but said that he has really bad social anxiety these days, and was currently in the process of adjusting his meds, so was extra on-edge that night. I of course said “no worries, I get it,” because though my anxiety isn’t as social-based as his is, it can sometimes be triggered by social situations, and I’d had my panic meds in my bag at the show just in case. Then we started talking about other stuff, like the Beats—he’s one of the few people I’ve ever known who was into the Beats in as deep a way as I am. In any case, we message each other about random stuff every few days or so, now, and I’m glad he’s back in my life. The first message High Life sent me was very flirtatious, a lot of: “No, seriously, when am I gonna see you again?” And I was very tempted to respond with: “I’m free whenever you are,” cuz like I said, he’s still a cutie, and his band rules, and the sex dreams were hot as fuck, but I decided to play it cool, and ultimately decided that I’m not gonna pursue anything with him. Mostly because it would be 5000 kinds of messy—the Kenosha scene is very small and borderline incestuous (not in the literal sense, obviously), and I banged my way through it Back in the Day, and there was so much drama, and there would probably be even more drama now, and as I’ve said before…I am too old for that shit.

I was feeling good all day, albeit a little achy (I fucked my hip up dancing at the show) and tired, but mostly good. Realizing that so many people remember me fondly, and like me, and like seeing me, and want to see me more often. And then in the evening I got a text from our landlady: “Can I come do a walkthrough of the property next Saturday?” And I went into full-on panic attack mode. I was shaking, crying, pacing, swearing, the whole bit. Because I have had bad experiences with landlords or their lackeys doing walkthroughs. Especially when we lived in the house on Colonial Ave.—our landlady’s daughter was always trying to evict us because she didn’t like the way we kept house or yard, and basically just didn’t like us, and was also a raging bitch. So I was having flashbacks to that and going: “Oh my god, what’re we gonna do, what’re we gonna do?!” And P. was very calm and rational, saying: “It’ll be fine, we’ve lived here over six years and have never had problems with her, and she gave us almost a week’s notice. We’ll just clean and organize as best we can, but she has to understand that we live here.” And though I knew, logically, that he was probably right, I couldn’t turn my panic off, because panic is not logical, and then he got kinda shitty, telling me I had to get my shit together because I was upsetting the kids. And of course I didn’t want to upset the kids, duh, but telling a person in the midst of a panic attack to calm down and get their shit together does not help.

The following week was full of mostly bullshit, broken up with small good things. We had to do all kinds of cleaning and organizing, and my hip injury had gotten worse, so I was in a lot of pain while doing all that. Plus I was still internally panicking about the impending walkthrough, and the kids were both in constant bad moods, and during that week it was Derry’s birthday and I was missing him so hard and worried about him too because he’d had surgery in the time since I’d last seen him, and I wanted to write but had hella writer’s block, and after our one weekend of cool leather jacket weather it had gotten hella hot and dry again (and windy—and hot dry winds make my allergies worse), and ugh ugh ugh. The small good things were trips to the craft store for Halloween-related craft stuff, and making visual art. And I got to talk to Derry—though we couldn’t be together on his birthday, I was able to call him—and he was doing well; the surgery was a success and he was recovering speedily.

And the walkthrough happened, and it was chill. The landlord said she understood why our house was a bit cluttered, and she wasn’t upset about any of the normal wear and tear. She said she was going to have the front porch repainted and repaired (there were a couple boards that were partially broken and needed replacing), and the broken storm door replaced. The only thing she seemed a little concerned about was how overgrown our yard was—not grass-wise, but “weeds”-wise. She asked if we could do some weeding, especially out front, so she didn’t get a citation from the city, and that a week later she’d come back with her husband to haul it away to the yard waste composting place. We of course said yes, no problem. So after she left, I breathed a sigh of relief—I really thought P. had been right; I had been panicking for no reason, and everything was fine.

The next day we went to a local farmer’s market, for fresh apples and cranberry white cheddar and some other treats. I dressed up a bit, for no other reason than that I felt like it, and took a selfie, and the day after that I posted it on Facebook with the caption: “I looked hella cute and autumnal yesterday.” And a bunch of people commented, and one was Ashanti, saying: “Hell yeah you did.” And I responded with: “Miss you, lady,” but the amazing thing was she was typing the literal exact same words to me at the exact same time, and we both clicked ‘post’ within a millisecond of each other. And then she said: “We said it at the exact same time. That means we’ve gotta fix it.” So we started DMing about when we can get together. That was two months ago and we still haven’t yet—we’re both very busy—but I almost cried tears of joy that day when we first got back in touch. We hadn’t talked in so long, and I really thought she hated me or at least had written me off entirely. See, for a while after we met, she was relentless in trying to hang out with me one-on-one, and we only did a couple times—partly because we were both busy a lot, but partly because of some weird feelings/insecurities on my end—and then she just stopped trying, and when I would message her she wouldn’t respond, and yeah, I thought I’d fucked up what could’ve been a really close friendship. Well, from talking to her again I found out that it had nothing to do with me. She’d just been going through her own shit and wasn’t very active on social media (including messaging apps) for a while. Much like seeing all those old friends the night of the Paddy O’s show, it was a reminder that a. everyone has their own shit going on that can keep them from reaching out and b. most of the people I care about still care about me, too.

On the last day of summer, we took the kids to Old World Wisconsin. We drove there on the backroads, through all these small towns, one of which was having their autumn festival that day. The houses and the downtown storefronts were so lovely, and I briefly thought: “I could live here,” and then I saw how the ratio of Trump signs to Harris signs was, well, heavily skewed towards the Trump side. Old World Wisconsin itself was fun—despite the fact that the weather was still very much summer weather (it was 90 degrees that day)—we learned about Norwegian rosemaling and old-school shoemaking, and played a game of sticks and hoops, and P. and I got to try an old-style Lithuanian beer. When we got home that day, we did a bunch of weeding in both the front and the back (focusing on the front), and piled everything in the front yard. And not an hour after we’d finished, our landlord showed up. She did text first, but I wasn’t looking at my phone—but anyway, they decided to come by and haul the stuff away early because it was supposed to rain the next day. And that’s when shit got really weird. She started freaking out about all the “weeds” we still had left, even though I thought we’d done quite a good job of clearing things, and she started freaking out about the clutter that she’d previously said she understood. We didn’t talk much about it that day because they were in a hurry to load everything into their truck, but she seemed really pissed and said that over the next couple weeks, they’d be coming by not only to repaint and repair the porch and replace the storm door, but also to clear out the rest of the yard to their liking. So I was immediately panicked again.

But the next day, the first day of autumn, came with a drop in temperature and some soothing and much-needed rain, and I made more art, and set up my autumn altars, and ran errands, and drove around in the rain while listening to Depeche Mode, and I felt briefly better.

My better mood didn’t last long. After the one day of rain, things got warmer (not as hot as before, but still too warm for my liking) and drier and windy again, and the landlord and her husband were there every day for a week, absolutely ripping every single plant out of both the front and back yards. And every time I tried to talk to her, to ask if there was any help we could give, she’d say no, but then start ranting about something. It was either “the yard looks like trash because you let all these weeds grow and most of this neighborhood is homeowners with immaculate lawns and you’re bringing the property values down,” or “there’s too much clutter in the basement, you just can’t keep it there, it’s a fire hazard, you need to get a storage unit if you don’t wanna get rid of it.” And I still had writer’s block, and the kids were still grumpy, and I couldn’t even take them out to play in the yard because it was full of people ripping plants out. After a few days of feeling like a hostage in my own house and seriously worrying she was going to evict us, I decided I had to talk to her about it. Of course I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say: “I don’t give a fuck about property values, and we purposefully let certain plants grow if they are non-invasive and good for pollinators, not to mention leaving some overgrowth so that the fireflies have a place to lay their eggs. And the clutter you’re freaking out about? It’s in the unfinished half of the basement—isn’t that the part of the house most people use for storing things? And it’s some boxes of papers and some bins of old clothes. It’s not like we have stacks of oil-soaked rags next to the furnace. And fuck off about a storage unit—are you going to pay for it?!” So I phrased all that in the nicest, calmest way I could: “We purposefully let some of the plants grow, because we like to have birds, bees, and butterflies in our garden. I wasn’t aware it was such a problem; I promise in the future we will not let it get like that again. As far as the clutter goes, I am aware that we have a lot of stuff we need to get rid of, and I have been going through it and getting rid of stuff, little by little. So please don’t worry too much.” It wasn’t a lie about going through and getting rid of stuff—in fact I’d taken a huge load of things to the Goodwill the week before she did the walkthrough—and in any case, I must have said the right thing, because she almost immediately calmed down. She apologized, said it was partially on her for not doing the walkthrough sooner and letting us know about the issue with the yard before it got to that point, and also said she’d been stressed because the company she’d initially called for a price quote on the porch job had tried to upsell her and insist they needed to rip out and rebuild the entire porch, for which they were going to charge an exorbitant price. She also said she wasn’t trying to get rid of us, that she likes us, and that she can tell we love this house just as much as she did when she lived here. Crisis averted.

Even though she was still around in the evenings working on the porch through the end of September/beginning of October, I was no longer worried about getting evicted. And my writer’s block cleared. I suddenly had all these ideas, and wrote some poems, and started working on that month’s zines…and then all the weeks of dry winds and allergy bullshit caught up with me, and I got a sinus infection. I was in excruciating pain, and hella fatigued, for a few days, in fact it was so bad I was afraid I might not even be able make it to Chicago Zine Fest on October 5th, let alone finish the new zines. But I guess I’ve gotten better at managing my disabilities than I used to be, because I got in some writing and zine-layout/zine fest prep time every day, yet also took plenty of time to rest and do other stuff to take care of myself, like take long hot baths and drink a lot of tea and eat soup. And I got the zines done, and one of them—Neal & Jack & Me—I think is a pretty good piece of writing. (The other one isn’t bad either, it’s just that that one was a reprint of a story I wrote in 2018, so it’s not brand-new.) And by the day before CZF, I felt mostly better—definitely well enough to go.

[smutdefender]

Welcome to Night Court

A fanfic by ArielWasReal

Summary:

(hey, remember the hit tv show Night Court from the ‘80s? This entire thing is a pun off that title. It’s court, but at ~night~)

Elain has taken a job at Velaris Co. Courthouse as their newest night shift court reporter. The perks are great, the hours mean that she can go to school during the day, and the bailiff isn’t half bad on the eyes. Unfortunately she’s got a not-so-secret admirer, and a brother-in-law hell bent on calling everyone to order - even if he can rarely have it in his court room.

A fun little romp with some heart and eventual steam.

————————————————————————

“It’s the least I can do to for someone on their first day. Here,” he said, pulling a pen from his pocket and grabbing a napkin from the dispenser to scrawl on “is my phone number. Just in case you need anything.” He held out the paper to her as she neatly plucked it from his hands. With her head still ducked, Azriel made his way to the exit.

“Thank you!” Elain called to him as he left. He turned on his heel to throw a small smile back at her.

“Of course. Welcome to the Night Court, Elain.”

Chapter 1 - invisible string

The break room was silent - apart from the constant hum of the fridge, clack of heels, clicking of keyboards, and distance toilet flushes that made up the symphony of the administration wing. It was supposed to be silent. A place to think ones thoughts and numb your brain with stale coffee and chips. Only now instead of just one person and his thoughts, two people stood awkwardly facing each other as they entered from doors on either side of the room. Their eyes clashed together with the mortification of taking a state-mandated 15 minute break at the same time. Blushing, Azriel quickly ducked his head, cleared his throat, and executed an evasive maneuver to the staff vending machine that he had perfected over the past ten years of working in the courthouse.

He knew everyone and everything in it. Was used to the steely tones of the state public defender reaming the solicitor general out while Rhys called for order. Was accustomed to seeing his chief clerk - and wife to the judge - Feyre running around with pencils sticking out of her hair at odd angles, keeping law school clerks and interns in line. Hell, even walking the support magistrate, Mor, to her car just in case some angry deadbeat decided to take his bad decisions out on her had gotten stale.

What he wasn’t used to was the girl now sitting at the linoleum table, awkwardly clutching a pre-mixed salad. It didn’t take someone with a military background and ten years as a bailiff to clock the way her eyes darted every few seconds to the utensil dispenser behind him, psyching herself up to grab around him but then deciding against it. He couldn’t blame her. Through the corner of his eyes he took in her petite frame. She’d barely come up to his chin - and god her arms - he could probably fit her thin bicep within his thumb and ring finger. He needed to stop staring. He needed to break this unending silence. He needed to not be so fucking awkward and make conversation with the pretty new girl so she wasn’t scared.

Suddenly a quiet voice squeaked out “I’m so sorry to bother you but I need to grab a fork.”

Azriel started - totally unaware that the little mouse of a girl had somehow snuck up behind him and gathered her courage to take on the big bad brute hogging her space. He forced a soft smile onto his face and let her pass by to grab her utensils. Now within a breath’s distance he could finally get a good look at her as she gave him a bemused smile of thanks.

“My name is Elain, by the way...”

For the first time he truly looked into her honey brown eyes and felt something shift in the world. Not monumentally, but in his chest he felt less… tired. “Hello, Elain” he breathed. “What’s yours?” She asked, politely sitting down and nervously stabbing her innocent lettuce.

“My?”

“Your name. I tried to study the staff directory as best I could but I didn’t have any pictures to place names to faces.” She scrunched her nose, and seemed almost embarrassed. He smiled, thinking of her studying for her first day like an exam. He opened his mouth to give her his name when she interrupted -

“Wait no - let me guess. I think I can figure it out” snapping his mouth shut, he dutifully gestured for her to continue. “Full disclosure, I do know a few people here from the outside world, so it might be cheating. Mor and Amren I just met. So you’re either Nuala, Cerridwen, Cassian or Azriel.” At the sound of his name he felt his temples ache from unused smile lines starting to re-form. “Cassian’s job is to liaise with the community so he wouldn’t be in a uniform - and you don’t look like a clerk to me.”

Azriel cocked his head “What does a clerk look like?”

“More pencils, less handcuffs.” Elain deadpanned “So my guess is that it’s a pleasure to meet you, Azriel.” At his small nod, she broke out into a full smile, returning to her reign of terror over the salad. Returning her smile, he moved to sit across from her “So, what brought you here? Not many people want to work in court, let alone at night.”

As he asked, he tried to figure out how the woman sitting across from him in her relaxed pantsuit and floral headband got suckered into taking such a dreary shift. The frightening cases, the workload, the irritable people, and the fact that he rarely got to see daylight seemed so foreign to the ray of sunshine sitting across from him.

“I’m living with my sister who works second shift and I have quick fingers - so court reporter fit nicely.” She gave a playful wiggle of her fingers “it seemed good to be useful if she was going to wake me up at all odd hours anyways”

“Idle hands, and all that?” He felt himself sink into his chair, his stiff back unlocking as he let the adrenaline of a first introduction recede.

A ghost of a shadow passed over her face, almost too quick to catch “something like that - yeah. What about you? How long have you been nocturnal?”

Azriel glanced at the clock - he still had five minutes left - he wished he had five hours. His voice went flat as he answered “Almost a decade.” Elain blinked “But you don’t look much older than I am.”

“No, I’m probably not - I just turned 35. I went into the military right out of high school, and planned to stay in for a while” he cleared his throat, trying to make his next words as light and casual as possible “- but then my mom passed and I came home to see my brothers, and never left. I didn’t want them to be alone without her. She was the best part of our lives.” He had no clue why all of this had slipped out, unbidden. His normal answer of “high school drop-out” had tasted like ash when it tried to escape his mouth. He rarely talked about his family, much less the painful parts of his life - the failures that kept him stagnate. The people he had lost. He moved to get up - to walk away from this conversation that had spun wildly into the realm of intimacy.

But just as he tensed, Elain spoke. “She must have been wonderful. It sounds like you are making her proud.” Color bloomed high on his cheeks at the compliment. He let his lips quirk up into a rueful half smile, “Thank you.”

A moment of awkward silence passed between them as they breathed and sat, both in their uncomfortable chairs, and felt stillness ebb around them. Elain breathed in once - twice - and then leaned across the table to put her small hand on his larger one. It was an effort for Azriel to not pull away. He wasn’t used to being touched with care - and feared the scars on his hands would scare her. But she simply traced patterns on the back of his knuckles, eventually raising her eyes to his.

“I lost a parent - my dad - too. Maybe we should start a club”

“We can hold weekly meetings and commiserate with those 3 year old Milky Way bars” he said, jerking his chin back to the vending machine.

“You can take president, if I can take secretary”

“Done.” He turned his hand over and captured hers in a firm handshake. “I’ll see you at the worlds dullest gathering at 7:00pm sharp.”

Elain let her eyes crinkle, trying to maintain composure “I’ll bring refreshments. I hope you like baked goods because that is as close to catering as you’ll get.” Azriel’s smile reflected hers “Couldn’t dream of anything better.” In his mind he marveled at how quickly she had brought the conversation back to a place of comfort. This was a woman who could use her words like a lasso. He was more than happy to be pulled in.

Until, of course, his phone alarm started blaring - signaling the end of their break… and the beginning of 4 more hours of nothingness. Elain started at the sound of the phone, giving a small squeak of alarm before settling with her hand over her heart.

“God, I almost jumped out of my skin” she huffed out a laugh of relief, happy to feel her heart slow. Azriel gathered her trash and the corpse of her leftover salad from the table. As she started to protest, he simply shook his head and said “It’s the least I can do to for someone on their first day.”

“Here,” he said, pulling a pen from his pocket and grabbing a napkin from the dispenser to scrawl on “is my phone number. Just in case you need anything.” He held out the paper to her as she neatly plucked it from his hands and created a contact in her phone. With her head still ducked, Azriel made his way to the exit.

“Thank you!” Elain called to him as he left. He turned on his heel to throw a small smile back at her.

“Of course. Welcome to the Night Court, Elain.”

[dreamylyfe-x]

I don't know where else to go to complain about fanfic comments, so I guess I'm going to do it here. Because I woke up to one today that annoyed me.

And ironically, I'm doing it on the second day of my summer vacation, which I had set aside anyway as a "day to attend to the fandom things that I need to attend to" -- of which there are several.

The first thing I need to say is that I'm desperately grateful for every single comment I receive on anything I've written -- fanfic or meta -- 99.5% of the time. This is just a vanishingly small sample of what I hear about stuff I've written.

But it's still so irritating.

Some background -- I wrote fanfic, a prodigious amount of it, in my very early 20s. For about three years I posted nearly daily. These were long WIPs and they got a fair amount of attention in that fandom, which means I also got some criticism. And I engaged the criticism fairly cheerfully. It's hard to be too insulted by someone who has still read hundreds of pages of your work, even if they are upset about something. It was also really normal, at the time, to tell a fic writer then their story was annoying you. And even an upset comment was better than no comments -- the absolute WORST thing you can experience -- so I was pretty ok with them.

But anyway -- life happened, I left that fandom and I stopped writing fic.

A good friend of mine still was and one day, in a fandom I never participated in but certainly knew a fair bit about, she had a bad experience. Her fic was nominated for a ship-centric fandom award (this is livejournal era) and some random group of fans took umbrage at the existence of these fandom awards and went through and gave snarky reviews of all the fics that had been nominated. Anonymously. My friend had not wanted this review and let it be known that she didn't like it. That violated some sort of fandom rule at the time and she got dragged for it. Authors were not supposed to object to criticism. Even if it was mean-spirited.

More years pass. It takes a good long while for a piece of media to grab me enough that I get sucked into a fandom again. But when it happens we are long into the Tumblr era. And I discover that the worm has turned and it is no longer considered good fandom behaviour to leave negative or critical comments.

As a fandom old, I find that I little curious. I don't leave negative comments personally, but it's such a shift from the livejournal era that I take note. And I'm not sure I feel all that negatively about receiving critical comments on fic. As I'm writing it for the first time in a decade, I get to test that out -- and I don't actually have a lot of opportunity to do that, because indeed, people tend not to leave negative comments. But ONE TIME, on ONE story, ONE person left perhaps the longest and most detailed comment I have ever received, all about how much she absolutely HATED the story I was telling. And I did, honestly, love that comment. Same principle as before -- I couldn't be mad when they were so passionate about it. It was flattering.

But today I was reminded of the type of comment I really don't enjoy. It is not that it's negative -- though it is. It's that it's withering. It's the type of comment designed to make you feel like this person thinks you're a vending machine that they put a dollar into and then got the wrong product. It's the "I hope you don't think that this thing you put into your fic is actually, you know, The CORRECT way to look at this."

I've only gotten a couple of these because in general I think fandom is nicer these days and certainly the corner of the Gallavich fandom that I occupy is filled with really smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting people who tend to SAY smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting things. And this is something of a void scream, because I don't think people who leave comments like that would ever bother to read this.

But. Like. Just in case.

Fic writers put thoughts and opinions into characters' mouths that are not their personal take all the time. Because they have reason to believe these pre-existing characters think that thing. You can disagree with it. But it's probably bad practice to assume anything about the fic writer because of it.

If you ARE going to leave a comment like that try to say at least one other thing about the story so that your comment isn't entirely just you being unaware of the concept of an unreliable narrator.

If you are STILL going to leave your eye-roll in comment form on someone's story and not even bother to hit the kudos button on the way out, then I will probably respond to you like you're an asshole. I just have no other context to draw from.

If you are still determined to do all these things, could you try not to do it in the middle for the night so that I don't wake up to this stuff in my inbox?

Anyway. I know I'm blessed to even get snarky comments on a two-year-old fanfic, but, you know. I have feelings to share. Happy August.

[nighttimeebony]

Reactions to The Last Olympian. Spoilers under the cut. And warning: long-ass post ahead.

EDIT: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Yay, Rachel’s back! I like that Percy is able to have a mortal friend.

Paul is cool.

Look, I love Rachel, but why does there have to be a goddamn love triangle? Percy likes Annabeth, Annabeth likes Percy, you’ve already put the work into making me like them and we all know they’re going to be endgame, so why does there have to be so much fucking romantic drama? Can’t Percy and Rachel just be friends without the weird romantic tension? This whole plot is busy enough on its own without you trying to shove something else in at the last minute just because you’re bored, RICK.

Wow, Percy really doesn’t get to have any downtime, does he? My boy’s really on “save the world o’clock” time at all times.

Yay, Beckendorf! I love you!

OH MY GOD AND HE’S ACTUALLY DATING SILENA???!!!! Oh, that makes me so happy!! I love that my little background crackship is actually canon! And the fact that they were apparently Camp Half-Blood’s “yeah, we know” ship is hilarious and I love life right now.

Ooh, bombs.

Wait. No. No no no no no no no stop

FUCKING STOP, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!

WHY?!?!? WHY DID BECKENDORF HAVE TO DIE?!? RICK!!! WHY??!!! WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME

I can’t even be happy that Tyson is here, I’m already so fucking depressed and it’s your fault, Rick.

Oh, hey, Triton. Which, fun fact, since Triton is Ariel’s father in the Disney movie, this means that (in the Disney canon at least) Hercules and Ariel are canonically cousins. So, hypothetically speaking, Percy would be related to the Disney princess Ariel, which you can’t convince me he doesn’t brag and joke about all the time.

“[Poseidon] had told me that I would know when to ‘spend [the sand dollar],’ but so far I hadn’t figured out what he meant. All I knew was that it didn’t fit the vending machines in the school cafeteria.” I love that the implication behind this is that Percy actually tried. He took this mysterious magic sand dollar that the god of the sea gave him and told him to spend wisely and wait for the right time to use it, and one day while he was at school, this fucking mad lad child decided to just cram it in the vending machine just to see what would happen. Percy is amazing and if you don’t love him, you’re wrong.

“Annabeth ran in right behind him, and I’ll admit my heart did a little relay race in my chest when I saw her. It’s not that she tried to look good… Still, just seeing her made me feel fuzzy in the head.” Actually screaming.

Clarisse’s friendship with Silena makes me so fucking happy. Clarisse is softer than she wants people to know and I love that about her. She’s so gentle with the people she loves and I’m here for it.

“Chiron and Annabeth exchanged looks, like they knew something that I didn’t. I hated when they did that.” Understandable. It happens a lot.

Oh, I recognize the name Chrysaor. Such a random reference, I love it.

JUST ADMIT YOU LIKE EACH OTHER YOU FRUITCAKES

“We headed downstairs to join the others. I didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time I ever visited the attic.” You know, Percy says something along these lines in every one of the books leading up to this one, and you’d think that I would learn to stop freaking out every time we get one of these lines, but you’d be wrong. Still getting anticipatory nausea and anxiety.

"The mountain tore itself apart, collapsing inward, and an enormous form rose out of the smoke and lava like it was emerging from a manhole." Typhon?!?!?! Do we have to deal with Typhon now too?!

Well shit, I guess we have to deal with Typhon now. Yeah, okay, sure, I don’t mind or anything.

“As far as I could tell, Rachel’s only rule about music was that no two songs on her i-Pod could sound the same, and they all had to be strange.” Hey, Rachel and I have the same music library.

Wait, so Rachel’s getting future vision dreams now too? But she’s not a half-blood, right? I thought only demi-gods got prophetic dreams.

Where the hell is Nico? What has he been doing this whole time? Just chilling in hell with dead people? And what even is his plan and why is it bad?

I think Silena is my new favorite character. Eating chocolates she doesn’t even like to try and cheer herself up is so horribly sad and depressingly relatable.

Percabeth!

“I shuffled uneasily and pretended to go through some more reports. Technically, even on inspection, it was against the rules for two campers to be… like, alone in a cabin.” I see what you’re implying, Rick, and I’m laughing.

“And I know some of you might be thinking, Aren’t all demigods related on the godly side, and doesn’t that make dating gross? But the thing is, the godly side of your family doesn’t count, genetically speaking, since gods don’t have DNA. A demigod would never think about dating someone who had the same godly parent. Like two kids from Athena cabin? No way. But a daughter of Aphrodite and a son of Hephaestus? They’re not related. So it’s no problem.” This is exactly how I predicted half-blood dating works, and it absolutely did not need to be addressed, but I kind of love that it was. It’s probably only funny to me because I was talking to my friend about this exact topic during school, and I made a “god incest chart” on a whiteboard so I could figure out if Percabeth would be considered incest. We eventually decided no, but still. My other non-pjo fanatic friends definitely started to question my sanity after that.

OH MY GOD! Is something gonna happen?! Are they finally going to confess?! Please, God, just give me this!

FUCKING GODDAMMIT, RICK!!! YOU CAN’T KEEP BLUE-BALLING ME LIKE THIS OR I’M GONNA RIP YOUR HAIR OUT

Oh, yeah, where the hell is Grover?

Wow, Annabeth really going for the throat here.

Aww, giant hell puppy

Nico!

Aww, of course Nico is sweet with the hell puppy

“Leneus’s knees started knocking. ‘I… I won’t answer questions with this hellhound sniffing my tail!’ Nico looked like he was trying not to crack up. ‘I’ll walk the dog,’ he volunteered. He whistled, and Mrs. O’Leary bounded after him to the far end of the grove.” I love this child. This child is my spirit animal.

Aww, Nico likes Juniper. That’s kind of adorable.

“[Nico’s] cold creepy smile made me sorry I’d agreed.” Have I mentioned I love this child?

Okay, shadow travel is the coolest thing ever, and definitely one of the coolest powers you could give to a child of Hades.

Everything with Luke’s mom… Oh, that’s horrible. I can’t imagine having to come to the realization that your own parent isn’t entirely there, especially at so young.

Little girl… not a monster… and something to do with fire… Shit, I got nothing.

HESTIA! Goddammit… I should’ve known that one.

I like that Percy refers to both Paul and Sally as his parents.

I really like Paul. I love it when step-parents are portrayed in a positive light, ‘cause I’ve got a step-dad too, and he’s more of a dad to me and my brother than my biological father.

Percy telling Sally that his signal to let her know he’s alright will be blue just about broke me. Fuck.

Orpheus!

The black figure Grover saw—I know him. Hypnos, the god of dreams. He’s a twin brother to Thanatos, the god of death. I think in some versions, Hypnos is actually female, but most people seem to agree that Hypnos is a male deity.

MOTHERFUCKER! Okay, so not Hypnos. Morpheus. I guess that makes more sense. *one google search later* Okay, I was kind of right. Morpheus is the son of Hypnos, and while Hypnos is the personification of sleep, Morpheus is the god of dreams and also has the ability to put people to sleep like Hypnos. Close, but no cigar sadly.

Nico! Why would you trick Percy?? If you just told Percy that Hades wanted to talk to him, he probably would’ve agreed, you didn’t have to lie to him.

PERSEPHONE!!!!!! And Demeter!

Demeter being a massive bitch about Persephone choosing to marry Hades is so on-brand and perfect. And that line about marrying the god of lawyers or doctors—oh my God this book is amazing.

Can we have an entire book about Hades and Persephone, please? This entire scene with all three of them is golden.

Why does Hades suck? Why did you do this to me? I had faith in you, Rick.

WHY IS PERSEPHONE SO INDIFFERENT TO ALL OF THIS?!?!??!!

ACHILLES!!!!! Wait, isn’t Achilles supposed to be blond?

Is it a coincidence that one of Greece’s most famous gay icons now stands before Nico di Angelo?

ANNABETH IS PERCY’S LIFELINE!!!! HIS TETHER, THE THING THAT KEEPS HIM HUMAN!!!!!! ToT DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY GLASS I CAN EAT

Holy fucking shit…… River Styx magic doesn’t fuck around.

Percy going on a murder rampage and nearly stabbing the god of the underworld because they threatened his dog is honestly such a mood.

*GASP* Baby Annabeth!

“The god looked at Annabeth, who was doing her big-pleading-gray-eyes thing.” The fact that Annabeth leverages puppy-dog eyes is hilarious, and the fact that Percy is so familiar with it by now implies that she’s done it on him before and that it apparently works! Oh my God, I love these children.

Also, Athena being an overprotective mother who doesn’t approve of Percy is just… Have I mentioned I love this book?

“‘This is a huge spell,’ Silena Beauregard said. ‘The bigger the spell, the easier it is to resist. If you want to sleep millions of mortals, you’ve got to cast a very thin layer of magic. Sleeping demigods is much harder.’” Yeah, that makes sense. Since the spell is bigger and spread across a greater number of people, it’s less concentrated than it would be if you wanted to just knock out two or three people.

The Hermes Cabin is just an army of Weasleys. (PJO Harry Potter au where the Weasleys are all children of Hermes and Harry is a son of Zeus when?)

“‘I’ll go with Percy,’ [Annabeth] said. ‘Then we’ll join you, or we’ll go wherever we’re needed.’ Somebody in the back of the group said, ‘No detours, you two.’ There were some giggles, but I decided to let it pass.” Everyone knows Percy and Annabeth are completely obsessed with each other.

“The girl in the lead had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket. She wore a silver circlet on her head like a princess’s tiara, which didn’t match her skull earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an arrow through its head.” Have I mentioned that I love Thalia? Goth-punk icon for the generations.

This is so fucking epic. I love the fast-paced battle planning stuff.

Michael Yew has a brother named Austin. I have a brother named Austin.

Percabeth. There’s that light-hearted snarky banter I’ve been craving.

Oh, yeah, since Percy’s fighting the Minotaur right now, I figured I’d make a reminder here that I forgot to write down in my first reaction post to the Lightning Thief. In the original mythology, the Minotaur was killed by Theseus, who was also, coincidentally, a son of Poseidon, so Percy slaying the Minotaur is kind of like a mirror to the original myth, even though he’s named after Perseus. But also I thought this was a good time to remind everybody that the Minotaur’s mother Pasiphae had sex with the Cretan Bull, an actual animal. Which, fun fact, is because Poseidon arranged for Aphrodite to put a spell on Pasiphae to make her fall in love with the bull. Kind of awkward that the Minotaur is technically Poseidon’s fault, and now Percy is the one that has to deal with the consequences.

“Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.” Holy shit, that is dark. We’re really going there, huh, Rick?

Percy is a first-class badass.

Having all the monsters disintegrate when they die is a pretty clever way to avoid having to show actual blood and gore.

ANNABETH!!!!!!!!!!

“‘Percy?’ Silena Beauregard sounded like she’d been crying. ‘Plaza Hotel. You’d better come quickly and bring a healer from Apollo’s cabin. It’s… it’s Annabeth.’” NO!!! NO NO NO NO NO NO DO NOT DO THIS TO ME!! I SWEAR TO FUCK IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ANNABETH I’M GOING TO SET MY HOUSE ON FIRE

“‘Get back!’ I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Annabeth. ‘No one touches her!’” This. All of this.

Will Solace. I found the other gay one, but I can’t even be excited about that because ANNABETH IS PROBABLY GOING TO FUCKING DIE

Even when Annabeth has actual poison in her system, she cannot resist the opportunity to tease Percy for being worried about her. I’m deeply upset, but I still love them as a couple.

This entire scene is everything. Annabeth touching Percy’s weak spot—this is easily the most romantic thing I have ever read, and I read fanfiction for a hobby.

Okay, someone really needs to find this spy because they are wreaking shit and hard

I have no idea who the spy could even be. My first thought was Silena because of how prominent a character she is, but not only does that not make sense, but that would also be a fucking horrible idea. I don’t need to hurt anymore than I already do right now.

Wow. Holy shit, Nico’s life is a fucking tragedy. This child needs all the therapy after this. I’m not thrilled with this portrayal of Persephone, but it is what it is and it is fucking depressing.

What is going on with Rachel? She knows Greek now?? What is happening???

Oh, hey, Prometheus

*after learning about Luke's backstory* I can smell the redemption arc.

I feel I should mention that in the original myth, Pandora was the first woman and was created by Zeus specifically to make men's lives harder as punishment for Prometheus giving man fire, because Ancient Greece was sexist as all fuck.

HOLY SHIT!!! Percy is a first-class badass!!

Okay, so, Hyperion getting absorbed into a tree is prime nightmare fuel.

(Also, I was listening to We Will Rock You as I read this scene, which I feel is pretty apt.)

"'Yeah, baby!' a voice wailed. 'PARTY!'" Ah, I see the centaurs have joined the chat.

"The last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him. The lord of time disappeared under a giant blue butt." Only in Percy Jackson can you expect to read a sentence like this.

I love Dionysus being weirdly invested in Pac-Man of all things. That entire conversation between him and Percy in the bar was absolutely hysterical. Percy is such a snarky little shit and I love any interaction between him and Dionysus. It’s like watching two smart-asses trying to out-roast the other.

Sally and Paul!

Oh, no. Oh, this fucking hurts.

That fucking jar! Goddammit!

Rachel!

Annabeth, stop acting like Rachel isn’t already your friend now too. We established that last book, remember? You guys are nerd friends now.

YAS, ANNABETH! Girl held onto the outside of a crashing helicopter, and after pulling herself in, somehow managed to make sense of the controls and not only stopped the helicopter from crashing into a building, but also pulled it out of the fall to turn in a circle and hover before landing it on a New York highway with other people nearby without hitting anything or hurting anyone else. And she did all of this while the helicopter was literally seconds from crashing. Also also, technically only hours after she was stabbed in the shoulder with a knife coated in poison. *slow clap* BAMF Annabeth Chase, everyone.

“Rachel plopped down on the curb and put her head in her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Percy. I didn’t mean to… I always mess things up.’ It was kind of hard to argue with her, though I was glad she was safe.” Jesus Christ, Percy. Annabeth’s abandonment issues and poor socialization skills are not Rachel’s fault. But I guess she did just fly headfirst into a literal warzone, so I guess Annabeth’s reaction is a bit more understandable.

“I looked in the direction Annabeth had gone, but she’d disappeared into the crowd. I couldn’t believe what she’d just done—saved Rachel’s life, landed a helicopter, and walked away like it was no big deal.” Yup. You picked a good one, Percy.

"'Everybody keeps telling me to sleep,' I grumbled. 'I don't need sleep.' Chiron managed a smile. 'Have you looked at yourself recently, Percy?'" Yeah, for real, when's the last time any of these kids slept?

"You can't just abandon your family because they did something horrible." Um. Yes. Yes, you absolutely can. The abuse victim says you can. (It's me, I'm the abuse victims, and I give you full permission to tell your family to go fuck themselves if they've ever done anything horrible to you.)

I get what the message is intended to be, and what Nico's trying to say: wanting revenge is a valid feeling to have, but holding grudges and holding onto that pain and fury will not actually make you feel any better. And by refusing to help the Olympians in the fight against Kronos, not only is Hades ultimately destroying himself, but he's also inadvertently aiding in the destruction of everyone else. Zeus is really the only one that deserves Hades's revenge, but at this point Hades isn't just hurting Zeus, he's hurting everyone, and when you cross the line of hurting innocent people in your quest to hurt the one that's actually guilty, your desire and quest for revenge is no longer justified. And if you've reached the point of hurting innocent people for no other reason than to make yourself feel better, then you really are no better than the person who hurt you in the first place. But none of this has anything to do with the so-called sanctity of "family".

We really need to find this fucking spy. They're running everything.

CLARISSE!!!!! YAY CLARISSE IS BACK!!!!!!

"Through her war helmet, I could only see her eyes—but I could tell something was wrong. Her blue eyes shone with fear. Clarisse never looked like that. And she didn't have blue eyes." Wait, what? What's going on????

"I looked down at the dying face of Silena Beauregard." WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!!????!!! WHY?!!??!!!??? WHY DID SILENA HAVE TO DIE?!??!! HAS SHE NOT BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH ALREADY?!??!!!

"Silena opened her hand. In her palm was a silver bracelet with a scythe charm, the mark of Kronos." WHAT

This entire chapter is literally nothing but pain.

"Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase." Oh no.

"[Rachel] focused on me as if she were coming out of a dream. 'I found it. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?'" OH NO

"Her eyes were brighter than usual, and I had a bad flashback of moldy sandwiches and burned cookies." OH FUCK

"I picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container. 'Hestia,' I said, 'I give this to you as an offering.' The goddess tilted her head. 'I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?' 'You're the last Olympian,' I said." Title drop! It's all coming together!

This is the hypest thing I have read in years.

Chiron! Please don't die, I am literally begging you.

NICO'S BACK!

Everyone here is a fucking badass

Paul just stabbed a monster with a sword, and Sally fucking shot another one! In stories like these with divine powers and weapons that begin and end with stabbing, you are not expecting someone to just pull out a fucking gun and shoot the thing. I love this book.

"'Thalia!' Grover cried. When the dust cleared and the mountain stopped rocking, we found her still alive, but her legs were pinned under the statue." Holy fucking shit!

"Annabeth wipes her tears away. 'There was a time I thought… well, I thought…' She looked at me, like she was drinking in the fact that I was still here. And I realized I was doing the same thing. The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive." Love. Just love. It's beautiful and heartbreaking and I love these kids so much and I'm so glad they found each other.

"I turned and faced the Olympians. 'We need a shroud,' I announced, my voice cracking. 'A shroud for the son of Hermes.'" I mean…… What can I even say?

Percy's wish is everything.

OKAY, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO RACHEL?!??! Someone really needs to do something about this!

I love that Percy refers to Blackjack as his pegasus.

RAINBOW! <3

Oh! She has the gift of prophecy! Now that makes sense!

Wait. OH, FUCK!!

Okay, I'm glad Rachel is okay, but these fucking prophecies, man! We literally just got done with the Great Prophecy, but now there's another one we have to deal with?! Don't get me wrong, I'm still gonna read it and I'll probably love it, but still!

The moment when Percy and Annabeth finally get together is everything I ever hoped for, and it completely justifies every goddamn fake-out leading up to this point. I'm just so happy right now

That ending, man..... This book series is amazing. I'm so glad I was able to fall in love with it without knowing any significant spoilers. I cannot wait to read The Heroes of Olympus. Maybe I'll do a reaction series for that too.

[twilightmalachite]

PORTRAIT - Ah, still delay—thou art so ■■■ 2

Author: Akira

Characters: Akiomi, Arashi

Translator: Mika Enstars

"He’s the number one children's model right now. After I defeat Akiomi, I’ll defeat him next."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Kid's Photography Studio

Around 10 minutes later…

Akiomi: (I wonder what that was about.)

(Those two—Sena-kun and Yuuki-kun, were clearly acting strange, but…)

(Sena-kun ended up threatening me, saying something about screaming that I did something weird to him if I didn’t listen to him—)

(My hand was forced and I ended up leading them to my secret resting spot I always use. I gave into the blackmail… I’m weak.)

(It’s over where the vending machines and sofas are.)

(The smoking area that was nearby was torn down it seems, so nobody goes over there anymore.)

(So… I’d go and rest there whenever I got tired of smiling and laughing all friendly with others, and the like, but…)

(What I’m more concerned about are those kids. Yuuki-kun didn’t seem to be feeling well, he looked completely out of it.)

(I asked Sena-kun if I could call his parents over since I’m sure they were somewhere, but he flat out refused.)

(“If you tell my parents, I’ll kill you”, he said.)

(Scary… Young kids these days will just jump to threatening to kill you…)

(…It’s a bit of a concerning attitude to have. At that age, your closest allies in the world are supposed to be your parents, they’re literally your guardians.)

(A-Are they being abused or something…? No, there couldn’t be any visible marks or anything of the sort…)

(If there were any marks like that, they wouldn’t be able to do work as a model.)

…What about you, do you know anything, Narukami-kun?

Arashi: …!

…Huh? What? I’m sorry, Mama and Papa said not to talk to strangers!

Akiomi: But I’m not a “stranger”, right? We’ve seen each other plenty of times at the same sites before—You’re always following me around, aren’t you?

You’ve been following me around all morning too.

Arashi: ……?

Akiomi: Huh? Wha? You have been following me, right? Or am I wrong?

Arashi: ‘Cause—

Akiomi’s my enemy.

Akiomi: Enemy…

Arashi: If I’m gonna defeat Akiomi, I gotta take away everything Akiomi has.

Akiomi: Huh.

Arashi: That is why I was watching you. Make sense?

Akiomi: I do get the idea, kinda.

Arashi: So you understand. As expected of Akiomi.

Akiomi: Because, in short, I’m your aspired “Sparkling Prince” Kunugi Akiomi, the most highly-regarded young model in the modeling industry these days, right?

Arashi: Aspired…?

Akiomi: If you wanna be like me, you should just say so! I’ll teach you anything you don’t know, all for my cute juniors!

Arashi: Cute…?

Akiomi: Yup. Same goes for Sena-kun and Yuuki-kun from earlier. Although we’re from different agencies, we’re still fellow models—

As your senior, I feel it’s my duty to protect and mentor you guys.

Arashi: I don’t know Sena, but I know Yuuki.

He’s the number one children's model right now. After I defeat Akiomi, I’ll defeat him next.

Akiomi: Why’s everything a battle to you?

Akiomi: (No, maybe Narukami-kun just doesn't have enough vocabulary. Their wording is a tad awkward.)

(Probably because they don’t communicate often with their parents or anyone else, Narukami-kun likely lacks the words for daily conversation—)

(Meaning they interpret and use the words they hear on TV or see in manga in their own way. So, that’s probably why what Narukami-kun says sounds so out of left field.)

(Maybe this kid just doesn't know how to articulate the feelings they’re feeling…)

(I guess the same goes for Sena-kun and Yuuki-kun, too. They’re still only just young boys.When I were those kids’ ages, I’m sure that I too—)

Arashi: Akiomi.

Akiomi: Ah, yes? What is it? I’m sorry, I was a little lost in thought.

More importantly… You know, you’re not supposed to call your onii-sans that are superior and that are older than you by their first names—

Arashi: —You should stay away from those kids.

Akiomi: ? You mean… Sena-kun, and Yuuki-kun?

Do you know about them, or something? Narukami-kun?

Arashi: I don’t know anything about them, but…

Mama told me so. She told me those kid’s parents are bad news.

[ ☆ ]

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[lvrjeonghyeonnn]

back then - park gunwook

your pov

today is the day im moving to a new school, a new fresh start for a junior.

as i walked into the new school, i went to the counter and asked for my schedule before going to my first class of the day "chemistry". perfect. walking to the class to is already a long way, before even getting there my legs were tired asf.

when i entered the class, i was greeted by the teacher: "welcome in ms.y/l/n", he said before asking me to go up to the front of the class. "students, this is our new student, y/n." "would you like to introduce yourself?" he asked. i nodded and took his spot, "hi, im y/n. hope to have a good time here." i said before looking back at the teacher. "okay, ermm.. you can sit there, beside park gunwook," park gunwook? that name sound familiar..

"gunwook, raise your hand please", the teacher asked as one boy raised his hand. park gunwook, the guy i liked in middle school., that make sense. i went to my seat as gunwook looked at me. "y/n?" "you still wear that bracelet i gave you.." he smiled. "wow i never thought we would see each other again" i replied.

as the class went on, me and gunwook catched up a lot on our lives. "i guess some things just never change" he said and i laughed. "a lot of things haven't changed gunwook"

after class i went out tothe vending machine in our schooll to get a drink before noticing i forgot to put my wallet in my bag before leaving. oh shit. suddenly, gunwook popped out of nowhere. "hey, you need help?" he said. "oh no, its ok. i just forgot to bring my wallet." i answered and he reached for something in his pocket, he took his wallet and tried to put the money in before i stopped him "noo, its okay" "hey remember when you bouhht me food before, i want to return the favor," he said smiling before he placed a note in, enough to get anything in the machine. i clicked on the drink i wanted and thanked him again. my feelings are coming back?

after that incident, me and gunwook stayed as friends, good friends except gunwook does have a lot of fangirls all over the school. meaning he cant really get a minute without someone confessing to him. however, gunwook has always rejected all of them. even if theyre the queen of school and the prettiest girls ever seen. sure, i was jealous because if they got rejected, what about me.

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

2nd person pov

gunwook's friends have been telling him that there completely sure youre attracted to him but gunwook just cant accept it. he liked you too, younwere the reason he rejected all those girls just because he was waiting for you.

on the other hand, you were getting extremely annoyed at all the firls gawking at him. he might not be yours but seeing all of them all over him makes you feel like he's starting to like one of them and you were envious.

gunwook soonly realizes the difference in your act, you were more quiet, even starting to distance away from the poor guy. and he decided it was time to tell his feelings towards you.

when it was only left you and gunwook in the class alone, after everyone chose to leave. he went up to you as you were about to exit the class. he blocked your way, standing infront of you. "hey um, do you have time to talk?" he asked and you slowly nodded. before putting your bag down. "what about?" you questioned and he looked at you deeply. "why are you distancing yourself from me, i mean weve always been together and ever since theres those fangirls chasing me you stopped talking to me." he said almost looking sad?. "gunwook, ive just been busy with my work and stuff okay?" you lied and gunwook can see right through it. "y/n ive known you long enough to know your lying." he answered with a poker face. "fine, i was just jealous" you said looking down. "jealous? of what?" he said stepping closer to you.

"gunwook, i have liked you since 7th grade and it was hard for me to lose you when you moved. and seeing you again now with all those fangirls made me jealous. they were just..better than me?" you confessed and he furrows his eyebrows.

"y/n ive liked you since the day i met you okay, please, everyone knew but you!" he said smiling. "and i rejected all my 'fangirls' for you. i mean..i was just waiting for you because youre the one i actually want to be with so theres no need to be jealous of them." he says and cups your face. "i like you too stupid.", he said smiling and kissing your nose before running away before you start abusing him. "hey youre the stupid one here!" you shouted before running after him around the school halls.

everyone turned their head to you and gunwook running after each other.

aaa sweet young love...