#please tell me (kindly) of i missed any other references

[portraitofadumbassonfire]

TASTE ~ Sabrina Carpenter (2024) /// Ginger Snaps (2000), Scream 4 (2011), Hereditary (2018), Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2004), Death Becomes Her (1992), Psycho (1960)

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @ethereal-maia @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's violence, blood, torture, threats, murder, death, and reference to loss of a sibling.

Chapter 36 - Jesper

It was still thus far unclear as to why Kaz had brought Jesper along on this job. They followed Anika upstairs to a locked, windowless room. It was almost pitch black once they’d closed the door behind them, until Kaz twisted on the gas lamp on the wall. A low, yellowish light leaked over the space to reveal a boy he guessed was about 20 crouching in the far corner. He was gagged and shackled to the table, dried blood marked patterns across his face and hands as well as down his neck, and there were bruises blooming on his right cheek. Kaz’s shark-like glare fell on him, cold and unyielding, and after a minute the boy’s harsh expression faltered. Kaz nodded at Anika, and she stepped forward to remove the boy’s gag.

“You know who I am?” asked Kaz

The boy nodded.

“Good. I’m afraid our introductions are only half complete so please, enlighten me,”

Silence. Kaz hit his cane against the table leg the boy was shackled to and he flinched.

“I asked you a question. Who are you?”

“Filip Boseman,”

“I see. And do you know anything about a gang called the Dime Lions, Filip Boseman?”

“N-no. I swear,”

Kaz bent down so they were eye to eye.

“I think you’re lying to me, Filip,” his voice had taken on that low, dangerous edge, “And I don’t take kindly to liars. My friend Jesper here can tell you that first hand. He can also-” Kaz stood up, “- drive the iron filings I’m about to give him so deep into your flesh that you’ll feel them scratch your bones,”

“I can what?” hissed Jesper, catching Kaz’s arm.

Kaz shook him off. His eyes had darkened, his jaw tightened.

“There are two ways we can do this, Filip. You can tell me the truth now, or Jesper can make a start. He’ll do it nice and slow. And I’m afraid I should warn you, Filip, I have other friends with other… interesting specialties,” Kaz smiled like a snake about to bite, “If you die without telling me the truth, I can send a message to dear Miss Nina Zenik so she can wake you up and we can start all over again. So tell me, is Alby Rollins working with the Dime Lions?”

Filip was shaking. He’d pressed himself as far away from Kaz as he could, which was about two more inches that he had been before, nestled in the very corner of the room.

“I don’t know no Alby Rollins,” he said, “And I don’t know the Dime Lions neither,”

Jesper had to admit, he didn’t think Alby would go for the Dime Lions. After Pekka fled the city in the aftermath of Kuwei’s auction, the gang had all but completely collapsed in on itself. It was an almost literary fall from grace; so used to the protection the fear of Pekka had given them that they weren’t prepared to fight off every Barrel rat who blamed them for getting the other gangs involved with the Stadwatch and Van Eck. With the plague shutting down most of their businesses and every thug who spied their tattoo deciding it was a good place of taking out his anger, the scrap of them that made it through had little territory or pride to keep protecting. They were still kicking around of course, the gangs never really disappeared, and ten years later hatred and anger had turned to a general dislike or prejudice of the gang, but they were no force to be reckoned with. But maybe Kaz thought that Alby was here to try reversing that.

Kaz sighed with disappointment, shaking his head.

“Well, at least let the record say I tried,” he dropped a heavy brown paper bag into Jesper’s hand, “Go on,”

Jesper could feel the shape of the filings through the bag, like thick dust - almost mobile enough to clamber over each other in their clamour for attention. He stared at Kaz.

“What-?”

The shark’s eyes cut him off.

“Let’s start over, shall we?”

Kaz grabbed Filip by the collar and forced him to his feet, slamming him against the wall before taking a couple of steps in retreat. Anika fidgeted with her knife in the corner of Jesper’s eye.

“I know that Alby Rollins paid you to come into my club and start a fight,” he spat, “and I know that he told someone on your team to bring a bomb with them, whether he told you or not. And I know that this was done to ruin my business and distract me for long enough that Rollins would have time to murder my wife. What I want is for you to tell me something that I don’t fucking know yet,”

“Kaz-”

“And let me make something very clear to you, Filip Boseman, there are no rules of play here. I can do whatever I like. And I will. Because I don’t care what you did or didn’t know, you were part of a plot to kill my wife and if you think for one second that I won’t tear you limb from limb for that then you need to think again,”

“Kaz, please,” said Jesper, “Inej is okay-”

“Is she?” snarled Kaz, “Is she okay? Or is she tied to a sickbed tending two stab wounds? Survival doesn’t equal okay,”

“Kaz-”

But he’d already turned back to Filip and grabbed him again, a punch landing on the boy’s stomach.

“Where’s the ledger you took from my office?”

“I don’t…”

Kaz hit him again.

“Where is it?”

“We didn’t take anything,”

“Don’t lie to me,”

“We didn’t take anything, I swear. He just wanted us to rough it up-”

“So you did speak to Rollins? See, now, was that so hard?” Kaz released him and turned away, looking at Anika when he said: “You searched him?”

She nodded.

“No ledger, just a few weapons,”

“What about the others? Did you search the corpses?”

“Rotty did. But the body men haven’t been yet, I can double check,”

“Get on it,”

Anika vanished. Jesper felt suffocated. The little room was overwhelmed with the coppery scent of blood, and the weight of the iron filings felt disproportionate in his hands. Kaz wasn’t really expecting him to do this, was he?

“Who put the note in my office? The toy crow?”

“I don’t-”

“Filip, if you tell me you don’t know one more time I’m going to make party garlands out of your innards. Where did you get the crow?”

“He gave it to us, told us what to do with it,”

“Alby?”

“He didn’t give us a name, I swear,”

Kaz’s fist met Filip’s gut and the boy groaned, trying to double over but held in place by Kaz’s iron grip.

“Why did you agree to the job?”

“Money was good,”

“No. You said you know who I am. Nothing that little skiv could afford is enough to convince anyone to move on me. Even someone as idiotic as you. What did he offer you?”

Filip shook his head. Kaz hit him again, but still he did not reply. Grabbing a fistful of his hair to pull him closer, Kaz leaned into Filip as he hissed:

“Not feeling talkative? Let’s circle back to that one later, shall we? Let’s go back to the note,”

He slammed Filip’s head against the wall.

“Did you read it?”

“Read what?” the boy asked, as if he weren’t clearly choking on blood

“The note Alby had you leave on my desk, with the toy crow. Did you read it?”

“No,”

“What did it say?”

“I don’t know,”

“Curiosity didn’t get the better of you? There wasn’t one moment where you wondered why he was sending you here, and decided to look?”

“I… really, I didn’t-”

“Did you know that you were helping him hurt Inej? Did. You read. The note?”

Kaz accented each word with a punch, before pulling an oyster-shucking knife from his sleeve and holding it up to Filip’s face.

“Think very carefully about your next answer,”

“I read it,” Filip gasped as the blade sliced into his cheek, “I read it, but I didn’t know who she was, I thought-”

“I don’t care what you thought,” Kaz snapped, pressing the blade deeper into Filip’s flesh, “You knew that you were a distraction for an attempted murder, you knew what he was doing,”

This interrogation was derailing very quickly. Jesper wasn’t even sure the information they were getting was relevant to anything, but he wasn’t going to be the idiot who interrupted Dirtyhands. There was a word for people who did that, and the word was “dead”.

“Yes,”

“And you went through with it. You knew what you were doing and you know who I am, but you were stupid enough to go through with that? Look around you, Filip. I want to say you’re the last one standing, but I think we both know if I let go of you right now you’d collapse. This was never going to end well, was it? So why agree?”

“Money-”

“Don’t tell me the money was good. You can’t spend his money if you’re dead. You don’t get into shit like this without a personal stake, so tell me what he has on you - actually, no, I don’t care what he has on you. Keep your secrets, they can die with you. I want to know how he found out. Why would he use you? Pathetic little squirrel trying to steal scraps from the birds’ nests,”

“He hasn’t got anything on me,”

Kaz looked almost genuinely disappointed as he stepped away from Filip. He tapped Jesper on the arm.

“Get on with it,”

“Kaz-”

“Now,”

Jesper hesitated. Kaz made a sound that was almost growling, then pulled Jesper across the room and shoved a piece of paper into his free hand.

“Read it. Then get on with job,”

Jesper couldn’t imagine there was anything much on this bit of paper that would convince him to start torturing a boy with a bag of iron filings. Jesper was wrong.

Pretty lynx, lonely wraith, unhappy little Inej Ghafa. Cursed to flap around her cage forever, but this time who holds the key?

Fly as fast as you can, Brekker. You won’t reach her in time.

He gave the note back to Kaz and marched to the corner of the room where Filip was cowering. Kaz undid the shackles and shoved the boy into a chair, tied his arms in place on the rests, then grabbed his hair to pull his head backwards. Jesper spread a clump of iron filings across his palm and held them out between him and Filip.

“Why did you agree to the job?” asked Kaz.

Filip attempted to shake his head. Jesper laid some of the filings across the boy’s forearm. If he did this slowly enough, they might not actually reach the point of real torture. He hoped they wouldn’t. Jesper would go to the ends of the earth for Inej if he had to, but this didn’t really feel like doing it for Inej. He very much doubted Inej knew it was happening. It felt like doing it for Kaz, and Jesper wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Why did you agree to the job?” he repeated.

“I told you, the money-”

Jesper sighed. He pressed two fingers over his hand and took the movement downwards. He wasn’t actually breaking the skin yet but the filings crawled eagerly across Filip’s flesh, and Jesper could feel them getting hotter as he encourage every particle to shake a little faster. Filip gasped, panic surging through him as he thrashed against his bonds.

“Why did you agree to the job?”

“Please…”

Jesper flexed his fingers and sent a row of metal chasing up Filip’s sleeve. It spread up his neck like a spider, reaching up to grab at him and pull him into murky depths.

“Answer the question,”

With a sharp tug of his index finger, Jesper broke the skin on Filip’s forearm. Just barely.

“We owed you,” he gasped, real fear in his voice now, “All of us. He gave us the chance to get back at you,”

Jesper faltered. Filip sighed with relief as the heat subsided for a moment, before Jesper’s focus returned and the filings began to quiver once again.

“Explain,” said Kaz, impatiently.

“We all- we all had reason to go after you,” said Filip, “He told us you’d pay,”

“I see,” said Kaz, in a calm tone Jesper’s fight or flight mechanism was trained to respond to, “And what exactly was your reason, Filip?”

Filip was silent for a moment, and after a brief hesitation Jesper drove a couple of filings a touch deeper into his arm. Kaz was going to kill the boy anyway, he told himself, so you might as well get the information out of him first.

“You killed my sister,” he gasped, eyes widening from the pain, “I bet you don’t even remember her,”

Kaz shrugged.

“Well let’s see… Boseman… Boseman… oh, I think I do remember your sister. Emmeline Boseman, yes?”

“Yes,” spat Filip, through gritted teeth.

“What story did she spin you, Filip? I’m quite intrigued. Because I seem to remember her bringing a gun into neutral territory and wracking up quite a body count before I put her down,”

“No,” said Filip, “She was innocent,”

“There’s no such thing as innocence, not in Ketterdam. This city feeds on pain. The only way to survive it is offer someone else up to the feast,”

A moment passed.

“Still, I think I have all I need from you for now. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon,”

Kaz signalled for Jesper to relax the filings, which he did, then tipped the chair Filip was tied to so he fell to the floor with a sickening shudder.

“Sleep well,”

Kaz opened the door and called for Anika, who appeared in moments.

“You said the body men haven’t been yet. Where are the corpses?”

“Out back. Why?”

“Bring the bomber in, find a chair to tie him to,”

Anika stared at him.

“What…?”

“Go,”

She went.

“Jesper, let’s move,”

He nodded, moving to follow Kaz into the corridor. Behind him, Filip spat blood onto the floor.

“I hope your wife dies from that stab wound,”

Jesper shook his head.

“Just had to push it, didn’t you mate?”

Kaz walked back across the room and knelt down in front of Filip’s quivering form, calm and slow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I hope your wife dies,” Filip spat, “And I hope it’s painful,”

Kaz took Filip’s chin in his hand, directing him so he couldn’t quite see the other hand lifting his cane.

“And I hope,” he murmured, “that you’ll give your sister my regards,”

The cane struck true. There was the sound of a skull breaking, blood spurting across the wall, a body thumping against the floor. Then silence.

Kaz stood up and brushed his gloved hands down his jacket.

“Send word to Nina,” he said, walking back to Jesper and the door, “I have a job for her,”

[aftapati]

An independent, very private and selective Roleplay blog for Sōsuke Aizen from the Bleach series. Contains canon divergency, low activity. Written by Val.

Blog estimation: 15.11.2024.

MAIN VERSE. Please read before interacting!

More headcanons.

Blogroll: @xfulmen ( Laxus Dreyar - main blog ), @gallantfairy ( Erza Scarlet - low activity )

Rules under cut.

Information.

This is an independent Roleplay blog for Sōsuke Aizen from the Bleach series. Very private and highly selective. Will contain content that is divergent to canon, such as the main verse being the most prominent one.

Aizen is, well, Aizen. He is known to be one of the strongest individuals amongst the series and depicted in general as one of the strongests characters outside the series. So, do not underestimate him under any circumstances.

Sporadic activity. You may see me one week straight full of activity and then disappear for three years.

Threads & Ask prompts. I'll be honest; I don't usually do starter calls because I know how easily I can get overwhelmed. However, don't let that discourage you from approaching me and discussing potential thread ideas, and best believe I will toss a starter on your way!! I love plotting, I love exploring dynamics and such so!! My askbox is always open for prompted and unprompted stuff~

IC # OOC. It's self explanatory.

English is not my mother tongue, therefore I apologize for any mistakes you will see!! I try my best to avoid them as much as possible!

All icons & graphics in this blog are made by me, so please do not steal. Same goes for headcanons and such. It takes me time to make them so.

There will be a lot of references of theologies, literary, traditions, etc. Quite heavy content while I will make sure to keep the utmost respect. It goes without saying that I will make sure to tag things accordingly.

Tagging. I tag everything in this blog ( and in my other blogs respectfully ), or at least I try my best. Yet, if there's something you want me to tag for you, please never hesitate to tell me --- I'll be more than happy to tag it for you! I don't have triggers, just tag your ships.

Willing.

Mutuals only. I will only interact with mutuals. If I follow you it means I want to interact with you. I will not block personals but I will appreciate not to interact with any of my posts.

HIGHLY CROSSOVER FRIENDLY. In all my years of roleplaying experience, one of the things that I love so much is the potential of characters from different fandoms/universes meeting each other. So please, kindly shove crossovers at my way I would gladly take them.

Original Characters. I love interacting with original characters. I've met original characters that are better written than canon characters. However, I might ask a thing or two before interacting in case I miss something. I always make sure to read all information before interacting, but I always want to double check !

I'm 29 years old, so NSFW content will be seen. That include violence, gore, etc. Heavy depictions or descriptions included.

On topic of age, I will interact only with adults. ( +20 )

I fucking love crack/silly interactions. Despite the nature of this blog, I love having fun like this. And once I start I don't stop so.

Multi - muse blogs. My only requirement is to know at least one of your muses.

Unwilling.

Pedophilia, rape, racism, transphobia, genderbends, incest and all that shit is a huge no.

I will not be interacting with minors.

No GOD MODE/METAGAME. This is Aizen, let's be real.

Shipping. Yes, while I love a well established ship that offers a substantial amount of development for my character to explore, this is not something I want to focus on this blog. This might change in the future, but chances are almost nonexistent.

I will not be writing smut.

While I do love interacting with OCs, there's a few things that I refuse to compromise: a) OCs that share the same face - claim with a character from the same series of my muse. b) an OC that is heavily related to my muse ( example: Aizen's sister, or any relative of his )

Rebloggable asks. I hate the form, instead feel free to make a separate post if you feel like responding!

I will not practise exclusivity. I always despised that term, to be frank. I feel like it limits potential dynamics of the same character. If you don't like this then feel free to unfollow / soft - block.

If I unfollowed you, or soft - blocked you don't come and ask me why. ( unless we communicate a lot and realize this was tumblr's doing ) Otherwise, don't do that since this is very uncomfortable for me. I tend to soft block in case my dash becomes too busy or I don't see us interacting at all. Nothing personal.

Anon hate or any kind of hate / call out posts, all that bullshit will not be tolerated. Take that shit away.

Aaaand you're reached the end! Give yourself a pat on the back because this was a bit long and I apologize for that! I'm Val, she/her, 29 years old from Greece. Discord is available to mutuals only.

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2023: 38 songs, first impressions

Wake up, bitches, it’s Eurovision time… AGAIN!

There’s only one word I can use to describe my first listening of the year of those 38 songs and it’s “surprising”. I was surprised. In more ways than one.

So let’s not waste any more time and let’s talk about these songs.

As per every year, obligatory disclaimer: I have listened to these songs just once, so do not take my words as my final decision. I can still change my mind, after listening to them more times. But for now, here are my thoughts.

__________

ITALY

I know half of Italy will kill me and the other half will tell me I understand nothing, but I don’t particularly like Mengoni. He’s not a bad singer, he has a good voice and the song isn’t bad either. It’s just... okay. Maybe the chorus could’ve been more powerful. Maybe he could’ve written something different than another love song. I just don’t particularly vibe with it.

Vote: just okay

__________

LATVIA

Well, since he asked so kindly, I won’t wake up and I’ll keep sleeping during this boring song.

Vote: Be careful what you ask for

__________

UNITED KINGDOM

Here’s the first surprise of this year. The UK sent a great song: not just a good one, not just an okay one. A great one. And I love it! It has a lot of 90s dance vibes, but only the best ones and I approve.

Also, I love that this song is a revenge. Why feel bad or make a scene, when you can expose your cheating boyfriend through a song everyone can listen/dance to? Way to go, queen.

Vote: Revenge is best served in the UK

__________

SLOVENIA

Last year’s song was a snoozefest, this year is way better. I still forgot it after my first listening and it’s not in my top 10 either, but at least I can listen to it more than once without falling asleep.

Also, extra points for singing again in their native language. Great job, Slovenia, you deserve points just for that.

Vote: singing in your language should automatically give you access to the finals. That’s the rule, I decided it

__________

ICELAND

That’s not a bad song, but it’s something already listened to. I mean, at first I thought it was Sweden’s entry, because of how generic it sounded.

At least it’s better than last year.

Vote: I miss the BDSM club from two years ago

__________

CROATIA

A sudden vibe. Mentions of mothers and tractors. Armageddon-granny. Morons. I glanced at the video and saw a Stalin-looking guy. Funny weirdos dancing. The fricking alphabet. The war. And then, the line: “That little psychopath”. And I was like: wait, is this a parody of Stalin?

And then, I started laughing.

It was pretty clear that there’s more than meets the eye in this song. So I searched for the meaning and found an interesting article on the Eurovision website, in which the band explained just a few details - like the tractor line: it is actually a reference to Belarus and Russia’s relationship (read it, it’s quite interesting).

I know some stupid people (read: the jury) won’t appreciate this song and that’s a shame because it deserves love. It follows the “Keep the Eurovision weird” memo, it has funny people, biting satire and all the vibes. What else do you need?

Vote: top 5 because I Say So

__________

PORTUGAL

Please remember that, when I listen to these songs the first time, I put the playlist on and do my chores while listening. So when I listened to this one, I thought it was very interesting and what a nice rhythm! That’s definitely an east European country. But which one?

And then, to my utter surprise, I checked the video title and saw it was Portugal’s entry.

I’ve always hated everything Portugal sent, because if it wasn’t bad, it was the most boring thing known to mankind.

But this year, a miracle happened. They finally (FINALLY!) sent a good song. A song with a rhythm and their own language.

I am baffled. What happened in Portugal? Did they wake up from a dream? Did everyone just regain their hearing? Did someone teach them what “rhythm” is?

Vote: A Christmas miracle in May! A Christmas miracle!

__________

MALTA

The sax got my attention, the rhythm kept me around.

Good job, Malta boy.

Vote: Maltese people are sorcerers because they always bring a good song.

__________

ROMANIA

Just to give you an idea of how forgettable is this song: when I finished listening to all 38 songs, I forgot it even existed. And I didn’t even realize it was Romania’s entry, until I checked again to write this post.

Vote: I miss the vampires

__________

POLAND

It’s not a bad song. It has a good rhythm, but it’s not this incredible. It’s just... okay?

I know I said this before, but this song also sounds like something I listened to before, so it’s only fitting.

Vote: I thought it was a bad entry from Spain. It ended up being a mediocre one from Poland

__________

SAN MARINO

That’s very kind of San Marino to bring something that will go to the bottom of the chart.

Vote: Someone should occupy those positions, after all

__________

AUSTRIA

A song about Edgar Allan Poe: this alone deserves top 5.

But if that’s not enough for you, the lyric is also a satire of the music industry and the rhythm is just too catchy to ignore it. Everyone should appreciate it.

Vote: Top 5 now

__________

AUSTRALIA

The song was bringing me joy, then the screamo moment gave me even more joy.

Great singer, great rhythm, great band, great everything. After some weak years, Australia brought back a great song and I’m in love once again.

Vote: the most European country of all shows us why we made a good choice inviting it to our party

__________

SERBIA

This is the second song about sleeping but while the first one made me want to go to bed, this one got my attention.

Also, it’s probably a reference to the current political situation - so the feeling is much more understandable.

In addition to that, the song has a perfect mix of creepiness, awareness and weirdness. And the lyric isn’t entirely in English either, which is always appreciated.

Vote: What did I say before? Native language -> instant finals. And this one is weird and interesting, so it deserves a good position too

__________

CZECH REPUBLIC

My sister won't stand in the corner Nor will she listen to you

I think these first two lines are enough to explain this song, its meaning and why it was blocked in Russia and Belarus 4 hours after the premiere.

If it’s not enough, consider that this song isn’t just in Czech, but in FOUR languages. It has parts in Ukrainian, Bulgarian and English too. It’s a literal Slavic hymn to the Slavic family.

And if it’s still not enough, then there’s also a great rhythm that will instantly get your attention.

This song doesn’t deserve the top because I say it, but because it’s a magnificent love letter to a Slavic country from its sister and a powerful scream against war.

Vote: This should be the winner. Period

__________

ISRAEL

The first mention of a unicorn made me think maybe I heard it wrong. The second mention left me puzzled.

And in the end, she didn’t even end up with a unicorn horn on her forehead. I’m disappointed.

Vote: I miss Czech already

__________

SWEDEN

As said before, when I listen to these songs for the first time, I don’t check the name or the country: I just put the playlist on. So when I listened to this one, I thought: “man, this is bad. The poor singer can’t even spell the words or reach her notes”.

Then I glanced at the video, read the name and found out it was Loreen.

I know half of the world will probably kill me, but I don’t like Loreen. I don’t think she’s this good. I’d much rather listen to a singer who can spell words and not mumble them for three minutes. She has good vocals, fine, but the words - or even the letters are non-existent. I have to read subtitles to understand what she’s trying to say. And she’s talking in English, not in some weird language.

But even if she spoke in another language… how’s that possible I can’t understand A SINGLE LETTER? I can understand letters in languages I don’t know, why she’s the only one I can’t understand? What, I’m deaf only to her? Or she’s the one who’s not able to properly spell words?

And before any of you says anything: I know she did the same during Euphoria, but at least I could get some words during the chorus. This time? I literally have no idea what she said. I can’t even tell you a single letter. Not a word, a LETTER. To me, she sounds drunk. Or like a person who doesn’t know English and is trying to repeat the words of an English song, without knowing them.

The world loves her and she will probably get a high position in the final chart because her and because Sweden is everyone’s favourite even when it brings trash. But if someone from another country brought this, they would never go past the semifinals. Just saying.

Vote: stop mumbling, sis, I can’t understand a single thing

__________

FRANCE

Great song, again! Amazing rhythm, lyrics in French (as they should rightfully be), and a singer with a lot of style. It deserves a good place and lots of love.

Vote: flat hat my beloved

__________

THE NETHERLANDS

The Netherlands did a miracle last year and brought a wonderful song in their own language. This year they forgot everything they learned and brought a generic ballad in English.

Next.

Vote: :(

__________

ARMENIA

She wrote a song for her future lover. And maybe it’s her voice, maybe it’s the softness of the chorus, but I like the soft, innocent vibes it gives me.

Not my personal favorite, but it’s a heartwarming song with a nice rhythm and I don’t feel like making too much fun of it.

Vote: we can have a soft song, once in a while. As a treat

__________

FINLAND

Thank goddess, one of the Nordics got the memo to sing in their language and Finland delivered it with a great song!

The rhythm is on point, it makes you want to dance and the lyric is in Finnish, which makes me very happy, because I don’t remember having listened to it before.

Vote: what a pleasant surprise!

__________

SPAIN

The title itself is a noise, the song contributed to it.

It gave me a headache and it’s a shame because the rhythm is good, it’s in Spanish and it could’ve been way more enjoyable with fewer vocals.

Vote: EYAYAYEYAYYEAYEAYEYAEYAEAE

__________

GEORGIA

I had the biggest deja-vu while listening to this song because it sounds like something I’ve already listened but I don’t remember exactly when.

I just remember it sounded better from start to end and not only during the chorus.

Vote: could’ve been better

__________

LITHUANIA

Thank you, Lithuania, for bringing your language once again. I truly appreciate it - even if it’s mixed with English.

If you bring a good song too next time, I would be even more grateful.

Vote: after Portugal’s miracle, I believe everyone can bring a good song

__________

UKRAINE

When I listened to it, I thought it was Sweden. And then, to my utter surprise, it was Ukraine.

The guy is a good singer. And I checked the lyric too: pretty good, message loud and clear.

But that’s not the Ukrainian rhythm. It has nothing of Ukraine, except for a few lines. And I know they probably wanted something different, but this… this is too bland and generic. This is forgettable, while the previous years have been amazing.

I don’t know, maybe they didn’t want to win again, but just to deliver a powerful message?

Vote: it could’ve been way WAY better, considering it’s coming from Ukraine

__________

SWITZERLAND

Last year, Switzerland brought a song that was more of a torture, rather than a song. This year, they learned from their mistakes and gave us something amazing.

The singer is young, but he has a mature voice and a powerful message. The lyric is perfect in its simplicity. And the rhythm isn’t bad either.

Vote: good job, Switzerland! A couple of years like this and I may forgive you for that torture you brought last year

__________

AZERBAIJAN

And there it is, my second deja-vu. I am sure I already listened to this song once, the rhythm is just too familiar.

Vote: Not cool, Azerbaijan. Not cool.

__________

GREECE

Greece should be banished from Eurovision, until they learn they should bring the Greek language and Balkan rhythm back. Until that moment, they don’t deserve anything, especially if they deliver this boring ball of nothing.

Vote: at least this guy seems Greek, unlike the Nordic girl from last year

__________

CYPRUS

It’s another English song and it has nothing of the Balkan rhythm. AND YET, it’s better than the Greek one.

Vote: it’s still possible to write a good song if you try. And at least Cyprus is trying

__________

ALBANIA

It’s very... Albanian. And not in a bad way! The rhythm, the lyric, everything screams Albania and it does it in a way that makes this song interesting and worth listening to more times.

Vote: maybe not my favorite, but definitely more interesting than Greece and Cyprus

__________

BELGIUM

90s vibes again. And, once again, the best ones only.

Vote: Belgium always makes something worth the finals

__________

GERMANY

Germany finally realized what Eurovision is about: blood and glitter. And rock. And fire. And weirdness. And a surprisingly wholesome song.

I am in love with everything.

Vote: Germany is finally learning and I am proud of them

__________

IRELAND

Man-Curtain left Australia to reach Ireland and brought a song much more interesting compared to last year’s.

Vote: Ireland and Belgium, they always have an interesting entry

__________

MOLDOVA

And here to the left, you can see two of Eurovision’s most beloved traditions: Moldova bringing something weird/good and a song about a rave in the forest.

Moldova delivered hard and this song is immediately top 3. The rave, the vibes, the rhythm, the flute, accompanied by a good-looking guy and stunning women: everything is on point.

I'm in love.

Vote: Moldova always understands the assignment

__________

NORWAY

Two months ago I was on the internet, minding my own business, when I saw an AMV with a great song. I immediately fell in love and put it in my personal playlist. It was interesting and with great vibes how could I ignore it?

Now imagine my surprise when this song started and hey, the first notes sound familiar. Then the singer drops the first “she” and I immediately jumped up and said: “Wait, is this Queen of Kings?!”

So… do I like it? Heck, I liked this song even before knowing it was Norway’s entry, of course I like it! It’s one of my favorites! And yes, I still love it.

Vote: my opinion might change about the other songs, but be sure it won’t change about this one

__________

DENMARK

This guy is apparently a Tiktoker and this explains why the lyric sounds so perfect for that app and so bland in general.

It doesn’t explain why he looks so bored, tho.

Vote: when he bit his lip I cringed so hard, it went around the world and hit me again in the back

__________

ESTONIA

She has a great voice. But hey, some years ago Estonia sent a female soprano singer, so I suppose that great female voices are a must for them.

Also, the song is very nice, the rhythm is good and the message is good too. I would like to see it in the finals.

Vote: the piano isn’t on fire. But hey, at least it’s covered in roses.

[thekatebridgerton]

"Then why the heck was she harping so much on Daphne for her choice to be a wife and stay at home mom?"

Because it's her job as little sister to annoy antagonize her big sister? I'm kidding.

It's funny, because early on, she gives Penelope slack for wanting what Daphne wants. But then, they already had a dispute over it and Eloise spends her time with Penelope, preferring her over everyone else.

Then again, she quickly dismissed the other debutants' concerns and said "Stop doing what your mom tells you. What? You do? No wonder you're miserable!"

Eloise has a habit of that.

This ask refers to the post where I said that if Eloise is also antagonistic to Francesca and Hyacinth for wanting to get married and have kids then she's obviously not a feminist because she's not making an effort to understand their point of view. But if she's shown to be understanding to Franny and Hy then what's wrong with showing the same consideration to Daphne.

Because when we talk about feminism in the way the show wants to portray Eloise like I said before it just feels kinda like an excuse to do what she wants. She doesn't seem to be defending all women rights to choose their own husband and have their own lives, she just seems to be advocating for her personal right to do as she pleases because personally it has never occurred to her that she's living a really privileged life.

In that scene where Eloise was with the other young debutants I just felt like laughing at so much irony that everyone is celebrates Eloise for being so girl boss and for standing up for a woman rights and because she doesn't want to get married or be forced into pretending she likes a bunch of people who are really boring in balls. But here she is rubbing her privilege in the face of people who don't know better

I felt like one of those young ladies was about to tell Eloise that maybe talking like that is a reason she doesn't have friends outside of Penelope. We love El really but she lacks so much tact with other females you would think she was never raised around any feminine influence. I feel sorry for those debutantes that had to deal with Eloise champagne problems.

It's like when someone has more money than you and they ask a stupid question like 'why do you have to get up so early to catch the bus, can't you just buy a car?' and you are left staring at them wondering if they hear themselves talk?

Because Eloise asking 'oh maybe you wouldn't be so miserable if you didn't listen to your mom told you to do all the time' it's just like.... are you listening to yourself Little Miss rich and pretty who doesn't have to worry about making a good match because her sister is a duchess and her family is practically made of scandal Teflon? Some Of us would like to do exactly that but we don't have your resources homegirl. ( bless Penelope for saying exactly that when El confronted her about LW)

If I were one of those girls that Anthony rejected in the first scene and his sister made a comment like that in front of me I would be kindly putting needles inside a voodoo doll made of her hair and low key telling all my friends not to hang out with her

Eloise may not be Cressida but she can be super mean and the fact that people don't see that, is kind of a little bit of a problem. Feminism doesn't equal being mean to other females just because you think you're right

But that's my opinion with the tea

[warukunaimirai]

Tonight at a Jazz Bar ♦ A Quartet of Freedom and Passion | Episode 7 「His Worries」

A few days later—

Regular Visitor 1: —Tonight was another lovely show.

Regular Visitor 2: I’ve seen that man on the piano in here often but who knew he could play too…

Old Barkeeper: Thank you for today. You’re getting better and better by the day.

Nobel: No thanks is necessary. It’s an honour to have you listen to us.

……

Alto: Nobel-san…?

⋆　♦　⋆

Alto: Um, Nobel-san. Could I talk to you?

Nobel: Yes?

Alto: …I was wondering if there was something bothering you?

Nobel: !

Alto: I apologise if I’ve misunderstood but you seem like you’re feeling agitated after your performances?

Nobel: —Oh, that’s what you’re referring to. Well, taking the stage at my favourite jazz bar just gets me into high spirits.

Alto: High…spirits?

Nobel: Be that as it may, I can’t be so blatant about my cheeriness, now can I? Therefore, I do my best to remain calm, but…

I wasn’t able to fool you, it seems. Perhaps my facial expressions slip through easier than I thought.

Alto: Are you sure? Your expression made it seem like there was something troubling you…

Nobel: That’s truly all there is to it. Anyhow, it’s gotten dark. Let’s be on our way home now.

Alto: Ah, wait, please! …High spirits? Is that really it…?

⋆　♦　⋆

Nobel: It’s minimal—not enough to refer to as discomfort. Merely a pinch of flavour…

I have a rough understanding of what’s missing. Whether or not I fill it in won’t have any effect on the overall composition.

But……nevermind…

Is it purely egotism for me to think this? For their playing to be magnificent, I…

⋆　♦　⋆

Alto: …

Ruma: Doctor-kun, Doctor-kun.

Alto: Ruma-san. What’s the matter?

Ruma: I won’t beat around the bush, there’s a favour I’d like to ask of you…

Could you talk to Nobel for me?

Alto: Eh…!

Ruma: He’s been brooding over something ever since we began putting on performances. Wouldn’t you agree, Ein?

Einsatz: Yes. I have noticed that his response time is slightly delayed and his expression is somewhat gloomier.

It is a peculiar instance of there being a task that he cannot resolve within his own means…it is terribly unusual.

Alto: I knew I noticed something going on…! But why are you coming to me for help?

Ruma: Sadly, it seems that he’s set on hiding it from Ein and I in particular. He won’t show any weak spots at all.

Some things are all the more difficult to talk about with one's companions, so he may open up if you’re the one to ask.

Alto: Are you sure? I’ve already tried asking him but he shook me off…

Ruma: He isn’t cruel enough to respond in silence if he sees how truly worried he’s making you.

…Though, there’s no denying his secretiveness. Even so, if it’s you, I’m sure it will be fine.

Alto: —I understand. I’ll try asking Nobel-san again.

Ruma: Thank you. We’ll leave him in your hands, Doctor-kun.

Einsatz: Thank you kindly for your cooperation. 

⋆　♦　⋆

Alto: Nobel-san!

Nobel: Hello there, Doctor. Was there something you needed?

Alto: I’m sorry to bring this on you so suddenly but I’ve had that quick conversation we shared after the performance weighing on my mind…

Were you really telling the truth when you said that expression was the result of your high spirits? I find myself doubting that.

Nobel: ……

Alto: I’m sorry if it’s none of my business but on the chance that something is troubling you, I’d like for you to be honest with me,

You’ve helped me out a lot, Nobel-san. I mean, just the other day there was the time we were out shopping…

Would you let me repay that kindness, even just a little?

Nobel: ……Fufu.

I had been burying this in my chest so as to not worry you but it seems I’ve only added to your concern…what a foolish thing for me of all people to do.

…Well then, will you listen to me? Though, you may let out a laugh…

Alto: I swear I won’t laugh!

Nobel: Thank you. —Truthfully, it’s in regards to the shows we’ve been putting on…

I’m contemplating whether there’s room for another step of improvement.

Back | Next

[tonydaddingham]

actually no, you know what, let's address this - because i would love to be signposted to where my 'tasteless' post/take, as anon kindly implies, meant that i reportedly did not watch the same show, and missed the point of the character.

(and for anyone who wonders what the fuck im on about, please free to have a read here and interact, god knows i could do with the clout even if it's to rinse me, apparently-)

im going to assume at best that you didn't read the actual post, and therefore didnt actually see the point i made... or at worst did see it, and the point completely sailed you by. what i actually said was:

notice how i highlight the vast difference between crowley encouraging aziraphale with magic, his hobby that evidently makes him happy, and post-bullet catch when crowley doesn't - at all - express any gratitude for the photo trick, and actually insults him for it when the reproduction of the trick fails. if i have missed a mystical line in this scene where crowley actually expresses any gratitude, then by all means, please, educate me.

as for the scotland bit, this is the bit about scotland that i actually mention:

notice how i don't say anything about crowley preventing elspeths suicide? notice how i don't say that this was a bad, evil, dark, crowley-is-a-nasty character thing? i don't, because imo it proves my point. he can be an arsehole, and downright horrible, but has the ability and inclination to do nice things that literally have more weight when he does them. the backdrop is that he is a darker character than light. if you would like to scroll down further in the post, i even say this very thing! but just to make things a little more transparent for everyone, i'll even put that here too!

but ok! let's move on!

oh i have to admit that amongst having two panic attacks on the trot because im a baby, this one made me laugh. two things:

very human flaws? never said he didnt have them. i absolutely agree with you. but if you think that being human and having human flaws means you are immediately justified in engaging on the scale of less-than-nice > outright horrible behaviour, and don't deserve to be held accountable for that... idk what to tell you bud

notice how i don't, at any point in that post, make reference to other demons, nor compare crowley to them as if other demons are morally better than him... because of course they're not! they're completely worse! but id respectfully offer that splitting the characters' moral identities into 'recruited nazis' and 'didnt recruit nazis but does fuck up the O2 network for an hour or so' isn't quite the argument you think it is

actually no, third point; there is a vast difference between being a terrible demon (ie. refraining from doing horrific and devastating things to bring misery to humanity), and being a good-wholesome-and-nice person. there is a huge difference that tbh if you don't don't see that, idk how i can begin to explain it to you.

so look im sure i'll get the backlash on 'that ask wasn't even about your post', and tbh that's fair. it still however goes to show that a good portion of this site - for all it preaches about being kind to other people, just scrolling on or blocking people when they have takes on literature that you don't like - literally hasn't matured much beyond being that group in secondary school.

i have never, ever said that my take is the only correct take (in a serious tone, at least). i have never dismissed anyone outright who has politely rb'd or dropped an ask to me with a counter-argument, or asking me to clarify my points. i welcome them. what i don't expect is to find on my dash, at 0620am, a vague-post that makes me feel like shit, and from blogs i used to respect. and even if it's not about me or my post? well, i just hope that the other person doesn't see it.

except this. this is funny:

i recently saw a take on a blog i usually like that was basically people have over babygirled crowley. ok, fine, but included on a list of reasons why he is darker than we all think were ‘is mean to aziraphale about magic’, ‘didn’t thank aziraphale for saving him with the polaroid’ and ‘was kind of mean in scotland’.

sorry this isn’t really a controversial take i just think it’s very funny and you have taste so you might enjoy it.

They canceled his babygirl status for having the irritability of the average chronic migraine haver

[kiyoomology]

i love you so ☆ ben hargreeves

genre: angst. lots of angst. warnings: the last line of the story can be interpreted as a reference to suicide, but it isn’t, just to let readers that might be affected by that know. summary: upon hearing the news of reginald’s death, you go back to the umbrella academy to reunite with your boyfriend’s siblings. notes: i am such a whore for ben hargreeves angst GOD. also yes the title of this fic is a walters song lmao

your hand shook as you knocked on the door of the umbrella academy, feeling anxiety clutch you in its grasp as you heard shuffling behind the door.

with a sigh, you began walking down the front steps until you heard the door open.

“miss y/n?”

you turned at the voice of a familiar ape, and you smiled brightly upon seeing pogo in front of you.

“hi, pogo. is now a bad time?” you queried, trying to glance over the top of him to see if you could spot any of the hargreeves siblings.

“not at all. please come in.” he said kindly, taking your hand and leading you into the academy. you heard voices in the living room, seemingly angry if their tones were anything to judge by.

“children, there’s someone here to see you.”

your heart rate spiked as all eyes in the room focused on you, and you waved awkwardly.

“i’m sorry to bother you guys, you seem busy. i don’t even know if you remember me, but-“

“y/n! it’s so good to see you!” allison beamed, pulling you into a hug that both shocked you and made you grin widely.

“hi, allison.” you replied gently, eyes drifting to the gigantic portrait of five that hung above the fireplace. you didn’t even ask about the boy, seeing as the rest of the siblings began greeting you. memories of you and them when you were kids resurfaced in your mind, also bringing old emotions with them.

”ben says you look beautiful.” klaus whispered in your ear as he hugged you, and you pulled away from him with wide eyes.

”what?” you breathed out, watching in shock as klaus looked over your shoulder.

”you can’t see him, but i can. ben says you look beautiful and he loves you.” klaus said, and you felt your eyes go misty as you stared at the man in front of you.

you should’ve known this would happen. you knew klaus’s powers, you knew that he could see ben, but hearing klaus say that to you was like a slap in the face.

klaus gently spun you around, so that you were staring at the same spot he was looking at previously.

”he’s there?” you asked, gesturing wildly to the space in front of you.

”yup. he says you hit him in the nose.” klaus said, and you let out a weak chuckle as you stared at the space in front of you.

“does he look like he did when we were sixteen?” you questioned, the image of a smiling ben sitting across from you at griddy’s floating in your mind.

“he aged with us. but he’s uglier now.” klaus replied, and you let out a laugh as you imagined ben glaring at his brother.

“i wish i could see him.” you admitted, turning to face klaus, whos small smile faded upon seeing the look on your face.

“he wants you to be able to see him too.” klaus replied, and you felt a familiar lump form in your throat as you looked at the place where ben was supposedly standing,

”we’re gonna spread dad’s ashes now.” luther said firmly, and you looked away from the air to make eye contact with luther. you let out a small sigh, sending a smile at the air, then feeling stupid immediately afterwards.

”okay.” you replied softly, taking klaus’s hand in yours as you two followed the other siblings out to the courtyard.

you had been zoning out of the speeches made during the funeral until luther and diego began fighting. you heard yourself tell them to stop, but time seemed to slow to a stop as luther backed into ben’s statue.

your eyes widened as the statue shot off of its pedestal, and you felt a sob rack through your body as the statue broke, decapitating itself in the process.

you ran over to the statue, tears streaming freely down your cheeks as you crouched next to the statue of your boyfriend at age 16. visions of the night you found out ben died flooded your memory, and you covered your mouth to stifle the loud sobs you were sure would pour out of your mouth.

“ben says to not cry. he says it’s okay.” klaus said, and you jumped at the sudden voice next to you. you looked over your shoulder at klaus, sniffling and wiping away tears from your face.

“this sounds so stupid, but it felt like the statue kept him alive. it was all i had of him.” you whispered, allowing klaus to wrap you in a tight and loving hug. you sobbed into klaus’s shoulder, the rain pouring and soaking the two of you to the bone.

“ben says he loves you, and the statue isn’t all that you have left of him.” klaus said after a few moments of silence, and you took in a shuddering breath.

“i love you too, ben. i’m sorry we couldn’t be together.” you whispered, so low that you weren’t sure that klaus even heard it.

“we should get inside before we freeze to death.” klaus suggested, finally breaking the hug and observing your face.

“would that really be the worst thing?” you chuckled, letting klaus take your hand and guide you back into the academy. you released his hand, sending one final glance at ben’s statue.

“i’ll be with you soon, my boy.”

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s S2 Glimmer Of Dawn Date (Eng Translation)

This date features S2 Victor, but doesn’t contain any spoiler from the main story~ :>

It’s VERY IMPORTANT to read the company project prior to the date. So, please read that first before proceeding under the cut: ♡

–

[Note]: The rough translation of Victor’s karma name is “The brilliant scenery across the four seasons.” In other words, it refers to “Going through life hand-in-hand, together.” 🥺❤️

—

✧[Section 1]✧

MC: After the Glimmer Of Dawn Food Market officially opens for business tomorrow, we will be filming the process from beginning to end until the early hours of the morning.

MC: After the filming part is concluded, we just have to wait for the editing and the production to be done.

MC: Since it’s a documentary of a small scale, we are estimating that it will be able to go online in the next quarter.

I close the proposal document and breathe out softly. Just at this moment, a brightly colored booklet accidentally slips out of the proposal document, causing me to hasten to cover it up.

Feeling a line of sight being cast on the top of my head, I hurriedly look up and try to find another topic of conversation.

MC: One more thing! Have you noticed anything special when you passed by the food market area these past few days?

Victor’s gaze pauses on my hand covering the booklet, retracting it shortly afterward.

Victor: Things have been quite busy at LFG recently, so I haven’t paid attention.

Just as I’m about to open my mouth complacently, Victor continues with his words immediately afterward.

Victor: But, I don’t need to look to know what’s going on.

Victor: Are you running some kind of flashy promotional campaign again and thinking about wanting to get me to participate?

MC: ...you truly have incredible foresight with supernatural accuracy, Great CEO.

Victor: It’s so-so. I still can’t compare to a big producer who gives her heart out for LFG’s investment projects.

Victor raises his eyes as he teases me, the corners of his lips bending upward in a tiny arc.

Blinking, I remember the answer he has just given me, and ask with some uncertainty.

MC: Speaking of which, haven’t things been pretty busy at LFG lately? So you won’t be able to fulfill what you promised me for tomorrow, will you?

Seeing that I’m somewhat nervous, Victor actually loosens up.

Victor: A certain dummy’s eyes are about to widen round and round.

Victor: Even if LFG is busy, it’s not to the degree that can make me renege on my promise.

Victor: I’ll wait for you downstairs at the office half an hour early tomorrow.

He arranges everything in a few words. I set my heart at ease, nodding in agreement.

MC: Okay! I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow~

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧[Section 2]✧

The next day, Victor and I arrive at the Glimmer Of Dawn Food Market ahead of time.

Surprisingly, although the door is not yet open, there is already a large crowd surrounding the periphery. I step forward towards the gathering with some uncertainty.

MC: Excuse me, what’s with the queue here?

A middle-aged uncle points to his phone interface and kindly introduces me to it.

Passer-by Uncle: Wasn’t the Glimmer Of Dawn Food Market previously closed down for the reconstruction? It’s opening for business today.

Passer-by Uncle: So long as you follow “Glimmer Of Dawn Food Market” on social media and participate in the mini-games, you can get a 20% off your grocery shopping for the entire next month!

Passer-by Uncle: Miss, you can also come and give it a try if you usually cook. It’s just a matter of distinguishing between some similar-looking vegetables anyway.

As it turns out, they’ve all actually come to queue for the new event. I can’t help but feel happy and return to Victor’s side.

MC: This is that new campaign I was telling you about!

MC: I didn’t expect this many people to show up. So it seems that it was a good idea after all, hehe.

I look at Victor in high spirits and present an invitation.

MC: The stall owners will provide specific test questions at the food market. Victor, let’s participate too, shall we?

MC: Participation is integral~

Seeing the impatient look on my face, Victor appears pensive for a moment but still nods his head in agreement.

Victor: We can participate.

Victor: But can you tell the difference between yellow chives and yellow garlic chives?

Victor suddenly tosses me a question, leaving me slightly stumped for words.

–

[OPTION A]: Of course I can. Who are you looking down on?

[OPTION B]: Aren’t they of the same kind? (Haven’t found anyone selecting this option yet)

–

⊳ [OPTION A] Of course I can. Who are you looking down on?

MC: Of course I can tell them apart!

I puff out my chest and answer rapidly.

MC: Although both are yellow vegetables, yellow chives have flat leaves, and yellow garlic chives have curly leaves.

Victor slightly arches an eyebrow.

Victor: It appears that you’ve done quite a lot of homework.

I smile gleefully, pushing him to walk forward.

MC: A scholar who’s made great progress should be regarded in a new light. And what’s more, I’ve been watching you cook for a long time now.

MC: I’ve become familiar with a lot of dishes that I overlooked before!

I speak in a manner as though making a solemn vow, but Victor tosses me a rather suspicious glance and turns to size up the crowd in the queue.

When Victor isn’t paying attention to me, I seize the moment and take the planner out of my bag and flip through the booklet that is sandwiched inside.

It has a few words printed on it– “Vegetable Encyclopedia.” This is the material I’ve secretly collected for this event over the past few days.

In the interests of fairness, I don’t know the specific questions for today’s test, only that it is related to all categories of vegetables.

I don’t want to cause some embarrassing incident in front of Victor. So, I’ve spent the past few days concentrating all my efforts on “making up for the missed lessons” on all sorts of vegetables.

When the time to register for the competition arrives, we need to enter our ID on the applet page. After entering my nickname, I curiously probe to look at Victor’s phone interface.

MC: You have to enter your ID name for this test. Victor, what do you wanna be called?

Victor shoots a glance at the name of the mini-game–– “Who Is The Genuine Vegetable Encyclopedia.”

Victor: Let’s enter the name “Vegetable Encyclopedia.”

MC: ...that’s so casual.

I give it a thought, then propose with a beaming smile on my face as I look up at him.

MC: Let me add a word for you~

Victor has always played along with me regarding trivial matters like this. But when I hand him back his phone after typing, he glances over at it, and his face immediately turns dark.

The name of the ID adorned with a tiny cartoon green oilseed rape avatar is, however–– “Vegetable Encyclopedia Jr.”.

–

[Note]: MC names Victor’s ID “蔬菜小百 (Shūcài Xiǎo Bǎikē).” A literal translation of it would be “Little Vegetable Encyclopedia.” Here, MC is specifically teasing Victor’s childhood food-market-going experience with his dad~ 💘

–

Along with the words “Competition Begins” appearing on the screen, the “tac tac” sound of typing into the phone screen can be heard from all around.

In case the elderly participants don’t know how to use a smartphone, an exclusive vegetable stand for offline quizzes has also been prepared as a precaution.

The criterion for evaluating the winner is who can distinguish the most number of vegetables within the time limit.

MC: This is garlic sprouts. These are lettuce leaves. This is...

Even though my rushed preparation in advance has been effective so far, I still have a hard time when faced with the white “garlic” before my eyes.

MC: Is this garlic? But I keep feeling that it can’t be this simple...

I look at Victor for help, and he is concise and comprehensive.

Victor: It’s lily.

With a light tap of his finger, he moves on to the next question. A round green vegetable appears on the screen.

I open my mouth immediately.

MC: This is Chinese...

Victor: Chinese cabbage of Taihu Lake Basin.

For the last question, a purple-colored lump appears on the screen.

MC: This is purple...

Victor: It’s Purple Yam.

Victor submits the answers. All correct.

And I got 70 points, which can be barely counted as a pass.

The final ranking table soon pops up on the screen, and “Vegetable Encyclopedia Jr.”. tops the list awe-inspiringly.

The middle-aged uncles and aunties participating in the competition around us begin to whisper.

Auntie: Who is this mysterious “Vegetable Encyclopedia Jr.?” Really impressive, must be a kitchen master.

Hearing their discussion, I can’t help but laugh up my sleeves, causing me to receive a not-so-gentle-or-firm tap on the head by Victor beside me. What accompanies that action is the sound of his helpless voice.

Victor: [sulking adorably]  ...this is all your doing.

At this moment, the emcee walks over and announces the result.

Emcee: Now, Mr. “Vegetable Encyclopedia Jr.” in the online quiz area and Grandma Zheng in the offline quiz area have got all the questions right.

Emcee: As a result, we currently need to go for one more play-off.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧[Section 3]✧

Emcee: Nowhere else can we tell the time faster and more accurately than at the food market, reminding us of the changing seasons.

Emcee: Therefore, the rule of the play-off is to see who can be the quickest to find ingredients in accordance with the spring, summer, autumn, and winter dishes.

Emcee: The two customers who were able to obtain the victory in Vegetable Encyclopedia must be the masters of culinary arts in the kitchen. So let’s hold our breath and see.

At the emcee’s instruction, the game has begun. Grandma Zheng at the side seems to have already chosen her target and walks directly towards the booth of the springtime bamboo shoots.

I’m left somewhat blank for a while. I originally just wanted to emphasize the participation, but I didn’t expect the competition to go into overtime.

MC: Victor, are you going to participate?

Victor picks up the basket on the side, giving me a look.

Victor: Since I’ve accepted a certain someone’s invitation, I certainly won’t leave it unfinished.

His gaze darts back and forth between the two similarly designed stalls which have eggplants on display. After receiving the stall owner’s permission, he reaches out and squeezes the eggplants from each of the stall individually.

Then calmly choosing the stall on the right, he picks a few and puts them in the basket.

Seeing the skill and ease with which Souvenir’s chef is handling everything, I also can’t help looking forward to the final result.

While Grandma Zheng is still picking and choosing the springtime bamboo shoots, Victor has already picked out all the vegetables.

The uncles and aunties among the onlookers, who initially sized up Victor with a skeptical gaze, are all overawed and begin to whisper to each other.

Uncle: This young man seems to have quite a good understanding. The leeks for early spring and the cabbage for late autumn are excellent choices.

Auntie: The old lady is being extremely punctilious again and hasn’t gone for the choice of garlic chives and Chinese cabbage.

Auntie: Anyway, I thought he must have chosen some out-of-the-ordinary vegetables when I saw that he was wearing a rather exquisite suit, but I didn’t expect him to be a man of life.

Auntie: Young people of this generation are pretty good, huh~

Amidst the praises of the uncles and aunties, I take Victor’s basket and give it a look over.

MC: Garlic chives, Chinese cabbage, lotus root, pork ribs, eggplant, acacia flowers...

MC: All these vegetables are very ubiquitous. Why is everyone praising you for your good choice?

I humbly ask for guidance. Victor tosses me a glance, his tone unhurried.

Victor: Who was the one that said just now, “A scholar who’s made great progress should be regarded in a new light?”

MC: ...let’s forget about it for now.

MC: There’s also another old saying that goes, “Be nimble and eager to learn. Don’t feel ashamed to ask questions”~

I stare at Victor with an inquisitive gaze. He doesn’t keep me on tenterhooks and speaks in a straightforward manner.

Victor: There’s originally no set of fixed interpretations for the dishes of the four seasons. The sole merit of the seasonal dishes is simply their freshness.

Victor: So as long as you choose the ingredients that taste the best when they’re in season, that will suffice.

Victor: Spring is the season for acacia flower and garlic chives, which you can use to make acacia flower and garlic chives egg pancakes.

Victor: Eggplant is ripe in summer, making it especially suitable for home-stewed eggplant.

Victor: Similarly, lotus root and pork rib soup are for autumn, and cabbage stew for winter.

Victor: Not only are these dishes simple, but they also restore the flavor of the seasonal vegetables to the maxim.

Victor unhurriedly explains the reasons behind the selection of his ingredients as though he is conducting some kind of strategic meeting in the LFG office right now.

Auntie: Little girl, you are very lucky! Your boyfriend seems to be an excellent cook.

A crimson blush finds itself prancing onto my face. Just as I’m about to say something, the bell rings out in the distance for the end of overtime.

Very soon, the results based on the consensus are out.

Deserving of her recognition as a kitchen veteran, Grandma Zheng’s vegetables are more resonating with the local taste. Therefore, she wins the first prize.

Victor humbly receives the second prize.

Holding the second prize in between my fingers–– a 20% discount coupon for the food market– I smile and take Victor’s arm, swaying it at him.

MC: Thanks to Chef Victor, we’ll have cheap and excellent quality vegetables for the next month.

MC: When we were passing by just a while ago, I saw a café right around the corner. In order to express my gratitude, I’ll treat you to a cup of seasonal coffee!

Victor gives me a sideways glance. The forenoon sunlight streams through the treetops and descends on his eyelashes, illuminating his dark eyes.

He taps me on the head with the coupon in his hand. Though a little helpless, a smile graces the corners of his lips.

Victor: [laughs, and it sounds like heaven]  Greedy cat. Lead the way.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧[Section 4]✧

Pushing open the door to the café, I instantly smell the fresh sweet aroma of roasted beans.

Next to the coffee machine, the small blackboard reads the new coffees in season. I promptly push Victor in first.

Victor: What’s going on?

I push him forward all the way over to a seat by the window. Then locking my eyes with his puzzled gaze, I open my mouth in an irrefutable tone.

MC: You’ve chosen the seasonal ingredients at the food market just earlier. Let me choose the seasonal coffee for you now.

MC: Take a look at this coffee I’ve chosen. I wonder if it conforms to CEO Victor’s preference?

Victor gives me a noncommittal answer.

Victor: You’ve been buying coffee for me for so long. Don’t you know my preferences like the back of your hand?

I smile gleefully, not denying it.

MC: But this shop has a lot of new varieties. I just took a look, and there are several kinds that we haven’t tried before.

MC: For example... coriander coffee!

Victor knits his brows together into a frown that is visible to the unaided eye, seemingly wondering who invented this flavor of the coffee.

Seeing the look on his face, I blink, place the proposal document in my arms on the table and turn to order at the front desk.

When I’m returning to my seat carrying the coffee tray, I steal a quick glance at Victor sitting in his place, looking at some kind of documents.

I can’t help but laugh in spite of myself. This man really can’t stop for even a moment. I wonder what big multi-million dollar project he’s busy with again.

Just as I’m thinking about this, he seems to have sensed something and suddenly lifts his eyes to meet my gaze.

I freeze slightly, looking at the man bathed in sunlight before my eyes.

The weather seems to have already become a little sweltering. He has slightly unbuttoned the button in front of his chest while waiting for me, revealing a small patch of skin. 

The dark shirt casts a light reflection on his glasses, displaying a competent and sophisticated impression.

This appearance of him is entirely different from when we were at the food market earlier, brimming with the vigor of immersing himself in the mundane matters of life. For a moment, I find myself being so bedazzled as I watch that my feet stagnate dead in their tracks.

However, in the next second, Victor looks at me, the corners of his lips curving themselves into a “mysterious” smile.

MC: Hmm?

Some unsettling feelings rush forth in my heart, and I suspiciously shift my line of sight towards the “document” in his hand.

The familiar brightly colored title immediately leaps into my field of view, and the word “vegetable” is faintly visible.

In his hand, what he is browsing through is actually the “Vegetable Encyclopedia” booklet I have stuffed inside my proposal document!

I hurriedly trot over and reach out to get my booklet back.

But Victor takes advantage of his long arm and raises his hand holding the booklet, as though he doesn’t want me to get it.

I pounce forward anxiously. But one inattentive motion, and I find myself being lunged into his arms.

I arduously lift my head from Victor’s chest as he holds me by the waist, a roguish, playful glint flowing in his eyes.

Victor: [sexy whispering, and I blanked out LOL]  So, it turns out that a certain someone has been sneaking around since yesterday, just cause she was scheming for today’s event?

Suddenly a little embarrassed, I quickly get up from him and sit down on the opposite side of the table, coughing in embarrassment.

MC: ...I did secretly do some homework for today’s event.

Victor: What’s the reason?

I stammer a little, trying to muddle through and stand my ground.

MC: Just wanted to set off the mood for the new opening of the food market...

But Victor obviously doesn’t believe my prevarication, and his words are concise and comprehensive.

Victor: Tell me the truth.

MC: ...all right. In fact, it’s you.

Victor seems to have long since expected this answer, yet he’s a little surprised. He lifts his eyes and stares intently at my face, hinting for me to go on.

MC: During the filming of Glimmer Of Dawn Food Market this time, something became a little clearer to me that I had always overlooked before.

MC: Cooking is a very complicated process that demands perseverance and patience.

MC: If a person doesn’t get tired of the entire process of cooking, then it also illustrates in another way that this individual is extraordinarily attentive to the details of life. 

MC: This approach itself is now a luxury for people these days.

MC: So, when I see you busying yourself in the back kitchen of Souvenir, I also wish to feel these details of life with the same heart as you do.

Hearing my words, Victor remains silent for a while. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a tide of emotions streams through his eyes.

Victor: ...dummy.

Victor: Not just cooking, but carefully savoring the food is also a method of living your life earnestly.

Victor: A guest who comes to dine at Souvenir should know this principle.

He looks up at me with a distinct smile in his eyes.

Victor: After all, no matter how great the ingredients are, someone must be there to taste them after they are transformed into food.

MC: In that case, I must work even harder in the future and eat every single food that CEO Victor cooks for me with great care.

Victor: What does working hard have to do with eating?

MC: Of course it has!

MC: The chef prepares each dish with care and attention, and it contains the entire heart of the person who cooks it.

MC: It’s not an easy feat for a “foodie” to carefully savor the mystery within it!

MC: It appears that CEO Victor still isn’t clear about this principle... how about I let you experience my craftsmanship today!

MC: You will also have an experience of how challenging it is to savor the food that is made from the heart~

Giving it some thought, I open my mouth in high spirits.

MC: After the teatime, accompany me back to the food market to buy some more ingredients?

Victor remains tranquil and calm, and simply asks a question as if to confirm.

Victor: [playful voice, brain shutdown 2.0]  Have you thought it through?

Victor: [playful voice, brain shutdown 2.5]  In my case, there are certain criteria for the so-called “big meal.” 

Victor: [playful voice, brain shutdown 3.0]  Lest the result you produce fall short of the standard, I need to supervise the process from beginning to end.

Seeing the teasing in Victor’s eyes that is clearly discernible, I know he is bantering with me.

MC: There’s no food for the person who stands on the sidelines. So since you want to supervise, you will have to be my sous chef.

MC: Scrape the fish scales, pluck the duck’s feather, and things like that~

Victor: [playful voice, brain shutdown- directly 5.0]  Are you sure you will be able to afford my remuneration?

Victor leans closer to me, his dark-colored eyes brimming with laughter.

On this sun-kissed afternoon, people on the road are returning home from grocery shopping with their kids.

I look across the table at the man who is so familiarly quibbling with me, and there seems to be a stream of honey slowly flowing through my heart.

Days like this, no matter how many of them we spend – it’s this human touch and warmth within that I fancy tirelessly.

—

📞 [Call and Moments]: Here!

—

[goobiegoobert]

hey hey hey sunshine!! could i request general hcs or whatever you feel more comfortable doing for either glamrock freddy, sun/moon or monty? any of them is fine! i hope you gave a great day today, stay safe and warm and drink plenty of water<33 ^^

General Headcanons - GN Reader

-----------

A/N :

On my hands and knees rn, you're always free to request lovely!! I hope your day has been just as good tysm <3 Not sure if you meant relationship hc's or not so tell me if you wanted something different!

Not my best work but I think it's a good silly goofy start

-----------

Glamrock Freddy

- With the stylizing of the Pizzaplex don't doubt for a second that they'd use popular references according to the current theme, the second Freddy starts to malfunction their mechanic has set it so that he emits a pretty loud windows XP error noise.

- totally a running gag between the mechanics cannot tell me otherwise.

- with the extra alone time during the nightshift if nothing going on Freddy is often found picking up and doing their best to 'fix' little things here and there

- not very good but it's the little things that count!

- is the internal ticking clock for each person around despite the others already knowing what to do

- Just the dad instinct to make sure everyone's prepared for anything really,

- Truly it carries over to whenever they are around people such as you, if your schedule was shit you better buckle up because he won't let this go

- every single moment they're ticking off a checklist of care that he has a basic understanding of for you

- would totally stop if you ask, but let the guy do his job he's trying his best here :(

- can and will to sneak you into his friend's attractions if you don't have the required permissions

- need a moment to kick some snot-nosed brat's ass on Roxy Raceway?

- Best believe you're getting in that damn kart.

- the most empathetic one here and will respect your boundaries and is the type to wait around the outside of the restrooms just so you don't feel like your missing out on much!

- sadly feel out of everyone else he gives the most vibes of being the closest to a hetero you can get in the animatronics

Monty Gator

- Kindly go to therapy, I want the best for you please we all do.

- jokes aside, Monty is the key to boosting your ego whether you need one or not.

- nine times out of ten if you did something remotely cool he's the type to go off about it for weeks to the point even you get sick of it

- Monty reminds me too much of that guy from 10 things I hate about you

- He's started the time you two spent together as a one-off thing, thinking you won't be here forever and thinking it's just a fleeting moment

- Each time you kept coming back he just regretfully continued to play up his stage persona pushing you away.

- eventually you'd simply grown on Monty like algae, good luck getting out of this now

- out of all the animatronics he's honestly so queer coded

Sundrop

- Perfect beautiful, you're right. This is it this is the best one.

- If you don't think so then you're wrong Sunny is the epitome of boyfriend material

- Hell, even just best friend material???

- Somewhat gives me a Gretchen Wieners vibe?? but in the nicest way possible.

- I think he cries during every Disney movie at least once, it's like a quota to fill on his end with the kids during the daycares movie time

- Still is super caring, just man.

- You're sick?

- Sunny is picking you up and hunkering you over to the security office desk to simply look for something to help at least a little

- Has the best forms of coping tbh, like fingerpainting to let out your feelings? Yes, please.

- Covering life in glitter glue just to make it sparkle a little?

- Simply the therapist out of them all, it might not seem like it but is like the most trustworthy one here

- Would trust my drink to him and you should too.

Moondrop

- Not the best but if you know, you know.

- absolutely just a guy hanging out truly here to just do their job and is so tired of everyone's shit at this point

- the guy just wants you to go to sleep make his job a little easier man

- Spiked the refreshments at a workplace function purely for the hell of it

- Do not trust this man with your shit ever all of it will end up scattered in some horrid form of a scavenger hunt

- Moon's the type where you got to let him do his own thing and do as he asks and slowly they'd warm up to you!

- Doesn't do much physical affection if at all, but it's not that he hates it. It's more of the fact they've never had the gentle hand of an adult before

- in other terms of what they'd use as affection it's more to be assumed that they'd have the instincts of a crow and bring you random trinkets and bugs that makes them think of you

- Absolute bastard, I would not recommend you to in any form romanticize this man but between you and whatever higher power is out there. We all absolutely fell for this freakazoid

- everyone has and you are no summer child

- Drinks coffee black as their soul

[kass-storycorner]

Hello!! i stumbled across your works and i absolutely fell inlove with your writing (especially the angsty ones)

Can i jump on the angst train and request a fic with a line that goes "I'm here, you dont have to wait anymore," with childe? Like maybe the reader told childe that theyll wait for him no matter how long it takes (and maybe a sprinkle of argument) but something happened that made the reader be on the brink of death. With or without comfort/happy ending is up to u!!

first of all thank you so much for the request! and it really makes me so happy to hear that you like my writing, especially my angst haha secondly I am so sorry that this took so long, since I saw this ask in my inbox I couldn't stop thinking about it and finished the first part of this pretty quickly - only to be stuck at how to end it (and actually fulfill the request haha). right now i am not really happy with the ending, though I feel like this is the best I can currently do! I really hope you enjoy, please let me know if it was alright haha (also I fear that I didn't really...wrote Childe in-character, I don't know)

Waiting for you

Genre: Angst, Hurt, comfort at the end

Characters: Childe x gn!reader (Childe is referred by is actual name by the reader, but outside of dialog he's called Childe)

Format: bullet points (backstory) + Text (actual fic, answer to the prompt)

Word count: 4324

Content warning: veeeery slight spoiler warning for the Liyue quests, its literally just one sentence and I tried to keep it as ambigious as possible, slight cursing (using the word bitch too, though thats the only instance of using gendered-vocab for the reader, i still wrote them gn!), mention of blood, mild violence, not proof-read ahah when will i ever do that

you can find the fic under the cut, have fun reading!

You and Childe knew each other since you were just little kids – him and his family being neighbours had meant you always ended up playing with him and his siblings, though you both got along the best.

On more than one occasion you both just ran off to somewhere no one could disturb you, your secret hideout, trading stories of great warriors from outside of Snezhnaya you heard the fishermen at the docks talk about.

Most people and children were wary of Childe, he was always the one who wanted to ‘play-fight’, which ended most of the time with the other kid running home, crying. However, you were the exception, always able to beat him or at least have a tie. Your parents, especially your father, hated it when you came back home with bruises on your arm, a bright smile and telling how you beat Childe up that day. He never felt like Childe was someone you should surround yourself with, but he kept quite for your younger years, also thanks to your mother who wasn’t fond of the fighting either but saw how much time with Childe meant to you.

Things however changed after Childe fell into the Abyss.

It was apparent how violent he got after it, even his own family was completely helpless when it came to him. So his father send him off to join the Fatui, which was a very controversial decision in the small town you both called home – most were happy to not have Childe be around anymore, for he picked up more and more fights and became more violent, but even within Snezhnaya the Fatui have a bad reputation, so most people were convinced that he would only become even worse.

Your father was one of those who was happy, but also concerned. Your mother died shortly after Childe fell into the Abyss, so your father forbade you any contact with Childe.

This, however, did not work. After Childe had to leave Morespesok you kept in touch through letters and whenever he was in town you always met up in secret.

The letters you send each other turned sweeter the older you got, changing the feelings for friendship you both felt for each other slowly into a romantic love. Childe always ended his letter with saying that he would return soon and you always with “I’ll be waiting for you Ajax”.

You always looked forward to his letters and so did he for yours. When he came back to Morespesok after every mission he had to do for the Fatui you both would meet up in your secret hideout. This place became your save haven. Conversations, hugs, kisses and even more – everything that wasn’t written in a letter between you two happened there.

Childe was fine with this and so were you. He didn’t want people to know there was someone he loved as much as he loved you, as one of the Harbringers of the Fatui it could endanger you. You on the other hand were fine with it because, even though you had no understanding for why your father forbad you the relationship with Childe, you couldn’t stomach to disappoint him. After all he was your father and you loved him dearly, no matter how much you both might disagree on things.

Still, you longed for something more – with Childe and for your own life. You wanted to travel too; you haven’t had the chance to leave Morespesok past the few neighbouring villages. So, when Childe wrote to you that after his next visit, which would only be a few days long, he was going to Liyue and didn’t knew for how long he had to stay there – you asked him in your reply if you could join him. Him writing that it wasn’t possible and better for you to stay in Morespesok and just wait for him hurt, but you understood. You are fine with waiting for him, you always were.

You were expecting a sad but loving last night with Childe before he had to leave, ending with a bittersweet goodbye. You weren’t expecting what happened instead.

Childe was angry, it was clear to see. The moment he stepped into your secret hideout you knew something was off – how he averted your eyes, how he didn’t return your kiss with a passionate one, like usual. “Ajax”, you purred in a sweet voice, “what’s wrong?”. You tried to take his hand, but he only pulled it away. Ah, that was unusual. He never refused your touch, no matter how angry he was before. “There is nothing wrong, I just was curious if there is something you want to tell me?”, he replied in a bitter tone, not even looking at you. It took you completely off guard; you saw him be angry or sulky before, you two had your fair share of arguments in the past, but somehow this was different. “No, there is nothing except for the fact that I missed you very much,” you told him, but you could feel how you started to become irritated. When you saw him two days ago visiting your family’s shop with Teucer he gave you a warm and loving smile, winking at you when he handed you that piece of paper asking to meet up tonight. What had happened in between that made him act like this? “Tsk, fine,” and with that he was on his way out. You moved quickly in front of him, blocking the way out. “Now wait a moment, would you kindly tell me what is going on here?”. He just quietly looked at you for a few seconds before he shoved you aside. “AJAX!”, you couldn’t hide your irritation and growing anger anymore, burying your fingers in his arm in order to stop him from leaving. “What did I do to make you be angry at me?”. “It doesn’t matter”, Childe replied coldly, while trying to get you to loosen your grip on his arm. “Now let me go and run home to your father and your fiancé, I bet they are already asking where you are right now.” “My what?” you replied with bewilderment. “Childe, is that why you are angry with me? Because you think I am engaged to someone else?”. Honestly, you would find this situation hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that Childe still looked at you with a sour face. “Well, I don’t think you are engaged to someone else; I know you are. Your father was really excited about the whole thing when he told me, he even invited me to your wedding, granted if I could find the time.” As he said this, he noticed how your face was a combination of confusion and anger. And oh yes, were you angry. Angry at your father for telling such blatant lies and at Childe for believing them, confused as to why he would even believe your father in the first place. “Ajax, I-“you let go of his arm, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out a deep sigh. “I am engaged to no one, never was. I didn’t tell you this, because I didn’t want to upset you or worry you needlessly, but maybe I should’ve done it. My father continuously tries to marry me off whenever he finds anyone, he deems a worthy suitor. I guess he might have found one of your letters, though he never said anything about it, but I can’t explain why he suddenly started to become so interested in my marital status. Every few weeks he brings another person home, tells me I should marry them, for me to turn those poor fools down and tell my father he should stop. Most accept it that I have no interest in them, some stick around for a few weeks until the realise that nothing will come of it, but yeah. Ask anyone, Archons ask your family, it’s already a running joke here.” You expected the atmosphere to become less tense after you explained the whole situation to him, for him to even turn it into a joke and to apologise for his behaviour. Instead, it just grew more tense. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”, his voice still being cold, underneath it you could hear how angry he still was. “Because it wasn’t important, at least not to me. Honestly Ajax, I don’t see what the issue is here. I am not engaged and I do not plan to agree to one unless-“, you stopped yourself right there. ‘Unless it’s you who’s asking’, is what you wanted to say. You could feel how your heart fluttered even just at the thought. Childe, however, did not notice where you were going with your last sentence, too

occupied with his own anger. “Unless what?”. “It doesn’t matter, can’t we just drop the topic and enjoy our first and last night in months with each other without fighting?”, this was your last offer of peace, hoping he would finally calm down. But you knew deep down – Childe never was one to back out of a fight. “No no no, continue, tell me what you wanted to say!”, his voice growing louder and louder with every word. “Ajax, let it be,” you really weren’t in the mood for anything tonight anymore and the least you wanted to do was discuss your wish of a future with him. “No, I won’t. Tell me, because I would love to know. Or don’t, you can also just go and choose one of the various suitors your father picked out for you to fuck, I bet you really enjoy it how they are all standing in line for you,” he spit his words out, full of anger and disgust. This was the final straw for you, it was apparent that Childe choose words that he knew would hurt you with intent and it made you explode. “You know what? I’ve had enough!”, you screamed at him, feeling how tears were pooling in the corner of your eyes. Not out of sadness or because his words hurt, those were tears of pure rage. “You come in here, after I haven’t seen you in weeks, before you leave for an unspecified amount of time and all you have to do is pick a fight? Fine, here have a fight! You are unhappy that I didn’t tell you how my father wants to force me in a marriage I don’t want to be in? Boho, I am so so sorry for you Ajax. Really, I can’t fathom to imagine how much you must struggle with this, but oh well, life must be so hard when you keep travelling around Teyvat. Because I really can’t imagine how life would be outside this place, what it’s like to have anything to do. Have you ever noticed, ever realised how much I hate it? Hate the wating? Because that’s all I do! I wait for your letters, and I wait for you to return. All I ever do I wait, wait, wait. Wait for you to come home yes and wait for you to finally be ready for something, anything more!”, the tears were now streaming down your hot, angry face. Childe just looked at you, waiting for you to end what you had to say. “I am tired of waiting! I am tired of keeping us hidden, yes, I agreed to it too in the beginning, but now? Dammit, Ajax. I don’t want to be left alone here when you go to Liyue, I don’t want to wait if I don’t know for how long I should wait. I just- “it became harder for you to speak, sobs interrupting you every few seconds. “I wish you would let me join you.” Except for your sobs, which you tried to supress, silence fell over the two of you. Childe just stood there in front of you, watching how you tried to stop the tears. “You know I can’t take you with me. It’s… it’s not safe,” he said after a while. You didn’t expect for him to change his mind, however his words didn’t make you feel any better… on the contrary they made you feel even feel worse. “Leave me alone,” was all you could tell him in that moment. You didn’t want to have him near you, you didn’t want to see his stupid face or look at his sad, blue eyes. Right now, you only wanted to be alone. “(Y/N)”, Childe began softly, wanting to take you in his arms but the look you gave him made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please, I need to be alone now”. The atmosphere was heavy, both of you didn’t want to part on bad terms but – right now wasn’t the right moment to make up. “I will leave you alone, but (Y/N)”, he said, looking at you with regret about how he acted just earlier, “please wait for me.” You scoffed at his words. Wait for him, again. “(Y/N)”, you turned away, so you didn’t have to see his face when he spoke your name again. “(Y/N), please. Please promise me that you will wait for me, I’ll come back, I promise you and I will make up for this… and for making you always wait for me. I promise. You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” At the mention of the nursery rhyme you had to chuckle a bit. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend,

the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again,” you finished it, looking back at him. “Fine, I’ll wait. But leave now.” And with that Childe left you alone, leaving Morespesok for Liyue the next day.

It has been a few months now since Childe came to Liyue and while his endeavours here were more or less successful, what was on his mind most of the days was you and how you both parted. He wanted to kick himself in the arse for how he acted that day, for making you so angry and for making you cry. The worst however is how you haven’t written him a single letter yet and Childe, though he would never admit it because of his pride, was too scared to send you one first. That he should be the first one to send you a letter was something he was aware of but still – he couldn’t find the right words. What should he write? Every time he sat down at his desk, looking at the piece of paper in front of him… he was never able to make it past “Dear (Y/N)”, and even with this he wasn’t sure, maybe “Beloved” would sound better? Childe would’ve even considered asking Zhongli for advice, however after finding out that Childe was just a pawn in his plans – he still considers Zhongli a friend, but before he could ask for advice the feeling of betrayal needs to fade out. And now he got the order to return to Snezhnaya by the end of the next month… he felt so anxious at the thought of seeing you again, not even knowing what happened with you the past months. So in the letter to his family in which he announced is return, Childe asked them, after months of not hearing anything from or about you, how you were. When he held the letter of his family in his hands, he started to feel nervous, it included the answer of your wellbeing. He knew you would keep your promise, but still. What if when not? Reading the contents of the letter, however, made him wish that he had asked sooner. Childe couldn’t stop reading the few lines his family wrote about you over and over again.

You asked about (Y/N) wellbeing in your last letter. Ajax, we wish we could tell you some more pleasant news than this, but we haven't seen or heard anything of (Y/N) for a week now. No one really knows where they might be, the last we know is that they left their home after a fight with their father, but there is nothing more we can tell you.

After reading those few lines, the letter already crumply at the edges from the way he held onto it, Childe decided to immediately make his way back home. In his opinion it didn't matter if he returned sooner than ordered and that was a problem he will face later. For now, he wanted to know what had happened to you, because he couldn't, didn’t want to, believe that you left Morepesok... you promised that you would wait for him. But doubt crept into his heart and his mind - you were so frustrated with waiting, he noticed it before you even said anything that night. However, he kept ignoring it. It wasn't like that Childe didn't also wish for more, to build a home with you, to spend more time with you. The feeling of not being good enough for you, something your father and others in Morepesok made clear to him since your childhood together, and the fear of putting a visible target on your back by being by your side... all of it held him back.

The way back home only took him a few days and when he came close to his village, seeing the once so well-known roofs and chimney of the houses, he took a junction into the woods, making his way to the secret hideout of you two. When he arrived, he noticed how it looked lived in, at first a relive for Childe, until he saw the traces of a fight - and blood on the floor. He was quick to follow the trail of blood, the father he went away from the hideout the more blood was on the ground. Suddenly he could hear a strangers voice in the distance.

"Answer me you stupid bitch!", you felt a hand pulling you up by your hair, but you were already too tired, too beaten up and injured to even respond to that violent pull. All you tried to do was to keep your hands on your stomach, trying to stop the blood from gushing out. You could barely remember what had happened, how you got there. It all started over a week ago, when you father came with another suitor wanting to marry you. Like always you turned him down, saying you had no interest in marriage, this time however he wasn't as understand as the others were. The whole thing ended in you having a huge fight with your father about it, he tried to pressure you even more than usual to take that fella as your husband. It made you sick, you just couldn't stomach being around him anymore. You always wanted to make him happy, always feared of disappointing him. But this? Him asking you to marry a random person? It was something you just couldn't do. So you went away, ran out to the little hideout planning to stay there until Childe came back. You wanted to wait for him - you even got over your stupid pride and sent away a letter for him earlier this morning... and maybe this was your mistake. Carefully you tried not to be noticed by the people in your village, you didn’t want anyone to worry about you, however you also didn’t want to explain your disappearance for the last few days. The man who your father tried you to accept as a fiancé however seemed to have spotted you when you left the post-office. It was already too late when you realised that you were followed - the man made his way into the place that was only meant for you and Childe. After that your memory started to get blurry, how was that even possible it just had happened. He attacked you, you fought back, though the man was just stronger... you ran away, feeling the blood already coming from your stomach. Your body started to become weaker, your legs grew heavier and slower until you fell. Now he was above you, grabbing your hair and screaming. It was hard to even focus on what that man said to you, too tired grew your body and mind. 'I have to stay awake', you thought. It was clear that if you lost consciousness now... well, who knows what would happen then, you only knew it wouldn't be good. You had to wait for Childe, you had to be there when he got home.

There were more than a few things in Childes live he wished he never had to see. Seeing your limp body, blood streaming out of your stomach which you could barley cover with your hand, your hair in the hands of some stranger and your eyes struggling to stay open – yes, Childe wished this was something reserved for his nightmares, not for the reality he had to face now. It didn’t even take second for him to react at that sight, swiftly being next to that man and cutting his hand off with one of his blades, kicking the rest of him away. Childe would have loved to take his time with that man, torture him, make him regret that he was born, but what was more important was to stop your bleeding. Quickly Childe sat down next to you on the ground, using his scarf to stop the bleeding. “Ajax,” he could hear you whisper quietly. “Hey, I’m here, everything is fine, everything is going to be okay.” You desperately tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him. He was a mess, his eyes filled with fear and panic spread across his face. Never had you seen him with such an expression. For only what felt a few seconds you closed your eyes and then – “Hey, (Y/N) hey, open your eyes, talk to me”, you opened them and realised that you were in Childes arms now, his eyes switching from you to what was apparently the way to Morepesok. “Ajax…”, it was so cold. When did it became so cold again? “I waited for you and now you’re here… I waited. Kept my promise.” The last few words came out slurred. “Yes, I'm here, you don’t have to wait anymore. I promise you don’t have to wait for me ever again, just please-“ his breathing was heavy, he ran as fast as he could to the village in the hopes that the healers there could help you, that there was anyone who was able to help you now. “Please, don’t close your eyes, okay?” Before you could even answer him that you will try to keep them open you could already feel yourself slip out of conscious again. All you could say before everything went dark was his name again. “Ajax…”

The first thing you noticed was a warm hand on yours. Even before you opened your eyes you knew which hand it was. “Ajax,” you were a bit shocked at the sound of your own voice. It sounded so weak. You opened your eyes, seeing into those deep blue eyes looking at you. “(Y/N)”, he didn’t sound any better. Only now you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes and how his hair looked even messier than usual. Was he by your side the whole time? “How are you feeling?”. “Better than you apparently”, you joked, weakly grinning at him. He smiled back, rubbing the backside of your hand with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re better,” he replied quietly, looking down at the hand he was holding. “I’m glad you’re here.” At that his smile faded, turning into a sad expression and you already knew what this meant. “Don’t tell me…” “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even supposed to be here just yet and my early departure from Liyue apparently has caused some issues and… well, I was able to stay here until you woke up. The deal was when you wake up or-, well that doesn’t matter now. The deal was that I had to go back and fix the damage I caused once you wake up, which is honestly way more generous than I had anticipated.” You didn’t really understand what he was exactly talking about, you were still tired, but all you knew was that he had to go again. There wasn’t any energy left in your body to hold back the tears that were now falling down your face. Childe cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Hey, listen,” he said softly. “I promise you won’t have to wait for too long, when you recovered, I will send for you.” At this your ears peaked, looking at Childe with hopeful eyes. “Send for me, you mean-?”. “Yes, this time around I’ll be the one waiting for you to arrive in Liyue and not you’re waiting for me to come home.” At that you threw your arms around his neck wanting to hug him, causing you to hiss in pain. You forgot that you still had a stomach wound. “Careful now”, he laughed a bit at how enthusiastic you were about the news that you forgot your injury. “You promise that I will really join you in Liyue?”, you still couldn’t fully believe that he really was fine with it. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice,” you leaned back and held your pinkie up in the air. Childe smiled at you softly, interlocking his pinkie with yours. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.”

[yellowocaballero]

Jon's Trapped in Temporal Time-Out: A TMA Time Travelling Tale

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

I kept on bitching about how much I dislike the beginning scenes of TMA time travelling AUs so my friend @lazuliquetzal​ (who wrote the best TMA time travelling fic in the fandom) told me to put my money where my mouth is. It’s nowhere near her level, but in my defense it’s probably even stupider than Reflection. 10K of stupid under the cut. 

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

****

There was, indeed, a corpse in the Archives.

More specifically, in the stacks. The worst place to die, or least be dumped. Sasha had to admit the logic of it: it was the darkest depths of the library that Martin had informed her was ‘somewhat creepy’ and ‘kind of ominous’ so ‘please stop sleeping there you’re going to give me a heart attack’. After Martin flipped on a few lights that were never flipped on (apparently Elias was a cheapskate, which explained the breakroom) they could all gawk at the corpse to their heart’s content. 

Very kindly and thoughtfully, Tim asked Martin if he wanted to stay out of the library and maybe to ‘tell someone’ or something. Both Sasha and Tim had mutually and silently agreed that Martin seemed the type to have a delicate constitution. Granted, he hadn’t seemed the type to win Magnus Anarchist every month by breaking into abandoned buildings with absolutely no shame, so maybe he was the kind that surprised you. 

But Martin had just looked a little unimpressed. “Do you seriously think this is my first corpse? I went to university.”

That somewhat intimidated Sasha, who abruptly worried that she had missed out on an essential university experience again. “Is that a typical university experience?”

Martin paused a beat. 

“Uh,” he said, “yeah, sure, of course. Hazing, you know.”

“Is that what hazing…?”

“Fraternities.”

Tim, from where he had been standing at the entrance to the stacks snapping on the sterile gloves he had liberated from the cleaning supply closet, looked delighted. “You were in a frat too, Martin? What kind of hardcore frat had corpse hazings? Was it the Sigma Gammas? My frat always thought they were way too crazy, but we were a business one -”

“You know what,” Martin said, “let’s just worry about the corpse.”

After Sasha tied her hair in a ponytail and Martin snapped on his own gloves, they awkwardly approached the aisle where Tim had been trying to find a reference book for Jon. Sasha was worried that they would have to hunt for it a little, or that there would be a bad jump scare, but when they found it she saw that it wasn’t subtle at all.

It was sprawled on the ground, face mashed into the cheap and somewhat gross carpet. Sasha approached it with absolutely no hesitation, which Tim and Martin gladly let her do, and squatted down to get a better look at the figure. 

She definitely needed to make a coroner’s report. She was the objective expert in coroner’s reports. 

 “Tim, can you run back and get one of Jon’s silly little tape recorders for my coroner’s report?”

“Did you just see that on the telly?” Tim asked skeptically. “Because if you did -”

“Oh, here one is. That’s really convenient!” Martin grabbed one off the shelf and pressed play, letting the tape roll. “Good idea, Sasha. We need proof to Jon that we were researching.”

Probably...not what Jon meant for them to be researching, but Sasha liked to believe that it was the intent that mattered. She pulled a pencil out of her pencil skirt pocket, poking the figure thoughtfully. “Report by Sasha James, Archival Assistant.” There, now it was work. “At 1:30pm today, Tim Stoker discovered a corpse in the Archives, thereby referred to as John Doe -”

“Do we have to call it John Doe?” Tim complained, standing next ot her and crossing his arms. “Then we have too many Johns, it’ll get confusing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sasha said dismissively. “Ours is Jon, this guy’s John. Completely different.”

“Sasha, I’m not sure that’s how words work.”

“What are you, an English major?”

“Yes! I was an editor for a living!”

“Sorry if I don’t listen to guys who were fired from book editing school -”

“Uh,” Martin said, “have we checked to see if he’s actually dead?”

Sasha and Tim fell silent. Sasha looked at Tim. Tim shook his head. 

“Seriously, mate?” Sasha asked, unimpressed. 

“I didn’t want to touch the corpse!” Tim cried. “So sue me! It’s not as if he’s moving!”

Pussy. Sasha gently reached out and pushed aside a little of the corpse’s very long and pretty curly hair. What was that, 3C? Jesus, that had to be work. Sasha was 3A and the amount of hair care products she owned was insane.

She waved her hand at the boys for silence and put her thumb against his pulse, concentrating hard. Martin quietly walked over and crouched down too, eyeing his chest. 

“I don’t feel a pulse,” Sasha said finally. 

“Also, uh, I’m not a doctor,” Martin said, “but he’s definitely not breathing.”

“I told you,” Tim said defensively. “You just look at the thing, and you go - yep, that’s a corpse!”

“Corpse appears to be an ethnically ambiguous adult man with very nice hair,” Sasha said loudly. Martin helpfully held out the recorder to catch her voice better. “Maybe 190cm. Incredibly skinny - potential cause of death. He’s dressed in...some very ratty clothing. Potentially homeless.”

“It definitely smells,” Tim said, pinching his nose. Sasha didn’t blame him - the clothing was an overlarge green hoodie, ratty and threadbare, and his jeans weren’t any better. His boots were worn and soft leather. “Maybe he’s a homeless guy who snuck in and died?”

“That’s so sad,” Martin said softly. “Also a little gross.”

“Have some respect for the dead, guys,” Sasha said, as she poked the dead guy with a pencil. “Tim, go flip him over.”

Tim held his hands up, stepping away. “I couldn’t possibly. Martin loves flipping people over.”

“This again?” Martin asked, frustrated. “This is just like when you made me handle the Rawlings case because you’re scared of the suburbs!”

“They have too many eyes, Martin!”

“I am surrounded by cowards,” Sasha noted for the recorder. Nothing for it, then. Sasha carefully straightened, wobbling on her heels, before solidly wiggling her hands underneath the corpse’s chest. He was cold - dead a while. 

It was surprisingly difficult to flip over a limp adult man. Sasha was strong, but the corpse’s flesh was weak, and he was all floppy. Eventually Tim got over himself long enough to help her, making a very disgusted face the entire time, and they were able to finally get a good look at the man’s face.

Abruptly, upon seeing it, they all quieted. 

There was something about seeing a man splayed out on the ground that was a little funny, if you worked for the Magnus Institute and had probably encountered a Leitener two years ago and lost all empathy. No more impediments in the search for science. But there was something very different about looking at a person, who had a nose and lips and a very ratty hoodie, and knowing that it was no longer a person. Just a lot of cloth and meat and blood and organs and nice hair that once was a person, back when things were easier and the world was a little less harsh.

But maybe Sasha was caught by sentimentality: after all, the corpse looked a little like Jon.

Judging from the stunned faces of her compatriots as they all bent around the figure, they all thought the same thing. Tim’s jaw was open, and Martin’s hand was covering his mouth in shock. 

“Man,” Tim said. “This sucks. And it’s really creepy.”

“He must have been really gorgeous,” Martin said. “That’s so sad.” 

Actually, Sasha tilted her head and took another look. He had sharp and severe features, elegant and striking. A large and thin, sharp nose, and equally sharp lips. His face was just as sharp and gaunt, as emancipated as the rest of him. He had strange scars trailing up his neck and curving around his jaw, but it just kind of accentuated the intense atmosphere. 

It was probably a pretty stupid thing to focus on, but in her defense it wasn’t really the face of a homeless guy. Well, maybe. Hot homeless people existed.

Sasha frowned. She’s only met one other person this hot. 

“Hey,” she said, “doesn’t he look like Jon?”

Both the men titled their heads. 

Finally, Tim said, “Nah, he’s hotter.”

“Agreed,” Sasha said. “I think the scars really do it.” 

“Uh, guys,” Martin said. 

Sasha grabbed her tape recorder out of Martin’s hands, resuming her coroner’s report. “Subject appears to be in his thirties. Weirdly attractive, but that’s probably not as important as we feel it is.” She looked down at his hands, carefully using her pencil to push up the sleeve. “What looks like an aged and badly healed burn scar on his right hand. Supports homeless guy evidence.”

“Knife scar over his throat,” Tim quietly observed. “Someone tried to kill this guy.”

“Guys,” Martin said. 

“Well, I guess this is the point where we worry about body disposal,” Sasha said, straightening. “I think Elias could handle this discreetly and professionally, but that might involve letting Jon know. And I don’t think any of us want that kind of stress in our lives.”

“So, are we not even pretending to want to call the cops, or…?”

“Listen to me!”

Both Tim and Sasha shut up, somewhat guiltily. Martin had straightened too, fists balled, looking firm and determined and resolute - everything that Martin wasn’t, really. Martin lived unsure of himself, never expressing his own feelings or ending every opinion with an “I don’t know, maybe, that’s just my thoughts, what do you think?”. 

So Tim and Sasha paid attention, and when Sasha nodded encouragingly at him he seemed to find further courage. Solemnly, with the air of a wise man by the side of the road, Martin said, “This guy isn’t hotter than Jon.”

Christ. Sasha takes it all back.

 Tim propped a hand on his hip supportively as Sasha rolled her eyes. “Look, mate,” Tim said, “I know that you think Jon’s the hottest person in existence, and maybe objectively he’s fine as hell, but once you know him for longer than three months he loses all attractiveness. It would be like being into the DMV clerk. The really pretentious cousin at all of your family reunions who tries to explain your own job to you. The dude in your English class who thinks he invented feminism.”

“That was you,” Sasha said. 

“I am the objective expert in Jon,” Martin said firmly, shutting down the dissent. “He’s, like, my muse, okay? And can I say, as I have spent so many long hours memorizing the curve of his jaw - that’s the same jaw.”

If Sasha had a retort to that, or if Tim wanted to judge Martin for his taste in men further, neither of them had a chance. There wasn't an opportunity to say anything more, because the corpse opened its eyes. 

Sasha’s first thought was this: wow, what green eyes. 

Sasha’s second thought was: the fuck?

His eyes didn’t focus on her, or snap anywhere. They drifted a little lazily, fixed on the right, but the man was undoubtedly aware. His fingers twitched, he tilted his head from left to right, and his left hand - doubtlessly the hand that still felt texture - clenched the thin and cheap rug. The man’s jaw slackened a little, as if in surprise. 

For their part, the Assistants frantically looked at each other, all conveying the exact same thought - you said he was dead!

Sasha froze to her spot, petrified. She could handle corpses, or coroner’s reports, or mysteries. Sasha was intelligent, unkind, firm, socially incompetent, and a Libra. She could handle the dead, but the living? Sasha had no idea what to do with alive people.

But Tim did. He hesitated two moments, reeling back in shock, before he abruptly composed himself. He crouched down to the guy, and modulated his voice to sound calming and firm. “Hey, don’t strain yourself. Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”

The man turned his head in Tim's direction, hiding his expression from Sasha, but she saw Tim’s eyes widen. Martin, standing closer to his feet, wrung his hands - clearly torn on what to do, uncertain how to help. Martin always hated being uncertain how to help the most. Which was pretty unfortunate, because Martin always wanted to help, and Martin was always uncertain. 

“Can you speak?” Tim asked gently. “If you can’t speak, go ahead and knock on the floor for me, okay?”

“If we pack him into your car, we can say that we found him on the street,” Sasha piped up. As much as she distrusted NHS, and as much as the NHS refused to touch anybody who had ever stepped foot inside the Institute, they could hardly refuse somebody if they just lied their ass off about it. “They’ll have to treat him then, right?”

“We could make it so much worse if we move him,” Martin said quickly, just as strangely firm. “We need to take our chances with 999.”

“We don’t even know if he’s injured,” Sasha pointed out, somewhat optimistically. “Maybe this whole thing can just, like, not be a problem.”

Yeah, Sasha definitely preferred corpses. 

The man was opening and closing his mouth, before he coughed wetly. Sasha clinically noted that it was the first time she had seen his chest move. As Tim reached forward, murmuring gently, and helped the man sit up, she saw that his chest didn’t move at all.

“Alright, let’s try to get you up.” Tim helped the man shift so he was leaning against the bookcase - uncomfortable, but a better position if he started coughing up blood. “We should fetch you some water - Martin, I don’t think he has any injury like that, he just seems out of it. His eyes aren’t focusing on me at all.”

Strangely, the man scoffed at that. The sound made him cough again, but the derision was unmistakable.

The derision was extremely familiar. 

When Sasha looked at Martin his eyes were wide behind his glasses, and she knew that he had heard the same thing that she did. 

Finally, with a raspy and hoarse voice, the man said, “Well, isn’t this fucking fun.”

Everybody stared at him. His voice...different, definitely, with a less posh accent and strained vocal cords scratching his tones. But when Sasha glanced at Tim, she just knew that he was remembering when Jon had insisted on coming into work with a terrible cold and Martin had to bully him home. He had sounded eerily like…

“Is this your idea of a joke?” the man said. 

Tim, from where he was crouched next to the guy, turned his attention back to him. “I’m a funny guy, but last time I checked head injuries aren’t a joke.” He tracked his finger across the man’s eyes, frowning when they didn’t follow. “You definitely have a concussion, mate. If you can walk, we need to -”

“Lord, alright, I get it.” The man raised his burned hand and clumsily rubbed his eyes. “You’re mad at me, I’m sleeping on the couch, whatever. Is all of this really necessary?”

“Uh,” Tim said intelligently. “Mate, I’m not your boyfriend.”

The man waved his other hand in Tim’s direction as he pressed his fingers into his eyes in exhaustion. “I’m hardly speaking to you.” Tim’s jaw dropped in shock as the man angled his face upwards, the crown of his head jamming uncomfortably against the metal shelving. “In my defense, I was doing the best I could with the resources you gave me. It’s water under the bridge. I’ve forgotten about it already! So let’s just get back to our eldritch hellscape.”

Everybody stared at each other. 

“We should move this into the break room,” Martin said. “There’s tea there.”

“Oh, don’t be rude,” Jon said, “making Martin into a caricature of himself. You like Martin, you told me so.”

“Counterpoint,” Sasha said weakly, “the bullpen has Jon. And I really don’t want to explain this to Jon.”

“I don’t even know who this one is,” the man said. “What? Not going to tell me?”

“Okay, like, fucking rude, but whatever.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to,” Tim said firmly, reaching out and putting a firm hand on the man’s arm. The man didn’t recoil or jerk away, just looking down in vague surprise. “But they aren’t here right now. You’re in the basement of the Magnus Institute, alright? I’m Tim Stoker, at your service, and these are my coworkers. I think you have a brain injury. If you can walk, we need to get you -”

“I can’t eat here,” the man said, but he made no effort to remove Tim’s arm. He moved his other hand, pressing it against Tim’s own, as if they were friends. “Cutting me off from my Knowledge -” it was capitalized, Sasha could hear it “ - chaining me to my desk, for - what? You’re not even answering me? Come on!” The man’s voice raised, and for the first time Sasha could hear something ragged in it. “Don’t give me the silent treatment!”

“Jon.”

It was Martin, standing at a distance from the man - from all of them. He was wringing his hands again, shoulders hunched and tense, but his expression was caught in that same mysterious firmness. 

The man didn't react. Not in surprise, not in shock, not in unrecognition. He just scowled a little, ignoring all of them. 

“Jon,” Martin said, louder. “This isn’t solving anything. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not the one being stubborn, Martin,” Jon - Jon?! - muttered, folding his arms. Like an infant. Like, hypothetically, something Jon would do. “I just don’t think omniscient fear gods should be petty.”

Everybody looked at each other. 

“This needs tea,” Martin proclaimed finally, and everybody nodded in silent agreement.

Every nodded in agreement - even, strangely enough, Jonathan Sims himself. 

****

This plan had a few complexities. 

The first complexity was dealing with Jon - their Boss - himself. In an act of cunning psychological warfare, Martin had gone ahead of them and used his endless and infinite subtle acts of manipulation to guarantee that Jon wouldn’t interrupt them. This situation was already Quite A Bit, nobody wanted to babysit their boss. 

Who Sasha frequently felt as if she babysat a bit. Having the youngest person in the office be the very rigid and authoritarian boss was objectively a little funny. But you know what’s not funny? Transphobia. 

Eventually Martin came back and waved them forward, and Tim gently yet firmly dragged the man upwards and put a hand on his back. 

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Tim asked. He sounded resigned about it - barely expecting Jon to respond. “Let me know how you want me to guide you.”

“Oh, it’s whatever. If you’re going to play it this way.” Jon easily looped his arm through Tim’s, who didn’t bother to mask his shock. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Sasha went ahead of them, watching Tim walk Jon down the aisle - hah! - with his arm looped through his elbow and a hand on his back. It was exactly the kind of care and meticulousness that Sasha always saw in him when it came to others. He literally walked grannies across the street. It was horrendous. She got second-hand embarrassed whenever she saw it.

Tim was loudly, extremely, messily kind. He was a person who adopted lost causes, like young men too grumpy to make real friends and women who only knew academia and never people. Sasha told him that once he got his teeth into something he never let go. It would get him into trouble one day. Maybe it already had. 

Sure enough, when Sasha opened the library door for them and peeked her head into the hallway, she saw that Jon’s office door was very firmly shut and locked. Even more incriminatingly, she heard his cute little theater drama monologues starting. Tim had found Jon’s theater aspirations very adorable and he had tried recording them to put on his Snapchat and maybe get him discovered by an agent, but unfortunately the videos made Tim’s phone bleed. They had given Martin ten pounds to taste the blood. Man would do anything for ten pounds, but seeing as they all worked this job that probably applied to all them. 

A workplace made out of people who always picked ‘dare’ in truth or dare. It was kind of a miracle they were still alive. Sasha was a little uncertain how she had survived to thirty five, actually. 

Once Sasha gave the all clear, Tim was able to bring Jon (Neo-Jon? Nega-Jon? Dark Jon? Mean Jon? No, that was just Jon) into the bullpen. Softly narrating what he was doing, he pulled out a chair and lowered Jon into it. 

Homeless Jon hasn’t been blind for very long, Sasha noted clinically. Long enough that he seemed more mildly irritated by it than anything else, but instead of orienting himself or testing out where he was he just kind of slumped in his chair. 

“Jon - uh, the Boss is taken care of?” Tim asked Martin, who was rapidly bustling into the bullpen with four cups of tea that he seemed to be under the impression would help. Tim had sat Homeless Jon in Martin’s chair, which seemed to fluster Martin a bit. 

“Uh, yeah. Gave him a normal statement to get his guard down, then five of the - you know, weird - statements and said that he has to go through all of them today. He’ll be in there for an hour at least.” 

Sasha frowned. “After two he gets a headache and gets bitchy.”

“Three o’clock exactly,” Tim said solemnly.

“Oh, leave off,” Homeless Jon said, “it wasn’t that bad.”

Everybody double taked and looked at each other significantly - which was quickly becoming their predominant mode of communication in a ruthless act of ableism. But Martin just held out a cup of tea, faltering as he clearly stopped to wonder the easiest way to give it to him. 

“Can you hold out your hands, Jon? I have some tea for you. It’s hot, so be careful, okay?”

“If the tea’s spiders I’m going to take it out on Annabelle,” Weird Jon said, but he held out his hands anyway and let Martin put the mug in them. He sniffed it cautiously, checking for spiders, before taking a cautious sip. 

To Sasha and Tim, Martin said, “I know, he’s going to fall asleep after two. I mean, it might be because I drugged his tea a little -”

Weird Jon spat out his tea back into the mug. 

“ - so we shouldn’t be interrupted,” Martin said brightly, clapping his hands. “Now! I think it’s time for explanations, don’t you?” He turned his mighty gaze upon Thankfully Blind Jon, who was occupied carefully holding the tea away from himself. “Drink your tea, Jon.”

Jon drank his tea. His expression twisted. “It tastes just like his.”

Everybody looked at each other. Tim mouthed the word ‘time traveller’ very clearly. Both Sasha and Martin nodded. It was the obvious explanation. 

“An explanation now, please,” Martin said pleasantly. “If you’re a time traveller, you can tell us. This is a safe space.”

Jon-from-the-future’s expression harshened in creases. He hadn’t once relaxed, expression permanently tightened in annoyance and disgruntlement. It was ridiculously Jon. 

Definitely a time traveller. You didn’t work at the Magnus Institute without secretly spending your life deeply hoping you run into a time traveller. Every researcher upstairs secretly prayed to discover the majesty. Everyone in Artifact Storage eagerly gathered around mysterious clocks and dared each other to touch them. Sasha, Queen of Truth-or-Dare, was the undisputed expert in making other people touch weird clocks and recording their reactions.

“Fine,” Super Time Traveller Jon said. “I know this is what you want. Statement of a stupid punishment by the pettiest little color in the evil crayon box. Recorded by the Archivist, in situ. Statement begins.”

Wow, Jon still had his job in the future? That’s a surprise. 

Martin was mouthing the word ‘evil crayon box’ to himself, looking increasingly concerned. The forgotten tape recorder, clenched in Sasha’s fist without her even realizing it, clicked and whirred. 

Then the Archivist began to speak. 

***

In the hazy amber of a memory, there exists an office.

You can see it clearly in your mind’s Eye, even now. You could likely navigate all of it blindfolded - which you now see that your god has the intention to test. Every corner of it is known to you, in the most subtle and mundane of ways. There’s a dust bunny in that corner, never tidied. A mysterious stain on the far right ceiling. The faint smell of blood, just under the vents. The hot waft of tea; your hands wrapped around a mug. 

Through these lonely offices, ghosts roam. They cling to desks and chairs; lingering in favorite mugs or in forgotten hair ties. A metal file cabinet holding neat rows of clothing, blood-stained jackets abandoned. A whiteboard with stubborn flakes of dried marker, forgotten handwriting clinging to life. These imprints no longer evoke terror or grief or pain. They are as familiar as the bloodstains and tea. Even death, eventually, is familiar. After long enough in a nightmare, it becomes indistinguishable from reality. 

There is nothing unfamiliar in the Magnus Institute.

Nothing save these voices, emerging from nothing. Every one of your six million senses have been cut off - your hundred eyes reduced to none. You are cognizant only of two familiar voices, and one unfamiliar one. A firm hand, with calloused fingers from leafing through aged paper. A creaky desk chair - Martin’s, undoubtedly, always squeaking as he fidgeted in distraction. The air tastes the same as it used to back then, before the AC broke and no repairman would step inside to repair it. Daisy did, eventually. Three familiar voices, rendered unfamiliar by the harsh tides of wind and cruel plastic hands. 

You are afraid of very little, these days. In this world that you’ve built, there is nothing that can harm you. The twisted little puppet strung up in his tower has been long since been disposed of, and the awful and terrifying future has settled into a gentle present. The apocalypse grows tedious after a while, and the buffet of fears start tasting a little samey.

But if anything could frighten you, this would. If anything would petrify you, it would be Tim’s kind smile, which died a year before Tim did. If anything could freeze you to your chair, it would be the sight of Sasha with red-rimmed eyes asking why you never even noticed that she was gone. 

The sanctuary of memory corrupted. A mental place of safety infiltrated. A mind turned inside out, exposing its vulnerable flesh to the world. 

There is nothing else this could be but your own personal hell. 

Your loyal servant crouches on bended knee, giving this final prayer to you. He asks, humbly and with great reverence, one simple question:

Why couldn’t this have waited until after I got my milk?

***

The spell ruptured.

It was almost tangible, like a change in air pressure making your ears pop. Sasha blinked harshly, rubbing at her ears and trying to soothe strange ringing. Tim exhaled heavily and Martin screwed his eyes open and shut harshly, as if he was seeing spots. 

The only person unaffected was Weirdly Christian Jon, who was slumped in Martin’s chair with his arms folded over his chest. He was still looking at the ceiling - speaking to whoever he had been addressing this entire time. 

“Just one day,” Jon was saying. “Just one day! It was going to be a nice day! We had decided to take a day trip to the Flesh garden and have a picnic! My darling and beautiful husband was going to make us a cake! ‘Walk down to the Hell corner store’, my husband says. ‘Pick us up some Eldritch milk’, he says. ‘Why do I have to do it’, I says, ‘I’m in the middle of something’. ‘We need cake for bridge night with the girls and I’ll divorce you if you don’t do it’, he says. I didn’t even change out of my nightmare pyjamas! What did I ever do to you? How are you still upset about the eye thing?”

Sasha and the Assistants, still digesting the extremely disturbing monologue, let him talk. Sasha was caught up in how it felt exactly like Jon’s little drama monologues. Granted, he had obviously gotten a lot more practice - guy could go to Broadway - but the weird lilting and falling sing-songyness was just the same. And he only ever did that for the very weird ones. The ones that they were pretty certain were actually true. 

So that probably meant at one point in the future, if Jon was speaking about the Archives as if they had worked there for years. Probably during the apocalypse. Which was happening. Which Jon had...built? Like, as a personal thing, or in a metaphor for capitalism and the human race? Definitely the capitalism thing - Jon was prone to flights of filing-induced passion that sometimes accidentally resulted in a stapler flying and punching a hole through the wall, but she couldn’t even imagine him even purposefully punching someone, much less being the Antichrist. Unless it was one of those things that just happened to you, like a rare genetic defect. 

“Seriously. What was the alternative here? Endless horrorterrors, everybody screaming all the time? It was boring. You eat one Statement about somebody standing in line at a slaughterhouse conveyor belt and you’ve eaten them all. I didn’t do it because I didn’t like you, although for the record I don’t. But you have to admit that having Eldritch Lidls are much more practical than just having a bunch of people lying around screaming all the time. It’s not as if I don’t have other eyes, I hardly miss them. There’s no chocolate cakes in the swirling vortex of mankind’s worst nightmares!”

Okay. They had to find a way to engage with this guy. He was completely ignoring them, probably because he thought that they were mean ghosts. Sasha was only one of those things, and it was hurting her feelings. Judging from the expression on Tim’s face he was thinking the same thing. 

Or - wait, Sasha knew that eyebrow. That was the ‘please please please tell the apocalypse has zombies’ eyebrow. Great. 

But Martin was just looking thoughtful again. Sasha was pretty proud of him - it was probably very difficult for the poor man to remain coherent in the face of the crazy time-traveller who was definitely hotter than their already objectively unfairly hot boss. 

“Jon,” Martin said, cutting Jon’s tired rant about how eggs benedict were much better these days, “Uh, I have an idea? Maybe you can’t get out of the - nightmare by bargaining with it. Do you know how to normally escape these things?”

Jon angled his head down and frowned in Martin’s direction. So far Martin seemed to be the only person who could shut Jon up, which was a hilarious turnaround from normal life. Sasha hadn’t heard anything about Martin being a sad little ghost, but it was hard to believe that Martin was a survivor in the zombie apocalypse. 

“You go through the statement and you walk through it,” Jon said, in a very ‘duh’ kind of way. “Give the statement, highfive corpses, whatever.”

“Right, right.” Martin wrung his hands, biting at his lip. “So maybe it’s like that. Maybe instead of asking to be let out - you just have to walk through it. Like - like it’s a maze. Does that make sense? I’m not sure, it’s just an idea.”

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Right as always, Martin.” Everybody��s jaw dropped, and Martin squeaked. “Fine, fine. Let’s...interact with the evil ghosts.” Jon gestured out with his arms, in a very ‘come at me bro’ gesture. “Go ahead and shoot. Hit me with how much you hate me and how disappointed you are that I never amounted to anything and started the apocalypse.”

Finally! Interrogation time! 

But before Sasha could finally find out if global warming had killed the world, Tim jumped in. “Are there zombies in the apocalypse?!” Tim cried, way too excited. “Is it like the Walking Dead? Or is it more Last of Us?”

Jon squinted in Tim’s direction. “Define zombie.”

“...hunger for human flesh, shambling, gross looking?” Tim rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t seen any zombie movies.”

“I’m omniscient, I’ve seen every zombie movie,” Jon lied blatantly. “I just think that you’re - you know, stereotyping. Sometimes people are the undead and eat humans and they’re - they’re very normal people.”

“Yeah, Tim, be sensitive,” Sasha said gleefully. She put the tape recorder on Martin’s desk, deciding that she would definitely need a transcript of this interview later. Also maybe ask more questions about that omniscient thing, but she was sure Jon was just exaggerating. If you asked Jon today if he was the smartest person on Earth he’d probably say yes. Jon wasn’t even the smartest person in the room.

For good measure, she drew out her little notebook from her pencil skirt pocket, flipping through it looking for a clean page. “The Archives have never gotten a time traveller before. This is unprecedented in its history.” Well, she really didn’t know what Gertrude had gotten up to, but she dearly hoped it wasn’t this. “Do you have any warnings? Desperate messages from a ruined world, that kind of thing?”

“I’m not a time traveller,” Jon said flatly, “so no.”

Everybody stared at him in abject pity.

“Mate,” Tim said sympathetically, “it’s 2015. You’re a time traveller.”

“No, I’m in a pocket hell dimension in a period beyond time and space,” Jon corrected arrogantly. “Time travel doesn’t exist.”

“The apocalypse exists but time travel doesn’t exist?” Martin cried. “That’s so unfair! Like, give us something, you know?”

“Your life is very hard,” the extratemporal reject said. 

Typical Jon. A classic case of time travel and here he was denying it. Sasha crossed her arms, upset that they were wasting time debating temporal physics when they could be talking about zombies. She was a historian and had priorities. “Your denial ain’t cute, mate. You’re just wasting all of our time.” Jon opened his mouth, but Sasha steamrolled over him. “You want evidence, right? Do you need to, like, touch my face? Make sure that I’m not a sexy ghost?”

“That’s a stereotype that nobody actually does,” Jon said. 

“Insensitive as always, Sasha,” Martin condemned. 

“How else are we going to prove it to him?” Sasha said, somewhat defensively. “It’s not as if we have any evidence that we’re not sexy ghosts.”

With utmost care and incredible gentleness, Tim reached out an open hand and gently smooshed it into Jon’s face.

Jon slumped in his seat, arms folded, unimpressed. 

“No mortal who is not my darling husband has dared to touch me since I became the Antichrist,” Jon said.

“I don’t know,” Tim said, withdrawing his hand and looking at Sasha. “What’s more unbelievable: Jon as the Antichrist or Jon with a husband?”

“Jon’s gay?” Martin cried, face beet red. “Gay Jon? Gay Jon real?”

“So, like, how do you get the Antichrist gig?” Sasha asked as she silently passed Tim a fiver. Her queerdar had never been so wrong. “Is it like an adventurer quest you can do or would you call it more of a rare genetic disorder thing?”

“Definitely rare genetic disorder.”

“Then does that mean that our Jon also has the Antichrist gene?” Tim asked, alarmed. “You’d never think so just looking at him! It’s always the quiet ones.”

“No, this makes sense,” Martin said.

Tim stared at him. “So, is that, like, a negative for you, or a positive…?”

Martin’s silence was incriminating. 

“It’s a positive,” Jon said helpfully, startling everyone. They had conveniently forgotten not to talk about one very horny man’s very horny crush in front of sad grumpy time travelling crush. “He’s into it.”

“Wow, Jon,” Tim said, “what would your husband say?”

In a completely pointless show of sass, Jon rolled his eyes. “My useless husband is likely much more concerned with how I managed to get trapped in a nightmare dimension on my way back from the Hell corner store.” He waved a hand absently. “So, if we can hurry this up? Get started on the whole torturing me thing? Right now you’re just on track to annoying me to death.”

“We annoy you to death now!” Tim exclaimed, as Martin’s eyes boggled. “Isn’t that more proof for the time traveller theory?”

“It wasn’t annoying,” Jon said curtly. “I secretly enjoyed it. I always felt a little bad that I wasn’t included. Or wouldn’t let myself be included.”

That, abruptly, made everyone feel a little bad. Not guilty, seeing as Jon neither wanted nor deserved their affection, but just kind of bad. Future Jon didn’t seem any happier than regular Jon. Sasha liked to imagine that if she was trapped in an indeterminate period in time and space in a post-apoc hellscape, she’d at least be having fun.

Everybody looked at each other, equally a little uncomfortable. Tim was the one who finally took control of the situation, as the self-appointed Jon & Everyone Else mediator. He had taken up the mantle years ago and worse it with pride, and occasional exhaustion. 

“Look,” Tim said, as reasonably as possible. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, this was super cool and awesome time travel. Let’s also say maybe this was completely baller and you’re from a post apoc future where everyone wears leather.”

“That’s just Melanie.”

“Put it down as one person who wears leather in the future!” Tim cried, and Sasha obediently jotted it down.”But let’s just put all of this in a hypothetical situation where you aren’t...uh, in a bad dream? So would there, hypothetically, be a way to stop the apocalypse or something?”

Jesus christ. What a try-hard. 

Sasha crossed her arms, glaring at Tim. From next to her, Martin looked just as peeved. “Seriously, dude? Like we can just up and stop capitalism?”

“I don’t want responsibility for stopping the apocalypse,” Martin protested. “I can barely navigate the bus system. What if the Terminator comes after my mother or something?”

“You’ll be a bit better off, frankly,” Jon said. Martin nodded, conceding the point, before looking faintly disturbed. 

“But he said that he caused it,” Tim protested. “Maybe the power of friendship can fix this? I mean, the apocalypse is cool, but I feel like this is the part where we’re all badasses and we fight evil or something.” Tim’s eyes widened. “That’s what the Magnus Institute is for. To stop the apocalypse!”

“Every day I feel a slight sense of emptiness due to my internalized guilt about your death, but you are usually wrong about things,” Jon said flatly, which seemed to both perk Tim up and depress him slightly. “And no. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no one event that precipitated the apocalypse; no rules of engagement. You are puppets on strings, indulging in the fantasy of free will. Yes, Sasha, the apocalypse is capitalism.”

Everybody stood in slightly depressed silence over this. Sasha, personally, was a little relieved. She really didn’t have to deal with the whole ‘preventing the apocalypse’ thing. She’d rather spend the finals days of the world in hedonism, frankly. 

Really, the unique providence of the millennial was to live your entire life half-way convinced you were in the twilight years of the world. This hedonism and apathy was second nature. Or maybe the apathy was a Leitner - Sasha had lost track of that too. 

“Aw, man,” Martin said, summarizing the abstract and complex feelings deftly and succinctly. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, this blows,” Tim agreed. “So should I buy my muscle car now, or later, or what?”

Then Martin and Tim started arguing over fuel efficiency in the apocalypse, and Jon royally checked out of the conversation. Sasha imagined that he was internally having a bit of a Saving Private Ryan moment where flashbacks of bombshells exploded behind his eyelids or whatever the fuck. The important thing is that everyone was distracted, and Sasha could finally check up on their most important gambit of the day: making sure Jon wasn’t bothering them. 

Sasha listened carefully for the sounds of Jon’s little theater monologues, and caught only faint hints of sound. She slipped past everyone into the hallway and approached Jon’s office door, pressing her ear against the cheap wood. But she didn’t need to worry: he was still reciting away, oblivious to the actual interesting shit that was happening outside his door. Jon was a delicate plant, you couldn’t stress him out too much or he would die. Hopefully Martin’s drugged tea would kick in soon -

But Antichrist Jon’s head jerked towards her, directly behind him, and Sasha saw his unfocused green eyes fixate directly on her. No, not on her - on the door, or something beyond it. For just a second, his eyes flared a sharp and toxic green. 

“There you are,” Creepy Jon hissed. 

Well, sorry for leaving rooms without telling him, but she hadn’t thought that he even noticed, much less got resentful about it. But Weird Jon was standing up with no hesitation, and effortlessly swerved around Martin’s desk and stalked into the hallway. For the first time, his expression looked a little dangerous. It was bizarre and off putting, like seeing a ragged yet murderous two meter kitten. 

He reached out an arm and let it trail across the wall, stopping short when he felt it hit wood instead of plaster. Tim and Martin surged forward to stop him, yelling warnings, but Sasha quickly stepped back. She never impeded the timeless march of science and progress. Sasha had done far worse in Artifact Storage for knowledge. 

Jon brushed his hand down the door until it hit the doorknob and angrily twisted it, heaving the door open with unnecessary force. Tim and Martin spilled into the hallway as Angry Jon stalked inside, and Sasha eagerly hung in the door frame for a front row seat into the drama. 

“This is your fault,” Jon intoned dangerously, directly in the face of a deathly affronted Jon. 

In the spirit of the First Directive, Sasha heroically stretched out an arm and prevented Tim and Martin from spilling into the office. It was the right call. Jon stalked forward into the office, hair whipping in a nonexistent wind, expression obscured but undoubtedly thunderous, advancing on the terrified Archivist, as -

He tripped over a chair left carelessly in the center of the office, rocketing forward to land flatly on his face. 

Beside her, Martin went white as a sheet. “Oh no.”

Simultaneously, in complete and total unison, Jon and the Archivist yelled, “Martin!”

****

Jon and the Archivist sat across from each other, exuding waves of pure mutual hatred.

Tim had quickly helped the Archivist up, moving the chair forward and getting him situated there. The Archivist’s mood was not improved by any of this. Which was difficult enough to handle by itself, if manageable. Sasha knew how to manage grumpy time travelling blind Antichrists who had gotten lost on their way to the corner store.

She even knew how to handle their boss, who was extremely grumpy about being harassed by a random homeless person with nice hair. Jon hated statement givers at the best of times, much less seemingly homeless ex-corpses. Or, well, Sasha didn’t know if he was an ex-corpse, but he was certainly an animate one. 

They were both being so annoying about it Sasha was trying to determine if she should change their nicknames to something more derogatory. Thing 1 and Thing 2? Too long. 

Both of them were very grumpy about the fact that Martin had pushed aside the chair for guests in front of Jon’s desks when he deposited the drugged tea, accidentally moving it close to the center of the office. Jon had known this because he saw it happen. The Archivist had known this because he, apparently, knew Martin very well. 

Today had really been a bonding experience with Sasha, Martin, and Tim. Their skill at silent communication had reached borderline telepathy. They all looked at each other significantly as the Jons were caught in their mutual dyad of hatred, silently commiserating over the fact that their one goal had been spoiled by the greatest wildcard of all. Sasha privately liked to consider herself somewhat of a wildcard, but she was depressingly aware that the entire Archive team was composed of wildcards. Maybe that’s why half of them didn’t survive the apocalypse. 

It was a little unlikely that Jon was a survivor/instigator in the zombie apocalypse, actually. Dude definitely would have bit it if he wasn’t cheating with Antichrist powers. Now, if Sasha had Antichrist powers, this whole game would be looking very different -

“Boss, this is a statement giver,” Tim hinted desperately, hands clenched so hard on the back of the Archivist’s chair that his knuckles were turning white. “Remember what Elias said about statement givers? About how we can’t harass them?”

“I was in the middle of a recording and this man was unnecessarily confrontational,” Jon said crisply. Sasha caught her eye jumping frantically back and forth between the two, trying to reconcile them. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Martin’s horny surety, she wouldn’t have realized that they were the same person at all. The Archivist’s most defining attribute was his big and fluffy hair, and Jon was sadly lacking in the nice hair department. That fade and twists were the shackle around his ankle. So was the sweater vest, baggy tweed jacket, and ill-fitting.“He’s lucky I’m not throwing him out.”

Martin, who looked as if he was having his tenth gay crisis of the morning, didn’t seem to hold the same opinion, but he was king of bad taste anyway. 

“Remember what Elias said about harassing confused, blind statement givers? Remember that? Boss?”

Jon looked confused. “He didn’t specify the community of people with disabilities.”

“It was implied? Jon?”

“The optics would be terrible,” Sasha said, before snickering. Martin stomped on her foot. She stomped on his back, which definitely hurt a lot more. “Look, Jon, sorry about all of this. He was just - uh - really insistent that he talk to you -”

“I think if our visitor hassles Jon then maybe, objectively, you can say that Jon brought it on himself,” Martin said, in a daring show of anti-Jon sentiment.

This act of subtle rebellion was the first thing that broke the Archivist out of his cycle of hatred. He threw out a hand, bowling over Jon’s desktop cup of pens and sending them tumbling over the desk. Sasha saw him specifically orient his hand to do so. “Thank you, Martin! Your understanding of paraphysics is always immaculate.”

“Wow, really?”

“Stop complimenting my assistants,” Jon hissed, frantically diving to save his pens. “And stop - gesticulating over my desk! You did that on purpose!”

“Harassing the blind, Jon!”

“You don’t even need to tearfully blame me for how I ruined your life,” the Archivist said flatly. “You existing in my vicinity is torment enough.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Sasha said, before pausing a beat. “I meant the first part, ha ha ha, obviously -”

“This man is a very normal statement giver who will be leaving any minute now,” Martin jumped in, “so there’s really no reason for us all to fight, when you think about it -”

“If you all don’t get out of my office, you are all fired -”

“You are listening.”

Everybody stopped talking at once, staring at the Archivist. He was still staring intently ahead, straight into his counterpart. Jon was hiding it, quite badly, but he was unsettled. He hadn’t even acknowledged that he and the man looked alike - the thought undoubtedly running through his brain and soundly dismissed - but it was clearly rattling him. But there was something else that was scaring him too - maybe the Archivist’s green eyes, so foreign from his own brown? His intense and furious expression, like cut glass? The particularly strange and heavy feeling in the air, prickling down the back of Sasha’s neck?

He hadn’t even stopped the recorder. 

“You are here,” the Archivist continued calmly. “You were listening in. Why you were listening in on him, and his regurgitated aftertaste of Statements, I do not know. I felt you, and I came to you. We cannot forsake each other. Do not hide yourself from me.”

The effect was immediate. 

The Archivist’s neck snapped forward, so harshly he cracked his head on Jon’s desk. Strangely enough, Jon screamed too, holding a hand to his temple as if he was suddenly pierced by a blinding headache. Tim immediately bent down to check on Archivist, making sure that he hadn’t hurt himself, as Martin bustled around the desk to check on Jon. Jon batted his hands away, scowling, so he was just fine. But the Archivist didn’t groan, or stir, or moan. He just lay there, still and limp, and when Tim shook him he didn’t even tense. 

The air was heavy, a tang of metal in her mouth like the crackle before a storm, and Sasha couldn’t fight a shiver. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Jon, either: the way he stared at the Archivist, hand on his forehead, eyes wide and growing wider. 

“Dad…?”

When the Archivist stirred, the spell was broken, and Jon’s mouth snapped shut so quickly it was as if he had never spoken at all. He turned his head and moaned, eyes opening uselessly. They were back to their usual toxic green, no flaring or flashing. 

“Mar’in? Where…”

“I’m here,” Martin said quickly, and ducked around the desk to grab the Archivist’s hand and squeeze. For just a second, Jon looked a little jealous. Sasha had the sense that Jon had never been mothered than anyone other than Martin and Tim, and the prospect confused and frightened him so much he reacted aggressively to it. “Everything alright? You hit your head.”

“How many eyes?” the Archivist asked weakly. 

“...physically, or functionally?”

But the Archivist just ran his burned hand over his smooth hand, kneading it and feeling the skin. “Still gone. Damn it.” He straightened, grimacing and spitting out a stray tendril of hair out of his mouth. “So it’s true…”

“So what’s true?” Tim asked urgently. “Do you finally believe us about the time travel thing? Because man, I have so many questions -”

He didn’t get the opportunity to say anything. The Archivist reached out a hand, fingers brushing against his shirt, and the Archivist’s hand abruptly clenched on the fabric. Tightly, roughly, the Archivist pulled him down and extended his other arm, and caught Tim in an awkward and lopsided hug. 

Tim carefully straightened him and returned the hug, gracing the Archivist with the patented Perfect Stoker Hug, and the Archivist buried his face in Tim’s shoulder. His chest didn’t heave, and his breath didn’t catch, but the element of desperation was pungent and unmistakable. 

“You were right,” Jon whispered. “We messed it all up.”

“Sure, yeah, totally!” Tim said, clapping the Archivist on the back in a masculine, yet sensitive way. “So, does this mean the zombie apocalypse is totally a-go, or…”

“Sasha,” the Archivist said, and Sasha chose to ignore her own personal distaste for hugs and being touched so she could step forward and hug him too. 

He clutched onto her just as tightly as he had Tim, which surprised her a little. Jon and Tim had probably been best friends in the future, and Sasha couldn’t imagine her and Jon ever truly being close. He respected her as a colleague, but that was probably because Sasha purposefully left her manuscripts around the office and aggressively used as many big words in front of him as possible. Jon had always been an obstacle to her - innocently stupid at best, malicious at worst. To think that he would grip her so tightly…

With meticulous care, the Archivist separated from her. His expression was crumpled, and for the first time Sasha saw something over than aggravation or impatience in Jon’s face. Relaxed and soft, he looked like a different man. No - he was a different man, it was just apparent. The change softened his sharp lines into something a little friendlier; his striking exterior melting into something pretty instead of imposing. 

Slowly, he raised his hand a little to tangle it in her hair. He frowned a little, gently tugging at it and feeling it spring back into place. “So it was curly…like mine…”

A lot of little hints snowballed into one strange and foreign realization. “Do you not remember me?”

“Dolls stole your identity,” the Archivist said apologetically. 

“Like credit card fraud, or -”

“Metaphysically.” He paused guiltily. “I mourned you as an abstract concept?”

“Like I’m every woman in Hollywood?” Sasha screeched, outraged. This was not trans rights. “Alright, royally fuck that. Feel my hair, mister. Full permission to touch it. Feel that? You call that abstract?” The Archivist shook his head, eyes wide, and Sasha gently moved his hand to rest on the top of her head. “Taller than you in eight cm heels, remember? You asked me how I walked in them, and I said -”

“ - Barbie’s Princess Charm School,” the Archivist said automatically, eyes widening. “I do remember.”

Martin clearly waited around to be tenderly embraced, and was disappointed. 

The Archivist stepped away from Sasha, expression creased in furious thought. “So it’s real. So far as anything’s real, I suppose. But I don’t understand how -” the Archivist’s eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers in realization. “The manhole!”

Everybody stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said pleasantly, “what is going on -”

“I was walking down the street, and I remember hearing city work!” the Archivist said brightly. “They were doing their monthly ‘clearing the gators out of the sewer pipes’ maintenance! And the Beholding told me that there was an open manhole, and I said oh it’ll be fine, I’m a demigod on Earth, I don’t fall down manholes - and then -”

The door to Jon’s office dramatically crashed open, and everybody jumped straight in the air. Jon, whose office had seen two more incredibly theatrical entrances than usual today, immediately bristled and opened his mouth to earn them all another harassment complaint, before he abruptly shut his mouth. 

It was Elias, their miniature and unspeakably boring boss extraordinaire. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the doorframe, suit jacket askew and chest heaving. Had he ran down here?

“Is someone here?” the Archivist asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said, stepping forward cautiously. “It’s our boss, Mr. Bouchard. Elias, we’re taking a statement, can we help - ?”

“How did that get here?” Elias asked, voice strangely tense and coiled. “How did you - not even I could -”

“That makes sense!” Martin cried, thumping a fist on his open palm. “Elias wants to time travel just as much as everyone else in the Institute!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, pathetically behind, “time travel -”

“Did the time traveller sensor alarms in the basement go off?” Sasha asked, surprised. “I thought only Artifact Storage had those.”

“Uh, Mr. Statement Giver, are you okay?” Tim asked, but it was already too late.

The Archivist had turned to face Elias, expression unreadable. Sasha felt that crackle again, weighing down the air, and she saw the Archivist’s hair puff and frizz slightly with a green crackle. His neon green pupils shone again and spun, like an infernal wheel. 

“What’s wrong, Elias?” the Archivist mocked, as energy coursed through him. “Upset that Mama has a new favorite?”

And Sasha saw in that moment that the Archivist, who possessed the most inhuman green eyes she had ever seen, had eyes the same shade as Elias. 

“Oh, man,” Sasha said, “is Elias a time traveller too?”

“Only in the most mundane way. Can’t even get a little bit of special attention, Elias? Sad!” It was second-hand thrilling to watch someone mock their boss, living the dreams of everyone in the room. Even if it was a little weird how much Jon seemed to hate this guy - nobody hated Elias, just like nobody liked him, and nobody had any strong feelings at all besides unpromoted women.

 At the door, Elias’ expression was slack in - amazement? Was amazement the right word? He was staring at Jon as if...words didn’t even describe it. At least in any way that Sasha wanted to think about. 

“Mr. Bouchard, I swear I can explain,” Sasha, who could not explain, said hurriedly. “We found this corpse and we were going to tell you, but -”

But the Archivist cut her off, as if nothing was less important than explaining himself to Elias. “Did you want to know how to stop the apocalypse, Sasha?”

Sasha froze. Martin and Tim did too. Jon, who nobody had actually bothered to brief since he was kind of the fifth most important person in the room, dropped his pen. “Uh,” Sasha said, sweating. For the first time she understood the possible upsides of not knowing something. “I mean, if I have to, but you said that it was inevitable -”

“Oh, yes. But, just once every one or two centuries, a man comes along who fancies himself fate.” The Archivist raised a hand, eyes spinning and spinning, as Elias stood frozen in the doorframe. “I’ll be honest, Jonah. This isn’t to save the world. That’s so last year. I just really fucking hate you.” Something cracked in the air. “Ceaseless watcher, smite this -”

The door slammed shut. Sasha heard Elias lock it behind him. They all stood around as footsteps quickly echoed through the Archives, and another door slammed. Which was probably being locked too. 

They stood in silence, the Archivist having clearly heard the slams. He let his hand fall, but the energy didn’t cease crackling around him. He didn’t look resentful or disappointed - just thoughtful. 

“Everything in due time, I suppose. I guess it is pretty unfair to get to smite that man twice,” the Archivist said thoughtfully. “I’ll give someone else a turn.” His mouth twitched wryly. “You know, Sasha, there’s one other way to prevent the apocalypse.”

“Is it work?” Sasha asked tiredly. 

“You may kill the man who arranged the dominos,” the Archivist intoned, before hanging his head towards a petrified Jon. “Or you may kill the man who toppled them over.”

Sasha stared at Jon. Jon stared back, frozen like a deer in headlights.

Martin silently passed Sasha a penknife from Jon’s desk. 

“I’m very qualified for this job,” Jon protested weakly.

“Queen of feminism, I very much support you,” Tim said quickly, putting himself in between Sasha and Jon in a heroic display of stupidity, “but, maybe, killing your boss to take his job, is perhaps, maybe not that much of a great idea, just a thought?”

“The job’s being the Antichrist,” the Archivist pointed out, crossing his arms. 

“The direct action against sexism, xenophobia, and transphobia is very admirable,” Tim said, eyes held up as if he was placating a tiger, “but think of it this way - if you kill the Antichrist, then you become the Antichrist, like in - uh -”

“Pokemon,” Martin volunteered. 

Tim snapped his fingers. “Pokemon! So you shouldn’t -” He halted, turning back to Martin. “Pokemon? Seriously? That’s becoming champion -”

“A - alright, alright! Everybody stop!” Jon shakily stood up, brushing aside the empty tea mug right next to him. “That’s enough of all of this! I may not know what’s going on, or who this man is, or why he looks like me -”

“Hm,” Martin said, eyeing the empty tea mug. 

“ - why he looks like a homeless person, why he barged into my office and insulted me, why you are all defending this atrocious behavior, why you are calling it the work of time travel, which does not exist and you have no proof for it anyway -”

“Jon,” Martin said, watching Jon’s arm tremble, “maybe you should -”

“Shut up, Martin!”

“Don’t be rude to him!” the Archivist snapped. 

“You’ve been rude to him twice today!”

“I’m allowed to be rude to him! He’s even ruder to me! I’m the nice one!”

“ - and you were glowing in my office, which is just frankly rude,” Jon continued viciously, steamrolling over the Archivist. “You gave me a terrible headache, you hugged my assistants very inappropriately for the workplace, you made my boss walk in before trying to smite him, you encourage violence against my own person in revenge for a job that I definitely deserve -”

Both of Jon’s arms were shaking, and Tim’s eyebrows were slowly raising. “Boss, you should sit down, I think -”

“ - I want an explanation!” Jon yelled, slamming the desk. “And I’m not going to stop until you tell me what’s going on!”

Then Jon passed out. 

Everybody watched it happen. Everybody, save perhaps the Archivist, had noticed that it was about to happen: at first a tremor, then a shake, and then a final collapse. Like a marionette with his strings cut, Jon slumped over and crumpled solidly on the floor. 

Everybody stood in disaffected silence. Martin carefully stepped over and prodded Jon with his foot. “Out cold.” He shot a considering gaze at the empty tea mug. “Sorry, guys. Looks like I accidentally used the delayed action sedative.”

"It’s alright,” Tim said magnanimously. “At least that problem is solved now. Maybe we can convince him this was a bad dream when he wakes up.”

“If he insists it was real, we’ll just ask him for evidence and refuse to believe him without it,” Sasha suggested. 

“Isn’t that kinda gaslighting?” Martin asked. “Isn’t that, you know, a little morally dubious -”

“You did drug him,” Tim pointed out.

“I mean, hardly the first time?”

“Maybe Martin should be the Antichrist,” Sasha said thoughtfully.

The Archivist’s face was doing something extremely interesting, yet inscrutable.

“I really don’t want to be Antichrist, though,” Martin said apologetically. “Does it even pay?”

“Jon did say it was a job…” Sasha said, already considering herself in the role. “Do you guys think I’d be sexier as the Antichrist? Be honest.”

“Yes and completely,” Tim said immediately, before realizing that he said that too quickly. “I mean. I’d never objectify you. I respect women. But -”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Martin said, throwing up his hands. “When you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot it’s normal and M/F of you. But when I do it, then it’s ‘gross’ and ‘get that away from me’. Great double standards, guys.”

“It’s not the fact that it’s a guy,” Tim protested, “it’s the fact that it’s Jon -”

“Oh, when you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot then it’s normal and cis of you,” Sasha said heatedly, “but when Tim respects trans women, then it’s ‘gross’ and -”

“I respect all women,” Tim said, equally heatedly, “but I do want to acknowledge the systematic marginalization of trans women within the community, especially trans women of color like yourself -”

A hoarse wheeze echoed through the office.

Everyone froze, terrified by the haunted sound, but after a second Sasha realized it was the Archivist - Jon - who was laughing. 

They had never heard him laugh before. He was practically wheezing with it, bent over with his hands on his knees, with a strained cackle that fizzed with static around the corners. He was smiling broadly, his grin splitting his cheeks, for the first time that Sasha had ever seen. 

He straightened and threw his head back and laughed too, a greater belly-laugh that was so hysterical and fragile and free that it struck something strange and raw in Sasha’s heart. He rubbed his face with his hand, still laughing, and eventually broke into coughs. 

“I understand now,” Jon said, when he stopped coughing. “I thought that you had deposited me here in revenge. You had sensed that I was happy - that the green skies were beautiful, that your large eye seemed kind that day - and that you found it a waste of emotion. But that wasn’t true, was it? It must have been an accident. I’ve never been happier to hear these idiots arguing, and you’ve lost me like a toy behind a bookshelf. The strange stupidity of it! I’m enchanted.” He sombered a little, expression falling from hysterical glee into a soft and resigned happiness. He held up his hand, feeling the crackle of electricity run across his palms. “But you See me now. The foolish man brought you down upon us, and I intercepted your lightning bolt. His eyes, mundane and paltry, are closed, and you feel my consciousness in replacement of him. I can feel you already - my Eyes opening, the Reality that we built together calling me back. When your infinite grace re-aligns with every one of my atoms, forming the fabric of my world, I’ll snap back.”

Just like that?

Sasha had thought that there would be an...adventure, or quest, or something. At least a research binge. Some kind of heroic group effort. But the Archivist was a stretched rubber band, held tightly and out of position, and after long enough straining against its center it had to snap back. A telly flickering in and out, blaring the song of a dead channel. 

“Do we have time to group hug or something?” Tim offered weakly, undoubtedly thinking the same thing as she was. “Last goodbyes? Anything?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle moment?” Martin asked urgently. “I’ll find you in the future, right? We’re still together there, right?”

“Martin,” Jon said, strangely fond, “we were never apart.”

Martin turned a unique shade of red. 

But it was Sasha who Jon turned to, face angled to the sound of her voice. His expression was still distantly fond, but there was something strange in it too - a wry recognition, a subtle knowledge, a faint recollection of a joke that only he knew. 

“Sasha,” Jon said, “so long as you’re brave, and buy ten fire extinguishers and hide them around the office, things will be just fine. Buy twelve fire extinguishers, just to be safe. And don’t ever go inside Artifact Storage again. Not even for Alicia’s birthday party. If it’s a choice between worms and Artifact Storage then choose worms, the scars add a certain appeal. I cannot stress enough, not even if you lose your jacket in Artifact Storage -”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to say to me?” Martin asked desperately, almost crying. Sasha, personally, wanted to circle back around to the worm thing. “Sad goodbyes? Waving a handkerchief? I thought you said I was alive? Don’t you have anything?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Goodness, Martin, if you insist. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. In fact, I do believe it’s about time.” 

Martin’s mind clearly projected very loudly ‘I’ve been in love with you this entire time’ in blatant wish-fulfillment. Everybody held their breaths. 

Jon drew himself up to his full, imposing height, and sternly looked at all of them. “I’m tired of holding my tongue about this, Martin,” Jon said finally, and Martin qualified. “For the last time, I don’t load the dishwasher wrong. I load the dishwasher correctly. It’s you who’s always insisting that the cups go on the bottom. It’s a freakish way to live your life, and I’ll never forgive you for -”

Static blared in Sasha’s ears and overwrote her mind, and she screamed. The sensation was a pickaxe driven into her ears, an unforgivable rip and tear, and she heard her screams echoed in concert. 

Then the pain abated, and was gone. 

Sasha, Tim, and Martin were left standing in an empty office, accompanied only by the unconscious figure of their boss. There was nothing left of the Archivist, nor any suggestion that he had ever been here - just a drained mug, some scattered pens, and a lingering sense of malaise and confusion. 

Everybody looked at each other, feeling strangely and uniquely connected. It was hardly Sasha’s strangest Magnus Institute experience, but maybe it was the funnest. 

“Well,” Tim said finally, “at least one day this week wasn’t boring.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even have to get drunk today.” Sasha sighed. “We definitely have to gaslight Jon about this.”

Martin was already carefully lugging Jon onto his chair, arranging him so his arms were folded on the desk with his cheek resting on his forearm. “We’ll pretend it was just a weird dream.” He propped his hands on his hips, satisfied. “Hopefully this convinces him he needs more sleep.” Martin gasped in sudden realization. “Maybe he becomes the Antichrist because he needs more sleep! Guys, I have a great twenty step plan for saving the world.”

“Oh, come on, we said that was too much work.” Tim shrugged and opened the office door, holding it open and gesturing for them all to come out. “I think if we just friendship Jon to death, all of our problems will be solved.”

Martin just shrugged, following him out. They really did have paperwork that they needed to get back to. “Both are vital components. But...hey, it’s not weird to put the mugs on the bottom rack, is it? There’s not really that much of a difference, right?”

“Mate, you’re a fucking freak.” Tim looked backwards at Sasha, who was still standing in the office, dazed. “Sash, you coming? Let’s go day-drinking.”

“Yeah,” Sasha said, “in a sec.”

He shrugged and left the door propped open, and Sasha heard their bickering fade slowly as they walked down the hallway. 

But she couldn’t help staring at Jon sleeping at his desk, chest falling in and out, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose. His short, carefully maintained hair and meticulous fade. His baggy tweed and ill-fitting slacks. The subtle and shameful kind of earnestness, the desire mixed with fear mixed with hope mixed with genuine desire for a better future. He just wanted to be happy, to not be afraid anymore. He seemed weirdly human, when compared with his inhuman self. Or maybe it was the other way around. 

The tape recorder on Jon’s desk was still running. Sasha squinted at it, taking a second to listen to the staticy hiss. It was familiar, in the strangest possible way. It felt familiar -

Sasha reached out and grabbed the tape recorder, stuffing it in her pencil skirt pocket. “Just remember,” Sasha whispered, “I’d make a great candidate for Antichrist.”

She ran to go catch up with her coworkers, shutting the door behind them and leaving Jon sleeping contentedly in his office, head pillowed on his arms, dreaming strange and comforting dreams.

[let-them-read-fics]

Yours Truly (Pt. 1)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: ~ Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Pining, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally have a few days off, so we're back to our (semi) regularly scheduled programming with this fic! I really hope you enjoy it; lmk what you think :)

PS ~ Once again, I had to split it into two parts to appease the Tumblr Overlords.

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 2 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

1.) A Day In Class

Where does true beauty come from?

Is it strictly based in someone's DNA, rooted entirely in the attractiveness of their features? Or is deeper than that; does it extend from their soul? The very essence of stardust and personality that makes them them? Is it in how they interact with others? How they carry themselves? 

You, being the wannabe philosopher that you are, love hearing people's answers to those questions. Every response is unique in its own way, altered depending on the person asked, and you find that to be one of humanity's most wonderful qualities. Like snowflakes, we're all different; as such is our definition of beauty. It lies in the eye of the beholder, subjective in its nature, and you find that comforting. Just think: if 99% of the world's population found you unattractive, 78,000,000 would beg to differ. 

Though, for one person, you're sure those rules don't apply. She's objectively beautiful, and no one even attempts to pretend otherwise. 

Who, you may ask? Kim Jisoo, of course -- head of your school's student council, resident girl next door, and keeper of your heart. She's poised in every way, and refined to the point that you question if you're even deserving of knowing her. Humor and kindness radiate from her no matter where she goes, so it's really no surprise that so many people love her. 

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to look at your best friend. "Yo, Y/N. What did you get for number 32?" Jeong asks from his seat in the row directly behind you, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Your history professor likely wouldn't take kindly to being interrupted during his lecture, so you choose to show him your answer instead of responding out loud. 

Jeong thanks you and continues to work on the activity you finished nearly 15 minutes ago, leaving you to half-heartedly listen to your professor. You're a good student, but even you have a limit to how much monotonous speaking you can handle in one sitting. As his words drone on, you roll your neck -- intending for the action to relieve some of the tension in your aching muscles; you're in for a surprise, however, when you lock eyes with none other than Jisoo herself. She offers a warm smile and wave, and the innocent actions send swarms of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. After sitting there for a moment, dumbstruck by her beauty, you snap to and return the gesture, making her giggle quietly. 

Huh. So that's what angels sound like, then.

She turns back to her work after a minute, flipping the page every so often as she follows along with the lesson. You take note of how her eyes dart across the materials laid out on her desk, how her fingers mindlessly flirt with the edge of her sleeve in contemplation when she gets to a question that stumps her.

Never have you ever found yourself in such inner turmoil before. The sight before you begs to be seen -- to be admired -- but class continues on. As much as you try to fight it, your resolve eventually crumbles; foreign concepts now falling on fully deaf ears, you allow yourself to be entranced. 

2.) Out In The Square

A Few Hours Later

Throngs of people stretch out before you, everyone making their way to various parts of campus as the blazingly hot sun beats down on them. Some run like their lives depend on it -- likely having overslept or missed campus transit -- while others take their time, catching up with friends and gossiping all the while. The soft pfft of sprinklers set up across the sections of lawn around you can be heard, going off every so often, and occasionally they're followed by the shouts of some unfortunate people getting soaked. 

"You're so lucky, Y/N," Jeong groans from behind you. A grimace sits on his face as he flips through the pages of his Trigonometry book, looking for the reference graphs again. "No more classes for the rest of the week and you don't have any more assignments to finish? Remind me again how to become a teacher's pet, please." You roll your eyes with an amused smile, leaning back on your elbows to talk to him. 

"I'm not a teacher's pet, Jeong. I just do my work on time instead of partying every night." He picks up a leftover piece of bread from the picnic basket that sits to his right and tosses it at you in retaliation to your little remark. 

"I don't care what you say, those parties are always epic. One of these days I'll convince you to come along." 

You shake your head, knowing there's no way you'd willingly attend one of them. From his stories, all those "epic" nights consist of is ridiculously drunken beer pong, sweaty people doing jello shots, and regrets.

"Not in a million years, loser." You say adamantly, not letting him trick himself into believing he's capable of swaying you. 

With one last muttered phrase of, "we'll see about that," he returns to his studies, and you turn your attention elsewhere.

Scattered light filters in through the leaves of the tree you're sitting under, wrapping you in a blanket of warmth as your eyes scan across the crowd again. The sight brings to mind an idea that always fascinates you: everyone you meet is busy creating their own stories, writing and rewriting new possibilities and endings for themselves with each new choice they make. You can hear snippets of their conversations -- see instances of some having their best days while others are living through their worst -- and it really puts things into perspective. Although we may appear as side characters in those books of life that others are writing for themselves, we have no idea what they're going through at any given moment. So, you believe, that makes it all the more important to leave a positive impact on them; whether it be a kind smile, holding the door, or even a simple compliment, you're determined to have your legacy be one rooted in kindness. 

Speaking of kindness in human form…

There she is, you think to yourself, feeling that all too familiar pitter patter of your heart pick up. Jisoo exits Building C, where her latest lecture just ended, and rushes down the stairs with her books in her arms. She's studying to become an actress, as far as you know, and you can't help but smile at the thought; she'll make an amazing star someday. 

You watch as she meets up with 3 other girls, whom you immediately recognize as Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie, and they eagerly bounce their way over to the refreshment truck that one of your school's clubs had been so considerate to hire. It's the perfect day for a cold treat, after all. 

Jisoo's dark hair flows in the gentle breeze that rolls in, looking like silk as it rides the currents. She's gorgeous in every way, and you can't help but be smitten; besides, it's not like you're not alone in your pining. She practically has the entire student body wrapped around her finger. 

"Y/N, don't forget to blink. You're staring pretty hard," Yuqi says, raising up onto her elbow beside Jeong. He laughs with her, but his eyes remain glued to the notebook paper he's scribbling his work onto.

Your eyes dart away following her statement, and you know you've been caught. "I thought you were asleep," you bite back, attempting to hide the blush of embarrassment that's quickly flooding to your cheeks. 

"I was, but I guess my intuition as your best friend woke me up. It's my mission in life to tease you." 

"So I've gathered," you sarcastically smile at each other, making stupid faces like always. 

"You love me," she flips her hair over her shoulder, appearing self-assured with the smirk that tugs at her lips. 

"Do I though? I don't know sometimes..." she socks you in the arm, making you chuckle. 

"All jokes, babe. Don't pout," you pinch her cheek until she grins, and then she begins telling you all about the dream she just had. 

----

Jisoo leads her gang over to one of the nearby tables, making sure to choose her seat strategically. A special someone caught her attention earlier, as they have from the moment she first laid eyes on them months ago, and she hasn't been able to fight the urge to admire them. She watches as they laugh along with something their friend said, tilting their head back as the cheerful noise rings out. She finds herself smiling along, imagining what it would be like to make them laugh like that; it's a uniquely wonderful sound, and she can't help but adore it. 

They lean across the blanket they're sitting on and dig through a picnic basket, retrieving what seems to be a sandwich packaged up in plastic wrap. One of their friends exaggeratedly thanks them, tackling them to the ground in a messy hug with a shout of gratitude that even Jisoo can hear from across the square. 

"Earth to Jisoo!" Jennie says, raising her voice slightly as she snaps her fingers in front of the unnie. The former jolts back to attention with a little jump, clearing her throat to gather her thoughts. 

"You know, you could always go talk to him. I've heard he's sweet." She tells the other girl, noticing the look of longing that's befallen her features. 

"Yeah, Joy has Art with him on Thursdays. I think his name's Jeong or something like that." Lisa butts in before taking another lick of her ice cream. 

Despite being so smart, the girls are really oblivious sometimes; Jisoo wasn't looking at him at all. She was looking at you. 

She doesn't know if now is the right time to tell them that, though. She hasn't officially come out to them, but she isn't afraid that they won't accept her -- she just wants that moment to be special, and sweating in the middle of the campus square doesn't seem like the golden opportunity that she's been hoping for.

"Just eat your treats, knuckleheads." She concludes, taking a spoonful of the shaved ice she opted for instead of ice cream. The truck had multiple types of treats, with all kinds of different toppings and flavorings lining the walls.

"Okay…" Rosé trails off before adding, "but don't say we didn't try to help when you start wishing you had said something later." Jisoo uses her spoon to lower the one that Rosie had raised accusingly at her, reassuring the girl that she'd be fine. 

She knows it's a lie, though; as the 4 of them later toss their trash in the bins and make their way to the student council room, Jisoo sneaks a last wistful glance at you, wishing she would've had the courage to start a conversation.

3.) One Step Closer

Friday, 1:34 PM -- A Few Days Later

"Hey, Minji. How many do we have today?" You wave at what kids have already been dropped off, your presence making their little faces light up with joy. 

Your coworker responds from across the room, tossing a couple stray toys into their labeled baskets to keep the space tidy. "10 or so, I think. The last ones should be arriving soon." You nod and take off your coat, setting your things in one of the small cubbies against the wall just beyond the entrance. 

"Y/N!" A small voice shouts from behind the counter, hidden from view. You smile deeply when you realize who it is, and you quickly dart around the corner to say hello. His chubby hands cover his mouth, but they do little in hiding his adorable grin. "Seungbum! How's my little munchkin?!" He squeals and runs into your arms, giggling loudly when you pick him up and spin him around. His dark hair sways from side to side with the movement, the slight waves sticking out in random places. A few seconds later, he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls back to look at you, settling into your secure hold. 

"Can we play when Jia gets here? I promised her I'd show her the new trick I learned, but I wanna show you, too." 

You smile at the sweet sentiment. "Of course, buddy. As long as you eat well at snack time, we can play however much you want." You raise an eyebrow at him, showing your authority, before saying, "I saw you put your veggies in your pocket last time and skip to dessert, so it'd better not happen again." He lowers his head after realizing he had been caught, and a hint of redness flushes his cheeks in embarrassment. 

"Okay Y/N-yah." 

You tickle him to make sure he knows you aren't mad at him, and soon he's laughing again. "Now, go wash your hands and get settled at the table, please." 

"Yes ma'am." His tiny sneakers squeak against the floor as he races off towards one of the lowered sinks that borders the kitchen wall, and you shake your head with a smile. 

Not even a second later, you feel a soft tug at your pant leg, and you turn around to find the source. 

A head of brilliantly auburn hair is the first thing you see, and its shade compliments the child's outfit perfectly. "Hi sweetheart. Are you new?" You squat down to the young girl's level, noting how she shyly toys with her fingers as they rest in front of her. She nods, the movement so subtle that you almost don't notice it. 

"My name's Y/N, and that awesome lady over there," you lean closer to her and point towards your coworker, "...is Minji. You can stay with us today, or you can play with the others, okay?" She nods again, her mannerisms letting you know just how shy she really is. Gently taking one of her hands, you hold it and look at her with a reassuring smile, asking, "Will you tell me your name?" 

"I'm Aera." She meekly says, only maintaining eye contact for a second or two. 

"That's a beautiful name," you compliment, seeing progress as she lightly smiles at your words. "And I love your bow," you add, touching the delicate material that rests near her ear, nestled into her straight locks. It has cherry blossoms and butterflies on it, all vibrant and neatly colored. 

"Thank you, I picked it out myself." She perks up a bit now, raising her head to look at you with a proud smile. "Wow, really?" You put on an impressed expression, wanting to boost her confidence even more. "You'll have to help me choose one the next time I go shopping, then. You're great at it." The praise makes her chuckle, and her eyes squint into soft crescents in the process. 

After stealing a glance at the table where everyone else has already gathered, you realize that they're waiting on you to start. "Alright, Aera, it's time to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to sit with me, or are you ready to be with the others?" You tilt your head to the side, asking the question softly so she doesn't feel overwhelmed. Having had this job for a while, you've gotten the hang of adjusting your behavior to put them at ease. 

"With you," she says, growing a little timid again at the idea of mingling with them yet. "That's perfectly fine." You reassure her, smiling one more time before standing and leading her to the room. Her hand remains clutched in yours, wiggling around slightly from the height difference as she looks around. 

"Who's ready for some snacks?" Minji asks the group, laughing when they all raise their hands and get excited. Their high pitched voices carry around the room as they discuss what foods they want to trade with each other, and soon everyone is happily munching away. You rub Aera's back sweetly as she eats some cucumber sticks, swinging her feet through the air beneath the short chair you retrieved from the table for her. She looks up into your eyes with a smile, melting your heart with the cuteness of her full cheeks. You squish them before turning away, feeling your 6th sense kick in as you scan your eyes across the rest of the group. 

"Seungbum…" you warn, catching the way he's mischievously eyeing the carrots laid out before him on the table. He pokes at one of them and sighs, eventually giving in as he takes a hesitant bite of it. With some more convincing, he finishes the rest of the pack and gets started on his dessert. 

----

Honestly, you feel sorry for the birds outside.

They must have had hundreds of mini heart attacks upon hearing the somehow earth-shattering roar of the 10 young kids, all blasting out the side door towards the playground. Some of them automatically race towards the swings or slides, while others approach the basket of toys and sports equipment. Aera, however, hangs back, her entire hand wrapped around just a few of your fingers. "What do you wanna do?" She shrugs, looking around at the different activities that the others are already starting. 

"I can push you on the swings, or we could race. There're some monkey bars and a merry-go-round, too, that nobody's using right now." You suggest, hoping to catch her interest with one of them. Her attention snaps up to you at that last option, and she dramatically drops her jaw. "Did you say merry-go-round?" You nod with an amused grin, laughing when she lets out a cute noise of joy. After pointing her in the direction of it, she dashes off ahead of you and makes her way to it, only stopping to make sure you're still coming with her once she gets there.

"Hold on tight, little one." You advise, cheering when she giggles in anticipation. Her chuckles fill the airwaves as you spin the bar around, making sure not to pull too hard and make her too dizzy. You were once a kid, too, though, so you make it a point to add some serious speed every now and then to keep her entertained and happy. You remember playing on these all day when you were her age.

---

"Auntie!" Aera shrieks, excitedly thundering towards the fence that borders the playground. You finish cheering Seungbum on after watching his trick, grinning as he tries to flirt with Jia; she looks impressed. You turn around at Aera's commotion, feeling your eyes practically pop out of your head at who you see standing on the other side. 

"How was your day, my love?" Jisoo asks sweetly, leaning over the metal divider to run a hand through her niece's hair lovingly. She still hasn't noticed your presence, and for that you don't know if you're relieved or saddened. Watching her interact with the young girl is quite adorable, though, and you're distracted from your personal gay panic for the time being. 

"I've had so much fun. And Y/N-yah said she likes my hair clip! I told you this one was prettier than the one with just trees on it!" Aera says smugly, happy to have her decision pay off and prove her aunt wrong. Jisoo tenses up, not expecting to hear your name right now. Seeing that this is her first time picking Aera up, she had no idea you work at the daycare; though she'd be lying to say that it comes as a surprise -- you're a very warm person, so it's no wonder that you're good with kids. 

As per Aera's request, you walk across the playground and join her in front of Jisoo. Now it's your turn to be shy; you sneak a glance at the student council president and immediately feel your cheeks heat up, so you busy yourself by patting Aera on the head. She hugs your leg and settles against your side, causing Jisoo to raise her eyebrows. "I'm impressed, Y/N. She usually doesn't open up to new people very easily." 

"Ah, I'm surprised that such a cool girl like her wanted to hang out with me." You tease, tickling her side lightly when she hides behind the material of your shirt. "Do you want to come in and see what she drew today? She's definitely skilled." You suggest, trying not to sound too hopeful as you muster up the courage to look at Jisoo again. She's already smiling at you, a soft sort of adoration shining in her eyes as they rake over your features. She accepts your offer, and you walk over to the gate to let her in. Aera demands that you carry her, so you scoop her up into your arms as you make your way back into the daycare center. Her head sits on your shoulder, and you can feel her playfully making faces at Jisoo the entire way; her tiny frame jolts with each loud giggle she lets out, and the sound makes you smile. 

---

"Yeah, she was my sidekick for the day." You respond to Jisoo, continuing your conversation as you watch Aera remove her drawing from the cork board that she taped it to earlier. Displaying the kids' artwork is something that you advocated for when you first began working here, and you're so glad you did; they always get excited to share their works. 

"She's a lucky girl, then." She says, doing her best to ignore the feeling of your eyes on her. Focusing on anything other than you is already hard enough for her, but she knows there'd be no hope left if she gives in now. 

"Y/N helped me draw this. She doodled Dalgom in the corner," Aera cheerily says, breaking the slight tension in the air as she approaches the table. Most of the other kids have already been picked up, and Minji's watching the handful that haven't. 

"It's not very good," you cringe, scratching the back of your neck. You've seen him a few times since the beginning of the year, whether it be on walks across campus with Jisoo, or perched on her desk during "bring your pet to class" day. 

"It's adorable; Dalgomie will be honored when I show it to him." Jisoo says with a nod, shutting down your insecurities within a second. You fail to contain the laugh that slips past your lips, disbelief present in your voice as you ask, "You're going to show him?" She looks at you like you have 3 heads. "It would be a disgrace not to."

With a breathy chuckle, you say, "You're so strange. I like it, though." 

Jisoo smiles at that, and the three of you discuss all of the fun things you did that day. Jisoo tells you about the classes she had to sit through, and even how she stepped in gum and had to borrow a pair of Rosé's shoes. 

---

All good things must come to an end, though, and after about half an hour of talking, it was time to say goodbye. 

You lead them out the door and down the sidewalk as per Aera's request, yet again (that child is basically a mini dictator at this point, but she's cute so she gets a free pass). As she rustles around her bag in search of her keys, Jisoo accidentally knocks her earbud case out, sending it tumbling to the ground. "Oh! Here, I'll grab it for you." You kindly offer, stepping past her to retrieve it from the grass. She takes it from you with a word of gratitude uttered in that angelic voice of hers, and you begin your goodbyes upon hearing Minji call your name. 

"I'll see you around, Jisoo. And Aera, I expect to see you next week." You wiggle a finger at the little girl, donning a shocked expression when she pretends to bite it. "Can't you tell we're related?" Jisoo asks with a smile, ruffling her niece's hair. "The resemblance is uncanny," you laugh, watching as both of them join in with you. 

"Y/N, come on!" Minji whines, sounding like a toddler herself. You initially go to brush off her request in order to spend a few more seconds with the two of them, but when she stands in the doorway, entering your line of sight, you see why she's so desperate for your help -- two of the children still waiting on their parents are climbing on her, about to knock her over at any second. Her face is beet red from the effort she's exerting, and her hair is mussed wildly. 

"Oh shhh---" you start, catching yourself when Jisoo widens her eyes at you and goes to cover Aera's ears, "--shiitake mushrooms!" You finish with a nervous smile, gaining a stunned laugh from your crush. "Bye girls; gotta go. I'm on my way, Minji!" You call out like a superhero, running to her aid as fast as your legs will carry you. 

Jisoo watches you wrangle one of the squirmy kids off of her and initiate a tickle fight to distract him and give Minji time to deal with the other one. She smiles like a dork at your actions, realizing she would be content with watching you all day. You're a natural with them, and seeing you in action is something she wishes she had the chance to do more often. With that, she turns around and picks Aera up; the youngster nuzzles into her embrace, lazily slumping onto her after having such a tiring day. As Jisoo goes to take a step forward, she notices something on the ground: a piece of paper. It's been folded neatly many times, and it reminds her of the notes she would always pass to her friends back in elementary school. Her curiosity gets the better of her, and she can't resist the urge to pick it up. 

"To The Girl Who'll Never Know I Love Her"

Her eyes scan across the words and she unfolds the note, making sure to keep a steady grip on Aera with her other arm. An almost unnoticeable signature is scribbled in the bottom corner, and she nearly scares Aera by squealing in pleasant surprise. 

It's your name, curled into the letters that are so uniquely yours; the paper must've fallen out of your pocket when you bent down to get her case earlier. 

After buckling her niece into her car seat and climbing into the driver's seat, Jisoo unfolds the note again and begins reading. She's like a giddy kid all over again, and part of her feels bad for giving into temptation. She reasons with herself by promising to give it back to you the next time she sees you, and that manages to rid her conscience of some of the guilt she feels. For now, though, she's eager to see what it contains. 

The first thing to catch her eye is a poem written neatly underneath a doodle of a rabbit, likely serving as some sort of label. Everyone on campus knows of her nickname and resemblance to rabbits, and she can't help but hope that your drawing wasn't simply a coincidence. 

Poison, is what you are

A bittersweet mix, intoxicatingly beautiful 

For one glance from you

Steals every breath I had so foolishly believed was mine to take

For one smile from you

Sends me reeling, falling all over again

She nearly swoons at the words, rereading them multiple times over and imagining you saying them to her. She wonders how the syllables would fall from your lips, which ones you'd stress to alter the meaning into whatever you imagined when you wrote them. Whether or not they're written for her, she may never know; all she's aware of right now is how they make her feel, and how that feeling is one that she never wants to stop experiencing.

4.) Practice Makes Perfect

2 Weeks, 3 Exams, and 1 Mental Breakdown Later

"Coming!" You call out, using all of your strength to push your rolling chair away from your desk and across the room towards the door. 

"Y/N L/N, at your service," you say, doing a little bow in your seat. Upon looking up to see who's in front of you, your eyes lock with the same girl who's been living in your mind rent free ever since you met her. 

"Jisoo!" You announce a little louder than intended, scrambling up into a standing position before kicking the chair backwards. You wince when it collides with something behind you, filling the room with noise as a few of your knick knacks clatter to the floor. Jisoo has to fight to contain the smile on her lips, pursing them as she looks towards the ground so as to not embarrass you. 

It's too late though -- you've already made a fool of yourself, and right in front of your crush, no less. 

"What can I do for you?" You ask, finally relaxing your face from its previously scrunched up position. 

"Are you busy right now? I have a favor to ask and you might be the only person who can help me out." Her eyebrows raise inquisitively at you, quirking up in that special way they always do when she's focusing in class. 

She could ask you to do just about anything, and you'd be agreeing without hesitation; no questions asked. 

"N-no, just doing a little studying is all. How can I help?" You'd normally curse yourself for sounding so shy, but she looks especially gorgeous tonight and you can't even blame yourself for it. The fluorescent bulbs of the dorm's hallway fail to even put a dent in the glow she's radiating, and that's no small feat -- those horrible little things are usually capable of making anyone look bad, and yet, once again, Jisoo manages to break the mold. 

"Mrs. Choi assigned a rehearsal for me tonight, and I need a peer to score how well I do. I trust you to do it." She says, having no idea how much her words are affecting you. 

Review portions of the semester are crucial to every major's success, but arguably none so much as those studying to be actors. The peer and admin reviews that they receive account for a large chunk of their grade, so you can imagine how nerve-racking it would be to put that kind of power in someone else's hands. You're touched that she trusts you with it. 

"I'd love to help, Jisoo. Just curious, though: why don't you have one of the girls help? They probably know more about it than me, after all." Everyone knows how close JenChuLiChaeng are, so her decision to choose you is genuinely intriguing. 

Shit. For some reason, Jisoo hadn't anticipated that you'd ask that question. The thought had never crossed her mind earlier, when she was preoccupied with convincing herself to come in the first place, so she has to think something up on the fly. 

"They're all busy with work. Couldn't afford to lose any precious cramming time, you know?" She says, a hint of nervousness behind the small laugh she lets out. It's uncharacteristic for her, considering she's usually so confident all the time, but you think it's adorable.

"Ryujin's the same way," you tease, turning your head to look at your roommate. She's across the room on her bed, reading through her book as she holds her middle finger up to let you know she heard your comment. "What a sweetie," you coo, blowing a kiss at her that makes her roll her eyes and smile despite herself. She pretends to be hardcore, but after spending the past few months with her you've discovered that she's actually the human embodiment of a cinnamon roll. 

"Well," you say, turning back to Jisoo, "when do you have to start?" 

She pulls her sleeve back to glance at her watch before returning her gaze to you. "Gotta be back at the dorm in 10 minutes." 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the inner honor student in you already panicking. "10 minutes?! It's all the way across campus, Jisoo!" 

She laughs at you now, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "I'm kidding; we still have a couple hours. You should've seen your face, though. Priceless." 

"That's no way to treat someone who practically has your grade resting in their hands." You say smugly, a little smirk playing on your lips when her jaw drops dramatically.

"You wouldn't dare," she narrows her eyes, referencing the notion that you might give her bad marks because of that little prank. 

"Maybe, or maybe not. Perhaps I'll be merciful if you take me to get something to eat first." 

"Food as a peace offering? Alright, I can do that."

You smile, doing a dorky little cheer at that. "Okay, I'll be right out; just give me a second to make myself look presentable." 

Jisoo accepts your words with a curt nod, but she wants to tell you that you already look more than presentable. When you first opened the door earlier and she saw you in your study glasses, she couldn't help but smile like a fool; you're adorable, especially to her, and she wishes you could see that. 

A couple minutes later you exit your dorm and find her leaned up against the hallway wall, her hands fidgeting in front of her. Is she nervous?

"So, where would you like to go?" You ask, pulling the thin material of your jacket over your shoulders. It's lightweight -- seeing as how the weather doesn't call for a large one -- and it feels soft against your skin. 

As the two of you fall into step with each other, she responds, "It's up to you, princess. Since I'm at your mercy and all." Her smirk is visible in your peripheral. 

The nickname causes your heart to flutter in your chest, thudding around even harder than it had before. "U-uh, how about the noodle place?" You suggest, trying not to cringe at the stutter in your voice. You've heard that she likes chicken and ramen, and that shop is known as the best restaurant on campus for it. 

"110%. You know me so well," she says dreamily, batting her eyelashes at you with a silly smile. 

"Called it," you retort, brushing your shoulder off nonchalantly. "Now come on, I'm hungry and ready to spend all of your money." Her hand slips into yours when you reach down for it, almost instinctively, feeling like it was meant to be there all along, and you tug her down the hallway towards the elevator. 

----

"I know! If Mr. Johnson assigns another project like that then I'll politely be jumping out a window." 

Jisoo laughs at how animated you are, even having to stop chewing her mouthful of food momentarily to make sure she doesn't choke. She really loves hanging out with you; you make everything fun, and all of the stress she feels on a daily basis seems to vanish into thin air. 

"I did pretty bad on that last one," Jisoo adds, grimacing as she remembers her score. 

"You literally got a 93 out of 100, shut up." You shake your head with an amused smile, reaching across the table to snatch a piece of gimbap from her plate. 

"Hey--" she goes to yell at you, but her phone vibrates against the table, successfully stopping her. 

"Hello?" She answers, silently starting a chopstick war with you when you reach for another piece. When the person on the other end begins talking, she stops playing in order to concentrate on what they're saying. 

"Did she cancel?" She asks, furrowing her brow as her lips form into a natural pout. She sighs, rubbing her temple gently as the conversation continues. "Okay, I'm out with a friend right now, but you can go ahead and head that way. We'll meet you there. Alright, love you, too. Bye." 

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting info about what new plan you're being involved in. "That was my brother; the babysitter cancelled on them last minute, so we have to watch Aera for a few hours." Jisoo loves her niece dearly, but she can't deny that she wanted to spend the evening alone with you. She's afraid the little girl will steal all of your attention away, as childish as that may seem. 

"You're such a good person," you compliment, only to frown when she brushes off your words. "I mean it, Jisoo. You always take care of everybody around you; it's admirable. Now take the compliment or I'll team up with Aera later and tease you." 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, saying, "You're gonna do that regardless." 

"That's not the point," you pout, stomping your foot on the ground lightly. 

"Fine; tis I, Jisoo, the greatest person in all of existence. Happy now?" 

"Ecstatic." You beam at her, returning back to your cheery self. "I'll go grab some boxes for us, okay?" She nods, and you scurry off on your mission. 

----

Back At Jisoo's Dorm

Images flash across the large, flatscreen TV mounted to the wall across from you, displaying scenes of whatever cartoon the network decided to air right now. Aera isn't being picky; she's content with sitting in your lap, mindlessly fidgeting with the necklace that loosely dangles from your neck as she remains entranced by the screen. Your arms are around her to make her feel secure, and her small frame racks against you with every sweet giggle she lets out anytime a new joke is told by one of her favorite characters. 

Jisoo observes from the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop to settle in while she waits for Aera's favorite snack to heat up. She watches as you point to various things on the TV, having her name the ones she knows and teaching her others that she doesn't. 

She loves seeing you like this. You're beaming in that special way that sets her heart on fire, and the flames are only fanned when you turn to look at her. Somehow, the sight reminds her of the first time she met you:

It was orientation week -- the beginning of the school year -- and you were taking a tour around campus with some of your friends. You were lucky to have them; you'd only kept in contact with a handful of people from high school, knowing full well that most of those relationships were only rooted in superficiality, never meant to last. But this motley crew was different; they saw you for you, and all of you genuinely enjoyed each other's company. It didn't have the same air of awkward tension as the fake friendships had -- this was real and honest, and you thanked your lucky stars for them on the daily. 

All of you had managed to get into your dream schools, and the reality was bittersweet; you'd all be moving away from each other and beginning your own lives, having less and less time for each other in the process. You were beyond proud of them, and yourself, for that matter, but it still hurt to think that they wouldn't be just a few blocks away anymore. That you couldn't just swing by their house to go on a late night drive through the city like you used to. As exciting as your new experiences were bound to be, part of you was terrified; your life up until now had been fairly safe, creating a little security blanket to protect you from all that life had in store, but now you were on your own and the idea was a bit daunting. The memories you made together comforted you, though, and kept the sadness at bay. 

"Dude, this place is sick. How did you manage to make it in again?"

"Because she's smart, dumbass. We should be asking you that question."

"Ouch, (Friend's Name), that hurt."

"Do you still have those chips from earlier? I'm starving over here."

"Yeah, here, they're in my bag."

Pockets of separate conversations can be heard from behind you, all of your friends chatting away while you walk ahead of them, map and schedule in hand. The campus is fairly large, and with so many buildings and classrooms it's easy to get confused. You continue walking, running a finger along the map to trace the path you intend to take towards the Help Center. 

In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that you're headed straight for a trash can that sits on the sidewalk, mere seconds away from colliding with it. 

A passerby notices just in the nick of time, reaching an arm out in front of you to prevent the accident with a noise of warning. You tense up, not expecting the sudden interruption, and look up into the eyes of your savior. Her dark orbs peer back at you, an innocent gleam in them when she sees your lips slowly tug into a smile. 

She mirrors your actions, neither of you saying anything yet. You couldn't utter a word even if you wanted to; her beauty leaves you speechless. 

"That was close," she says quietly, only to you. Your friends have almost caught up with you now, still busy with their own conversations, though they'll tease you once they see a gorgeous stranger's arm wrapped around you. 

"Thank you," you breathe out, clearing your throat as you take a step away from her. 

"Ooh, who's this, Y/N?" One of your friends coos, garnering a chorus of childish "oohs" and kissy noises from the others. Why are they so obnoxious?

You apologetically glance at the girl one more time before turning around to respond to them, but she speaks up before you can. 

"Kim Jisoo." She introduces, facing them with a wide smile. It's easy to see that she's done this before; her tone is pleasant and light, not even a hint of hesitancy in it. She's used to being the center of attention; you can tell by the way she carries herself and commands the space. 

"I see you guys are taking a tour, right?" She looks between all of you, though her eyes linger on you for a second too long to be brushed off as 'just friendly'. 

You nod, saying, "I can't find my last class. It's a Gen Ed one; World History, room 435. The map says it's in Complex D, but the room was vacant when we went by."

She listens intently, paying attention to your every word. "They must've handed out the old maps by accident, then. Mr. Johnson had to move rooms to accommodate larger class sizes. When do you have him?" 

You unfold your schedule again, gazing down at the slightly crumpled sheet until your eyes find their target. "Tuesdays and Thursdays, 1PM." 

Upon registering what you said, Jisoo does her best to contain the grin that threatens to spread across her face. "Ah, same as me! I can take you to the room, if you'd like. That way you can find it next week." She offers, pleased by the fact that she'll be seeing you more often. Your cute mannerisms have already thrown her for a loop, and she wants to get to know you better. 

"That would be great." You let out a relieved laugh, releasing the worry you felt; tours are meant to end within 20 minutes or so, and before Jisoo came you were afraid you'd never find your last class. She's saving the day again, it seems. 

"Great, follow me," she smiles warmly, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to turn you in the right direction. When you give your friends one last glance over your shoulder, you find them giving you thumbs up with smirks on their faces. One of them puckers their lips at you, and you stick your tongue out in return. 

You're not sure what they'll end up doing while you finish your tour, though it'll likely involve either skating or eating fast food. They have each other to keep themselves entertained, so you're not worried about them in the slightest. You make a mental note to text them when you're done to meet up again. 

Jisoo smiles like an idiot when she realizes what's happening behind her, failing miserably to hide it when you spin back around and give your full attention to her. 

"What?" You ask, leaning in closer to her to nudge her shoulder when she looks away, blushing. 

"Nothing," she shakes her head, only to be prompted by you again. "You're just cute, is all." 

You have to use all your power to hold back the squeal you want to let out at hearing that. Kim Jisoo, as you now know her to be, thinks you're cute? You must be dreaming. 

"That's funny, I don't remember turning into a mirror."

"Yah, babo!" She chuckles, not expecting that as she smacks the back of your head with no real force. The two of you share a laugh and continue talking while you make your way to the room.

Beeping sounds from the microwave bring Jisoo back down to Earth, causing the pleasant memory to fade more and more with every incessant signal that cuts through the air. She grabs a couple heat guards and approaches the machine, carefully opening the steaming package and pouring its contents into a big, shareable bowl. Though it may be Aera's favorite food, she'd be damned to not make enough for the two of you as well. After all, keeping her entertained will take plenty of energy. 

"Did this princess order one heaping bowl of popcorn or am I at the wrong castle?" Jisoo plays, padding into the room with a bright smile on her face as she looks over at her niece. The smell of her snack snaps Aera back to reality, making her eyes light up with pure joy as she leaps off of your lap and runs to Jisoo. She wraps her arms around her legs, thanking her in that sweet little voice of hers as she gazes up at her aunt with stars in her eyes. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She chants, wiggling her body around in excitement. She lets go when Jisoo goes to walk to the couch, following close behind her like an eager puppy. 

She approaches you again, making grabby hands for you to lift her onto your lap even though she's more than capable of getting up there by herself. Nevertheless, you pull her up with a humored grin, watching as she puts her hands in her lap and patiently waits for the two of you to get a bite first. Her ability to follow manners is commendable, though the slight twitch of her lip when she gets a whiff of the food is pretty adorable. 

"Dig in," you say around your mouthful of food, locking eyes with Jisoo when Aera jumps at the opportunity to follow your instructions. You never have to tell her twice when it comes to food. 

"Yep, definitely related." 

Jisoo laughs at your comment, reaching over top of Aera to flick you in the forehead. She shrugs at your pained exclamation, uttering a nonchalant "Sorry, not sorry," as the two of you crack up together.

----

"Y/N, how the hell did you manage to do that?" Jisoo whispers, not bothering to censor herself when she sees Aera fast asleep in your arms. It's not like she could hear her anyway. 

"She was already kinda tired when she got here; I just made sure to get that last little bit of energy out with the games. Have you forgotten that I know a thing or two about kids?" You tease, turning to her with a smile when you finish walking up the short staircase. 

"You don't understand: usually it takes us hours to settle her down. She's just a totally different person around you." 

"Must be my awesomeness." 

"Hmm, must be," Jisoo hums, quietly opening her bedroom door for you and watching as you carefully lay Aera down. You tuck her under the blankets with care, making sure to brush the hair out of her face and adjust her pillow a bit. Jisoo leans against the doorframe, adding the scene before her to her list of reasons for loving you. Seeing you in such a domestic situation gives her baby fever, and she has to push the persistent feeling away. 

"Ready?" You whisper with one last look over your shoulder, giving Jisoo your undivided attention once you confirm that Aera's alright. 

"Let's do it," she says, pulling the door to but not latching it. The two of you will be in the living room, just down the hall, and you want to be able to hear her in case she needs something. So responsible.

You take in the dorm as Jisoo leads you towards your destination, amazed at how much bigger it is than yours and Ryujin's. This one has separate rooms equipped with their own personal bathrooms, a decent kitchen, and, of course, a living area. Clearly, having ties to the school and being president of the student council come with some major perks. Your socked feet pad against the hardwood floor, and you close what little distance is left between Jisoo and yourself to press your body against her back, wrapping your arms around her. She lets out a little noise of surprise, but doesn't protest; she tucks one of her hands into your clasped ones and uses the other to rub your forearm. 

A few moments later you plop down onto the couch and get comfortable on the cushions. Jisoo digs around in her bag that leans against the tv stand, searching for the script of her upcoming production. Her shirt rides up slightly, giving you a perfect view of her beautifully sculpted stomach, and her skin looks ethereal as it glows in the soft lamplight of the room. Embarrassed for admiring her in such a way, you avert your gaze, failing to notice how she subtly bites her lip as she approaches you; she planned that little show, and it worked. 

"Okay, so here's the scoring sheet," she hands you a semi-formal looking paper, along with a pencil and clipboard to use as a stabilizer. "I'll be reading from the first few pages on my own, but I was wondering if you'd fill in for the male lead for some of the other parts? It's a lot easier to get into character if I have someone's energy to feed off of." 

You smile at how cute she sounded with her little rambled request, and nod. "Of course, Jisoo. I doubt I'll be any good, though." She releases a sigh at that, happy to have you agree; her plan is coming along nicely, but there's always room for things to go wrong. 

"I'm sure you're better than you think." 

"Stop sucking up, Chu. Flattery won't make me raise your grade," you warn, pointing the pencil at her sternly. Your tone sends a shiver down her spine, though it goes unnoticed by you. 

"Let's just get started." She concludes, doing her best to keep from getting too flustered under your already watchful eye. 

----

Her show is well underway, caught somewhere towards the end of act two, and you're enthralled by the performance she's giving. The paper that once rested in your lap is marked up with comments of praise and proud annotations to accompany your high scoring, though now it lays forgotten about on the coffee table, serving no purpose any longer. You finished all of the required sections necessary for your peer review, and now you're just enjoying the journey that Jisoo is continuing to take you on. 

You look back up into her eyes after reading off the lines of the character you're filling in for, looking completely unskilled next to the pure talent that she's exuding. She stands from the couch, looking down at you with an exasperated expression as she remains in character. 

"You don't get it!" She raises her voice slightly, though not loud enough to wake Aera. Even while in the intense mindset she has to be in for her character, she keeps one foot in the reality of this world, making sure to behave appropriately. 

"Enlighten me, then." You stand and retort, shifting a bit closer to her after reciting your line. 

"Only when I'm with you do I feel true happiness. Your kind eyes bring me comfort like no other; I'm safe in your arms. For you, my love," she pauses, her eyes brimming with tears from the emotional words she's spent so much time rehearsing. "...there isn't a thing in this world that I wouldn't do." Your breath is held tightly in your throat, and your hands subconsciously grip onto the material of your jeans. 

Only now do you realize how close the two of you have migrated to one another; she's merely a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating from her. You swallow thickly, feeling your nerves come alive with every second that passes in heated silence, neither of you knowing what to do now. You've lost the desire to read your next line, and she doesn't seem too upset by that fact. Her eyes slowly scan over your features, and the lovesick look in them makes you question if she's still in character or slipping out of it. 

After her gaze darts down to your lips and she licks her own without even realizing it, you seriously begin hoping for the latter of the two options.

She searches your face for any sign of refusal as she leans in closer, now bringing her arms up to wrap around your waist and lightly ball the material of your shirt up into her fists. Your hands rest on her shoulders, and you glide your fingertips over her jawline. A singular nod is the last form of consent that you give her before she pulls you closer. 

Her lips ghost over yours, receiving some of the vanilla balm you applied earlier; her breath hitches when you tug at the collar of her university sweater, teasingly taking her bottom lip between your teeth. She wants to savor this moment, so she fights against her urge to dive right in and get lost in you. 

Within seconds, she's kicking herself for that decision. 

"Auntie? Y/N?" Aera calls sleepily from just around the corner, making the two of you spring away from each other. When she appears less than a second later, you realize how close you had been to getting caught. Jisoo refuses to meet your gaze when you look towards her, and that simple action disheartens you a bit.

"Hey, sweetheart. Bad dream?" You ask, using your inference skills after noticing the way that she's clutching her stuffed bunny close to her chest. Her lip trembles as she nods, and the sight breaks your heart. Quickly, you pick her up again, assuring her that she's safe and that you'd slay any monster that dared to hurt her, even in her dreams. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she brings a fist up to rub her eye. "How about this: I'll do a quadruple check of the room for you, and stay with you until you fall asleep. Sound good?" 

She utters a tired, "Yes, Y/N-yah", before laying her head on your shoulder and waving a goodbye towards Jisoo as you take her back to the room. 

Four sweeps of the room and one fight with a ghost later, you tuck her in again and lay a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Love you," she mumbles lazily, making your heart melt. Kids say that phrase quickly, without even realizing the weight that it has, but you're always glad to accept whatever they imagine it to be. Whether she loves you for playing with her, tucking her in, or defending her honor against imaginary monsters, you don't really care all that much -- she loves you in the ways that she knows how, and that's all that matters.

"I love you, too, Aera. Sleep well." You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and settle against the wall, prepared to come through on your promise. 

----

"Hey," you start, albeit a bit awkwardly. 

"Hey," Jisoo returns, pushing her leftovers from the restaurant around her plate half-heartedly. You approach the marble countertop that she sits behind, silently begging for her to look up at you. 

"Should we talk about earlier?" You quietly ask, picking at imaginary imperfections on the surface of the countertop. 

"What about it?" 

"We practically kissed--"

"It was in the script to do so, Y/N." She says, finally looking up at you. She sounds a bit hostile now, like she's getting defensive for some unknown reason. 

"Oh," the simple utterance is all you can manage, seeing as how your brain is running a mile a minute. You want to ask if it meant anything else to her -- if she would've taken it farther, had Aera not walked in -- but you don't.  Her tone serves as enough of an answer, and you're not sure you could stand to hear her verbalize your fears anyway. 

"Well I guess I should go, then." You retract your hand and put it in your pocket, realizing how stupid you were for thinking she could like you back. She doesn't; she was just in need of a helping hand tonight, and you offered that. You shouldn't have tried to turn it into anything that it wasn't. 

Hearing the disappointment in your voice makes her want to confess right then and there, but something still holds her back -- some force is yelling at her to keep her feelings hidden for fear of rejection. "I can drive you." 

You shake your head. "Nah, it's okay. I'll have Ryujin come get me. You can't leave Aera here and I wouldn't want to have to wake her up just for you to drive me across campus." Jisoo agrees, realizing that she didn't even think about that at first. 

"Goodnight, Jisoo." You say, heading off towards the front door. She returns the gesture, reminding you to be safe as she locks it behind you and watches you dial up your roommate's number. Before long, she pulls into one of the parking spaces in front of the dorm, and the two of you drive away. 

Click Here For Part 2

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1052 - Initial Thoughts

Okay then

What was first meant to be just the wrapping up of Wano has now turned into the wrapping up of the penultimate saga of One Piece, and the last few chapters before the Month Hiatus

There's still the possibility that Oda leaves us on a cliffhanger though, so let's see what these last chapters have to offer

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release

Gastino how come you didn't leave Whole Cake!? You can Fly!

We start the chapter with the reaction of the Gorosei

I'm still unsure what they mean by 'fallen', I don't expect BM or Kaido to be dead but at the same time the longer it's left the more it feels like they are

Zunesha has left too, confirming to them that Wano's borders won't open, meaning that they can't invade (though I wonder about the waterfall's stability still)

They still want Robin though, I don't think mask face has the heart to tell them

Someone hacking into CP0's signal?

Back in Onigashima and Drake and Hawkins are alive!

See? Hawkins may be a bit of a bastard, but who isn't in the Worst Generation? In the end he was never gonna go back to Kaido

Anime have done an error it seems, the 1% man was Hawkins himself!

I hope he didn't just die then, part of me feels like he came to Drake because he wants a way out, even if it is with the marines

A week passes and Wano is being reestablished; education is being reformed, kids are getting water, and a new festival is coming

People think Luffy - who they refer to as Joy Boy - left though

If they think Luffy's heroism rivals Ryuma then god what was Ryuma doing beyond the Monsters manga!?

In Ringo, Kin, Marco and Kawamatsu are discussing making another shrine to bury the fallen

Izou sadly confirmed dead, man went out protecting his family though so you gotta respect that, they're gonna be laid to rest with Yasuie, the other Daimyo, Oden and Ashura

In the palace Yamato waits, and Hiyori reveals that Luffy and Zoro have awakened

Plus we finally have that dropkick

Yep, they're back to normal...BUT TELL US ABOUT THE REAPER ZORO!!!

Momo's festival was on hold until Luffy and Zoro woke up, gotta get hammered back into a coma after all

Luffy and Zoro of course don't recognize adult Momo XD

Alas Momo, you've lost your chance to nestle in Nami and Robin's bosom, now you get smacked off - not that Brook and Sanji aren't taking any pleasure out of that...

Yamato please keep putting plates on his head

Now that Luffy and Zoro is awake, Yamato can apparently eat, since they made a vigil to not eat or bathe till they woke

Hiyori reveals she wiped the two boys clean though, not that Zoro pays any attention, Sanji will pay attention (and rage in jealousy) for the both of them

Zoro though remembers his promise to Sanji, and decides to take liberties with it by attacking him

The Onsen scene was perhaps not for me, I get it's a win for Yamato to be in the men's bath and Kiku to be in the women's bath but also if Brook and Sanji are perving at Yamato during all this it's kinda missing the point

Oh to be young and be allowed to get away with getting to second base due to 'innocence'

Carrot please you're 15, sit down!

In Tokage Port, Usopp and Franky have done the work and helped fix up the ships and Franky Shogun

I keep forgetting that Kid's ship looks awesome

Stubborn and grumpy Kid and Law though, don't want to be giving the straw hats credit because now the alliance will be coming to an end

FUCK OFF APOO, Ibi you can stay

Okay leave the new bounties on the floor and then FUCK OFF APOO

Bounties AND Names? Oh I've been waiting for new titles, and new Emperors? I'd guess maybe Kid'll get shafted because his alliance failed and Law and Luffy's didn't

For joking sake I'd love to see Tama just have her face plastered over Kaido's bounty, 'Queen of Beasts' Tama

Dude is literally using a plant on his back to helicopter over to Wano

Admiral Green bull sir, I'm gonna have to kindly ask you not to disrupt this festival and try and kidnap Robin, peas and tankards? Akainu is telling you to not do anything unnecessary and attacking a nation not bound by the WG's jurisdiction with two freshly new Yonko would fit that bill, plus you're chill with Fujitora who's pro-Luffy, be chill man, be chill

Also you are kinda triggering my Baron Omatsuri trauma with the flower growing out of you...

Oda had to do it didn't he? He's setting up shit to hit the fan right before a hiatus

It was a fine chapter, one designed to lure you into a false sense of security. But I do worry that a lot of things are gonna be left unanswered

It's been a full week now in Wano so I kinda expect that if BM and Kaido were dead that their subordinates would be in full panic, BM's crew is a big question mark after all in this saga.

We have no clue about Kaido's Poneglyph either, or Wano's use of Sea Prism Stone in general, or really any of the early stuff with Hitetsu and the Nidai Kitetsu. While we're on swords as well we may not see Zoro pay his respects to Ryuma or have any genetics towards Wano as it was theorised and even hinted by Oda to have, and we do need to know about his excursion to hell too.

Between all of this, Luffy and co having a rager, the Admiral, leaving Wano (with Robin still with them hopefully) and finding out about what happened in the outside, I fear Oda won't be able to cover all of that.

This being said, the chapter itself had a lot of fun parts, I'm still not sold on the onsen scene nor am I 100% sold that Yamato is Nakama until Luffy says so (he still calls him Yama-o), I will also continue to hold on hope for Carrot since she was in the background for this chapter and Zunesha has already left, but then again the minks did have ships too so it's still very much a clutch at straws. As I noted before, I hope Hawkins survives, and even sticks with Drake, SWORD could use his talents too after all. And I expect Kid to feel slighted by the new bounty figures, perhaps enough to even attempt full villainy. I worry about Law though, the end of the saga means the end of his and Luffy's alliance, what will the Surgeon of Death do now?

I can see the Admiral's presence going one of two ways; either he causes a scene or he simply chills at the party. It's also quite possible that he's not the one who contacted CP0, since the navy only learned of CP0's presence in Wano through Drake, I half expect another force to be coming: SSG, Sentomaru or Lucci perhaps? It was theorised by many that Green Bull had a plant DF so that seems confirmed, I wonder if that may fall into Usopp's wheelhouse with his Pop Greens or to his detriment? But I do hope he's just pretty chill and ends up joining in on the food, while also dropping the bomb about what happened at the Reverie, but it's tough to tell.

One more chapter until the long wait.

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 5

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being… Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death. Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 Masterlist

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

Part 5 -

53 days of camp left

The first day at Camp Willowdale was usually pretty straightforward – campers arrive, sign in, move into their designated cabins where they meet their counselors, then all gather in the Wildcat Lodge to get their schedules, maps, badges and compasses. Ever since Pricilla’s daughter left her, she ditched the idea of having a stable with horses at camp (saying it reminded her way too much of Wendy, and also cost a lot of money to maintain), and settled for scavenger hunts in full scout mode in the forest, hence the compasses and badges. Every camper was given a first badge for participation and would get the chance to earn new badges to add to their collection during their nine week stay. Pricilla made sure that there was a badge for literally everything – from successfully starting a fire to throwing out the trash. She liked to do this to make all the campers feel included and special, which on its own sounded like a wonderful thing, however her actual motives were selfish – happy kids meant happy parents, and happy parents meant money. She also liked to turn everything into a competition, so she established a scoring system that nobody but her understood, where she’d award or deduct points from different groups and the group with the most points at the end of the summer will be crowned conquerors of the camp at a made up end-of-summer event Pricilla named the “Camp Will-all-hail banquet”. Caroline always found the name to be extremely tacky, but much like mostly everything that Pricilla put her finger onto, it wasn’t surprising.

JJ and Caroline had gotten assigned to Teens 2. Unsurprisingly, everyone in their group was almost their age, which seemed like somewhat of a recipe for disaster, as Caroline feared that this could result in the teens refusing to follow orders from someone who is basically their age. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that their group of teens was actually quite well-mannered and well-behaved. John B and Sarah’s teens, however, were a whole different story.

“You sure you got T2 and not T1?” panted Sarah after finally sitting down at the counselors table beside Caroline for dinner.

Caroline smirked, “Positive,” she confirmed, not being able to hide her amusement at the sight of an already tired Sarah, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Sarah sarcastically, “Well, besides all the girls, and I’m pretty sure one of the boys, having a massive thing for John B, and them all quite literally being the spawns of Satan, hm… no reason,”

Caroline laughed at Sarah’s words, looking over at the table where her group and Sarah’s were seated at. Two of the T1 girls were giggling while telling a story, while everyone else’s attention was on them. Caroline came to the conclusion that they would be the It Girls at this year’s camp, bossing everyone around. She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that it was Sarah who got these two as they were literally mini versions of her.

“Heard my name being called,” John B slid onto the bench across the table from the girls. Now that everyone had been sorted, the Wildcat Lodge seating area had been rearranged so that the groups would be sat together according to their ages, and the counselors would be sat together according to their groups. The head staff had their own table at the very foot of the podium, right next to where the food was, conveniently.

JJ was quick to join their group at their respective table, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Caroline said nonchalantly, “Just Sarah being jealous over her girls liking John B, no biggie,” Sarah kicked her under the table, earning an, “Ow!”

John B’s eyes immediately shot up, that familiar twinkle of excitement swimming through his honey orbs, “Jealous?”

“As if,” barked Sarah, squinting her eyes at him threateningly.

“We’ll see about that, baby cakes,” John B winked, diving into his dinner.

“So,” said JJ, lowering his voice in case any of the neighboring tables were listening, “What’s the plan, guys?”

Caroline shook her head, “I don’t even know where we could start, I mean, the only clue we’ve got so far is that message we had to scrub off the rock this morning before the campers arrived…”

John B thought for a second, “Hey, wasn’t Topper paired up with her?” he said suddenly.

Caroline’s eyes widened in realization, “John B, you’re a genius!” she said, earning a proud smile from the boy, “Last night at the counting, Topper said something about feeling guilty for not offering her his jacket!” the four of them turned to look towards Topper’s table. He was sitting quietly, barely poking at his food, while the rest of his fellow counselors were having an animated conversation around him. Caroline turned back towards her friends, “Chances are he was the one who saw her last!”

“Yeah, and judging by the look of his face, he doesn’t seem too excited about it,” remarked JJ.

“Can you blame him? I’d be pissed if I was paired with Madison, too,” muttered Sarah, scrunching her nose at the leafy salad in her plate.

“Tonight at the bonfire,” said Caroline, “Sarah’s going to offer him some help with his girls, seeing as he’s dealing with all of his kids alone,”

“Hey, why me?” Sarah frowned at the plan.

“Because you’re the one who had a massive crush on him back in the day,” Caroline whispered in Sarah’s ear, resulting in Sarah kicking her under the table again. Caroline bit back a groan as she smiled forcefully, looking at the two boys in front of her, “Okay, well, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

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

After handing out the songbooks and marshmallows to all of their teens, Caroline, JJ, Sarah and John B took a seat at their designated log next to their groups, which had somehow bonded during dinner and were all laughing together.

“Alright, settle down kids!” Pricilla said, causing everyone’s chatter to die down, “As you have already been informed, it is a Willowdale tradition to perform our very own rendition of Bomfiara every morning and night until the end of camp. The songbooks you’ve been kindly given by your counselors contain the lyrics to all of the camp songs we’re going to be singing this summer, but I’m sure that by the end of it you won’t be needing the books anymore,” Pricilla fake-laughed at her own joke while everyone just started at her blankly, “Okay, well, let’s sing!” she gave the tone and everyone started signing.

“This is so lame,” said one of the girls Caroline proclaimed as “It Girls” earlier that evening, “We’re too old for this BS,”

“You got that right,” mumbled Sarah.

“Oh, come on, I love it, it used to be our favorite tradition!” whined John B.

The two girls squealed and started pinching each other, immediately opening their songbooks and joining in on the singing, making intense eye contact with John B with their best seductive looks. Sarah rolled her eyes at the scene.

“See?” she whispered to Caroline, “This is what I meant!”

Caroline smirked at the blonde girl, “Am I sensing… jealousy?”

Sarah scoffed at the remark, “Pf, yeah right,” she said defensively, “I’m just annoyed that they’re only listening to what he’s saying and we’re supposed to be counselors together.”

Caroline nodded slowly, pretending to be buying the story, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to look at Topper, who regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by his group and fellow counselors, still seemed down, the camp fire illuminating his distant face, “Speaking of together, when do you wanna go talk to Topper?”

Sarah followed Caroline’s gaze towards the boy, “Once this stupid song is over,”

Caroline nodded and both girls turned towards their group again, where the It Girls were still making sexy eyes at John B, who seemed totally clueless to their approach as he was belting the lyrics of the much familiar song out loud, waving JJ’s hands every so often.

Once the song was over and everyone got back to their regular chitchat, Sarah stood up and straightened her shorts and camp sweatshirt as she made her way towards Topper.

“Hey, Top, this seat taken?” she said, referring to the empty spot on the log next to him where Madison was supposed to be sat.

Topper looked at Sarah as if she’d just said a distasteful joke, “Hey, Sarah…” he muttered, “Obviously not,”

“Awesome!” Sarah smiled widely, plopping down next to the boy.

“So,” Topper started awkwardly, “What brings you here?”

“Saw you from across the pit,” she explained directly, “Couldn’t help but notice that you seem lonely,”

“Yeah, well,” Topper looked at her with a look of disapproval once again, “I sort of am,”

Sarah pretended to only just realize what he was talking about, “Riiight… So, about that,” she chirped again, “Last night you said something about a jacket?”

Topper sighed, “Yeah, Madison said she was cold when we were in our cabin and instead of offering her my jacket, I sort of felt… relieved that she was going to leave me for a second to go grab hers. I should’ve known that something was wrong when she was gone for over 10 minutes, instead I just laughed around with Kelce and the boys and then we heard the scream…”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you’re not blaming yourself for it, are you?”

“I mean, I kinda am,” Topper confessed, “If I wasn’t too caught up in being annoyed that I’d been paired up with her, I’d have just given her my jacket or followed her to your cabin to get hers and none of this would’ve happened,”

Sarah tried putting on her best apologetic smile as she reached for Topper’s hand, taking him by surprise, “Look, Top, I hate Madison just as much as the next person, but I hardly think any of this was your fault. She probably just used the jacket as an excuse to ditch and got excited to see her rookie boyfriend, hence the scream,”

Topper frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that?”

Sarah shrugged, “I mean, she was a drama queen,”

Topper pulled his hands away from Sarah’s, shaking his head, “Just go, Sarah,”

Sarah looked over towards her friends across the fire pit who were all staring at her in anticipation, as she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed them a, “Sorry, I tried,” making her way back to where they were seated.

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

A/N: Camp has finally officially begun and so has the search for truth ~~ As always, let me know what you think, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I'm super excited to be writing this xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04

Part 6 here

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-