#pretty much everything on this queued even though I never use my tag for it

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

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A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?” 

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-” 

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.” 

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown. 

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve. 

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand. 

Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two 

Lie-lie loving you, such words 

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

[queenofbooknerds]

.

[atsunflower]

Rated: SFW

Author notes: *sigh* for the third time the damned app ate up the tags. This one took me too long and I'm excited for write about my man suna again. This is also pretty different from what I'm used to write, but why not? Please enjoy your reading.

Warnings: cursing, substance usage/mentions, break-ups and me trynna be funny.

I – Cancel me.

Previous || Next

He looked at them with expectation as the beats smoothly faded, indicating the song's ending. 

If he were to be honest, the pair before him was a pain in the ass, but their opinion was that important because, when it came to music, they were the best at it. He felt no shame nor jealousy in admitting it.

"Dunno, the hook sounds like a Vice headline ta me." The bleach-haired male said, hearring the song's outro blaring through the studio speakers.

"Isn't it a Kid Milli reference, tho?" The other asked while munching a chip. He frowned at them, not understanding their point.

"Whatever. You two are no help anyways." Hearring their bullshit, the brunette already regretted this collab. He paused the queued song, turning to the other two with a blank stare.

The twins before him snickered, knowing they successfully hit a nerve. They couldn't help it, provoking Suna was one of their favorite hobbies.

"The song is good, but I gotta tell ya this butt hurt phase of yers is pretty lame." The faux-blond opened his mouth again, spinning around the studio with the desk chair. 

"Fuck you, Atsumu" He snapped, almost giving in to the desire of decking them both on the face.

"Tsumu's right, ya Lil Peep wannabe. Can't believe this break up ended up that bad." Osamu said in mockery, throwing the empty Lay's wrapper at him. He scoffed, disposing the wrapper on the bin before getting back at the screen to look at the FL studio interface.

"It's not that I have a broken heart. I just wanna know what's wrong with my life" He shrugged, blindly tacting over the desk in search of his Juul.

"Yeah Samu, he's just grieving over those fancy ass Dior Jordans. Sunarin is incapable of mundane things like a broken heart." His blond friend was partially right.

Suna Rintaro was many things: alt model, music producer, cloud artist and a decent volleyball player that almost went pro. But if there was something he could never be, it was a lucky man on love matters.

With his fair share of failed relationships, the artist could never pinpoint when things went wrong. It would always be the same: he would meet a girl, they would have a good time and then, the chick would turn out demanding as fuck.

In the end, every single one of them would slap him across the face and leave his life banging the front door shut like crazy — last week, it was Mika who broke things off, but not before setting his limited edition pair of jordans on fire. He would never get over those sneakers.

"Good for him, those kicks were kinda ugly." Osamu said in a bored manner. Suna felt his soul leaving his body.

"The hell, Osamu?" He was ready to fight, deeply offended by the attack at his taste in fashion.

"Yo, you two." Atsumu butted in, checking something on his phone "Y'all are drifting away from our problem."

"That is?" The other brother asked.

"Cheer up Sunarin before he fucks up with the Album." If Suna had the energy, he would kick both Miyas out of his studio "And I gotta the perfect thing. Let's hang out at Akagi's tonight, he just invited us." The already distressed musician felt the soul leaving his body for the second time that afternoon. He was sure both twins wished his death.

"Not a fucking chance. Last time I went there I almost died because of that weird stuff we smoked." 

"Aw, Sunarin, Kita'll be there too." The faux-blonde tried to persuade. The mention of their older, responsible and straight edge friend made Suna look at them with interest. But he needed more, though. Based on the last experience, he didn't have the will to risk his life going to Akagi's house once again. A shiver descended his spine as the male recalled how much he threw up that night.

"Suna, man, I gotta agree with Tsumu. Yer feelings are showing in your music." Osamu said as if he was some kind of genius.

"Isn't art about it, tho?" He deadpanned "Expressing feelings and shit?" He asked, staring them dead in the eye. The males before him shivered because of its intensity. Suna snickered.

"Man says art, but most of his songs are about the Nikes on his feet and the Tesla in his garage." Atsumu mocked "What the fuck?" The blonde barely dodged the moleskine thrown at him.

"Don't chew on me when you do the same, asshat. This is called character development." As unnerving the twins were, he felt a whole lot better in their company "Just lemme produce my sad stuff in peace."

"Cut us some slack, ya dumbfuck. We're just worried about ya." Osamu protested " 'Sides, no wonder no girl sticks by yer side. You know what the chicks find sexy? Seizing the means of production, not yer dumb car."

"You two are so la—" The musician was interrupted mid sentence, startled by the blond figure clutching his phone with enthusiasm.

"Oi Samu," Atsumu's loud voice startled the other two, as he excitedly fisted the air.

"What the fuck?" Suna asked, dropping the Juul on the floor.

"She'll be there tonight." The blond said, looking at his brother with a new wave of joy.

"The fuck? She who?" The brunette frowned.

"Ya gotta go and find out, man." The gray haired twin said with a knowing smile, matching his brother's excitement.

The night out felt somewhat draining. The booze, the music and the company were great, but his lack of energy was a mood killer.

Cheer me up my ass, Suna cursed internally as he observed everyone getting wasted all over the place. He grimaced at the sight, realizing the meeting with the twins was enough social interaction for the day.

He didn't know what's gotten into him. The male knew it wasn't necessarily caused by the break up, but he couldn't help the feeling down.

Right now, life just felt lowkey suffocating. 

Being a public figure meant being under the spotlights the most of time.

People talked.

People assumed.

Media was all over him, ready to catch a scandall.

And of fucking course his name was on gossip headlines. It even occupied a spot on twitter trending topics for a day or so.

"Fuck me." He said before the lukewarm beer went down his throat.

"Sunarin!" He heard Atsumu shouting from his right "I want you to meet someone!" And only now he noticed the blond had his left arm over a girl's shoulders.

Oh, that's the one they were talking about, maybe? the brunette realized. What's the hype, tho? He asked himself, eyeing your figure.

"[Name], this is Suna. Sunarin, this is [Name], best girl ever and the mastermind behind the visuals of mine and Samu's last album" The bleach-haired male said with a proud smirk, ruffling your hair. You were obviously shy.

How cute, the brunette thought.

"Dumbass, don't embarrass me in front of others!" You nudged the Miya with your elbow "Nice to meet you, I saw your name on TMZ last week—" You said beaming and he grunted.

I take it back. Not cute at all, the man internally screamed, not ready to talk about the recent events. He didn't even want to listen to the rest of your speech, your cheery voice went through his ears in a white noise.

"And this makes me really excited for your album. The interview about the collab with dumb and dumber was lit." You continued, the words were genuine and you seemed really interested "And I also relate on a spiritual level because I know working with them is hell."

Oh, she's talking about the album. He realized in relief.

"Yo, I heard good things about you too. The design of their album was hella sick, even though they two suck ass." Suna snickered when he heard Atsumu protesting. You only left out a giggle, joining him on the teasing.

The blond kept ranting about how bad of friends the two of you were.

"I didn't introduce y'all ta gang up on me. Bye, I'm finding another company. Ya two suck." The blonde Miya said, leaving only you and Suna in the sofa area.

"Uh, so…" He drifted off, trying to start some small talk

"Yeah..." You both giggled at the awkwardness "Not enjoying the night?"

"Too much happening right now. Lots of people talking shit 'bout me." He sipped the beer, grimacing at the stale taste of the drink "Hope they cancel me already. So all this shit dies down." Suna looked away, suddenly shy for opening up to a stranger.

"You're a famous guy and the break-up wasn't that scandalous. It'll be over eventually, just beware the sneaker cult." Your amusement was comfort enough. You didn't make intrusive questions about the events and merely joked it off. He felt so worn out by the situation but, at least, your presence wasn't overbearring.

"How is it everyone knows about the jordans?" You shrugged it off, laughing at the distressed face he mocked. Sighing in relief, Suna couldn't deny how refreshing your presence was. Not to be a jerk, but usually, the girls either were all over him or judged every single move he made. You were just that easygoing.

"Well, I don't think you came here to sulk on the sofa all night long. Why don't we join them by the pool and down some shots?" You hopped off of your seat, pointing to the glass doors. All the boys were waving at you two and suddenly, Suna felt a wave of joy run down his body.

Atsumu was right. Best girl ever.

At some point of the night, everything became about you.

All he could hear was the sound of your voice and all the time, his eyes were drawn to your figure. He couldn't figure out a reason for it, but the rapper wasn't complaining either.

A sharp pang at the side of Suna's head broke the trance he was in. Osamu had a shit eating grin on his face, eyeing the ravenette with amusement.

"We told ya so." The younger twin mused whilst he handed a long neck of vodka to the other.

"Stop. This is dumb."

"Yer dumb. But you ain't that dumb ta dare ta mess with her." The gray-haired Miya squinted at him, menacingly pointing the bottle in his hand at the brunette. The latter shrugged it off, opening his drink.

"Nah, I'm good." And he meant it.

But how could he explain the situation he was in?

Lips and hands wandered over the expanse of his skin. Everything was too hot and too good at the same time. Overwhelming, even.

He wanted more, more and more. There wasn't enough of you.

And if it wasn't unfair enough, his body felt lethargic. He was desperate, but couldn't keep up with the rhythm you imposed. Be it the alcohol or the stress, his body gave up and blacked out, even before you could undress each other.

In the morning after, a pounding headache woke him up. Suna didn't dare to open his eyes, but the morning breath fanning over his face was unbearable.

"I can't believe a cutie like you have a stinky breath like this." The complaint came out in a raspy voice, accompanied by an annoyed grunt.

Someone snickered on the other side of the room.

"Man, I didn't know you had the hots fer Samu." Atsumu was somewhere across the room, laughing at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Hearing the other, Suna's body jolted, dizziness made his head spin in the process. He felt sick in the stomach and the morning light made his eyes sting. "When did I get back here?" The male looked around, realizing he was sprawled over Akagi's floor, right beside Osamu, who didn't even squirm at the loud voices in the room.

"What do ya mean? We never left" Atsumu frowned, uncaping a water bottle he was holding "Ya puked on Kita and passed out. The boys were too wasted ta drag yer sorry ass back home so we all crashed here." The blonde was dumbfounded, trying to figure out how wasted Suna got last night.

Suna wanted to know too. After all, there was no way the events envolving you were a product of his drunk mind.

facts:

• Suna's artist name is yosemite.

• He has a Tesla Model S because of Frank Ocean.

• He takes his Nikes very seriously.

• No, not all of his songs are about the car and the kicks.

• He and the Miya twins got a sports scholarship because of volleyball, but they dropped out of school to make music.

• The three of them created Inarizaki, the label they're making music under. Kita and Aran manage it.

• Both Miya twins are beatmakers and music producers. They recently debuted as artists and now are making a collab EP with Suna, thus Atsumu's concern about the album.

[generalfoolish]

Aay'han

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: lots of bad space language, talk of Bo-Katan and Death Watch, mentions of lost family, Soft!Luke (needs a tag), maybe some lusting over Luke? He's handsome, y'all, mad!Mando, some Grogu because I can't help myself, some nightmare talk/horror type themes-blink and you'll miss it though

Word count: ~2.4K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians on the road to Dagobah, in search of a Jedi.

A/N: Hey babes! This is number six of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. This one is soooo self-indulgent, but it's pretty exposition heavy. Our sweet mandalorian doesn't know Mando's story like we do, so bear with me! Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Cyare'se | Partaylir

Mando is silent as he toggles the destination into nav, and remains silent long after the jump into hyperspace. You don’t know what to do. The cockpit isn’t cramped, but you feel like your thoughts are too loud. You wonder if he can hear you thinking.

If he could hear you, he’d know that you were second guessing this whole quest. You had once been spurred on by hate and loss and grief, but in the starkness of this new ship you think you may have run head-long into something you couldn’t control.

You wonder, not for the first time since meeting Mando, if your resolve is weakening or if you’re simply intrigued by this mandalorian.

As if he could read your thoughts, Mando turned to face you.

“I’m not sure that Skywalker will be much help. I have hope, but I need you to know that it may not be productive.” He sounded so earnest, that all you could do was raise your shoulders in a pitiful shrug.

“Where is Skywalker?” You asked quietly.

“Dagobah. It’s a swamp planet.”

“I’m not sure I know it.” You thought back to the last time you mapped the galaxy. It had been a long time.

“You wouldn’t. It’s almost Wild Space. Further south than Naboo.” You nodded, then considered it.

“That’s across the galaxy?”

“Yeah, but he’s the only one who would know anything. Except for Bo-Katan, but we both have reasons to avoid her.” He added, wistfully.

“You do?” You asked, and Mando shook his head.

“Yeah, but it’s a long story.” You shrugged, it didn’t really matter. As long as you were on the same page when it came to clan Kryze. You sat back in the seat, and Mando turned back around. You wondered about his motives. He had mentioned having a son, one that could still be hunted by the Empire. But, he was alone. And there was no covert on Nevarro. If he was staying away from Bo-Katan, then the son wasn’t likely near Mandalore. You narrowed your eyes as you worked through it.

You didn’t have children, not your own. Your Tribe had been very closely knit, and you had loved and looked over the children. They were why you had thrown yourself into this plot. You would never leave them behind, though. If you had them in your arms, would your hate dissipate as well? He mentioned loved ones, and you wondered again about his entanglements. Was there a Tribe? More hidden? His son had been hunted, was his Tribe destroyed along with the covert?

You wouldn't speculate anymore.

“Mando, where’s your ad?” He stiffened visibly. You worried you had crossed a line, one that you couldn’t easily retreat from.

“Why?” His voice was terse, and his shoulders remained tense.

“If he’s alive, you should be with him? This is a suicide mission, you said so yourself. Why would you agree if you had a son who was waiting for you?” You prodded. It felt important to know. You needed to know what kind of man he was, that’s what you told yourself, anyway.

You needle people, that inner voice told you. You needle and push until they’re gone.

Minutes passed before you heard Mando sigh, long enough that you had started to regret ever getting on the ship.

“He’s in training. He’s a foundling.” You nodded, but didn’t fully understand. Training for what? Combat? Guns? A bounty hunting mandalorian should be able to handle that.

“Training?” You asked, no longer able to keep your question at bay. He exhaled loudly, and turned to face you, the tension released from his shoulders.

“He is with Skywalker. They’re Jedi.” He told you plainly. As if that explained anything.

“Jedi?” You scrambled trying to remember if your buir had ever mentioned Jedi in your lessons. You recalled their weapon, the jetii’kad, a laser sword, you thought.

“They use the Force.” He told you, confusion laced in his words. “I...I’ve seen it. They use their powers and laser swords to fight. I have seen things I can’t explain.” You listened intently. You had only heard the stories, the reason Mandalore needed a Mand’alor, and the reason mandalorians wore beskar. But even in your wildest machinations they weren’t true, just stories for the children to cling to. Something to believe in, when everything else seemed helpless.

“The jetii are real? You said “they,” are they more than one?”

“Mm. Two, well three if you count the kid.” You closed your eyes under the helmet, and wished you could rub your face. It didn’t seem real. You turned your attention to the streaking colors of hyperspace. It wasn’t impossible that Jedi would be real. The dark saber was real, you had heard the chatter. A mysterious mandalorian, one without ties, wielded it now.

Your eyes snapped back to Mando. A mysterious mandalorian, one without ties.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. This guy wasn’t the Mand’alor.

Why else would he be running from Bo-Katan?

He’s connected to the Jedi.

The Mand’alor a Child of the Watch from a backwater like Nevarro?

It would be impossible...right?

You snapped your eyes back to Mando. He had busied himself with the control panel, seemingly lost in thought.

“Mando?” He turned toward you slowly, his body language a question.

“Why are you hiding from Bo-Katan? I don’t care if it’s a long story.” He sighed at your request. He didn’t answer, he simply stood and left the cockpit. You sat up straight, fear creeping up your spine. You had pushed too far.

He returned after a moment, though it didn’t seem as though he had grabbed anything. Confusion replaced your fear, and you leaned forward on your knees.

“I kind of made a promise to her that I never intended to keep. She knows my face, and I have something she wants. I just need to keep space between us.” You narrowed your eyes again, his story sounding like bantha shit.

“Okay, Mando. We’ll stay off her radar.” You told him, but that dark voice crept up from your stomach and filled your throat with bile. Something was wrong. He was lying.

~

“Well, this is Dagobah. Nowhere to land. At least an X Wing will be easy to spot.” Mando muttered from the pilot chair. You said nothing. In fact, you had more or less kept silent for the few days it took to travel. Mando seemed to operate quietly usually, so it didn’t bother him. Or if it had, he hadn’t voiced it. You had been keeping in the hold, for the most part, as well. Keeping distance seemed the proper course for now. Until you could parce out why he had lied about Bo-Katan. A growing part of you was terrified you’d awaken to him standing over you, wielding that damn dark saber. Your thoughts ping ponged from the saber to Bo-Katan, and when you could finally put them out of mind, you were assaulted with the new information about the Jedi.

You were having trouble processing. And you had kept your crikking helmet on for far too long.

At last, you had seen the planet looming in the darkness of space, massive and green. You’d have answers soon. You had a mental inquiry for this Skywalker, ranging from Mandalore to the New Republic. The Empire side-lined for a moment, was queued up after your current thoughts were sorted. It was too much.

Mando piloted the ship easily down into the muggy swamp. You wrinkled your nose, and were actually thankful for your helmet. It would filter out the worst of the smell. Mando had set the ship down on the, seemingly, only piece of dry land. It housed another ship, the X wing, you presumed.

He motioned for you to follow, and you complied. Not speaking for almost a week had it’s advantages, the two of you had become masters of nonverbal signals. You looked around outside of the ship. Skughole, that was your only thought. Crikking skughole. Not even a port. Mando walked forward, and you followed behind.

You heard the man before you saw him. He was cursing a blue streak through the muggy air. He wasn’t what you expected. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but the lean, human male wasn’t it. He was dressed in tan, loose fitting clothes, and was covered in the bluish mud. His brown hair hung messily in his face, which was plastered with sweat.

You tore your eyes away from the only Jedi you had ever seen, and gaped at what you saw. A massive boulder was levitating in front of him. It was just floating there, in the open space. You turned quickly to Mando, and he nodded once at you. It felt like a confirmation that you weren’t insane. That what was happening was real.

Not that you had time to dwell on it. Before you could blink, the rock imploded. Tons of small rocks fell to the mud, and the man exhaled loudly.

“Mandalorian. I’ve been expecting you.” The Jedi panted, before walking over.

“Grogu?” Mando asked. You blinked in confusion. It wasn’t Mando’a. Or any other language you knew.

“He’s napping. We’ve been training hard. Searching for more of his kind. My Master was one of his species, and I believe there to be more here. This planet…” He trailed off before turning to face you. “Apologies, I am Luke Skywalker, a Jedi Master. The Jedi Master, I guess? There’s not many of us left. Not to worry,” he added, leveling a kind look at you, “You travel with a kind man.” Mando snapped his head down at you, but you were as confused as him.

“Can Jedi read minds?” Luke laughed and wiped his forehead off.

“No. I can sense that you are nervous though.”

“With the Force?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You had never had to filter emotions more than through your voice. The beskar hid everything else. You felt Mando’s eyes on you, burning through what was left of your shield.

“Kind of. Let’s get some food, yeah? Grogu needs to eat, and I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you, Mando.” You followed Luke, but you could feel Mando’s eyes on you the short walk to the hut. Luke dipped into the small hole, and disappeared inside.

“You don’t trust me?” Mando asked, gruffly, as soon as Luke was out of earshot.

“No. You lied to me.” You leveled. He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.

“You lied to me!” Exasperated, you yanked your helmet off.

Of course, you regretted that immediately. The smell of the swamp nearly gagged you. You hadn’t gotten acclimated to it at all, and it hit you full on. Mando took a neat step backward, hands mid air, helmet looking down. Luke was walking out with bowls, and peeking around his leg was a long green ear.

Your eyebrows pulled together, and you opened your mouth to say something--anything. But Luke beat you to it.

“Oh criff.”

~~

You sat with Luke, helmet beside you on the log, and faced the fire. Mando had taken a walk with Grogu.

“What makes you so apprehensive to the warrior?” Luke asked, slurping stew from the bowl. You looked at him, aglow from the flames, and sucked your teeth. You didn’t know their relationship, but you couldn’t hide it from the Jedi.

“I think he has the dark saber.” Luke nodded.

“Would this be an issue?” You considered it for a moment.

“I don’t know. I keep having nightmares. He...strikes me down with it.” Luke drained his bowl, and sat it aside.

“Why would he do that?” Luke asked, full attention on you.

“That’s what I’m nervous about. He doesn’t have a reason. Unless, he thinks I’m a threat to him. Luke, do you know the story?” He shook his head, and you thought about it. “My buir, sorry my Mom, taught me many lessons of the mandalorians. My father was lost during one of the many civil wars. I saw the destruction and horror first hand, as I’m sure Mando did. The difference though, is that his people were the ones that murdered mine. It’s hard to separate the man from the myth.” Luke nodded thoughtfully.

“I am afraid I know little of Mandalorian lore, but I have seen my share of pain and betrayal. We cannot always know what path is right, but we can trust in the Force to lead us there. What does your gut tell you about Mando?” You sat silently, staring deep into the flames before you. You had been turning it over since Nevarro.

“He’s safe.” You told the Jedi, so quietly it was almost lost to the crackling fire. But the man beside you nodded, and patted your knee. You looked down and saw that his hand was mechanical. You snapped your eyes up to his face, and his eyes twinkled at you. You heard a twig snap and your eyes shot to the source, fingers wrapping around your blaster.

You saw Mando’s beskar reflecting in the low light, and the curl of his arm, before you heard the child’s babbling.

Mando was a mystery, but Grogu had stolen your heart immediately. He had been in Mando’s arms, cooing, since he woke up. Mando, for his part, had nodded and participated in the very one sided conversation.

You offered Mando a small smile when he approached, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“It is a bittersweet reunion for him.” Luke told you quietly, when Mando dipped into the hut.

“Why?” You asked, watching the hut closely.

“He knows he must leave him. Grogu’s training takes precedence, but their bond is strong.”

“Ah, we have a word for this: aay’han. It is both mourning and joy at once.”

“Aay’han,” Luke echoed the Mando’a back perfectly, and you thought it sounded lovely. “Such a beautiful word, the meaning is interesting. I would like to know more of your culture, someday. First, I am seeking my own.” You smiled at Luke as he stretched beside you. It had been days since you had truly spoken.

You hated this swamp planet, but you were growing fond of its inhabitants. Aay’han, indeed.

**Translations

Aay’han: bittersweet

Ad: son

Buir: parent

Mand’alor: Ruler of Mandalore

Jetii: Jedi

Jetii’kad: lightsaber

[cosmiclatte28]

Autumn in My Heart (Taeyong x you, you x Jaehyun)

hello, another fic I made that flopped, but I want to bring this back with another pairing. I love this, still one of the angst I made that I feel okay to post.

One shot - angst/fluff

a/n : Taeyong sounds like a bad boyfriend, but trust me he isn’t. Jaehyun is the rebound you found in the middle of a storm.

(Posted on wattpad before, and one in tumblr as an exo pairing but only got 1 notes ☹)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and sombre race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. (y/n) hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, she feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when you have put on your tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott’s. Tonight, your favorite fragrance from Chloe accompanies you. You inhale your favorite floral scent and get ready as your smart watch rings with a caller ID you love dearly. Your lover has rung you up saying he is downstairs waiting for you to take your time. You make your last tuck on your Pea coat and pocket your phone as you slipped your feet to the leather boots. You make sure to kiss your corgi good bye before keeping the key in your pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; your waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed you; you frown whenever the door opens and what greet you are the foreign faces of your neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, you finally reach your destination. With your round eyes you scan the whole room and find your prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

“Taeyong! I’m here, let’s go!” you cling into the taller man’s arm and giddily drag him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes both of you outside; Taeyong clears his throat and pulls you closer. He takes in your small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. “It’s starting to get cold,” Taeyong smiles.

You blush, even when Taeyong had done this for three consecutive autumns, your heart will always beat like it was your first time. You did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place you know a bit too much.

“Usual place Yong?”

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, you found yourself in a restaurant district. Your stomach growl when the delicious smell of your favorite food can be smelled from a meter. You both sit down on your usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for you and a Pepperoni for Taeyong. Though Taeyong never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to you, he just can’t. Try and say that to a person who really enjoys it and do you dare see their heart breaks? No Taeyong doesn’t want to break her heart; it’s the last thing he wanted to do to (Y/n).

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, you exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. You both end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The couple make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

You told Taeyong about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Taeyong will do everything that brings a smile to your face. With you standing close by his side, Taeyong naturally slides his arm to hug your slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Taeyong knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

“We’re so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already… We only have one left for the special house favorite’s chocolate,” the man with a name tag reading Doyoung, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

You run your eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Taeyong was faster.

“No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?” Taeyong hands Doyoung his card and swipes the bill.

You squeal deep inside your heart, how come Taeyong could always do a new sweet action every time we go out?!

“You sure don’t want anything else?” you ask when Taeyong lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Taeyong shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from your lips, “No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much.” Taeyong kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from your lips.

You playfully punch Taeyong, “What’s into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!”

Taeyong laughs it off and rolls his eyes, “Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—” you shut him off with a quick peck “—I’m going to have heart attack (y/n), if you are making that a habit.”

After making a loud sip to ensure you leave nothing on the bottom of the glass, you and Taeyong step out of the lovely café. Both of you freeze when you see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

“The first snow!” Both of you choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

You reach for a folded umbrella you had brought in your pocket and this time take the lead to pull the taller man closer and tries your best to raise the umbrella to his height. Taeyong cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows you do your thing.

“I am not taking care of a sick Taeyong again, that’s why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Yong let’s walk under the first snow!” you sneakily place your hand into Taeyong’s coat and the taller simply holds your hand.

You both have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated your social media platforms.

“The snow is falling harder; shall we head home?” Taeyong worries for your health. The two of you are responsible for coming on working days, falling sick is something you two can’t afford.

You do not refuse; along your careful steps on the slippery grounds the couple doesn’t stop talking at all. You will find new topics whenever a topic seems to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. The date night ends with Taeyong ushering you back to your Apartment room.

“Goodbye Yongie, thank you for tonight!” you shake your wet umbrella.

“No problem sweetie, I’ll be going now,”

“Wait—” you run to your room and return not long after it, you get on the tip of your toes and wrap a warm red scarf over Taeyong “—take that with you, it’s my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home.” you bury your face on his chest as he hugs you  tight.

“Thanks honey, Good night.” Taeyong steps back and waves his hand.

You wiggle your hand in panic, “Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!” you push your umbrella to Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong chuckles and tousles your soft hairs, “Yes maam! I can take care of myself—” Taeyong winks and you only roll your eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of yours before finally going back home.

__

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates, and time runs. Your love for each other blooms, although the relationship has ups and downs, the two of you can overcome the big waves and sail your ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skilful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and you feel like you are forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and your sparkly eyes are fixed on a “sweet” scene in front of you. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it’s your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty girl, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Taeyong did not know or see you on the other side of the road, but you cannot mistake that man as someone else. Your eyes turn red; you fetch your phone and take the speed dial to call Taeyong. You wait for a moment with your eyes fixed on the two people across you.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and you see the two of them walking to cross the road. You quickly hide yourself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Taeyong. When Taeyong made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as yours, you swear your call was sent to voicemail. Taeyong also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn’t even hesitate to reject your call. Insteaad, Taeyong looks so happy walking with this new girl. Your jealousy and suspicion completely take over you, you lean over the small phone box and stare at your screen emptily.

“Sorry, busy can’t pick up your call.” taeyong’s message appears in his notification bar.

You swallow the stuck lump in your throat; disappointed and angry, you run back to your apartment. You were planning to buy dinner and surprise Taeyong in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another woman, heol you won’t bother coming to see him.

You lock yourself in your room and cry your heart out, your stomach grumbles, but your heart aches more. You ignore all of the calls and messages in your phone. Thirty minutes later you wipe your eyes and after ensuring your heart you need to do this: you text a number.

“Yuta, you’re right… I’m coming to the dinner tomorrow. What’s his name again?”

This time you regret not listening to your friends when they warned you about your boyfriend playing fire behind your back. You are too naïve and blunt to realize Taeyong has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked your calls. At first you simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out you are living blindly.

Taeyong paces in his room while sticking phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

“Pick up. Pick up (Y/n)…. Please… I’m worried sick…” Taeyong ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if you are okay, why are you not picking up calls, and why are you not reading his messages.

Taeyong feels guilty rejecting your call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Taeyong cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute girl’s dream. Yes, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Taeyong cannot lie and say she’s unattractive. She is a calm and nice woman, good with works, and Taeyong finds it hard to keep his heart stable when she’s around.

Taeyong thought he saved the girl from crying in the streets, when in reality his real girlfriend is the one crying on the busy streets… by herself. Poor Taeyong doesn’t know this.

__

The next morning, you did not bat an eye nor reply any of Taeyong’s messages. You muted his number and prepare for work. As you spray your perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man you used to love, but now hate, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

“Good morning sunshine! What’s with the cloudy face?” Taeyong extends his hand to give you the arrangement.

You look at his sickening handsome smile and walk to take your working bag. “Nothing. I’m tired of work and this life full of lies.”

Taeyong frowns, “What do you mean?”

You  just hum an “I don’t know” tone and occupy yourself with packing your lunch and laptop.

Taeyong walks to the kitchen table and picks your phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, “WOW! You haven’t opened my text, not a single one! Why?” he sounds confused.

You’re the type to always have your phone on your nose almost every second, what’s with leaving him unread?

You snatch your phone, “I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn’t come and have dinner with you, since you’re taking overtime.”

Taeyong sighs, “Come on (y/n), you’re acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?” you walk away.

“Don’t act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights.” Taeyong snaps.

You keep your cold face on;  take your lunch and working bag, and slip into your shoes. Taeyong shadows you all over the place.

“Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?” You hold on to the door knob.

“I had a sudden meeting.” Taeyong lies quickly.

“Oh so now you call walking with another woman without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!” you stomp your foot, “Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!” you exit the room, but Taeyong holds a grip of your hand.

“but…” Taeyong is cut off by your voice “For your information Taeyong, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a woman and rejecting my call.” you raise your tone and his face turns red. You break your hand free and rush to the parking lot.

Taeyong runs after you, but luck must’ve left him today for the lift closes before he can reach you. You are clearly mad and fed up, for you are not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Your day goes on differently, you are still absorbed in the sadness and pain, while Taeyong… Taeyong thinks today’s problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the woman from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Taeyong busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; she asks him, “What’s bothering you?”

Taeyong thinks for a while, should he tell her what actually happened, but what if things get darker and dangerous? After some consideration, Taeyong decides to use the help chance. He told her what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. She just laughs and comes up with a solution, “I can help you clarify this… Give me her number, I’ll talk to her.”

Taeyong denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from her, he gave up your phone number to her. He thought maybe you would listen to her.

Sure, her idea was not completely wrong, You answers her call in a friendly manner and you did not blame her for anything. You listened to all of her kind and sincere explanation, but your heart still cannot easily forgive Taeyong for doing it.

__

You dress up nicely in a bomber jacket and put on a cap to hide your puffy eyes. You take your step to greet your date tonight, the man Yuta told him about. Jung Jaehyun, son of the CEO of Neo corporation: Korea’s first leading group in food supply, while Taeyong is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Jaehyun is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Jaehyun is, your heart cannot stop comparing him to Taeyong. Taeyong is not as perfect as him, Taeyong is more of the clumsy type and silly. However, one thing for sure, you like Jaehyun’s jokes better than Taeyong’s.

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. You would have dressed up properly if you knew Jaehyun is bringing you to a secluded private restaurant. You seal your mouth tightly about this date, yet Taeyong knows.

You come home with a bright smiling face, Jaehyun had just dropped you off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. You secretly smile to yourself and wrap your jacket tighter as you enter the lift to reach the floor. You can’t stop humming small tunes while taking steps.

With a big surprised face, you take a step back when Taeyong greets you in his stern voice.

“Why are you here?” you sound annoyed. Your mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Taeyong raises his brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if she’s here yet, since she ignored my calls and texts.” You make your way to the kitchen and fill yourself a glass of water, “Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight,” you shrug your shoulder.

Taeyong joins you to the small kitchen, “Yeah and I just found out my girl, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—” he glances at his watch, “—late, my girl came home pretty late. It’s 10!”

You finish your glass of water, and slam the cup a bit too hard, “So what? I’m big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself.”

“Who’s that man? How are you sure he is someone good?” Taeyong elevates his tone.

You take a deep breath and speak out loud clearly, “it’s none of your business! Even I did not know who the woman you’re with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Lee Taeyong!” you spit those words in one breath. You toss your jacket then lock yourself in the room. Taeyong knocks on your door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest person is the scariest thing

You wake up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. You force yourselfto leave the bed and calls in for a day off today. You have called Jaehyun last night and told the new man everything, something in your heart screams that Jaehyun can help and Jaehyun will not hurt you like Taeyong did. With your beloved corgi walking beside you, You open the apartment door and freeze when you see Taeyong sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

“Babo-ya,” You scoff in your mind and leave the big baby on the floor. You make yourself a glass of tea and gul an aspirin down your dry throat. You take your time writing a short note and stick it on Taeyong’s free arm. You bend to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably your last, and secretly leave.

Taeyong wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging you to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly read it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widen and his mouth fell. Taeyong lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight… he feels like a thunder just hit him and he’s drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don’t change.

“(y/n) wants us to end it here,” Taeyong speaks to himself, the blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to find the woman he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with you. Seriously you did not need to break up over a silly matter!

“(y/n)-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this… where are you?” Taeyong puts on his shoes and coat.

“We don’t have to discuss anything Tae. We’re not meant to be, I realized we’re not made for each other. Our parents don’t even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It’s over Taeyong, go get that woman and I will go my way.” You explain as best as you can.

“No, We need to meet. We’re not breaking up over phone. I don’t consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet.” Taeyong grips his phone harder.

“I can’t Tae, I’m no longer near you. Bye,” you said.

Taeyong hears the faint background sound and damn that you are in the airport, where the hell are you going now without telling him.

You turn off your call and sadly stare at the wallpaper. It’s a picture of happy Taeyong and you laughing under the mistletoe from last Christmas.

“Are we ready to go?” Jaehyun’s deep voice resonates beside you. You groggily nod and copy his steps to the boarding gate. You take one last heavy breath; yes you are leaving Korea and Taeyong behind. This is what your family wants, this is for the best.

You come from the family of the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out your parents had made an agreement to make you and Jaehyun an official pair. Simply said your parents arranged your marriage with Jung family for the sake of business. Your family does not have a good history with the Lee family. Both Taeyong and you had been trying your best to keep your boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by your own families, but you have had enough. Both of you used to think if you are together, you can fight your families and live happily ever after, but that’s too good to be true.

Now, your parents have made a lot of agreements with The Jung family, and that explains why you are sent to leave Korea with Jaehyun the night when you reported Taeyong’s actions. Your father used the situation to break you apart, and he partly succeeded.

Right now, you are seated on the first-class flight to Britain, with your future fiancé (That’s what your parents insisted).

__

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Taeyong still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when you are not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that you are still his girlfriend, and he is still committed to you, he woman he loves.

His colleague has tried a lot of things to set Taeyong up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Taeyong only attends the blind dates she made, just to respect her kindness and attention. That woman herself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Taeyong and you once visited, Doyoung. She was close with Taeyong because she needs help with winning the cute man’s heart. The night when you went home with Jaehyun, Taeyong was actually waiting for you to explain everything. Taeyong wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be jealous of the woman, for she has her heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day you were already gone from his life.

Taeyong changes into a cold and quiet man, while you have opened your heart to the new man. You realize Jaehyun shares a lot of things in common with you. Knowing the new tall man with dimple is easy and both of you get along so well. You spend a good two years in England, and have to return to Korea when the working contract for Jaehyun ended.

–

The plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. You sigh it’s once again autumn, you always hate autumn.

Jaehyun feels he needs to check the office and sends you home by yourself. You did not mind, instead you are happy you can have your time alone here.

You take the taxi to a park you missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. You breathe in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when the memories you made here with Taeyong slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in your heart, how is that handsome blonde doing? You walk and walk then sit at one of the empty benches, your hand traces the old wood and smile when your eyes caught a small scribble that still managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

You trace the craving and secretly hide a smile when the memory comes back in your mind.

The writing of Taeyong and (y/n) in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. You remembered craving your names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. You scoff when you realize a lot of things you did with Taeyong are associated with autumn.

You close your eyes for a while and found yourself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets you.

“(y/n)?” the voice sounds unsure, “(y/n)?! It’s really you?” this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

You open your eyes and gulp when the same man you left without news is here again in front of you. The man you shared love, the man you secretly hate and love, the same man who used to be your happiness. He looks different! He definitely loses weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy you used to spend your time gazing. His voice didn’t change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make you tremble.

“Taeyong, well… yes this is me.” you sheepishly admit.

“It’s been a while,” Taeyong opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside you.

“Look Taeyong, I don’t have much time,” you dare yourself to face him and hold your tears back. You almost broke down in tears when you once again sees the man you love standing here across you.

“I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us.” Taeyong stays quiet despite wanting to kiss you and tell you everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to you. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

“Fate doesn’t let us be together… our family hates one another… we can’t… we just can’t be one Taeyong.” You bite your lips and hold your tears back. Your heart is breaking right now when you see the broken look in Taeyong’s eyes.

When you first saw Taeyong sitting beside you, you swore you saw a glint of hope in his eyes but now you completely kill it. You hate yourself for once again hurting Taeyong, but this is for their own goods.

You can no longer hold back your tears, the wall you made breaks down right in front of Taeyong. You hide your face in your hands and your shoulder moves as you express all of your bottled-up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Taeyong moves closer to your side. He bravely takes you into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over your smooth cheeks. Taeyong cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without you. It was dark already before when you left, but now when you clearly said that… Taeyong feels like dying.

“Goodbye Taeyong,” you stand up and walk to leave the broken hearted man. You turn one last time to see your unrequited love; and you force your last sweet smile, “Thank you for the memories.” you take quick steps to leave the park and Taeyong. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it’s over. You are completely not anywhere to be seen.

Taeyong closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, you left him completely now. (y/n) left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Taeyong fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he’s been carrying this around since you left, he wanted to propose to you whenever he got the chance to see you , but turns out your ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit your slender finger. Taeyong keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousands of memories. Taeyong smiles bitterly when he remembers how you always hate autumn. Turns out all memories with you are prominent in autumn: your least favorite season.

flashback <<<

“I hate autumn Yong, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer.” you pointed to an almost bald tree.

Taeyong pinches your cute cheeks, “Well yes the trees are selfish Sweetie, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I’m sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live,” you cut him, “But why Yong? Why must the leaves die for the tree?”

Taeyong holds his lover’s hand tighter in his jacket, “Because my (y/n)-ie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!”

You nod your head, “Woah that’s a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!” You cheerfully peck a kiss on Taeyong’s lips and blushes.

“Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love.” Taeyong leans in for another kiss.

“I love you Yong, now and forever!” You lean your head on Taeyong’s strong and wide shoulder.

“I love you most (y/n), I’ll be like the leaf in autumn!” Taeyong whispers to his world; you

The two people in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls, they secretly whisper each other “I still love you.”

end

:”) thank you for reading 

[manga-and-stuff]

The tools behind Manga and Stuff

In this post I will show you how I make this blog possible 

Where do I get my manga:

My primary source for manga is Nyaa.si where I also upload stuff myself sometimes.

Viable alternatives I use include Mangadex and Bato.to. I also post manga on Bato.to myself. You can download manga from mangadex, Bato.to and many other sites like them with the Manga downloader by red Squirrel 

The programs I use: 

ComicSreen

I read all my manga with this Android app. There are countless other comic viewer apps on android and IOS, but this one allows me to save pages in full resolution which is kinda important for this blog and it’s just a pretty nice app overall. 

Viable alternative for Desktop: Honeyview, but just like with Android, there are many others.

Advanced Renamer

A pretty simple program that allows me to rename thousands of files at once. It’s not really essential for this blog but it helps keep things organized and is overall a very useful program. It’s free for personal use. 

XNconvert

XNconvert is an immensely powerful image editing program and the workhorse of this blog. I mostly use it to automatically crop out all the white spaces around manga panels (this used to take hours to do) but it can do so much more than that, from changing color depth to converting a picture into any format imaginable, and it can do it to thousands of pictures at once.

It was this program alone that made it possible for me to clean up 1000 scanned pages of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind in like 2 hours, here’s a before and after:

This would have taken days without this free program. 

Topaz Gigapixel AI

I used this program to upscale a few manga I upload here, including Fullmetal Alchemist, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō and the recently added Chainsaw Man. Here’s a preview of what this program can do.

This program needs a pretty beefy PC and it costs around 80-100$. And remember, upscalling is not magic, upscaled manga will never look as good as high resolution scans. 

Waifu2x is a free alternative, but not really a viable option for doing whole manga. 

Photoshop

I don’t think I really need to explain this one...

Free, and nowadays actually viable alternative: GIMP

AutoHotkey

AutoHotkey is a very easy scripting language that allows me to caption and tag my posts like this:

And it can do A LOT more than this. 

Here’s the basic code I use for captions and tagging, with basic explanations of what everything does, but its far from a tutorial. 

While AutoHotkey is free, it’s only available for windows and I don’t know of any alternatives for Mac or Linux. 

One important tip for tagging: 

Only the first 5 tags you add to any post are searchable. So if you have “Art” as your sixth tag your post will not show up when searching the art tag. This is why the manga title and the Author’s name are always the first tags on my posts. 

The whole process briefly explained:

I am always on the lookout for interesting manga, so feel free to post suggestions.

When I do stumble across a manga that seems interesting I download it from my sources mentioned above.  I then read it on my Android tablet for the first time, only after reading the entire manga once I decide if I want to upload it here.    If I decide to upload a manga here I read it for a second time, but this time I focus on what pages and panels to capture. In my experience doing this on your first read isn’t a very good idea. You can’t really focus on both the story and the capturing at once. 

Then I move all the caps to my pc and rename them with Advanced Renamer. I then make a backup of everything before cropping it with XNconvert.

I then add them to my queue here on tumblr, this step is also where I do all editing of the caps, like cropping out single panels or more substantial stuff. I also throw out a lot of caps in this step for various reasons. 

There are usually around 50 posts queued which gives me a 5 day buffer to queue more posts. 

I never do all these steps at once. There are sometimes month between me reading and capturing a manga, the processing of the caps and the eventual uploading.  

Some fun stats about this blog:

This is the second iteration of Manga and Stuff, the first version was deleted by accident (by tumblr) when it had around 400 followers.

This iteration of Manga and Stuff started out in January 2017.

This blog has 100 times the follower count of my personal blog even though both blogs are the exact same age and have roughly the same number of posts... the main difference is that I don’t put any effort whatsoever into my personal blog... 

As of right now there are 12600 posts on this blog, around 1500 of which are reblogs.  

This is my most popular post of all times... by a wide margin...  and it’s not even really about manga... and I uploaded it for a laugh...

My posts get 107.33 notes on average... but my most popular post mentioned above probably inflates this number a bit... 

As of right now this blog has close to 1,2 million notes in total. 

I still have every single unedited mangcap ever uploaded to this blog, dating all the way back to 2017... the size of this backup is 94 gigabytes and it saved my butt a number of times.     

[ephemeralstark]

The Targets We Paint

Summary:  “Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.” 

 “You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn’t, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety. “

Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.”

 Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.” 

-

 Peter knew being Spider-Man put a target on him, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the safety of the citizens of Queens. He just never considered how dangerous it could be to be Peter Parker.

AN: whumptober day 4: prompt - collapsed building. TW for bombs, guns, violence, proceed with caution. Sorry the prompt only appears at the end whoops and this is going to be 3 parts not 2 bc i suck 

Part 2 of 3

To Peter’s horrified surprised the man who was holding him started to laugh, and not a fake sarcastic laugh, but a full-bellied, shoulder shaking guffaw that made the gun against Peter’s temple shake, he could hear the bullets inside tremble. There was no more innocent hope that the weapon hadn't been loaded. 

“Everyone says you’re smart, and you really are, aren’t you?” the man asked. 

“Is this all an elaborate plan to test my intelligence?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter’s eyes jumped to his feet as he watched him slide a foot forward on the marble, trying to inch his way closer without being detected, “because I have to admit there are easier ways to go about that than holding my intern hostage. I’m a show-off, you just had to challenge me to an IQ test or something.” 

“Is this the part where you ask me to let him go?” the man asked idly, his tone so conversational as he ignored Mr. Stark that it sent shivers down Peter’s spine as his Spidey-Sense warned him that he wouldn't be walking out of this situation unscathed.

But what could he do? The man was holding the gun so tightly to his head that if he tried anything, there was a good chance he would be dead before he could so much as turn around.

“Why would I ask that?” Mr. Stark asked him. 

“Don't you care for his life?” the man asked. 

“I mean I’d rather you didn't kill him in front of all of these people,” Mr. Stark said with a small shrug, “and I have to admit that I’ve grown rather fond of his inane rambling, but you don't seem to care about that.”

“Beg me to release him,” the man said. 

“Is that what this is about?” Mr. Stark asked, inching closer once more. “Is this all just a power trip for you?” 

Peter felt the man holding him tense, “a power trip?” he asked, and it was obvious that he was unhappy about the phrasing. 

“Well, you’re walking into my building with my intern at gunpoint as you demand to speak with me, and the moment I turn up you want to hear me beg?”  Mr. Stark said, “I have to admit, it seems a little power trippy.”

“This isn't a power trip,” oh, the man was speaking through gritted teeth now, Mr. Stark was definitely hitting a nerve somewhere. 

“Come on, wait, what’s your name? Is it Dave? You look like a Dave, we’re all going to call you Dave now, right kid?” Mr. Stark said. 

“Uh, he’s holding a gun to my head I don't think I want to do that,” Peter mumbled. 

“Come on, Kid, Dave knows there are at least five guns trained on him by now, if he does anything, he’ll be dead before he hits the ground,” Mr. Stark told him as though that was meant to be reassuring. 

“Maybe I don’t care about making it out alive,” Dave said, but Peter could feel his sudden tension that contradicted his words. 

“Oh, you do though,” Mr. Stark said, “otherwise that bomb would have been set off the moment I arrived in this atrium, you wouldn't be bothering to try and appear more powerful than me, you would have done it instantly and it would be attached to you rather than a device in your pocket.” 

“Stop… talking… about… power!” Dave said slowly through gritted teeth, the volume rising with each word that slipped out.

“You’re a little touchy on that aren’t you?” Mr. Stark asked.

“You keep trying to undermine me,” Dave snapped, “but who’s the one with a hostage right now?” 

“Oh, big deal, you kidnapped a fifteen-year-old, and a pretty lanky, dorky one,” Mr. Stark said, “pretty sure Peter has never done a sport in his life.” 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said with an offended sniff, “I’m being held as a hostage, are you really going to do me the dirty right now?” 

“Kid, come on, I had to pick you up last week because you tried to climb the rope and fell and somehow missed the mat?” Mr. Stark said, “like come on, that mat is huge, how did you miss? And how the hell did you fall?” 

“I was showing off,” Peter lied - he had actually intentionally fallen so that people wouldn't be suspicious that Peter Parker could suddenly climb the rope, it wasn't his fault that he was stupid and misjudged the fall.

“Why would you pick him up if he’s just your intern?” Dave asked suspiciously. 

“Come on, Dave, keep up,” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes, he was now close enough that Peter could smell his cologne, “I told you, the inane babbling grows on you, if you zone him out enough it's like there’s a toddler yapping away.” 

“A toddler?” Peter asked. 

“My name isn't Dave.”

“What is it then?” Peter asked, “because I’m kinda calling you Dave in my head now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

Dave was pissed.

Peter’s Spidey-Senses screamed at him a nano-second before he felt something hard crack against the back of his skull and a dizzy wave overtook him as he fell forward, Mr. Stark caught him just before he hit the ground, which Peter was grateful for as with his hands still cuffed behind his back he would have landed with his face hitting the marble and no way to try and prevent this.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered to Mr. Stark, “I didn't react quick enough, he had the cuffs on before I could think.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mr. Stark replied quietly and he helped the cuffed boy back to his feet, and Peter didn't miss the look of horror as his mentor froze and stared at his own hands that were now tainted with the blood of the kid before him, “you're bleeding?” 

“The cuffs have spikes inside,” Peter said quietly. 

“They wh-”

“Enough waffling,” Dave said with a tone of impatience, “tell your men to put their weapons down otherwise I’ll release.” 

Peter’s gaze instantly fell on Dave’s hand that was holding the wired contraption that looked a lot like what he’d expect a bomb to look like, and then in the other hand was a button and judging from the way his thumb was tensed, he was pressing down which meant… oh. 

“Mr. Stark, if he releases that…” 

“I know, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, Peter saw a muscle in his jaw twitch, “alright, just be careful with that thing.”

“Tell them,” Dave said. 

“Right, guys, you heard him,” Mr. Stark announced, “fall back.”

By that point Peter could hear the law enforcement officers outside discussion tactics and planning to make contact, little did they know that it was pointless, Dave was heading towards his endgame and it was growing more and more clear that this wasn't about money. 

“If you ignite that bomb, you’re going to die,” Mr. Stark said, “is that really what you want?” 

“I don't care,” Dave said, “you destroyed me, Stark, you ruined everything, and now… I’m willing to put my life on the line to get my revenge.” 

“Look, this is getting old,” Mr. Stark said, trying to push Peter behind him, not that Peter would allow that, “we’ve already established that you don't want to die, so spill the truth, did you work here?” 

“No,” the man scoffed, “I would never have demeaned myself in that way.” 

“First: rude, and second, then why are you so pissed off?” 

“Do you remember the new theory that Oscorp Industries released?” Dave asked. 

Mr. Stark scoffed and let out a laugh, “of course this is related to Oscorp, and yes, I do. It was flawed and there was no way to prove it without inhumane human trials that would have risked lives and had a high rate of fatalities.” 

“That was my theory,” Dave shouted, “I was queued up for a promotion, I was going to get the funding to prove it true, and then you made a statement to the press about it and they were suddenly watching us.” 

“So you’re mad you were going to be held accountable?” Mr. Stark asked, “sounds like I did all the participants a favour, really.”

“You-” Dave broke off, visibly shaking with fury, “you don't get to say that, you don't get to-” 

“You need to calm down,” Mr. Stark told him. 

That was apparently the worst thing Mr. Stark, or anyone could have said because Dave was instantly furious. He threw everything he was holding against the ground and Peter was able to see the instantly look of terrified regret on his face that told him enough to act. 

Without the use of his hands, he was limited on what he was able to do, so he used his shoulder and rammed Mr. Stark to the ground with it, the older man was taken aback with the shock of the action and fell easily, just in time for Peter to cover his body with his own as a blast radiated from behind. 

It was hot, Peter thought before his attention turned to the trembling ground and he wondered whether they were unlucky enough to be having an earthquake at the same time. He would have considered it further, and perhaps he would have realised that the building was crumbling around him, but he was hit by something solid and the darkness dragged him under so that he was blissfully unaware of anything further. 

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @spidey-reids-2003 @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @akalovelymaybe

[causticsunshine]

twenty questions

tagged by @are-you-quite-finished-giovanna thank you babe!! 🥰

1. why did you choose your url?

simply put i adore louis and i like purple and it just rolled off the tongue lol, but i also had a list of possible urls i also liked and i had to snatch this one up while i could!

2. any side blogs?

yes i have four....i'm not one of those 'everything goes on main and you can deal with it' type people.... but i have an inspiration blog @prickelndauge (art insp, lots of fashion, cool photography), an art-only blog @swmpwxtch, one just for spooky/creepy content because i'm really into horror manga and scary movies and that kind of stuff but i keep it off of main because i know a lot of it can often be triggering to others! (i also don't post much there but @bonepickng) and one for art references, life tips, random resources, and more donation sharing @am-ref!

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

soooo long i thought i'd be gone by now tbh. i know i signed up in 2011 after just browsing the site through random blogs and tags for ages, but i didn't start actively using my own account until early 2012!

4. do you have a queue tag?

when i actually remember to tag things i have queued i'll use 'i'm sleep queue' because all my early morning posts everyday are queued....i am an insomniac rip

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

keeping up with my interests better! i was like 15/16 at the time so it made sense. back in Ye Olde Days much like now—i really have come full circle lmao—it was mostly just for 1d and then some random tv shows/franchises i just to see content of semi-often, as well as finding cool art!

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

rn it's just a regular pic of louis! as much as i like using my collages or little edits as my icons, you can't see much of anything and it looks too busy sometimes (but also the photo i have rn....i am always thinking thoughts about it soooo)

7. why did you choose your header?

it's pretty! i wanted everything to follow a color scheme + i love embroidery and fancy gowns!

8. what's your post with the most notes?

ok i thought it was gonna be one of my old larry chibi doodles because i know a few of them hit 1k+ notes, but i deleted those in 2017 and apparently now it's this 6 year old like....funky photo study i did of dan howell from 2015 when i still watched him and amazingphil a lot?? i mean at least it's something i was once proud of lmao....there's a few art posts i have with semi decent notes that i pretend i Do Not See

9. how many mutuals do you have?

i think rn 40 something so not very many, although i unfollowed a lot of people i was moots with when i left my last fanbase so that's probably why 😬 i've been meaning to check out more HL/ot5 people though!! i love mutual interaction but i'm afraid of being annoying if i'm any degree of attentive

10. how many followers do you have?

overall i have almost 2.4k rn, but there's a decent amount that are totally inactive or at least don't interact with me so it feels like....a lot less lmao but since re-joining 1d i've already made up like all the people i lost when i left my other fanbase of almost three and more so thank you for actually liking my work and maybe me as well 🥺💗

11. how many ppl do you follow?

around 370 rn!

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

half of the stuff that comes out of my mouth is a shitpost fdngjkdf like my tags are bad enough lmao, no one needs to properly share the bs i have to say

13. how often do you use tumblr?

pretty regularly rn but there are times i'll go completely MIA depending on what i'm into/how busy i am!

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog?

in the past i have had some....issues with other people i've met on here but never directly had confrontation with them? most of the time that's happened i figure it's been one-sided though because i can get irritated with certain behavior really quickly—like i always say my heart is big and open but my bullshit tolerance is dangerously low—but when that's the case i'll just unfollow or block without saying anything?

although back in the day there was one instance (and seriously if anyone remembers this you deserve a medal because this shit was Ridiculous) where i kinda but not really called out another 1d fanartist who posted untagged noncon fanart they'd done of at least two of the boys, and then acted like it was no big deal (like. 1. those are irl people my dude and 2. untagged noncon art?? in front of my salad??) and their friends kept defending them for it and tried to come for me claiming i was a proponent of Purity Culture when i'm not and literally all i said in my post on it was that in my own opinion it was kinda fucked up to draw noncon art of real life people—not characters played by actors! but actual real people as themselves—in the first place, but if you felt the need to post highly triggering content like that the least you could do was tag it accordingly

but i think that was the last time properly so i guess times within this fanbase are still chaotic as ever just in a different way?

15. how do you feel about "you need to rb this" posts?

Annoyed™️ like don't guilt trip me over a post lmao i do what i want !!

16. do you like tag games?

YES i love to talk about myself after years of trying not to show any personality online out of fear of judgement dfjkngdf

17. do you like ask games?

yes! i want to do them more but i'm always afraid of reblogging one and then getting nothing and looking like a Fool :'(

18. which one of your mutuals is tumblr famous?

i guess i have a few moots that are kinda well-known or at least get good interaction within the community we're a part of? also isn't that phrase kind of an oxymoron at this point adfjkdf

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

not past platonic friendly affection lmao but honestly what is it like to have a realistic crush on an actual tangible person versus someone in the public eye who doesn't even know i exist.....it's been so long and i am so lonely please send help

20. tags?

@niallnailme @bolitodequeso @milkcurls @exzouis @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk @got-my-devotion @aliensyndrome uhhh anyone who'd like to please consider yourself tagged by me! literally if there was an 'all my moots' button i'd just pick that lmao and as always no pressure/sorry if you've already done this and i haven't seen!

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - His Shadow

Part 6

I'm already on part?! 6?!?! How did I get here?!

Also! Tag list??? I am a person who has one now? How even? @poshplumcot @emjrabbitwolf @mystery-5-5 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @fandomkitty8 @dast218 @silvergold-swirl and I know you didn't ask to be, but @littleblue5mcdork your comments give me life, so I'm tagging you.

~---~

At approximately 12:34 am, Monday morning, a phone rang, abruptly waking the two occupants of the room.

"That better be important, or someone is going to pay."

"Stay quiet, it's Nightwing."

The use of vigilante names queued her in and she fell silent as Tim answered.

"What happened," he demanded, voice dipping in tone. 

Marinette couldn't hear everything, but she caught the jist of it.

Riddler had missed a few too many therapy appointments and was currently sending them all on a scavenger hunt, multiple hostages involved. She couldn't pick out who the hostages were or the locations, but that was fine. Tim knew, so as long as she followed him, it wouldn't matter.

Ending the call, he made his way past her and into the bathroom, talking as he went to change.

"Three bats are out of town, so they need me out there."

"Not the brightest, all traveling at the same time. Oracle and A still there?"

Shaking his head at the reminder that she knew all their identities and exactly which three had gone, he called back, "A is on it, but Oracle was unavailable."

"Good. Easier that way," was said as a flash of light poured in below the door, disappearing almost as immediately.

Coming out of the bathroom, he found his room empty.

"You plan to follow me," he stated.

"Of course," whispered back from the shadows, in a husky alto, neither feminine nor masculine in persuasion.

"There's no convincing you to stay put either, is there," still a statement.

A hum was his only answer, so he led the way towards the upstairs roof access, not wanting to take a chance with his own apartment window. Not a random safe house, after all.

"Suppose I don't have to tell you to stay hidden, but try not to give yourself away completely."

He was met by a chuckle and took that for the not promise it was, taking off across the rooftops, no sound other than his own near silent boots hitting pavement to indicate his little stalker.

…

He ended up in the one location that had Riddler actually present inside. Of course. Just his luck. Normally, Red would be thrilled at the chance to end this as quickly as possible, but for once, he had hoped against hope that one of the others would take care of this while he just solved a few puzzles, set someone free, and received a brief com relay that Bats had this one from there. 

Now he had to ensure not only that he solved everything and took Riddler down personally, but also had to watch the back of a shadow that he couldn't even keep track of. Sure, Red had seen her handiwork countless times, how clean and efficient the crime scene was. But mostly when she aimed to make the villains fool themselves into failing, leaving nothing of herself. The one time she did take matters fully into hand, he'd only seen the aftermath. And none of that accounted for never having worked with her. 

Needless to say, Red was stressed. Which led to a lack of focus that made finding his way to the underground archives of the library (yes, library) that riddler set up in take twice as long. Having made his way around 12 different traps, a few of which were already cleared up and solved before he arrived, he couldn't claim surprise that Hood and Nightwing were in his ear, having already cleaned up their own parts. 

"Where you at, babybird?"

"Entering the inner archives now."

"Not finished yet? Thought you were quicker than this," Hood teased.

"You were already on the scene when N called."

"Excuses excuses."

"We're entering the library now. Be down to back you up in a moment," Nightwing responded, cheerfully ignoring their antics.

"It's just Riddler, you don't need to help," He rushed to reassure, wanting to keep them and Mari separate in such an enclosed space. 

"Never underestimate a villain off their meds, Red. Almost there."

And that's how he found himself in this situation. Every time an attack came either towards Hood or Wing, they'd have to deflect or defend themselves, but every henchman that even looked in his direction became immediately distracted by something else. Honestly, at this rate, he could probably waltz right up to Riddler and finish this now, but he couldn't help but sit back and observe. 

One goon turned towards him, only to jump to the right, seemingly trip on his own two feet, and end up at the receiving end of an escrima stick.

Another freaked out and ran away from something only to slam directly into another fighting Hood. Both only took a moment to go down in the distraction. Two others ran from the room without any prompting. Soon enough they had Riddler in captivity, called in to Batman and Agent A, and left after handing the situation to the police. 

"What the hell, you barely even helped!" Hood yelled the second they landed on Red's apartment rooftop, Wing having already returned to finish his patrol for the night.

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to have Sunday nights off."

"It's Monday morning and that's never held you back before."

"... We weren't alone," he let on, knowing he needed to offer up some explanation for his lacking response down there.

"... They were in there?"

"Yeah. I was observing for more information."

"That would explain the idiots tripping over themselves more than usual, I guess. What'd you find out?"

"Nothing more than we already knew. Evasive, lets the opponent take themself out. Some seemed to be running from something. Whoever it is seems intelligent as well. Took out a few traps before I even reached them. Went around others completely if they were already in that room when we arrived."

"That doesn't help us though," Hood stated, arms crossed where he leaned against a wall. 

Blue/silver eyes appeared beside him, serious looking and tilted, giving the impression she was mimicking Hood's stance from less than two feet away. It took a monumental effort not to laugh.

"Not even slightly."

Heaving a sigh, Hood pulled off the wall and walked over to the edge, the eyes following him, rolling in mock exasperation.

"I'll have A look over the footage of the library, see if we can pick anything up," he called back, muttering about subpar cameras and lack of funding to inner city libraries before taking off towards the Manor. 

For a second, the eyes disappeared, only for a figure to appear in the corner, shaded by two walls of the roof where the access door was.

Glancing around to ensure the others were long out of sight or range, he turned off his comm and took it out. Walking over to the edge of the shadow, he paused.

"No backlash for giving away your existence?"

"None at all. If I didn't want them finding out, I wouldn't have helped. As you implied, you had it under control."

"You're introducing yourself."

"Mhm! In a way where no one can deny I'm good or mistake me for a bad guy. I've seen how quick some of you are to attack first and interrogate later. Figure I'll allow interrogation later when I'm a more established presence."

He raised an eyebrow and stared her down a minute before she broke.

"Aaand I might enjoy messing with them a little. It's fun to see the 'World's Greatest Detectives' fumble all over themselves to figure out who's hiding right underneath their noses."

"Speaking of which, you plan on actually letting me see you, or just stand in the corner all night" he snarked.

"Hmm… not in the open. I'll meet you in your room."

With that, she disappeared once more.

…

Upon entering his room, Tim thought one of Ra's assassins had come for him once more. 'Hadn't that freak old man taken up a new obsession?!' Only to pause at seeing the same gray to blue eyes from the roof peering out from under the hood. 

Flicking on a lamp much closer to her, he took in the full extent of the costume. Noticing a tail only barely peeking out around her calf and the sharp claws on her fingertips, Tim heaved a sigh.

"Tell me you're not cat themed. Dick will never let me live it down after all the shit we gave Bruce about Selina."

"More foxed themed if anything, though the eyes are more cat related," she giggled, voice still altered to her form.

"Pure black foxes are pretty rare. Sure it's not a fluffy black cat," he eyed her suspiciously.

"Not pure!" The tail lifted up to in front of her, the gray tip fully displayed.

"... It moved."

"Yes?"

"Why'd it move? I know for a fact you don't have a real fox tail outside of costume, so how?"

"Oh you know, do you? For your information, I have fox ears too."

Looking bewildered, he strode over to her, reaching for the hood. Squeaking, she disappeared once more. Coming back to himself, Tim took a step back, apologized, and requested she come out again. Reappearing before him, she watches him wearily, instincts on high alert and unable to reconcile the still masked Red Robin with Tim, despite them being one in the same.

"Could… you take off the mask first?"

"What?"

"I've kept out of Red's sight for too long, I can't get my instincts to calm down about it," she ducked her head down, almost squirming, reminding him who exactly was under that outfit.

Removing the mask slowly so as not to rip at the skin, he placed it down on the nightstand. He reached once more for the hood, watching for any reaction. When no resistance came forth, he slipped it down around her shoulders, the lower face cover not even twitching, as though held in place by other means. 

There they were. Two big, fluffy black fox ears with gray tips and insides surrounded by loose silky gray locks. He couldn't resist. Tim gently grabbed an ear, rubbing his thumb across baby down textured insides. It twitched across his palm. Tilting the ear each way, he finally let go, only to run his fingers across the base as though looking for how it attached, pulling a low purr from the woman he had absentmindedly been fondling the ear of. Abruptly yanking his hand back, he stared down at Mari.

"They're real."

"Very."

"You're a furry."

"I'm a what?"

"Holy smokes, you're an honest to goodness Furry."

"... Says the man who regularly calls himself Red Robin, eh, babybird?"

Flushing bright red, Tim could only sputter, not realizing she had heard Jason call him that.

"Still not the one with an actual tail and ears!"

"Yeah, at least I didn't chicken out like some animal named heroes."

"And I suppose your name is as blatant as your costume?"

"Hmm?"

"Your name, you still haven't given it."

"Oh! Um, it's Teumessian."

"Teu-whata?"

"You know, like in greek mythology?"

"That's more Jason's line of expertise."

"Tuemessian was a fox that was destined to never be caught. Another name for it is Cadmean Vixen. Suppose you could call me Vixen for short," she purred up to him, eyes turning into slits, but cut short as a huge yawn overcame her.

"Alright, whatever you say Vixen. You get back into bed and I'll join you in a moment." 

….

By the time Tim exited the bathroom for the last time that night, Mari was already passed out across his sheets.

"Can't believe I'm dating a furry."

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter f o u r t e e n 

You’d pulled your hat low over your face, sunglasses pressed up to your cheeks to ensure some level of privacy. You’d been recognized three times already--which was definitely a new record for the same 24 time span. 

“Jesus,” Jake laughed when the third girl walked away. “Used to think we’d only have to deal with one famous friend.”

You pushed away from him, skates gliding on the clean ice in Central Park. It’d been a hike and a half up to the Northeast corner in the first place, and now all you wanted was to skate in peace. 

“M’sorry--I wish I could make it not happen.” A beat of silence when none of them responded. “Yknow, that’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone at work about me and Harry being friends. I work in a field where it’s my job to talk about celebrities. I didn’t want to have to do it on my lunch break, too.”

You wouldn’t have been so straightforward with them if Harry had tagged along. He blamed his absence on a last minute meeting, but it offered a breath of fresh air and some space to actually breathe it. 

“I get it,” Bryn said, skating to catch up with you in front of the others. Jessie clung to the wall with Adam, Jake tried his best to not skate circles around all of you. 

“You do?”

“I do,” she nodded, linking her arm in yours. “Some of my coworkers know and they’ve been all over me trying to get tickets for the tour. I don’t tell Harry that, though--he’d feel obligated to hand ‘em over.”

“Exactly. I just didn’t want to deal with it.”

“It can be kind of cool, you know. I told my boss about it and he let me take a day off from work once without even using PTO cause Harry was in town,” Adam’s mouth was stretched into a silly smile. 

“Your boss is a wanker,” Jessie said. “And apparently he’s a pushover too.”

“He is both of those things, yes,” Adam laughed. 

Jake slowed down to fall back into the group. “So Smalls, what are you going to do about the interview?”

Another groan from your lips, two little boys skated past you, pushing against each other’s big winter coats to beat the other to the exit. “Nothing. Maybe just not do it.”

“Oh shut up,” Jessie said. “You have to.”

“I know,” you sighed. “S’the biggest story I’ve gotten. And it’s not that I totally don’t want people to know I knew him--it’s more that my boss will be livid when she finds out I’ve lied to her all this time.”

“You can’t give it to someone else?” Bryn’s head tilted to the side, Jake’s eyebrows went north. 

“S’an idea. Have a coworker who could take it on? You could fake pneumonia. Be out of commission for a week or two.”

“Might as well,” you laughed.

“Y’know, Smalls,” Adam offered a sympathetic look. “He was pretty upset last night.”

“He was? About what?”

“That you downplayed everything so much.”

“Alright, maybe s’not the time,” Jessie tried to defuse the situation, as if Adam’s words didn’t strike up curiosity in your bones. 

“What do you mean?”

“He really likes you,” Adam said. “I think he’s sad it didn’t work.”

“Okay,” you spun around to face him, stopping dead in your icy tracks. “He was dating someone else at first--and he didn’t tell me. I had to see photos of them online and confront him!”

“He should have told you,” Jake said, now skating backwards around Bryn. “But he really only saw her to end it. He told me.”

Bryn let out a short laugh. “And you believe him?” 

“You don’t?” Adam shot back.

“I dunno,” she said. “I mean, why wouldn’t he have just told her if he ended it? S’not a big deal that he was seeing someone. It happens!”

You held up a hand, hoping to silence them without having to get loud. “S’between me and him, alright? I appreciate the concern for both of us,” you shot Adam a pointed look, “but s’fine.”

“We’ve been trying to trust the two of you to figure it out for a decade, Y/N,” Jessie let out a breath as if she’d been keeping it in for ages. “Feels like you could both use a little help.”

“We don’t need help. I just--I need space,” you said. 

And it was true--at first you were sure you’d never want to speak to him again. When the gang first showed up you were convinced that you’d have a miserable time in his presence and be counting down the days until they left, freeing you from any obligation to interact with him. 

But now, after museum glimpses of normalcy before Jessie’s outburst, you were wondering if maybe you should have coffee--just the two of you--after they left. 

And maybe you’d get something close. The next morning when you were sat on Harry’s leather sofa for the last time as a group of six, he made some joke about how you never could seem to remember where the wine glasses were. It felt almost like he was testing the water--seeing where things stood as two people who were about to be set free into a busy city with no real reason now to see each other. Unless you wanted to. 

And when you hugged them all goodbye in the lobby, watching as Roger rebuilt the mountain of luggage in his car, you felt like maybe now was the time to say something. But he said it first. 

The last door was shut, Jake’s outline barely visible through the tinted glass as Roger put the car in drive.

“D’ya want a cup of tea?”

You looked up at him, a swell in your chest and an answer from your lips before he could take it back. “Sure.” Up the lift and into his flat, the kettle on the stove while you sat at the counter. 

“Thanks for having them come,” you said, shoulders up to your ears. “Even though things were weird, for a minute.”

“Course,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. A long pause, enough quiet to hear the heating kick on and a siren outside the thick windows. “You know, Y/N, I want to be friends with you.”

You looked up at him, your heart in your stomach at his words--a true sign that you wanted more, as if you hadn’t known until he offered words that fell short. “Oh,” you said. “Okay.”

He shifted on his feet, his eyes bringing heat to your face when you finally looked back up at him. “Okay?” He laughed a little, leaning forward on the counter. “S’all you have to say?”

“I don’t know what to say, Harry--fine, we can be friends.”

His eyes narrowed in your face, he licked his lips before parting them to speak. “Are you even curious about my side of it?”

“You already tried to explain your way out of it, Harry. What else do you have t’say?”

“I just want you to listen to me!” His voice was more emotional than usual, as if the tightrope you’d both been walking on had suddenly wrapped around his heart. 

“I already did listen!”

“No, Smalls, you didn’t, really.”

“So--okay, then. You want me to agree with you, forgive you really, not listen,” you corrected. He rolled his eyes at that. 

A text from Jessie lit up your phone, his did the same thing only a few inches away. You sighed, thumbing back a reply, making them promise to keep you updated on their travel home. 

He waited--patiently watching as you replied and set it back on the granite counter. When you looked up at him, he searched your face. “I should have told you.”

“I know,” you said. 

“I was too afraid to tell you because everything was going well. For the first time ever, really. Felt too good to be true and I was afraid I’d fuck it up if I admitted that I had seen her.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

A nod. 

“Are you still mad?”

“I don’t know, Harry--I’m exhausted, is what I am.” He didn’t say anything, his eyes begged you to continue. “I can’t do the back and forth anymore. The friends, not friends, talking, not talking. S’been an exhausting eight years since you left home. Maybe not for you, but it has been for me.”

The kettle whistled, he pulled it off before it could scream and flipped off the burner. His voice was quiet. “I know.”

“I never knew if I was going to see you or hear from you and I don’t want to have some weird type of relationship with you that isn’t,” a pause, searching for the word when he slid a teacup across the counter. “Stable.”

“I want it to be stable.”

“I think the only way for us to have that is just,” you trailed off when he nodded, set his tea on the counter and traced a pattern on the counter with just one finger. 

“To be friends.”

“Yeah.”

You only stayed for another ten minutes, finished the tea and laughed at a picture of his sister’s new cat. He paused awkwardly at the door when you said goodbye, a hand shoved into his pocket before he could let it wrap around you.

**

Carly brushed at her hair with her fingers--desperate to go out into the sunny weather for lunch. She stood over your cube, watching as you finished typing a list on the best memes from last week’s episode of the Bachelor. 

“S’that the Harry story?” She whispered as if it was still a secret, as if you didn’t give the same nervous update in staff meeting every week._ S’going well_, you’d say. Making good progress. 

No one needed to know you were lying, that is, except for Carly. 

“No,” you rolled your eyes, clicking out of your story so it’d be queued up for Gabrielle to edit and proof. “S’taking forever, honestly. I haven’t got the slightest clue how to do it. I was planning on actually taking some time tonight to give it another go.”

You grabbed for your wallet, tugging your coat on before you followed her out of your space. 

“How’ve things been with him? Still, y’know, fighting over wine?” She offered a smirk, one that threatened to be challenging, but you weren’t in the mood to divulge more. 

“S’fine, we’re over it.”

She pressed the button for the lift, looked up to see the bright green numbers start to descend above the doors. “Having everyone in town was good, right?”

“Yeah, a lot of fun, turned twenty-four. You know, a real wild week out of the office.” 

You stepped inside and rode it down, shifting aside for other people to cram on for the lunch time rush. When you found your way down the block, she pressed harder. “Any idea what you’re going to do about Whitney?”

You shook your head, thankful for the oversized sunglasses that shielded from the winter sun. 

“D’you think you could just lie? Just write as if you don’t know him and hope for the best?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you laughed. “Just doesn’t seem realistic. M’still surprised that people haven’t put it together. I made all of my friends delete photos or go private or whatever on social media.”

“Right,” she nodded, a pause at the intersection. “Any more obnoxious tweets?” 

“Only one that I saw that made it seem like they’ll figure it out eventually.” She raised her brows with intrigue. “Someone said a picture of me looked a lot like a different picture of me from a few years ago.”

She let out a noise of concern, shoving past someone who moved too slow through the crosswalk. “What do you think you’ll do, then?”

“I’ve got to tell her at some point. The question is how.”

“D’you think she’ll fire you?”

“Don’t know,” you said, voice lower now. “Wouldn’t be surprised. So, I dunno. Maybe I should look for other jobs.”

She let her mouth pull to one side of her face, sympathy clouding her eyes. She let it go, though, changing the topic to a new bar she’d tried over the weekend and a partially successful date she’s had on Saturday. He at least split the check with me, she laughed, which is better than the last one who made me pay. 

You ate on the plush red sofas on the twenty-second floor, pretended like the dread of telling Whitney didn’t crop up inside of you every time she popped her pretty head out of her pretty office. 

“You know,” Carly’s voice was low when you tossed your take out in the bin. “If you really don’t want to write it, see if she’ll let you transfer it to someone. M’super busy, but, I would obviously jump at that opportunity,” she stifled a grin that tried to break loose on her cheeks. 

“Tried that,” you said, defeated. “I asked Whitney why she didn’t give it to you in the first place seeing as you’ve always been a fan.”

“What? You did?” Carly stopped in her tracks, her face a different shade of winter pale than it had been. “What did she say?”

“I dunno, Carly, something dumb. It was a while ago, I don’t remember,” it was a lie, but you weren’t about to tell her that. 

“Oh come on, she must have given a reason why she wanted you to do it.” She fell back into step with you now, her eyes still trained on your face with purpose.

You let out a sigh, wishing you could crawl into the safe reprieve of warm sheets--specifically ones that still had a lingering smell of a certain someone. “I dunno, something about wanting it to come from someone less biased, or a more professional outlook, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“What?” She seemed to whisper-hiss in your ear, her fingers wrapping around your elbow to slow you down. “She thought I’d be unprofessional?”

“No, no--that’s not what she said. I told you I don’t even remember! She just wanted me to do it since she thought I wasn’t a fan.”

Her face fell, you couldn’t tell which emotion had taken hold of her. Her eyebrows dipped together and she pursed her lips. “That’s shitty of her--I wouldn’t have been unprofessional!”

“Carly,” you stopped now, turning to face her and ready to backtrack. You knew that Whitney hadn’t been the nicest about her reasoning, but you weren’t about to get into it. “Relax--she was just trying to throw me a bone, remember? She knew I was pissed about being stuck on lists and she was trying to do something nice.”

She let out a sigh, reaching up to fix her pony tail that fell over her shoulder. “If she’d given it to me you wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t be in this mess with you. Our entire company wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“S’not a mess,” you defended, head pulled away from her in offense. “M’sorting it out, I told you.”

“Right, Y/N, the blurred lines in your friendship with a subject aren’t problematic at all.” She put air quotes around the platonic label, immediately pulling a scoff from your mouth. 

“What’s that--” you let your fingers bend like hers had, “--supposed to mean?” 

She pulled you into her own cube, small enough to offer privacy but big enough to fit the two of you. “You really haven’t slept with him? You’ve never even kissed? Find it hard to believe with the way he looks at you!”

You inhaled and held it, eyes on her as you contemplated just blowing it all. Her lips curled up at the corners a bit, a laugh from her lips and a softened expression. “Y/N--just admit it. Aside from the fact that you’re writing about him it’s not a big deal. I can handle the fact that him and I will never work out,” she teased. 

“I can’t tell you all about it here,” you said, voice quiet as you scanned the room to make sure no one else had heard. 

“Fine,” she nodded. “Then let’s do dinner tomorrow night.”

So when you were alone on your own sofa that night, you begged your brain to try to come up with something good enough to publish. You’d lit a candle, put on some music, and drew the curtains. Only a few steps short of a satanic ritual after Alyssa left to meet Owen’s friends. She’d offered to bring you along, but you said you needed the space. 

What you didn’t tell her was that you needed the space to cry or freak out or experience whatever would come pouring out of you when you finally had a minute to process the last few months. 

You’d never been much of a crier--save for a good shower sob or drunken outburst--and now wasn’t much different. You sat at first and stared at your computer screen, bullet points scattered a blank white page that mocked you. 

Friends. You and Harry were friends. He’d been one for a long time, really. Someone who knew you better than most people and someone who knew exactly how to piss you off and make up for it in the same moment. 

You’d been walking a tightrope for the last decade, pushing and pulling and wondering when or if it would give. Separated by oceans or continents and still dreaming that one day your lives would align again. 

And they have, you know that now. But they’ve aligned in a way that felt messier than before--which you didn’t know was possible. 

The version of Harry that Whitney wanted you to write about was someone you didn’t know--one with perfectly coiffed hair and a personal assistant. So you decided that if you didn’t know how to tell the story of that Harry, the one who had celebrities on speed dial and didn’t hesitate to order top shelf liquor, you wouldn’t. You’d tell the story of your Harry. 

And when you did that, the words fell onto the keyboard and jumped onto paper, promising that the truth was better than any fiction you could craft. 

**

A text from Alyssa the next morning made your stomach sink to your feet. 

Alyssa (8:43am): Okay, not to ruin your day so early, but I just saw these.

Pictured from LA. Ones that you could easily explain. You could find them on instagram and defend your case in the comments. See that bag? It’s got a laptop and tape recorder inside. For professional purposes only.

You let a sigh escape your lips, fine, it was fine. It wasn’t like people didn’t know that you knew Harry at all--it was really just a secret now that you’d known him for so long. Or, at least, it was a secret until you could tell Whitney yourself. 

You’d decided--after staring at the blinking cursor on your screen for a good three hours the night before--that you wanted to at least give her the story before you really came out with it. That way, in case you somehow managed to catch her on a day where she was willing to overlook unprofessionalism, unethical behavior, and an altogether shitty situation, she at least had the chance to realize how skillful of a writer you were. 

You hoped that after an eventful and exhausting few months the universe had some kind of good karma coming your way. But then the guilt of lying set in and you were back to planning an exit strategy and a plan B for what would happen if Whitney didn’t see the good in you. 

You thumbed out a response to Alyssa right after you got off the subway. 

Y/N L/N (8:47am): ugggghhhh

Y/N L/N (8:47am): at least no one has put it all together yet

Which was true. You only had to deal with the mess you’d made for a few more days. Your story was due on Friday, Harry left for tour a few days after, and hopefully, things could return to some semblance of normal. Though you couldn’t quite imagine what normal would look like now. 

You climbed the steps up to street level, thankful that the sun had decided to fight its way through the late February cloud cover. When you were upstairs and at your desk, another message came through that you weren’t quite expecting. 

Pat Martin (9:01am): Would love to grab dinner or a drink one night this week if you’re free!

You stared at it for a second, reading over the words a few times before you were able to make any sense of them. A date--this time you were sure of it. 

But did you want that? Did you want to blur the lines between professionalism and romance for the second time in six weeks?

You put your phone face down on your desk, booted up your computer and then checked email. Whitney strolled by you with a bagel in hand, a smile on her face, and a pep in her step. 

“How’s the big story coming?”

“Good,” you said, a solemn nod before you blinked twice, a small smile on your face. “Worked on it last night.”

It was probably the first honest response you’d given her about it. She adjusted the bagel in her grasp, crinkling the wax paper that kept her hands clean. “Can’t wait to read it. You’ll give it to me by Friday?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded again, praying she couldn’t smell the fear in you. 

When she left you alone at your paper-cluttered desk, you typed out a response to Pat before you could overthink it. 

Y/N L/N (9:06am): Sure! Any chance you’re free tonight? 

He was quick to type back--you wondered if he was somewhere in LIC late to work, rushing from the subway or already situated at his desk. 

Pat Martin (9:07am): I can be in the city by 6:30? Wanna meet somewhere near you?

You stared at the message and got lost in thought. It’d been a while since you’d been on a date--at least, one that really felt like one. 

There was a kid at uni after Charlie--a boy from class who always wore these horrific shoes. He was sweet and nice but nothing about him sent a spark through you. In fact, you felt altogether quite unimpressed with his presence after 45 minutes so you cut the date short and headed back to your dorm. 

You hoped that this would be different--that Pat wouldn’t want to talk about work the entire time and that maybe he’d walk you home. 

More than anything, though, you hoped he’d numb the ache in your chest for Harry. 

“Morning,” Carly’s blonde hair was blonder than the day before, loose curls falling around her shoulders. “Care to brainstorm with me for new topics in twenty?”

“Sure,” you said, straightening your posture as if you hadn’t just been pulled away into a daydream of men. “Yeah, wanna grab the conference room downstairs?”

She agreed and laughed hysterically when you told her about your set up the night before. Only needed a candle and a picture of him! She teased, if you chanted loud enough you probably could have summoned him. The afternoon slipped out of your hands, quick and busy, and when the sun was seeping between the cracks of tall buildings, you headed for the bar down the street where you’d agreed to meet Pat. 

When your arm was outstretched for the door, your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, unsure of who needed you or who would skip straight to a phone call rather than a text. 

But of course, Harry’s name and a stupid selfie he’d taken only a few weeks back lit up your screen. Your finger hovered over the decline button. Three rings, four, then your thumb hit the green button, feet frozen on the sidewalk. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Smalls--s’me. What--uh, what are you up to?”

“Just got out of work,” you said, true. “Grabbing a drink with Carly.”

“Oh, nice,” he paused for a second but then got right to it. “Listen--I have a thing on Thursday night. A dinner thing. I was wondering if you’d want to tag along?”

You were quiet, teeth tugging at your bottom lip when a gust of winter air blew. “As, like, a date?”

“N--no. Not as a date if you don’t want it to be as a date.”

“I thought we were just friends.”

“We are.”

“Okay.”

“Okay you’ll come?”

“Okay I’ll think about it,” you told him, a firmness in your voice that you didn’t think you’d ever used with him before. A firmness that hindered any hope in his response. 

“Oh--yeah. Alright. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Okay,” you hung up without a farewell, shoving the phone back in your pocket before taking another deep breath. An event? You had no idea what that would entail or what you were supposed to wear or say or do. It felt too vague to commit to and yet too interesting and intriguing to decline. So you tucked the decision away in your mind, saving it for a conversation with Alyssa and maybe even a glass of wine over FaceTime with Jessie and Bryn.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside from the stinging cold. Pat was already there--a stool at the bar with his jacket still on. He offered a side hug when you walked up beside him, a somewhat sheepish grin sat lazily on his face. 

“How was your day?” He asked in greeting, settling back into his seat.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “Good, fine. Starving though.”

“Best nachos in the city, here, so that’s good.”

The bartender materialized in front of you, eyebrows raised to take your order. 

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” Pat leaned forward a little when he ordered, his eyes fleeting over to you. “And the nachos.”

“I will also do a Blue Moon,” you nodded, a smile in his direction once you were alone again.

“Why the sigh about work?” He folded his hands together on the dark wooden counter, scratched and dents told the stories of customers past. 

“Just busy, is all. Big story coming up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Harry Styles, actually. An interview.”

His eyes went wide, the glow of neon wall decor lit up his irises in the dim room. “S’a big deal.”

“Yeah, so the stress level is a bit higher than usual.”

“Understandable. Interviewing one of the biggest celebrities in the world would certainly leave me with a lot of sleepless nights.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from telling him the truth. It was harder than that, really, seeing as you had to fight the feelings in your heart and all the while deal with a level of confusion--both professionally and personally--that you’d never known before. 

You returned the pleasantry. “How was your day? Anything new and exciting at Digitize?”

“Not really--mostly spent the day looking forward to this,” he offered you a cheeky smirk, pulling his eyes back down to his hands when the bartender delivered two glasses--foam reaching up to the rims. He picked his up and held it in the air, waiting for you to let yours clink against his.

“Cheers,” you said, the drink jumped over the edged and trickled its way down to your hand. “To a Tuesday night.”

He was nice--he told you about his brother and his favorite band. He talked about New York and wanted to hear all about England._ Is it true that everyone has to curtsey or bow to the Queen?_ He asked. 

Only if you’re lucky enough to meet her, you told him. 

He was intrigued by your desire to move west--to find some solace in the States and give up the opportunities that surely would have been afforded to you if you moved to London. A fair question, absolutely, but you weren’t quite at the point to give him the truth. 

Staying in London meant a higher likelihood of having to deal with Harry, bumping into him at work events or covering different things he did--or at least, so you thought. 

So you didn’t tell him everything he probably would have liked to know. You left out pieces of your life--details like the LA trip or your recent birthday celebrations didn’t seem like they were appropriate topics of conversation for only one drink and a plate of nachos in. 

And you wondered when he walked you back to the subway if you’d ever get to that point with him, because the moment his lips touched yours, quick and chaste and extremely politely, your cellphone started to feel like it was burning a hole in your pocket.

The N train pulled up and you hugged him goodbye, promising to see each other again soon. But when the doors shut between you and the rest of the world, your fingers typed out a message and pressed send before you could think better of it. 

Y/N L/N (7:15pm): What do I have to wear if I come?

come talk to me about tytl

read the other parts here

AN: on the shorter side but you best all be gearing up for a wild FINAL FEW CHAPTERS. Yes, that’s right. Either chap 15 or 16 will be the end...still writing and editing all that so stay tuned! so much love to all of you who’ve tagged along on this wild ride!!! 

tag list:  @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey  @shawnsblue  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen  @laula843  @flooome  @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall  @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee  @mleestiles  @haute-romance-quotidienne  @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310 @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect @harryinsweatersandbandanas @daydreamsofh

[maybemarvelbaby]

The Hit Girl (II)

Part 1

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you guys so much! I got so much support on my last chapter of THG, and it seems y’all are really excited for it. I even got someone asking for a tag list. Anyways.. thank you so much, Enjoy! <3

Taglist:

@viarogers 

Pairings: mentor!Natasha Romanoff x mentee!Reader; Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: dark themes, death, loss of loved ones, violence, guns, just a pretty sad time for (Y/N)

Notice: You can message me to be on my tag list, and use the hashtag “#the hit girl series” if you want to give me feedback/ ideas. Please only use the hashtag for series related things, thank you, Enjoy! <3

The training that you had to endure was ruthless, difficult, yet still not as bad as the Red Room. In fact, you might even say that you enjoyed this training. You never truly wanted to kill any of the other girls, but something in their eyes told you if you didn’t, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Except for one girl. 

•──────✧✦✧──────•

Her name was Nadia Makarov. She was only seven when you met her, you were seventeen. As the ‘queen’ of the Red Room, you granted her special protection against nearly every other girl, they knew if the killed her in a sparring match, then they would die at your hands in an even more brutal and painful way. You took the role of a big sister/ caretaker for Nadia, and it was clear that she loved you. No matter how much you would deny it, you did truly love her. It seemed the instructors of the Red Room had noticed the connection between you and Nadia, because one day, they put both of you in the ring. The match lasted nearly twenty-four hours. You did not want to kill Nadia, you physically couldn’t. You did nothing. Giving her every opportunity to kill you, but she refused. After several hours of you screaming at her to just kill you already, the instructors became fed up with you and the little girl’s shenanigans, so they brought in weapons. The two of you were given handguns and had 2 hours for one to die otherwise you would both be killed. By the time that there were two minutes left on the clock, Nadia stared you straight in the eyes, before lifting up her gun to your head. You smiled lightly, accepting your fate and closing your eyes. You were content with dying in the hands of your loved one.

Bang

One simple shot, but you didn’t feel a thing. Your knees slumped to the ground and you sat in the ring, your eyes squeezed shut, knowing what you would see if you opened them. Nadia had shot herself so you could live. You brought your own gun to your head and tried to pull the trigger, but your gun was empty. It was almost as if the instructors knew what Nadia would do and how you would react. You opened your eyes to see the pale, lifeless body of your little sister. Her wavy, brown hair caked with her own blood. You crawled over to her side and laid her head in your lap. Tears streamed out of your (e/c) eyes as they gazed upon her lifeless, sky blue ones. You knew that she would want you to live, so you vowed to yourself that her death was not in vain. You promised her, as she lay there, lifeless on the floor, that you would never lose a match because you couldn’t afford another loss like Nadia.

•──────✧✦✧──────•

“(Y/N), heads up. You’re next!” Natasha’s words knocked you from your thoughts, you felt your eyes stinging and hot, silent tears were streaming down your face. It seemed Natasha had noticed your expression because she jumped out of the sparring ring and rushed to where you sat straight up on the bench. “Everything okay, маленький (little one)?” She asked you asked she placed a hand on your shoulder. You flinched at the affectionate name that you once called your little sister, before coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. You stood up and gazed at the woman with eyes void of any emotion.

“Yes, Miss Romanoff, I’m alright.” You responded to her concerns, not wanting to think about it anymore. She nodded in understanding and brought you to the ring where you were going to spar against Clint.

He smiled at you mischievously, “You know, you’ve beaten nearly everyone in the complex, so you know I’m not gonna go easy on you.” He stated, a confident smirk drawn on his face.

“I know.” You replied simply. Once Natasha queued the match to start, you had Clint pinned on the ground, both hands behind his back, your knee trapping his legs to the ground, and his face buried into the ground.

“I yield, I yield!” Clint yelled as you smirk lightly to yourself at your new win.

“I thought you weren’t going to go easy on me.” You teased him as you let go of his hands and helped him up.

“I wasn’t...” He scoffed rubbing a hand over his face in defeat.

“Better luck next time, old man.” You said, before jumping out of the ring. Natasha walked up to you and put an arm around your shoulder, muttering a good job to you and you made your way back to the bench to get a sip of water. You thanked her, excused yourself from training, and headed back to your room.

•──────✧✦✧──────•

You laughed lightly at the piece of paper that was stuck to your door.

Sapphire Shadow 

Kobalt Killer

Black Widow Jr.

Blue Widow

Tiny Mighty

And other names were scribbled onto the paper written in various blue inks. You knew the last one was Sam’s idea and you immediately crossed it out. You grabbed a pen and crossed out the ones you didn’t like, such as Black Widow Jr. and Tiny Mighty, while circling the ones you did like, Sapphire Shadow and Kobalt Killer being some of the ones do did enjoy. When you reached the end of the list, one name, in particular, stood out to you.

Nova Storm

You traced your fingers over the letters that were so delicately written on the page, you knew that only two people could have written that, Wanda or Natasha, simply by the neat handwriting. But you could tell exactly who wrote that name, it was Natasha.

The two simple words pulled at your heartstrings as you recalled the memories. 

“Hey, Supernova!” The pale-skinned girl called, “Be careful on your mission!”

“Don’t worry Stormie, I’ll come back to you.”

Hot tears streamed down you face for the second time and you fell on your bed. You lifted the paper to examine the words again, knowing exactly who you were going to be. You grabbed a small sheet of blank paper from off the desk that sat by your bed. In your best calligraphy, you wrote the name you decided on with a royal blue ink. When it was finished, you lined it up, directly under the nametag on your door that said ‘(Y/N) Chernov’. A soft smile left your lips as a single tear streamed down your face.

“You got a name, I see.” A voice sounded from behind you, “Nova Storm, I like it. Wonder who could’ve suggested it?”

You laughed at your mentor’s lighthearted sarcasm before surprising her with a tight hug and a quiet ‘thank you’. She hugged back hesitantly, before relaxing. This was the first time you had shown any emotion to her since two days ago when you got drunk because Thor said you couldn’t handle his Asgardian mead. 

You pulled away quickly and coughed to yourself, fixing your hair and ridding all emotions that may have been displayed on your face. “Thank you, Miss Romanoff. I like the name.” 

She smiled at you gently, “It’s no problem, маленький, I’m glad you like it. Now come on, Tony has someone you need to meet.” She said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you down the hall. 

•──────✧✦✧──────•

The two of you soon entered the main living space and you saw Tony talking to a young boy that seemed to be about eighteen to nineteen years old, somewhere around your age. His honey-glazed, brown eyes noticed your arrival and he ran a hand through his curly brown locks.

“H-Hi... I’m uh... I’m Parker Peter... Peter Parker, sorry, my name is Peter Parker.” He stuttered, extending a hand. You gave away no emotion, even though you wanted to giggle at his flustered expression. 

“(Y/N) Chernov.” You stated plainly. Ignoring his outstretched hand and Natasha’s looks that practically screamed at you to ‘be nice’. Peter drew his hand back and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ahh, (Y/N), I see you’ve met my little friend, Peter. You two are around the same age. I thought it would be nice if you had someone your age to talk to and show you what a normal teenager acts like.” Tony said, before grabbing your arm, pulling you towards him, and leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Listen girly, I’m quite fond of this kid, so I’d like it if he stayed in one piece.” You nodded in understanding and he smiled, letting go of your arm. 

“Oh, Tony, we have a name,” Natasha told her friend. Tony’s already smiling face lit up even more in excitement and the skin around his eyes crinkled. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Get all the Avengers in here now!!” He practically squealed at his AI.

“Yes, sir. All Avengers report to the main living room at this time please.” The robot responded. About two minutes later, you heard fast footsteps running across the floors. All of the Avengers stumbled into the room and looked at you with hopeful eyes. They had been waiting for almost a month for you to finally decide on a name. Excited faces examined you as you shifted nervously on your feet. You looked at Natasha pleadingly, and she understood, speaking up for you. 

“The day has finally come where (Y/N) has decided her name. Before I reveal it, I’m only gonna say this once, none of you better get upset because she didn’t pick your name. The name she chose has a special meaning to her, and she will share it’s origins when she is ready,” Natasha began, everyone nodded in agreement, “Her name is Nova Storm.”

You were immediately reminded of the memories that tied you to this name and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you choked them back down. You caught Wanda’s gentle, loving gaze and knew she read your mind. A single tear slipped from her eye and she walked up to hug you comfortingly. 

“It’s perfect,” The young woman started, “She would have loved it.” You couldn’t hold back anymore and you hugged her back, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head into her shoulder with silent sobs. You two parted and you wiped the tear from your face. Natasha held you into a side hug.

“Let’s go Nova Storm!” Bucky yelled the rest of the Avengers began cheering. You smiled and they cheered louder, it was always a treat when you smiled. You didn’t do it often, but when you did, it made them feel like kids in the store whose parents just said that they could pick out a piece of candy.

•──────✧✦✧──────•

After everyone was dismissed, you plopped yourself onto the couch, kicking your legs up on the coffee table and closing your eyes. You felt the couch cushion beside you drop as someone’s weight was pressed upon it. You opened a single eye to see who sat beside you. I little swarm of butterflies tickled your stomach as you noticed Peter’s fluffy, brown curls.

“If you don’t mind me asking... um... uh... c-can I know the... uh... the importance of your name?” He asked quietly, a polite and nervous smile appearing on his lips. A single tear fell from your eyes and you laughed lightly at his nervousness. You didn’t know why you trusted the boy so much, but you did. You felt comfortable and nervous at the same time when he was around. And, before you knew it, you were telling him all about the things you and Nadia did together. The mini-adventures around the Red Room, Nadia helping you with ballet (she was a natural, and you were not), the bond you shared, even till her inevitable demise. 

Peter sat with you for hours, laughing at the fun parts, crying at the sad. He even opened up to you and told you all about his Uncle Ben and Aunt May. The two of you grew close and you could feel a bond beginning to form between the two of you. 

It scared you, to say the least, and as soon as you began to crave his touch, you excused yourself and locked yourself in your bedroom. You couldn't risk creating a bond only to lose the person again. No matter how much you wanted to stay and talk to Peter, you couldn’t let yourself get attached to him.

•──────✧✦✧──────•

It had been two weeks since your name was revealed, and it was the last time you had spoken with Peter. You avoided him in every way you could, ignoring his constant pleas, asking you what he did wrong. It broke your heart to see the boy so torn up about you, but you knew that if you got attached to him, he would be as good as dead. Something in your gut told you that not everyone in the Red Room died that day. Part of you knew that they were looking for you, and you had to keep everyone safe. 

You grew distant, not only to Peter but to everyone in the complex. You spent your days either locked in your room or training by yourself. Natasha noticed your strange behaviour and began to worry.

��(Y/N)... we need to talk.” She said one day, walking into your room without warning and closing the door behind her. Yet, you didn’t say a word. “You’ve been distant, маленький. Everyone is worried about you.” The tears began to well up in your eyes at the affectionate nickname. “Please, let me know what’s wrong.” Natasha’s sad expression and begging broke you.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Romanoff... I’m... I can’t... I don’t want to lose any of you. I cannot have another Nadia...” You started, unable to keep the salty tears from running down your face, “They day she died, I was broken. She was the only person I ever loved and she’s gone. I had nothing.” You grew quiet and gazed at the woman’s face. A few tears had slipped from her eyes as well. She sat on the bed next to you and put a hand on your back.

“You know, I was like you. I used to have nothing, and then I got this family.” She began, rubbing slow circles over your back muscles, comforting you, “Everyone in this family has lost something, that’s what makes us so close. We are all there for each other, and we can be there for you too, you just have to let us in.”

For the first time since Nadia’s death, you bawled, burning hot tears streaming down your face, shaking sobs erupting from your body, hundred of ‘I’m sorry’s leaving your lips. Natasha hugged you comfortingly. You fell asleep in her embrace and she laid you back on your bed. 

“Sleep tight, маленький.”

•──────✧✦✧──────•

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Magical Moostery Tour || Regan, Nadia, Deirdre, Blanche, and Kaden

TIMING: A long ass time ago when Regan didn’t have wings  PARTIES: @kadavernagh @harlowhaunted @deathduty @humanmoodring and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Regan got the whole gang VIP tickets to Moosventures and Blanche was the tour guide. What could go wrong?

Bringing Kaden and Deirdre together, dragging Nadia out of the apartment and herself out of the morgue… well, okay, probably everything could go wrong. Regan had called ahead to specifically request Blanche for their VIP moose tour and, taking Kaden’s advice, she’d told them not to alert her to this. She wasn’t sure what to expect from a moose tour agency, but it wasn’t the moose heads hanging on the wall. Not that she minded, but there was something extremely morbid about that. And there were few things in life -- or death -- that Regan considered morbid. Maybe they were fake, but they looked real enough. She tapped Kaden on the shoulder and gestured toward one of the heads, making sure he saw it. After all, he liked skulls.

While they waited, Regan scanned the room. The place wasn’t crowded, though it was possible not everyone was there yet. How many people really wanted to go on a moose tour? A little over a dozen people, as it turned out. Two young couples, a family with kids, and some single nature-lovers all queued up impatiently as the tour company was… preparing the bus or something.  “I’m sure Deirdre and Nadia will be here any minute! They wouldn’t want to miss this. Probably.”

Kaden hated waiting. They were a solid half hour early, too, at Regan's insistence. Only she hadn't told him they were getting there early. Had he known that he would have conveniently delayed picking her up as long as possible. He was leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, starting to doze off, when Regan nudged him and he jumped awake. He looked around for anything alarming, then followed her line of sight to the moose heads. His brow furrowed, they looked like moose heads. Weird to have before a moose tour, sure, but they seemed pretty standard. Wait, did she still think he was a game hunter? Right. Probably. Not like he exactly told her otherwise. He pulled his mouth into a half smile and nodded like they were great.

He sighed and checked the time on his phone. It had only been seven whole minutes. "I hope so." Well, at least Nadia. He was dreading having to sit around and play nice with Deirdre. Thank god he'd be able to distract himself by annoying hell out of Blanche. "It's still early. I'm sure they're on their way." He smiled at Regan as he leaned back again and put his arm around the back of her chair.

Nadia locked her truck and headed to the moose tour building. Honestly, not how she thought she was going to be spending her night, but it seemed like fun. She remembered that she’d told Regan that the moose tour seemed interesting when they first became friends, and, well, there was no sense in turning it down. She was running late from the time that Regan had given her, though. She quickly walked into the building and headed to where she saw Regan and Kaden seated. As she took a seat, she leaned over and murmured, “Sorry I’m…” she looked around at the lack of people and the fact that no one seemed to be getting ready to start, “late?”

There was nothing that sounded more idiotic to Deirdre than looking at living moose. Except, maybe, paying someone to help her look at living moose. The only benefit was seeing Regan, a gift of which she would never turn down, and then the possibility of potentially pushing Kaden into a comically large pile of moose excrement. If Kaden would die sometime during this venture, Deirdre would count this journey a victory, but she knew White Crest wouldn’t offer her even that one little thing. And then there was Nadia, Regan’s allotted human. If she was to die, Deirdre would count that a victory too, but the thought left her with an odd touch of sadness. She rationalized that as mourning the loss of the fun kind of criminal, a true tragedy in the monotony of the human world.

Deirdre pushed open the doors, appalled for a moment that there was no human to offer to do the manual labor for her. Her gaze snapped to the three people she was meant to meet; astonishing Regan in her adorable turtleneck glory, disgusting-waste-of-a-human Kaden….and Nadia. Or who Deirdre assumed was Nadia. Were she not focused on glaring at Kaden’s arm around Regan’s chair--familiar and crude--she would have enjoyed the company’s decorating choices. “This better be a-moose-ing,” she strode to them, haphazardly tossing off her notably unnecessary sunglasses. She was aiming for Kaden’s head, a task that proved harder to do when she was trying not to look like she wanted to impale him with an antler hat. Where her sunglasses actually landed was another story.

Stan was acting weird as they got the bus ready for the nights tour. He had taken care of the check in process, so Blanche hadn’t even seen the list of how big it was supposed to be. There were four V.I.P. seats, though, which meant there would be four people practically on top of her while she recited Moose factoids. She pushed her stupid headband of specialty pair of Moose Antler’s and put her magnetic gold name tag that said her name in a styled ‘Moosey’ font, and went to greet the patrons. She had gotten… sort of? Better at it, as time went on. She still didn’t have the pep in her step or passion for moose Pam or the new part-time tour guide named Martha did.  “Hi everyone,” Blanche had started saying, adjusting the Mooseventure brand fleece jacket (available at the gift case for $24.99 in child and adult sizes). “W- unf.”

Deirdre’s sunglasses soared through the air, bouncing off Blanche’s face and falling onto her small box of mooseantlers. Blanche stopped, looked at the sunglasses, before looking up. Her worst nightmare were sitting right there in front of her. Oh no. She saw Deirdre first. Then Kaden. Nadia. Regan. Who she knew had four V.I.P. passes. Oh no. Absolutely not. Horror, rage, and embarrassment flashed across her reddening face. “Oh my god.” Why couldn’t her moose antler headband come with a mask? Actually, just let her wear a giant moose head like a mascot. Blanche shot a look at Regan, to her other patrons. And then, through her teeth, she started the welcome script.

“Welcome. Are you all ready to see some moose. I’m Blanche. Your tour guide for tonight. And. Your. Fellow. Moosenthusiast.” She, very stiffly, handed the cardboard box of moose antlers out. “We can’t get on the bus without the proper headgear. We wouldn’t want to scare the moose.” She shot her friends a look. “Mandatory.”

With Nadia and Deirdre finally showing up, the gang was all here. Almost. Regan’s eyes followed the pair of sunglasses that Dierdre whipped off her face, and nearly yelped when she saw Blanche on the other end of their trajectory. And -- oh no! They must’ve hit her face harder than it looked, because her cheeks were all red. Both of them, actually. That was strange. Regan winced in empathy and waggled her fingers in a shy wave. It was rude to interrupt her introduction spiel while she was working, right? But the deflated way Blanche spoke was almost depressing, and Regan had to wonder if something was wrong. And… why were they distributing styrofoam antlers? “I don’t need those,” she said, holding her head proudly, “I’m not a child.” But Blanche had used the word mandatory. And -- hey, why had she made eye contact when she said that? Did she already know Regan would protest? She sighed. “I’ll hold them. I’m not wearing them.” She sidled up next to Kaden and once Nadia and Deirdre had antlers in hand, the group was ushered onto a bus. Discrete from the outside, the inside was plastered in moose memorabilia. She looked down at her VIP ticket stub, which indicated that they had the frontmost seats for “best viewing”. Why did they even bother with stubs? It wasn’t like they could leave the bus, even if they wanted to… now there was a slightly terrifying thought. She glanced between Kaden, Deirdre, and Nadia as a decision cemented itself. “I think… Kaden, do you want to sit with Deirdre?”

Kaden was really hoping that Deirdre just wouldn't show up. He was so close to getting his wish, too. Then she walked in the door, flinging her sunglasses like some sort of over dramatic diva. Somehow she was worse in person. He didn't think it was possible. He sighed and shot her a look and almost missed seeing Blanche get decked by the sunglasses. Seeing the look of horror on her face was worth it, he had to admit. He had to bite back the laughter at her moose antlers and forced bullshit monologue. His smile faded a bit when she handed him his own set of moose antlers. He was pretty sure they weren't mandatory and this was her form of payback. "Come on, Regan, can't scare the moose," he said as he put his antlers on her head. If he was going to look stupid, he wasn't going to do it alone. He turned to Blanche before grabbing another set. "If I put these on, do I get to ask as many questions as I want?" he asked with a smirk. "There's just so much to learn about the moose. I've gotta know." Kaden was starting to think this might be fun after all. Then Regan had to suggest that. His face fell and he tried not to shoot Deirdre a glare. The word "No" didn't seem strong enough. But he was pretty sure he couldn't refuse. As much as he wanted to. "Do I-- Are you sure? I mean..."

Nadia frowned as she took the moose antlers, but she was more focused on trying to drown out all of the feelings going on around her. Between Blache’s embarrassment (poor girl; Nadia could only imagine that she hadn’t been expecting to see the four of them while she was working) and the animosity Kaden had coming off of him in waves, it was hard for her to think. And the source of his animosity… Nadia hadn’t really known what to think, meeting Deirdre. The other woman was just as loud in person as she was online. It was all a bit much. Nadia tried to focus on herself, on what she was feeling. She-- it was hard-- she hated the moose antlers. That’s what she was feeling, but she put them on and glanced up as Regan asked if Kaden and Deirdre wanted to sit together. No, that sounded like an awful idea, a really bad idea, but she couldn’t exactly blurt out that she could tell they hated each other just from feelings. She looked between the three of them, then looked at Blanche, then looked back. Nadia should’ve stayed home.

Deirdre didn’t mind the moose antlers. She could see the apprehension in her companions faces but she was of the (correct) belief that she looked good in anything. She took them with a smile, which widened at seeing Blanche at her other job and veered into a smirk at Regan’s suggestion. “I’d love to sit next to Kaden! We can get closer--in several ways.” She slipped the antlers on, trying to find Kaden’s gaze to shoot him a wink. Oh, he was right to hate her. But she reveled in that hate. She glanced over at Nadia, her frown died as she remembered one of their older conversations. With a cough she spoke generally to the air, “the humans are louder! If you focus on what isn’t--it’s less overwhelming.” Hopefully the small nugget of information could make up to Nadia about being stuck here. “Just something my grandmother said about….moose. That humans are louder than….them…” she coughed again, “anyway, don’t you mean it’s moose-datory?” Deirdre grinned, “lead on cadet.”

Blanche’s protest almost turned into gagging as Kaden stuck his moose antlers on Regan’s head. Ew. What the hell was that? Cursed. She glowered at Kaden, giving him the most withering stare  “I’m here to answer all Moose questions, as your tour guide,” She said, through her teeth. She felt a little better when Regan suggested Kaden and Deirdre sit together, snorting under her breath as she began checking stuff off on her clip board. Nadia looked like she wanted out too. Same, Nadia, she thought. Blanche looked at Deirdre, and realized that maybe Deirdre should be the Moose themed tour-guide. “Moose-datory. What a great pun! Alright everyone, out this way, and up onto the bus!” Blanche was used to people herding. “Our for VIP members right up front! With me!” Oh god, with her. She would practically be on top of them. Noooo. “Antlers on, everyone, we’re almost ready to take off!”

Aside from the moose antlers that Kaden had stuck on her head, this was going… great! Regan’s heart soared. 5 friends, all in the same place, all enjoying the moose. Except Blanche, who didn’t look particularly happy… actually, now that she thought about it, Nadia looked pretty overwhelmed (maybe she was really excited about the moose?). Deirdre and Kaden seemed okay, though. She wondered if they’d have some moose bones to pass around on the bus, like a show and tell. Part of this was about education, after all, wasn’t it? That would cheer everyone up. They followed Blanche’s lead onto the bus, and Regan shuffled into the first available window seat, motioning for Nadia to join her. Meanwhile, Kaden and Deirdre took the next. There was a strange sharpness to both of their eyes. Was it a mistake to suggest this seating arrangement? She knew Deirdre and Kaden had their differences, but they both seemed eager to put it all behind them. Regan raised her hand, like this was a lecture. “I have a question about moose! What’s their most common cause of natural death? And do you have some moose bones, or maybe a nice intestine, to pass around for educational purposes? Sorry. That’s two questions.”

Kaden’s eyes narrowed at Deirdre’s fucking wink. He’d love nothing more than to just stab right then and there, be done with it. Never have to play nice with monsters again. Instead he forced a smile onto his face as he gestured for her to take the window seat before sitting next to her “Oh yeah, so much closer. After you.” He may or may not have “accidentally” stepped on her toes as he sat down in the seat beside her. “Sorry. I’m just so clumsy. What can you do?” He tried to bite back a smirk but it didn’t work. As fun as that was, he turned his attention back to Regan and her questions for Blanche. She’d mentioned she’d be bringing a list but that wasn’t exactly what he expected her to ask. Which really was his mistake, come to think of it. “Yeah, pipsqueak. Where’s the moose intestine? Stomach? You must have something.” Weird as the questions were, he wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to badger Blanche. And hey, if he was annoying enough, maybe he’d get lucky and she’d kick him off the tour early.

This was going to be a long night, Nadia just knew it. Which, it was already a long night; it’d been a long night for awhile now. Still. For a second, she was confused as hell as to what Deirdre might mean, with humans being loud before oh. Nadia had forgotten she’d told the banshee that she was an empath; she sent Deirdre a grateful look. As she followed Regan to their seats, she tried to mostly just focus on Deirdre and a little on Regan, since they were apparently a bit more dulled (that explained a lot, actually). Still, it was hard, and dulled didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Deirdre and Kaden were antagonistic, Blanche was hella embarrassed, and Regan… was asking about moose intestines. Which, yeah, that was about right. Poor Blanche. “Maybe,” she said, hoping to help the younger woman, “Blanche will be taking questions towards the end? Don’t want to distract her from her spiel, you know?”

Deirdre gritted her teeth, trying her best not to stab Kaden right then and there for the simple act of stepping on her toes. Maybe she was clumsy too. Maybe a knife would just slip out of one of her dozen or so pockets and find its way into his---”Oh! Perfectly fine, Kady. Love the way you...walk.” Fates, she hated him. Thankfully, conversation about moose death and moose entrails was exactly the kind of distraction from murderous thoughts that she liked. Deirdre let out a soft chuckle at Nadia’s attempt at help. It was so cute. Unfortunately, Deirdre had no intentions of letting it work. “Entrails!” She shouted, which quickly turned into an enthusiastic chant. “Entrails! Entrails! Entrails! Moose entrails!” And who would blame her if one of her excited fist pumps hit Kaden? Or If she was shouting at him more than she was Blanche. Or if she leaned back and whispered “I love death” into his ear. “As VIP guests, we should get to have our question answered, shouldn’t we? And we should get to pass around entrails and bones and whatever else you have there, shouldn’t we?” There was a mutinous edge to her words.

At some point between being called a pipsqueak and Deirdre shouting and chanting about entrails, Blanche was pretty sure she blacked out because next thing she knew Stan was nudging her from the driver’s seat. He looked concerned. How dare he look concerned when he did this to her! This was his fault! Blanche ran her hands down her face, and craned her head to look at the other patrons on the bus, particularly the ones with children. Most of them looked mortified. Great. “Wolves,” Blanche finally answered through gritted teeth, looking at Regan. “Wolves are predators of Moose, though not usually in Maine. Coyotes, surprisingly, can also take a moose out. Common diseases include brain worm, which is usually fatal, winter ticks, which is fatal only when a moose is heavily ingested, and liver fluke, large flatworms that are usually found in white-tailed deer, but moose can get it too. Once again, it’s usually fatal if a moose is heavily infested.” Blanche rattled off the facts that she had memorized, before hearing the bus start and Stan taking off. She was supposed to be following a script, but she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get through half of it. “We do not have any entrails,” She shot a look at Deirdre and Kaden. “But we have antlers you can touch when we get back to the lobby. Any other questions before we continue?”

Other than the extremely disappointing lack of moose entrails available on the bus, this wasn’t a half-bad experience. Blanche’s ease of answering questions was impressive -- something Regan would commend her on later -- and even Kaden and Deirdre seemed to be getting along. Possibly? They were getting pretty close, physically. Unfortunately, Regan couldn’t say that Nadia was having a great time; the stress was plain on her face, even when the whole bus excitedly gathered around to get a good moose viewing angle. Wasn’t that supposed to be fun? She offered her hand to Nadia as an informative video about moose started playing on the screens around the bus. “The moose, the majestic hooved mammal of the north, can reach the size of…” Wasn’t this all information they were presented with anyways? Thud. The screen cut out. Just for a moment. Regan blinked. Thud thud. Again. The bus driver slammed to a stop, and did what no one wants to see their driver do: stand up. Regan gave Nadia a concerned glance and leaned forward, trying to see what was happening. Thud thud. Louder this time; the bus rocked. “Is this… part of the tour?”

The tour turned perfectly boring for a while. They asked Blanche questions; she answered. They looked at a moose; it was, in fact, a moose. There was a shitty video playing; it was-- Well he was going to say boring but then the power cut out and the bus started shaking. Maybe this wouldn’t be so boring after all. Kaden pushed his way around Deirdre to see out the window. He frankly didn’t care if she protested. Shit, didn’t see anything, must have been on the other side. “Excuse me, animal control, out of the way. Gotta see what’s going on here,” he said as he stood to get a better look out of the window on the other side of the bus, moving whoever he needed to out of his way. “Putain,” he grumbled as he saw the problem in question. There was no mistaking it. That was a fucking bies rocking the fucking bus. He grumbled to himself, “I thought we got rid of that shit, how is there another one?” He tried to start formulating a plan on how to deal with the monster without looking like a complete lunatic and all the sudden he felt a chill go past him all of the sudden. Weird. “Think you can cause a distraction while I take down a bies?” he leaned over and whispered to Nadia. “You know, unless you’ve got a better plan then by all means, now’s the time to share.”

Nadia was spending most of the first part of the tour trying not to get overwhelmed. Granted, most of the people on the tour just felt bored, but there were still more people in an enclosed space than she was used to. Bars were fine. She could drink; she could have space. This… reminded her of a field trip. She hated buses. Then, the power went out and the bus started shaking, and Nadia couldn’t see shit, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise in a way she was learning to associate with paranormal activity. Fuck. Ghost. Granny? No idea. As Kaden leaned over and whispered in her ear, it felt like it was closer. Not Granny? She couldn’t focus. It took her too long to figure out what he was saying. Making sure Regan wasn’t too busy paying attention to what was going on at the front of the bus, Nadia frantically whispered to Kaden, “The fuck is a bies?!?” She took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on Regan’s dulled concern. “Alright, shit. I can-- shit. Be careful?” She dropped her phone and kicked it toward the front of the bus. “Oh, shit!” There were children. She could feel paternal judgement coming from the back. “My phone! Hey, can anyone help me find my phone?!” She grabbed Regan’s hand and jerked her down. “Please help me find it!”

Deirdre was sure she’d fallen asleep during the tour. Or at least, she must have, because the last thing she remembered was trying to start a chant and now the bus was shaking. Which was, admittedly, the most interesting part of the tour. Then there was an elbow in her face and she groaned trying to get away from Kaden before she eventually crawled over him to tumble out into the space between the seating. To make matters worse, some thing had started spouting off in French and Deirdre’s salt packets had tumbled out of her pockets as she escaped Kaden. “I’m right here!” She hissed at him, “why are you asking Nadia when I’m right here!” Did he not know what bies were afraid of? Was he that bad of a hunter? She lifted her gaze up, looking at Blanche. She couldn’t scream while children were here, she couldn’t shatter glass where it could hurt them. The adults, she didn’t care so much about hurting. “Get me off this bus and I can deal with it a lot better than you can,” she hissed at Kaden again, before snapping her gaze up once more to gesture at Blanche. “We should all look for Nadia’s phone! Isn’t that right, tour...uh, leader? Shouldn’t we all be ducking and not looking out the window and really focused on Nadia’s phone?”

Blanche answered most questions they had through gritted teeth, happy to take a much needed break when the stupid video started playing. People love informational videos! Stan had said. But did they though? Blanche didn’t complain as she reached for her metal water bottle, taking aswig just as something slammed against the bus. Blanche jerked, before her head whipped to see Stan stand up. Blanche’s water bottle clanged loudly to the bus floor as the yelling in French started. Ah, there was Mrs. Langley. To make matters worse, her own ghost showed herself. Granny had appeared, probably having been following the damn bus from afar - ‘A magic moose is hitting the bus!’ Granny was yelling in her ear, Mrs. Langley was popping off at Kaden for being a dumb fucking hunter, the stupid, apparently magic moose was smacking the side of the bus, and Deirdre was speaking to her. Shit. “Everyone! Shut up!” Blanche hissed, loudly. Granny repeated Deirdre’s instructions instead of shutting up. “Wh- oh!” She hopped off her seat, people were worriedly trying to get a glimpse of the magic moose. “Everyone!” Blanche grabbed onto the back of the seat to keep herself from being thrown off balance. “Everyone! Can I have your attention please! We urge you not to panic and to let, uh, Animal Control take care of the situation! If we could all have you duck under your seats, please, and do not look out the windows, that, uhhh, would be great! Right Stan? Stan? Oh.” Stan looked a little green. Blanche turned her attention back to the group. “Everyone do it now! Right now!”

Kaden was thankful Nadia took direction well and started fumbling for her phone, taking Regan to the floor with her. Good. This was going to be way too much to explain. He was just about to  leave the bus with his, uh, well, he had one smaller knife on him, when Deirdre snapped at him. “You? What are you going to d--” And then it hit him. Noise. Banshee. “Wait, won't that fucking burst our ear drums?” he whispered to her. It'd at least do a number on his. Merde. "Fine. Play along.” He pushed past people and carefully stepped over the ones rummaging on the floor to the door. “Animal control, both of us. We've got this. Just duck and, uh, cover your ears.” He gave Blanche a pointed look, hoping she followed what he was suggesting as he pushed the doors open and hopped out of the bus, assuming Deirdre was behind him. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. Not really great, but it'd have to do. “Hey!” he shouted at the beast. He probably didn't need to, it had sure seen him. With a loud bellow, the bies reared up. Well shit, it looked angry. Really angry. And all of that anger seemed directed right at him as it charged straight at him. He ducked and rolled to the side. Into the bus tire. Which hurt, but not as much as those hooves. “You better work fast,” he grumbled in Deirdre’s general direction, knife in hand as he pushed himself off the ground. He had no idea if her plan would work and if the beast would run or not, so he figured it was best to be prepared. With the monster running the other way, Kaden sprinted towards it, hoping to catch it off guard, in the middle of changing direction. He reached the monster's flank and dug his knife it, pulling down hard, hoping to split a tendon or artery, fucking anything to slow it down, just in case they all had to run. He just hoped she'd fucking warn him when she planned on screaming. Yeah, alright, odds were she wouldn't. Putain. Who needed hearing anyway?

Following Kaden's lead had proved to be more degrading than Deirdre thought. There was nothing more humiliating than walking behind him, than walking behind any human, really. But such sacrifices had to be made for the greater good of...moose touring. The bies seemed occupied enough with Kaden though and for a moment, Deirdre considered just leaving him there. And considering it, she stood there doing nothing a beat longer than she probably should have. Then, she squared herself and opened her mouth to let out a scream, directed perfectly at the bies (though she gave no real attempt on trying to aim away from Kaden). The bies cried, its anger dissolved quickly into fear. Suddenly, aggressive posture diminished into panic. The once imposing creature appeared as a shell of itself, desperate for escape, but far too disoriented to find it. It thrashed, predictably, and Deirdre grinned imaging the trouble Kaden must have been going through trying to evade it. She could have screamed enough the first time to knock it out or chase it off...but she liked this better. Again, she let the animal and Kaden have their fun for a moment too long before she screamed once more, enough to finally cause the creature to flee in disarray. She turned to the bus, the windows were unshockingly intact—she was far too proud not to show off the aim she'd mastered. And then back to Kaden, smiling with the hope he'd understand her purposefully drawn out screams, "lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Before finally she slipped back onto the bus before him, "now is this the part where we get to see the moose entrails?"

Blanche almost swore at Kaden as he ordered them all around and shot her a look, but there was a time to be defiant against authority and it wasn’t when she had a bus full of people that just wanted to see Moose. Mrs. Langley was off going on and on somewhere, all in french and Granny was hovering far too close for comfort, for once not saying anything, but anxious all the same. “You heard animal control!” Blanche bellowed, loudly. “Everyone duck and cover your ears. Now! You too, Stan!” One of the suburban mothers in the back tried to say something, but Blanche barked out another order before doing the same. Granny was busy trying to give her a play by play, but she could barely hear anything until finally it was over. Blanche slowly stood, pulling her hands away from her ears as Deirdre cheerfully got back onto the bus and asked her about moose entrails again. Blanche looked at her, before she peaked out the window to make sure the moose thing was gone and that Kaden’s dead body wasn’t just lying out there. She didn’t even want to know what kind of incident report she would have to fill out if someone died on a Mooseventure tour. Blanche ran a hand down her face, and went to jab Stan in the ribs. “Get it together!” She hissed, “I can’t drive the bus back!” Blanche looked at Deirdre, before putting on what she hoped was an award winning Tour Guide smile. “There will be no Moose Entrails on this tour! But, on our lovely drive back to the building, I can give you statistics about - uh - Moose and how they rarely show fear! Such as when the approach tourbuses full of people! Ha-ha.”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Thirteen

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was doing. He hoped he was doing it right, as he ran water into the tub. He rummaged around under the sink, looking for bubbles and bath salts and things he was only vaguely aware of. He wanted this to be okay but, as the bubbles filled the tub and everything started to smell soft and sweet, he thought it might be. 

“Baby,” you murmur, making him turn slowly, “It’s okay.”

He half turns and smiles. He got you undressed and put you in the snuggly robe on the back of the door. “I know,” he said softly, “But I’m gonna do this anyway, princess. If we get you relaxed a little, it’ll be easier for you to eat.”

You nod and shiver, making Bucky stand up and turn off the water, testing it one more time. “Will you stay with me?” you ask, looking up at him.

He smiles and brushes a lock of hair out of your face, “Of course, baby girl,” he answers. “I’d love to have a pretty naked girl covered with bubbles,” he hummed, untying your robe gently. He kissed your nose and helped you into the tub, into the warm water to make sure that you didn’t get too chilled. Once he has you in the water, he strips out of his shirt and his boxers settling behind you and pulling you against his chest. 

“Bucky,” you murmur, relaxing into his touch, “This is nice.” He kisses your neck and cuddles you, “It is,” he murmured, “I missed you. It felt like I was missing a limb.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“Shh,” he soothes, “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re safe. Now we just gotta get you healthy, okay? We’re gonna start with getting some food in you and getting you comfortable.” He doesn’t mind your quiet. He can feel you relax as he lavishes attention on you. It feels better to him, having you warm and comfortable in his arms, cradling you close and using all these fancy products on your skin. 

Once the water starts to get too cool for comfort, he helps you out of the tub and chafes your skin dry with a towel before wrapping you back in your plush robe to keep you warm.

“I smell like a girl,” he grouses, making you giggle. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. 

“You can make it up to me by picking a not Disney movie,” he said, swatting you on the backside to make you yelp. He dries himself off quickly, anxious to stay by your side. Eager to keep fussing over you and make sure that you get what you need to feel okay.

He listens to your feet on the stairs and plans. He doesn’t know what to do next. He doesn’t know what to feed you, but he’s gonna try. When he gets downstairs, you’ve found him a Fast and the Furious movie to enjoy and he kisses your head, going to the kitchen. Someone, probably your Aunt, made sure there were groceries for you when you came home. He was grateful as he started to get things around to make some comfort food. Chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes. Maybe some peas to give you a real vegetable. That works. And, if you did throw up after trying to eat it might not be as bad. He nodded to himself putting Chicken on the stove before going to join you on the couch. You snuggle into his side and smile a little.

“You look sleepy, Princess,” he says, tucking your blanket around you, savoring the feel of your head on his bare chest and your fingers idly tracing the lines of his tattoos. It’s just light touches, slightly ticklish, but sweet. “I am,” you murmur, “It’s hard to sleep in the hospital.”

“Can you sleep now?” he asked softly.

“If you’re with me,” you answer, kissing his chest softly. “You feel safe,” you murmur. He always had, even when he was kind of an asshole. You had a sense that he looked for you. Though it never made sense why. 

“So close your eyes, Princess,” he hummed, “Take a little nap and by the time you wake up, I’ll have some chicken and noodles.”

“I love Chicken and Noodles,” you yawn.

Bucky feels himself preen a little and kisses your forehead, “Good.”

He holds you until you fall asleep, playing with your hair and enjoying the feeling. Sometimes, it still blew his mind, how intimate something this simple could feel. He’d slept with a lot of women. He’d done the whole Netflix and chill date. But this was different. This was something else. Something new. And it felt good. He felt like he was home. It took an absurd amount of effort to shift you off of him at the end of the movie to check the chicken. He doesn’t want to get up. You’re so warm and sweet-smelling. He takes a moment, tucking you in and going to finish dinner. Switching the TV over to something calmer for background noise. He started the potatoes, thankful that his mom had insisted that he learn to feed himself. Because god love you, Coffee was the most complicated thing you knew how to make. But then, the only thing you ever watched your mom cook was meth. You’d tried to make him spaghetti once and damn near burnt the kitchen down using a pot that was too small and not breaking the noodles. After that, your job was setting the table. He monkeyed around, trying to remember if you like sweet things. If there was something sweet you might like to eat and settled on the cheesecake mix in the pantry. And some Cherry topping. Sweet and tart. He nodded to himself. That worked. It suited you best. 

It scared him to think about how much weight you’d lost, how frail you felt, curled shivering against him. Like a baby bird. Your clothes, he knew were all too big. But, much like high school, most of what you wore was baggy and form concealing. He didn’t like thinking about how many times you’d been this fragile and he hadn’t noticed. “Baby steps,” he sighed to himself, putting the cheesecake in the fridge. 

The rustle of fabric makes him half turn. You’re standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and your glasses halfway down your nose. “Hey, baby girl,” he said smiling, “you hungry?”

You shake your head mutely and curl up in a kitchen chair, your blanket wrapped around you like a cape. He tuts softly and kneels in front of you, “Will you try and eat for me?” he asked. He cups your cheek lovingly and frowns, you feel a little over warm. “I can’t have you wasting away on me,” he encourages, “Ma would be pissed at me. And I don’t think the girls would be too happy either.”

He hopes that that works. He’d seen Kaity use that trick a few times. Gentle exploitation of your need to keep someone out of trouble. Or help someone. You nod and kiss his palm, making him smile. “Good girl,” he hums, kissing your nose. “I made dessert too,” he said, proud of himself, “Cherry Cheesecake.”

“I’ve never had it,” you tell him yawning.

“Then you won’t know if I fucked it up. Rad.” he said, kissing your nose again and going to make you a plate.

You snort, “I’m sure you did fine, handsome.”

“We’ll see,” he said, putting a bowl in front of you and kissing your head. “Gotta get some meat back on your bones, Princess. You’re gonna freeze to death at this rate.”

“It’ll be fine. Eventually, there’ll be like two months where I don’t stop eating. Then you’ll be trying to get me to go running,” you tell him.

Bucky snorted and gave you a glass of ginger ale to try and keep your stomach settled, “I’m not gonna fuss at you for being less breakable,” he said sternly, “all I want is a healthy Princess. However, you get there.” 

You take a tentative bite, making sure you won’t burn your mouth and nod, “This is good,” you tell him, taking another bite. It’s cute watching his chest puff up a little bit. He’s so fucking proud of himself. You wish you could tell Kaity about it. Tell her how you’d happily eat anything he made you and tell him it was great just to watch him look like that.

Dinner is quiet, Bucky sits across from you and helps himself to seconds before you’re half-finished with your first bowl. Your stomach has shrunk. A lot. It’s slow going and your stomach aches before you get finished. When you push your bowl away and groan softly, Bucky kisses your head, “Trash can?” he asks.

“No,” you murmur, “Just really full.”

He tuts softly and very gently rubs your stomach, “So we’ll go lay on the couch for a while. Then I’ll feed you dessert.”

“You’re not gonna be happy until I gain all 30 pounds back, are you?” you groan. 

“I just want you healthy again,” he says, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t think about how small your stomach probably is right now.” He takes your bowl to wash it and gets you another glass of ginger ale, “You didn’t have to eat it all, you could have stopped.”

“You just looked really happy that I liked it,” you protest, cheeks coloring. 

He laughs and picks you up gently, “At least now I know how to get you to eat.”

“Stop exploiting my neuroses,” you pout.

“Absolutely not,” he said kissing your nose, “Not if it’s for your own good. I gotta take care of my girl.” He sits carefully on the couch, mindful of your stomach ache, and tucks your blanket back around you. Some day, when you feel better, he reflects, you’re going to make a good Submissive. He’d played with those dynamics before. He liked kinky sex. He liked giving orders. And, he reflected as he rubbed your stomach and queued up things for you to watch, he liked having someone soft. Someone who needed him to be soft. He smiled when you started snoring lightly, your head on his shoulder. “Good girl,” he praised in a whisper. Some day, he was really going to enjoy pushing limits.

Tags: @lancsnerd @thorfanficwriter @etherealwaifgoddess @blameitonthecauseway @stevieang @wellfucksorrymum

[sadistic-second]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG.

SPEED: What is speed? I’d like to believe things are done as quickly as possible. Written word says that I’m pretty quick about things, 1-3 days tops. But if you’ve ever actually heard be vocalize my “speed” then well. :fingerguns: I’m a lazy piece of shit. So, that being said, depending on motivation levels that I currently possess, that reveals the speed in which I operate things here. But a good baseline is still 1-3 days.

REPLIES: For starters, I use thread tracker for all the threads I currently possess. And if I haven’t replied to something then I sincerely apologize. I am not ignoring you. I either fucked up tracking it (which I’ve done before) or something happened to the tracker itself. I know it had some issues recently. Can’t recall if it got fixed or not, but I know for a fact it fucked some of my replies up. 

On that note, if I have taken longer than seven (7) days to reply to something, hit me up. Let me know. Either the tracker or I fucked up and I need to be told. As stated above, I usually take 1-3 days to reply to things. So if it has been at least that long and you’re still waiting on me for something, chances are the above happened. 

You’d never know it by looking at the lengths of most (all?) my roleplays here, but I am a novella roleplayer at heart. Love me some details, bro. Setting scenes, getting the atmosphere just right, making sure you know for a fact what I’m doing at any given moment. Why? I dunno. That has a story in and of itself that will not be disclosed here. 

But don’t let that discourage you. I am adaptable and I can be flexible to what my partner needs/wants. Will I get carried away sometimes? Absolutely. Do you have to panic and try and match? Not at all. You do you. I’ll do me. We’ll work it out, don’t worry.

STARTERS: Don’t at me, I already know I’m stepping into a baited trap. 

Starters are nice. However, they take time to write and think up. That being said, if I’m writing it, you best believe it's tailored to you specifically. Though I do enjoy at least a basic idea discussion beforehand so I know what direction I’m supposed to take this, I can wing that shit like no tomorrow. Again, not that anyone would know since I haven’t exactly, uh . . . Done it yet. Rest assured, I have the list. I will be doing something eventually. 

You can also tag me in starters if you want. I’ll notice and I’ll get the idea and we can go from there. If it's just something you came up with outta the blue or it's from an ask or whatever, all fine by me. I’m pretty much open to any and all ideas.

INBOX: Ahahah, my inbox. Yes. That motherfucker. Look. I have at least one meme queued for every single day up until the first week of August. Not quite sure what possessed me to do this, but you know. At least you’ll always at least have one thing to choose from to send me every day. Old memes, new memes, random ass shit you just thought of at 3am because you figured I’d like it, send that in. I’ll answer it.

Sure, okay, yeah. I’ve currently got week old memes sitting in there right now. And there are at least month old memes sitting in my drafts that I haven’t posted yet. Doesn’t mean I won’t answer them. Just gotta wait for that good ol’ inspiration to kick in. 

Oh, and I hear Tumblr still eats things. So if you’ve sent me something and its been quite a while and you haven’t seen an answer, chances are I never saw it. I sincerely apologize. Send it again. Send something new. Eventually, I’ll see it. Tumblr can’t eat everything, right?

SELECTIVITY: What is selectivity? I’d write with a sentient stuffed animal if it had a good enough idea. Yes, I’m very aware of what that sounds like. Does that make me any less of a person, a writer, because I said that? Fuck no. I am more than willing to give anyone and everyone a chance provided you aren’t cringey.

Oh but Asher, what does that last bit even mean? Don’t be fucking weird. That’s all I ask. If you’ve got an idea, come to me with it and we’ll work something out. Don’t have an idea? We’ll talk about it. I will roleplay with you. I am by no means selective. 

WISHLIST: OH BOY! A WISHLIST!

Although, I suppose this would be where I’m supposed to give you some semblance of ideas or stories that I would like to give a shot at. :fingerguns: What is creativity? I will admit that I like to spout out about how creative I am and shit. However, put me on the spot and I will go blank and make myself a fucking liar.

I’ll give you some hints though. Love me some angst. I am one angsty boy. Do your absolute worst. It takes a lot to make me feel things and only two people have managed to get me to the point of tears thus far in my Tumblr career. If you think you got what it takes, bring it on.

I’m still exploring Reno’s drug habit(s). So I guess that’s sort of a wish list idea?

I want an excuse to be sadistic. My fucking name is literally sadistic-second and I cannot recall an opportunity in which I have gotten to display that true nature. I think I’ve hinted at it before? I know there are a couple shorts that I’ve written floating around. I think you can find them under “Asher writes” and uh . . . Fuck, what was that other one I wrote recently? “Raw meat” brings it up in the search so there’s that, too.

So those are kind of wish list ideas? I guess? 

HONEST NOTE: :dogekek: Bold of you to assume I have anything else left in me to put here. Nah, but like it was 2am when I wrote this. And you’re seeing it now at whatever the fuck time my queue put it at. Early morning, I know that. 

I’ve done a lot of changing, a lot of growing up in the last year or so. Big life changes happened and well. You gotta adjust or ya kinda sink. And boy did I sink. But I’m back now. I’m better. I’m getting the hang of things once again. 

No, but like what the fuck is supposed to go here? Oh, wait. I have an idea.

You guys want a better way to communicate with me? Ask for my discord. Tumblr messages are great and all, but uh . . . You’re more likely to get more out of me on discord than you are Tumblr. Why? I dunno. I’m always on discord. I’m kind of on Tumblr? Granted, I’m always on both places, but discord is where its at, man.

TAGGED BY: @that-turk-laney

TAGGING: Uh. Steal it, fam

[cosmiclatte28]

Autumn in my heart (krisbaek) (chanbaek)

One shot - angst/fluff

Krisbaek -chanbaek

Warning : mentions of kris wu, will bring you back memories of our best "chicken nae style anya" brother 🤧🤧

(Posted on wattpad before, so yeah this is my original work)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and somber race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. Baekhyun hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, he feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when Baekhyun has put on his tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott's. Tonight, his favorite fragrance from Clean accompanies him. He inhales his favorite floral woody musk mixed with a slight hint of fresh soap and gets himself ready as his smart watch rings with a caller ID he loves dearly. His lover has rung him up saying he is downstairs waiting for him to take his time. Baekhyun makes his last tuck on his Pea coat and he pockets his phone as he slipped his feet to his leather boots and Baekhyun makes sure to kiss his corgi good bye before keeping the key in his pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; his waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed Baekhyun; he frowns whenever the door opens and what greets him are the foreign faces of his neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, Baekhyun finally reaches his destination. With his crescent eyes he scans the whole room and finds his prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

"Kris! I'm here, let's go!" Baekhyun clings into the taller man's arm and giddily drags him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes them outside; Kris clears his throat and pulls the brunette closer. He takes in his small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. "It's starting to get cold," Kris smiles.

Baekhyun blushes, even when Kris had done this for three consecutive autumns, his heart will always beat like it was his first time. He did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place Baekhyun knows a bit too much.

"Usual place Kris?"

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, they found themselves in a restaurant district. Baekhyun's stomach growls when the delicious smell of his favorite food can be smelled from a meter. They sit down on their usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for Baekhyun and a Pepperoni for Kris. Though Kris never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to Baekhyun, he just can't. Try and say that to a man who really enjoys it and do you dare see his heart breaks? No Kris doesn't want to break his heart; it's the last thing he wanted to do to Baekhyun.

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, they exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. They end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The two men make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

Baekhyun told Kris about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Kris will do everything that brings a smile to Baekhyun's face. With Baekhyun standing close by his side, Kris naturally slides his arm to hug Baekhyun's slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Kris knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

"We're so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already... We only have one left for the special house favorite's chocolate," the man with a name tag reading Yixing, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

Baekhyun runs his eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Kris was faster.

"No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?" Kris hands Yixing his card and swipes the bill.

Baekhyun squeals deep inside his heart, how Kris could always do a new sweet action every time they go out?!

"You sure don't want anything else?" Baekhyun asks when Kris lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Kris shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from Baekhyun's lips, "No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much." Kris kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from Baekhyun's lips.

Baekhyun playfully punches Kris, "What's into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!"

Kris laughs it off and rolls his eyes, "Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—" Baekhyun shuts him off with a quick peck "—I'm going to have heart attack Baek, if you are making that a habit."

After making a loud sip to ensure he leaves nothing on the bottom of the glass, Baekhyun and Kris step their foot out of the lovely café. They freeze when they see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

"The first snow!" Both men choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

Baekhyun reaches for a folded umbrella he had brought in his pocket and this time takes the lead to pull the giant closer and tries his best to raise the umbrella to his height. Kris cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows Baekhyun do his thing.

"I am not taking care of a sick giant again, that's why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Kris let's walk under the first snow!" Baekhyun sneakily places his hand into Kris' coat and the taller simply holds his hand.

They have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated their social media platforms.

"The snow is falling harder, shall we head home?" Kris worries for their health. The two men are responsible for their working days, falling sick is something they can't afford.

Baekhyun does not refuse; along their careful steps on the slippery grounds the two men don't stop talking at all. They will find new topics whenever they seem to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. Their date night ends with Kris ushering Baekhyun back to his Apartment room.

"Good bye Kris, thank you for tonight!" Baekhyun shakes his wet umbrella.

"No problem Baek, I'll be going now,"

"Wait—" Baekhyun runs to his room and returns not long after it, he gets on his tip of toes and wraps a warm red scarf over Kris "—take that with you, it's my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home." Baekhyun buries his face on his chest as he hugs him tight.

"Thanks honey, Good night." Kris steps back and waves his hand.

Baekhyun wiggles his hand in panic, "Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!" Baekhyun pushes his umbrella to Kris' hand.

Kris chuckles and tousles Baekhyun's soft hairs, "Yes sir! I can take care of myself—" Kris winks and Baekhyun rolls his eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of Baekhyun before finally going back home.

__

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates and time runs. Their love for each other blooms, although their relationship has ups and downs, the two can overcome the big waves and sail their ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skillful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and Baekhyun feels like he is forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and his sparkly eyes are fixed on a "sweet" scene in front of him. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it's your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty boy, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Kris did not know or see Baekhyun on the other side of the road, but Baekhyun cannot mistake that man as someone else. His eyes turn red; Baekhyun fetches his phone and takes the speed dial to call Kris. He waits for a moment with his eyes fixed on the two men across him.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and Baekhyun sees the two of them walking to cross the road. He quickly hides himself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Kris. When Kris made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as Baekhyun's he swears his call just was sent to voicemail. Kris also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn't even hesitate to reject his call. Insteaad, Kris looks so happy walking with this new man. His jealousy and suspicion completely take over him, he leans over the small phone box and stares at his screen emptily.

"Sorry, busy can't pick up your call." Kris' message appears in his notification bar.

Baekhyun swallows the lump stuck in his throat; disappointed and angry the lonely man runs back to his apartment. He was planning to buy dinner and surprises Kris in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another man, heol Baekhyun won't bother coming to see him.

Baekhyun locks himself in his room and cries his heart out, his stomach grumbles, but his heart aches more. Baekhyun ignores all of the calls and messages in his phone. Thirty minutes later he wipes his eyes and after ensuring his heart he needs to do this: Baekhyun texts a number.

"Soo, you're right... I'm coming to the dinner tomorrow. What's his name again?"

This time Baekhyun regrets not listening to his friends when they warned him about his boyfriend playing fire behind his back. Baekhyun is too naïve and blunt to realize Kris has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked his calls. At first Baekhyun simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out Baekhyun is living blindly.

The tall blonde man enters his apartment and paces his room nervously while sticking his phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

"Pick up. Pick up Baek.... Please... I'm worried sick..." Kris ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if Baekhyun is okay, why is he not picking up calls, and why is he not reading his messages.

Kris feels guilty rejecting Baekhyun's call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Kris cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute man's dream. Yes, Suho, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Kris cannot lie and say he's unattractive. Suho is a calm and nice man, good with works, and Kris finds it hard to keep his heart stable when he's around.

Kris thought he saved Suho from crying in the streets, when in reality his real boyfriend is the one crying on the busy streets... by himself. Poor Kris doesn't know this.

__

The next morning, Baekhyun did not bat an eye nor reply any of his messages. He muted his number and prepares for work. As he sprays his perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man he used to love, but now hates, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

"Good morning sunshine! What's with the cloudy face?" Kris extends his hand to give Baekhyun the arrangement.

Baekhyun looks at his sickening handsome smile and walks to take his working bag. "Nothing. I'm tired of work and this life full of lies."

Kris frowns, "What do you mean?"

Baekhyun just hums an "I don't know" tone and occupies himself with packing his lunch and laptop.

Kris walks to the kitchen table and picks Baekhyun's phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, "WOW! You haven't open my text, not a single one! Why?" he sounds confused.

Baekhyun is the type to have his phone on his nose almost every second, what's with leaving Kris unread?

Baekhyun snatches his phone, "I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn't come and have dinner with you, since you're taking overtime."

Kris sighs, "Come on Baek, you're acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?" Baekhyun walks away.

"Don't act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights." Kris snaps.

Baekhyun keeps his cold face on; he takes his lunch and working bag, and slips into his shoes. Kris shadows him all over the place.

"Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?" He wears his shoes and holds on to the door knob.

"I had a sudden meeting." Kris lies quickly.

"Oh so now you call walking with another man without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!" Baekhyun stomps his foot, "Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!" Baekhyun exits the room, but Kris holds a grip of his hand.

"but..." Kris is cut off by Baekhyun's loud voice, "For your information Kris, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a man and rejecting my call." Baekhyun raises his tone and his face turns red. He breaks his hand free and rushes to the parking lot.

Kris runs after Baekhyun, but luck must've left him today for the lift closes before he can reach him. Baekhyun is clearly mad and fed up, for he is not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Their day goes on differently, Baekhyun is still absorbed in his sadness and pain, while Kris... Kris thinks today's problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the man from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Kris busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; Suho asks him, "What's bothering you?"

Kris thinks for a while, should he tell Suho what actually happened, but what if things get more dark and dangerous? After some consideration, Kris decides to use the help chance. He told Suho what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. Suho just laughs and comes up with a solution, "I can help you clarify this... Give me his number, I'll talk to him."

Kris denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from Suho, he gave up Baekhyun's phone number to Suho. He thought maybe Baek would listen to Suho.

Sure, Suho's idea was not completely wrong, Baekhyun answers his call in a friendly manner and he did not blame Suho for anything. Baekhyun listened to all of Suho's kind and sincere explanation, but his heart still cannot easily forgive Kris for doing it.

__

Baekhyun dresses up nicely in his bomber jacket, and puts on his cap to hide his puffy eyes. He takes his steps to greet his date tonight, the man Kyungsoo told him about. Park Chanyeol, son of the CEO of Eve's corporation: Korea's first leading group in food supply, while Kris is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Chanyeol is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Chanyeol is, his heart cannot stop comparing him to Kris. Kris is not as perfect as him, Kris is more of the clumsy type and silly. However one thing for sure, Baekhyun likes Chanyeol's jokes better than Kris'

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. Baekhyun would have dressed up properly if he knew Chanyeol is bringing him to a secluded private restaurant. Baekhyun seals his mouth tightly about this date, yet Kris knows.

He comes home with a bright smiling face, Chanyeol had just dropped him off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. Baekhyun secretly smiles to himself and wraps his jacket tighter as he enters the lift to reach his house. He can't stop humming small tunes while taking his light steps.

With a big surprised face, Baekhyun takes a step back when Kris greets him in his stern voice.

"Why are you here?" the shorter man sounds annoyed. His mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Kris raises his brow, "Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if he's here yet, since he ignored my calls and texts." Baekhyun makes his way to the kitchen and fills himself a glass of water, "Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight," Baekhyun shrugs his shoulder.

Kris joins him to the small kitchen, "Yeah and I just found out my boy, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—" he glances at his watch, "—late, my boy came home pretty late. It's 10!"

Baekhyun finishes his glass of water, and slams his cup a bit too hard, "So what? I'm big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself."

"Who's that man? How are you sure he is someone good?" Kris elevates his tone.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and speaks out loud clearly, "it's none of your business! Even I did not know who the man you're with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Kris Wu!" Baekhyun spits those words in one breath, he tosses his jacket then locks himself in his room. Kris knocks on his door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest man is the scariest thing

Baekhyun wakes up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. He forces himself to leave his bed and calls in for a day off today. He has called Chanyeol last night and told the new man everything, something in his heart screams that Chanyeol can help and Chanyeol will not hurt him like Kris did. With his beloved corgi walking beside him, Baekhyun opens his door and freezes when he sees Kris sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

"Babo-ya," Baekhyun scoffs in his mind and leaves the tall giant on the floor. He makes himself a glass of tea and gulps an aspirin down his dry throat. He takes his time writing a short note and sticks it on Kris' free arm. He bends to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably his last, and Baekhyun secretly leaves.

Kris wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging Baekhyun to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly reads it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widens and his mouth fell. Kris lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight... he feels like a thunder just hit him and he's drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa, and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don't change.

"Baekhyun wants us to end it here," Kris speaks to himself, the tall blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to found the man he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with Baekhyun. Seriously they did not need to break up over a silly matter!

"Baekhyun-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this... where are you?" Kris puts on his shoes and coat.

"We don't have to discuss anything Kris. We're not meant to be, I realized we're not made for each other. Our parents don't even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It's over Kris, go get that man and I will go my way." Baekhyun explains as best as he can.

"No, We need to meet. We're not breaking up over phone. I don't consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet." Kris grips his phone hard.

"I can't Kris, I'm no longer near you. Bye," Baekhyun said.

Kris hears the faint background sound and damn that man is in the airport, where the hell is he going now without telling him.

Baekhyun turns off his call and sadly stares at his wallpaper. It's a picture of happy Kris and Baekhyun laughing under the mistletoe from their last Christmas.

"Are we ready to go?" Chanyeol's deep voice resonates beside him. Baekhyun groggily nods and copies his steps to the boarding gate. Baekhyun takes one last heavy breath; yes he is leaving Korea and Kris behind. This is what his family wants, this is for the best.

Baekhyun comes from the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out his parents had made an agreement to make Baekhyun and Chanyeol an official pair. Simply said his parents arranged his marriage with Park family for the sake of their business. The Byun family does not have a good history with the Wu family. Both Kris and Baekhyun had been trying their best to keep their boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by their own families, but Baekhyun has had enough. The two used to think if they are together, they can fight their families and live happily ever after, but that's too good to be true.

Now, his family has made a lot of agreements with The Park family, and that explains why Baekhyun is sent to leave Korea with Chanyeol the night when Baek reported Kris' actions. His father used the situation to break them apart, and he partly succeeded. Baekhyun is now seated on the first class flight to Britain, with his future fiancé (That's what his parents insisted).

__

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Kris still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when Baekhyun is not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that Baekhyun is still his boyfriend, and he is still committed to that man he loves.

Suho has tried a lot of things to set Kris up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Kris only attends the blind dates Suho made, just to respect his kindness and attention. Suho himself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Kris and Baekhyun once visited, Yixing. Suho was close with Kris because he needs help with winning the cute dimple man's heart. The night when Baekhyun went home with Chanyeol, Kris was actually waiting for him to explain everything. Kris wanted to tell Baekhyun that he doesn't have to be jealous of Suho, for Suho has his heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day Baekhyun was already gone from his life.

Kris changes into a cold and quiet man, while Baekhyun has opened his heart to the new man with him. Baekhyun realizes Chanyeol shares a lot of things in common with him. Knowing the new tall man with elf ears is easy and they get along so well. They spend a good two years in England, and they have to return to Korea when the working contract for Chanyeol ended.

--

Their plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. Baekhyun sighs it's once again autumn, He always hates autumn.

Chanyeol feels for having to check the office and sending Baekhyun home by himself. Baekhyun did not mind, instead he is happy he can have his time alone here.

Baekhyun takes the taxi to a park he missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. He breathes in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when he the memories he made here with Kris slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in his heart, how is that tall blonde doing? Baekhyun walks and walks then sits at one of the empty benches, his hand traces the old wood and smiles when his eyes caught a small scribble that managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

He traces the craving and secretly hides his smile when the memory comes back in his mind.

The writing of Kris and Baekhyun in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. He remembered craving their names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. Baekhyun scoffs when he realizes a lot of things he did with Kris is associated with autumn.

He closes his eyes for a while and finds himself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets him,

"Baekyun?" the voice sounds unsure, "Baekhyun?! It's really you?" this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

Baekhyun opens his eyes and gulps when the same man he left without news is here again infront of him. The man he shared love, the man he secretly hates and loves, the same man who used to be the happiness of Baekhyun. He looks different! He definitely lose weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy Baekhyun used to spent his time gazing. His voice didn't change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make him tremble.

"Kris, well... yes this is me." Baekhyun sheepishly admits it's him.

"It's been a while," Kris opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside Baekhyun.

"Look Kris, I don't have much time," Baekhyun dares himself to face him and holds his tears back. He almost breaks down in tears when he once again sees the man he loves in front of him.

"I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us." Kris stays quiet despite wanting to kiss Baekhyun and tell him everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to Baekyun. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

"Fate doesn't let us be together... our family hates one another... we can't... we just can't be one Kris." Baekhyun bites his lips and holds his tears back. His heart is breaking right now when he sees the broken look in Kris' eyes. When he first saw Kris sitting beside him, he swore he saw a glint of hope in Kris' eyes but now Baekhyun completely destroys it. He hates him for one again hurting Kris, but this is for their own goods.

Baekhyun can no longer holds his tears, he breaks down into tears right beside Kris. The brunette hides his face in his hands and his shoulder moves as he expresses all of his bottled up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Kris moves closer to Baekhyun's side. He bravely takes Baekhyun into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over Baekhyun's smooth cheeks. Kris cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without Baekhyun. It was dark already before when he left, but now when he clearly said that... Kris feels like dying.

"Good bye Kris," Baekhyun stands up and walks to leave the broken hearted man. He turns one last time to see his unrequited love; Baekhyun forces his sweet smile, "Thank you for the memories." Baekhyun takes quick steps to leave the park and Kris. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it's over Baekhyun is completely not anywhere to be seen.

Kris closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, he left him completely now. Baekhyun left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Kris fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he's been carrying this around since Baekhyun left, he wanted to propose to him whenever he got the chance to see Baekhyun , but turns out his ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit his slender finger. Kris keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousand of memories. Kris smiles bitterly when he remembers how Baekhyun always hates autumn. Turns out all memories with Baekhyun are prominent in autumn: Baekhyun's least favorite season.

flashback <<<

"I hate autumn Kris, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer." Baekhyun pointed to an almost bald tree.

Kris pinches the cute cheeks of Baekhyun, "Well yes the trees are selfish Baek, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I'm sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live," Baekhyun cuts him, "But why Kris? Why must the leaves die for the tree?"

Kris holds his lover's hand tighter in his jacket, "Because my Baekhyunnie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!"

Baekhyun nods his head, "Woah that's a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!" He cheerfully pecks a kiss on Kris' lips and blushes.

"Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love." Kris leans in for another kiss.

"I love you Kris, now and forever!" Baekhyun leans his head on Kris' strong and wide shoulder.

"I love you most Baekhyunnie, I'll be like the leaf in autumn!" Kris whispers to his world; Baekhyun

The two men in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls they secretly whisper each other "I still love you."

[tjkiahgb]

Listen, I got so caught up in Tyrus Week, spending hours and hours going through tags and liking posts and queuing reblogs, that I pretty much pushed everything else to the side. (Plus I’ve also been working on the next thing I’ll tell you guys about in the next few days.)

All that is to say, I got a lot of stuff in my inbox this last week, so I’m just going to tackle a bunch of them in... A LIGHTNING ROUND.

Let’s go.

And before you ask, yes, I made a graphic for it.

Looks like this Andi Mack finale party has turned into... a death party.

Would’ve been a strange choice for Terri Minsky to turn the finale of Andi Mack into a murder mystery, but if that’s what she wanted, I’d trust her.

I don’t watch that show but I know some people who do and they’ve told me it’s just light and airy and pleasant, so, yeah, sounds right up Cyrus’s alley.

You guys are shouting Lightning Round! every time the graphic comes up, right?

I, like TJ, am just some guy. I tell everyone who asks to call me Jay. Jay is long for “J”, which is short for another name that I, also like TJ, only let people related to me by blood or my soulmate know about. I will say it’s not Jagger, though. I wish.

That wasn’t my intention while writing TJ and the Gals, but as with all art, or whatever TJ and the Gals was, once it’s out of the creator’s hands, it belongs to the people.

No.

Thelonious Jagger Kippen Is A Hashtag Good Boi.

Shoutout to my FAQ page, where you can find information like this and more. Not blaming you, anon, I’ve gotten this a lot and the FAQ page is hard to find. I mostly just delete the question and let the anon live in mystery because I’m chaotic something. I’m only answering this now because it’s the

You know the shook_bitch? Thank them from me for getting Disney Channel to respond to them, and congratulate them on being the subject of the best comment the Disney Channel Instagram account ever made.

Yeah, I went back and checked and Jonah only says in 3x12 that his dad made a bad investment, not lost a job or anything.

It really seems like he’s been managing the Judy Bartholomew fortune all these years. We don’t know anything else of him other than he was once a background workout video guy and he has at least enough knowledge about baseball to coach little league.

Hopefully the new job is providing him with a solid salary, but if not, I think the world is ready for a Judy Bartholomew comeback.

Judy Bartholomew: Still Trottin’ After All These Years

I’m not entirely sure exactly which girl we’re talking about here. I think this one:

I will say, she does seem into it. She’s like, oh, things are about to get gay in here.

Honestly, there were so many background actors killing it in this scene.

You’ve got this guy...

...who hears the beginning of “Born This Way” and reacts like it’s ruined his evening. I mean, I was a little tired of it, too, when it was being played on the radio over and over and over, but it’s been some years. It’s not overplayed as much anymore and it definitely wouldn’t make me this upset. (He pops up later in the song and is happily dancing, so maybe he thought it was the beginning of a different song?)

Then there’s this girl...

...who is feeling it. She’s like, hell yeah, this is my jam!

And there’s this girl in the goggles...

...who, after TJ and Cyrus sing the “be myself, respect my youth” part, is like, okayyyy. I see you.

Here’s a fun(?) behind-the-scenes thing for this blog. A few months back, I was thinking about ways to replace “Moments” if we had, by some miracle, gotten a season four, since I would’ve run out of moments weeks after the finale. What I came up with was “The Random Andi Mack Extra of the Day.” It would’ve just been screenshots of random extras throughout the show’s run. Upon some reflection, this was a bad idea.

The first problem here is that I get the feeling those posts would’ve gotten, at most, 20-30 notes each, because no one really cares about random, out of context extras and it doesn’t seem like a thing people would want to reblog.

The second problem is, knowing myself, I probably would’ve spent hundreds of hours during the hiatus between s3 and s4 making 1000 of them in the first place, just so I could have them ready to go. I would’ve absolutely done this without testing the waters first to see if there was any interest. (Just like with the “Moments.” I made like 300 of them before I made the first post about them.)

So, the most likely scenario was going to be me, two weeks into “The RAMEotD,” looking at flopping posts, then looking at my folder of 800 screenshots of Andi Mack extras and going, “Well, what am I going to do, not post them? I already did all the work!” And I would keeping queuing them up, and they would keep appearing on this blog every day, and they would taunt me with their 22 notes. You remember the work you did? IT WAS FOR BUT A PITTANCE!

So I guess what I’m saying is maybe it’s for the best. The cancellation saves me from myself.

Hey, though, heads up. If and when you go back and watch the series again, pay attention to the extras -- the unsung heroes of the entertainment industry. There are some extras reallllly putting in work on this show. It absolutely adds to the delightful quality of Andi Mack. Every time I would spot someone in the background being goofy or really overselling whatever they were supposed to be experiencing, it filled me with joy.

It’s a fun show. Everything about it is fun, including the little details.

Ooh, a serious one. This is going to be my first ever hybrid Discussion/Analysis post.

Okay, so I think we’re talking about two different things here.

I won’t argue that I think Tyrus could have absolutely happened sooner and been explored more.

I obviously can’t say with certainty, but I assume that was at least somewhat the plan leading out of season two. The setup for their relationship was all already there by the end of it. They’d met, they had bumps, they grew really close, and they capped the whole season off with TJ looking back at Cyrus. All the elements were in place that you could jump right into this storyline in TJ’s next appearance. (Not necessarily them canoning, but at least the exploration of TJ’s feelings or some movement towards canoning.)

When Cyrus’s lookback happened, it was addressed in the very next episode (granted following a break in seasons). I don’t know that TJ’s would’ve been as immediate, but I don’t think you have him look back in the season two finale if you don’t intend on truly paying it off for 21 episodes. (Or, at least 13, if you want to say 3x13 was the real start of a storyline involving TJ’s homosexuality.)

So, yeah, look, I’m speculating wildly, but I would imagine the original creative idea was to address TJ’s lookback early in season three and start getting into it, and that, yes, that idea was likely kiboshed from above.

What I will argue is that the bench scene is subtle but not ambiguous. We’ve made the semi-joke constantly around here that there’s “No heterosexual explanation for this!” but, truly, there is no heterosexual explanation for the bench scene: two boys, one of whom has already explicitly stated he’s gay, slowly reaching for and holding each other’s hands, intertwining their fingers while they sit by the fire and stare into each other’s eyes, nervously smiling. This is something that has been built towards for multiple seasons. If you’ve been watching the show, if you’ve been paying attention to it, if you care about the characters, especially TJ and Cyrus, it’s very clear what’s happening here.

This feels like talking about people who weren’t sure Cyrus was gay after the first two times he came out because he didn’t use the word. Or people who thought Cyrus wasn’t gay anymore after he said his crush on Jonah was gone. I sympathize with some of the younger set who maybe don’t have the world sense to follow along with this, but, come on, at some point, we’re three seasons in and you have to keep up with the level of the storytelling. I don’t mean this in an insulting way, but if someone can’t get what’s happening here, then maybe this whole thing isn’t for them. Maybe if all they know right now is that Cyrus is gay and accepted and happy, then that’s good enough, and they can hold onto that idea and grow with that and catch the next train, whenever it comes along. Maybe this moment is for all the people who get it.

That’s about the kids in the casual audience. Now, if we’re talking about an adult homophobe -- one who would express the kind of outrage that we believe Disney fears -- it’s a different story. If an adult homophobe is really watching that scene and thinking, “Seems pretty straight to me” then it feels like it doesn’t matter what they would’ve done in the finale. They could’ve said “gay,” they could’ve said “boyfriend,” Cyrus and TJ could’ve lead a pride parade down the street outside Celia’s house while blasting -- well, I was going to pick a gay song here for the joke, but probably “Born This Way” would be the most appropriate one, so -- “Born This Way” from loud speakers, and that homophobe would’ve been like, “Nice parade.” As ignorant as homophobes are, even they are not that dense. An adult pretending Tyrus isn’t a couple after the bench scene requires a level of impenetrably willful ignorance.

Anyway, the truth is that angry homophobes aren’t watching the show. They never do. They like to read headlines and get mad, but they’re cowardly and, most of all, lazy, and they don’t like to put in the actual footwork. They like to leave comments on articles they haven’t read, about shows they haven’t watched. They like to post reactions to stuff they see in their Facebook feed or send one sentence responses like, “There goes Disney Channel!!!” or “What is happening to our country?!?!” And then they like to scroll on to the next thing that will feed their sad rage about how the world is changing around them.

If you want to think about Disney censorship as a way of preventing those homophobes from being outraged, it’s not the textuality of the scene itself, it’s the placement at the end. Delaying them canoning until the finale just makes for less work. Show’s over. There’s nothing to defend. No one’s signing a petition to get a show off the air that’s just aired its last episode. Most of the articles written will be about everything happening in the finale, and Tyrus would just be a part of it.

And that is more or less what’s happened. Just about every major article I’ve seen about the finale has discussed Tyrus, and discussed them as textually getting together -- again, there’s no ambiguity there -- but has also brought them up in conjunction with what happened with Andi and Jonah, with Muffy getting together, and with Andi getting into SAVA. And the articles themselves tend to largely be about the show ending as a whole and its impact. (No one needs to send me articles trying to prove or disprove this. I’ve been over a lot of them. Some are more Tyrus focused -- the ones in the gay media for sure -- and some just mention it -- more traditional media sources. This is the general gist of most of them.)

So the article headlines mostly read “Andi Mack Finale” or “Andi Mack Ends Run” or something like that. The homophobes -- who, again, aren’t watching the show and are getting all their information about it via article headlines -- see those headlines and don’t even remember Andi Mack was the show they hated from two years ago because their rage is mostly performative and short-lived. They get mad in the minute but forget about the specifics of the stuff within a day.

Like I said in the recap, I won’t argue that there’s a scene with more that wouldn’t work, but I personally don’t see the bench scene as not having accomplished everything it needed to.

Oh, that went longer than I thought it was going to be. Not very lightning round of me.

This actually got sent a while back but it was still in my inbox and I figured I’d throw it in here in case the anon saw it. Lightning round!

Sorry, anon, I wasn’t ignoring you and I appreciate you reading my old recaps, but you were the second anon to piece together that I am actually blessed with psychic powers.

I don’t really have any plans to, sorry.

I had only planned to do one set before and after the finale for Tyrus Week, but I will point you and anyone else interested in making their own TJ and Cyrus texts to this post I made that should give you the basic tools needed for the job. (Use them! You wouldn’t believe what a pain in the butt it was to get that background clean like that!)

Thank you, honestly. That’s so, so sweet. But I have no plans to do that.

Like I mentioned at the start of this post, I’m working on something now that I’ll tell you guys about shortly that’s look-backy and will hit on some stuff from those seasons. (Though not in the same vein as the recaps.)

The recaps take a long time to produce, and as much as I’ve loved this show and this fandom, I will be honest and tell you guys I am sort of planning my exit.

This blog has become something of a part-time job for me. Not in the work sense because I have truly enjoyed all this, but just in the time sense. I’ve put a lot of time in and I would like to rededicate that time back toward other things I’ve put on hold for the last year and a half.

It’s starting to feel like making you shout Lightning Round! each time was a mistake now that I’m answering stuff seriously or sadly.

I was getting emotional multiple times while writing it, because of the show, because of the fandom, because of this whole journey we’ve all been on together.

I appreciate you saying this so much because that’s what I’ve always hoped has come through in the things I’ve written about this show. That I’ll make jokes or point out holes or goofy details or whatever, but that I couldn’t do this -- I couldn’t commit myself to this as much as I have -- if I truly didn’t love the show. That everything I’m doing here comes from a place of love and celebrating the show and embracing it for its good stuff and its silly stuff.

It wasn’t a perfect show, but that was always what made it kind of perfect.

Thanks for the asks. Thus ends the lightning round.