#sorry i just yelled at you about vaguely maybe related ideas?

[weepylucifer]

24. "You're trembling." steban/ulixes

The whole mess starts like this: one afternoon, Ulixes doesn't turn up to the reading group meeting.

His absence is a stark confrontation with the fact of how alone Steban is. Thus far, as long as at least Ulixes was still coming to the meetings regular as clockwork, Steban could go on with business as usual and put off reckoning with how solipsistic his little pretense at a revolutionary cell has become. Pretend like any educating of anyone in matters of radical theory was still being done here... like other members could walk in at any moment and give the whole thing a purpose again. Now, with Ulixes absent, Steban sits and waits and drinks too much coffee and feels, though he tries to ignore it, a bit like an idiot with his metaphorical dick in his hand.

He considers his options: he could go out and try to recruit again, he could go to bed and have a depressive episode, he could do serious self-critique about where the reading group went astray and why, he could wallow in his misery about driving his friends away with leftist infighting. He could disband the reading group. He could steal Cindy's pyrholidon and get high. He could go to Uli's apartment and start a huge fight about his perceived betrayal. He could get high, go to Uli's apartment, and have a sobbing breakdown about how Uli is his only friend and Uli's absence would destroy his life.

All those destructive impulses are eventually pushed aside, and Steban decides he will go to Uli's apartment, to check if there's something wrong with him. Uli has never missed a meeting before. Maybe it's not betrayal yet. Maybe there's something he needs...

When he, an hour later, knocks on Uli's door, Ulixes opens looking perturbed and disheveled, but at least he doesn't seem sick or hurt.

"Hi," Steban says. "You--"

"Oh no. The meeting..." Ulixes looks so caught out and almost frightened that whatever was left of Steban's sense of betrayal immediately evaporates. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to miss it, I've been out all day and... I only just came back here, you have to believe me..."

Steban raises a hand. He doesn't like seeing his friend so anxious. "It's alright. What's going on?"

Ulixes suddenly slumps against the doorframe, his skinny form bending like a defeated reed. "It's Comrade Reading, he's... gone missing."

Ah, yes, Required Reading. Uli's new kitten. Uli's new kitten that Steban is all support for, because Uli having a gentle, non-violence-related hobby must be encouraged... as long as the cat doesn't come close enough to Steban to shed hair on him.

Steban likes houseplants. They're his preferred way of existing alongside nature as a communist should. They're pretty, quiet, predictable, and can be raised according to a manual. They don't yell at him in the middle of the night, or scratch him, or bite him, or break his things, or shit in a box he has to clean, or mess up his cleanly, tidy, pleasant little apartment. Besides, something about this particular cat is... strange. It meows and purrs and cuddles and plays and whatever else the things do, but there's something Steban can't put his finger on that is... weird. The less he sees of it, the better.

Still, if Uli wants a cat, a cat he shall have. If Uli wants to spend every moment of his free time with a cat and not his human best friend who can actually carry a conversation and doesn't smell like litterbox, well... so be it. Who is Steban to question his tastes?

"I opened the door briefly to get the mail and he darted out past me," Ulixes is saying. "I've been looking for him all day."

"Oh," Steban says, then makes an effort to imbue his voice with more sympathy, "I mean... oh."

Now, he expects, is when Uli is going to channel his concern for his pet into rage, the way he usually does, and vow some vague idea of vengeance onto the universe for making this happen to him. Now he'll say something over the top like swearing to murder whoever should dare harm or withhold his cat from him in several grisly and overly specific ways that will leave Steban a mixture of nauseated and fondly exasperated, because it's clear that while Ulixes dreams (in graphic detail) of violence, he has never actually experienced it up close, and these fantasies are just how he copes, and...

"This is all my fault," Ulixes whispers, and Steban is shocked to see his eyes beneath his glasses growing damp, "I'm so bad at this, and now I messed it all up."

He sits down on his desk chair and buries his head in his hands. "Why did I ever think I could take care of something? He could die out there, and it's my fault."

There's nothing for it. Steban's still not exactly fond of the cat, but... seeing Ulixes this quietly devastated turns the world inside out. Steban thinks, I need you like I need my limbs and blood and beating heart, and puts his hand on Uli's shoulder. "We'll look for him together."

----

They make missing posters and print them on campus, and Steban volunteers to help put them up around Uli's neighborhood. They spend the rest of the day looking for Required Reading, even when it gets dark, even when it starts to rain. Eventually, Steban makes Uli take a break. Ulixes resists it, but at some point, he does have to sleep. Steban stays with him as their rain-soaked clothes dry over the heater, and softly reassures him as he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

Two days go by. The rain doesn't let up. Ulixes keeps searching for Required Reading, and Steban supports him, though privately he's beginning to lose hope for the whole endeavor. Revachol is gigantic, and there are myriads of ways for a very small cat to vanish in it. And of course Steban is sad for Uli's sake, because Uli really loved - loves - that cat, and taking care of something small and vulnerable has revealed a new side of him, one that Steban finds intriguing. But... a part of him, a part he tries to ignore because he's not quite comfortable with having it in him to think so lowly, is... not too bothered by the prospect of things going back to how they were before Required Reading appeared. Back when he- when the reading group had Uli's undivided attention. When Uli was focused on him the cause. When Uli would look at him with adoring eyes and--

Stop, Steban tells himself. That's a scummy way to think, and wholly inappropriate when it comes to your comrade. Of course you want him to get his cat back.

He should interrogate that entire train of thought, practice self-critique and remind himself of the incompatibility of Mazovian thought with such... greedy possessiveness. But he's not ready to examine himself in this instance, so he pushes it all down and out of sight.

It's ironic then that, on the third day, Steban finds the cat first.

He's on his way to Uli's apartment. It's still raining and he doesn't have an umbrella, so he's steadily getting soaked through. All he really wants is to get out of the weather. Still, he pauses when he hears, from across the deserted square, a tiny cry, like a baby, or a...

...kitten.

They've pinned one of the missing-cat-posters to a lamppost on the sidewalk here three days ago. Now, under the lamppost, crouched under a soggy, discarded newspaper that offers only scant protection from the elements, there he is, meowing plaintively for help: Required Reading. His fur is plastered to his body with rainwater, but it is him.

(It would be so easy for a passerby to recognize that this is the cat on the poster. Almost as if he sat himself down here on purpose... but surely that's impossible. Cats can't read, or recognize themselves on pictures.)

(Weird.)

Steban shakes his head. It's probably just a coincidence. He'd better scoop the cat up before he runs away, hope he doesn't get his arms scratched up, and bring the little thing home to Uli. Cautiously, he steps closer.

Sigh. Here goes nothing...

Suddenly, he hesitates. A thought unfolds...

Maybe he could just... keep walking. Pretend he didn't see. Ulixes would never know. He'd be sad for a while, but eventually he'd recover, and then they'd spend time in their meetings again like they used to... no more cat hair on his clothes, no more mess, no more having to feign interest in an animal he honestly finds a bit off-putting... and Uli's attention would not waver again, and Steban would never have to ask himself what he even is without Ulixes.

He stands in silence while the rain beats down.

Required Reading has stopped crying. He's seen Steban and, doubtlessly, recognized him. He doesn't scamper up to him like Steban supposed he might. He simply looks at Steban with eyes that seem way too intelligent, and in this moment Steban is convinced that somehow the cat knows what he's thinking. Knows that Steban is considering abandoning him here.

Weird!

Or maybe that's just his conscience?

"This is nonsense," Steban mutters to himself. Of course he's going to bring the cat back to Uli. Because that's the right thing to do, and it'll take the anguish off of Uli's mind, and surely Uli will be so relieved and thankful. Steban can just picture it: his normally reserved friend smiling and hugging Required Reading close to him, and maybe then he'll set the cat down and hug Steban, too, and express his gratitude and regard for how Steban went above and beyond for him... maybe there'd even be a kiss on the cheek in it for him...

But no. Why would there be? Steban is used to kisses from his family members as casual displays of affection, that is just their way, but if Ulixes did that... if Ulixes kissed him on the cheek, it would be different, it would mean something.

Despite the rain, he blushes. What is this thought? What is he considering here? And anyway, he's not supposed to do things because he expects a reward. Again, what an inappropriate thought to have, about a comrade no less. He can't just stand here getting lost in... whatever this is. There's a task to do.

Slowly, carefully, telegraping his movements, he crouches down and reaches for Required Reading. By some miracle, the cat doesn't spook. He lets Steban scoop him up, his small, shivering body almost eclipsed completely by Steban's slender hands.

"Aww, pobrecito," Steban murmurs, dutifully, because that seems like the sort of thing one says. "You're trembling... come here, let's get you home."

"Mrreeep," Required Reading says, huddling closer to Steban's body heat.

Steban tucks him underneath his jacket and continues on his way. It's still pouring down upon him, and the cat sneezes into his armpit, but he barely notices, his head swimming with thoughts of what awaits him: the warm and dry apartment, maybe some hot coffee, the opportunity to bring Ulixes a wonderful surprise, the dread and self-recriminations leaving his comrade's face and being replaced with joy, the feel of his body pressed against Steban's in an exuberant embrace, the gentle rasp of his beard against Steban's own stubble when the--

Hm.

As Required Reading, bundled up under his jacket, starts to purr, Steban begins his struggle to contend with the fact that, apart from everything else he's got going on already, he now apparently dreams of his comrade's kiss.

[accessible-tumbling]

hello, sorry that I can't come up with a polite way to say this right now, but could you please not post fearmongering things to this blog? posting a no-source call to action in language suggesting the near-immediate removal of people's rights is a shit thing to do for people's anxiety levels. while i definitely agree with the post it being a good idea to have your legal affairs in order and especially so for those in situations more common amongst lgbtq+ people, all caps yelling about how you need a lawyer for [checks notes][finds bigots][checks news][paywall][news][paywall][news][somewhat related but absolutely not on the implied scale supreme court ruling about freedom of speech + refusing costumers for creative works specifically, which yes does suck but is not tearing families apart][checks notes again and it maybe has something to do with gay marriage case hinging on a similar clause to roe v wade? maybe?]- actually nothing concrete at the moment. the exact same sentiment (it is especially important to have your affairs in order for lgbtqa+ people, this is why same sex marriage was so important but everyone should have a backup ideally and this goes extra for queer folks) can be expressed without inducing frustration and fear which may make you forget bigots lurk in the notes of all even vaguely political queer post notes and getting exposed to their bullshit when you check for context, and being very very inconveniently reminded of the information paywall dystopia we live in, and overall causing of anxiety attacks. fearmongering is just straight up a shitty thing to do I'm sorry but i really can't mince it.

hello, this is a part two. i have calmed down some and would like to revise my previous request after thinking a little clearer: could you not post fearmongering things without clear content warnings (sources would be great also. i understand that's not the typical scope of this blog but in cases like this being properly informed really matters). i understand that if others are freaking out about something in a post and don't know what's going on due to inaccessible media that is also a very shitty position to be in and even questionable content should be captioned for accessibility of information. but i think that situations such as the "if you're lgbt and married: CALL YOUR LAWYER" due to the "mass nullification of marriages" that is not happening and not on the table as much as certain bigots would wish it was warrants context and a fact check no matter your audience, but i will digress with content warnings as the main point. in the end i suppose this is a trigger tagging request for fearmongering language ( and perhaps a disclaimer of misleading content on the post in question)

I apologize for the delay in getting to this ask. I reviewed the post in question and agree that the post used alarming language. I have now tagged it for politics and asked the blog member who posted it to tag for politics in the future. I'm unsure what other tags may be appropriate in this case. Possibly "call to action"? I am open to hearing your opinion.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Not to randomly dump eldritch Time Lord thoughts on you, but I read the Master and Margarita story today and now I'm having Fungus Time Lord Thoughts. Like... you know how mushrooms are only the obvious fruiting bodies of a much larger network of subterranian roots and connections? Time Lords are that for the Matrix. How do you add more information to your big spooky ghost computer? Generate semi-independent sensory organs that can go out and gather data, then upload both during consciousness and once dead. How do you spread your big spooky ghost computer's influence, both obviously and in terms of memetic/Spiral Politic power? Have your sensory organs be capable of talking about it to other lesser species, capable of copying it and using it to store new things (*cough* Cybermen *cough*). Why would Time Lords need traditional reproduction when they're just genetic material being reorganized for maximum efficiency by their hyphae- I mean Matrix? And of course the productions get a little strange after a while - the Matrix is bored of the same old experiences, and the Doctor and the Master and their ilk gather so much interesting data that the backlash to the hivemind is worth it

aaaaahhhhhhhh no PLEASE always randomly dump eldritch time lord thoughts on me this is FANTASTIC. dont know what about that story sparked these thoughts but i have to go read it

i have nothing to add to this but im gonna be thinking about it it's Perfect. so in this conceptualisation of time lords and the matrix, is it like- oh the frankenstein thoughts. and like, god thoughts. did gallifreyans make the matrix and then the matrix made timelords? i mean, really simplified summary way of putting it but? did the,,, like,,, locus of, like, agency,,,,move? aaahhh im-

i dont have good thoughts about this!!!

but im thinking about memes and genes and the illusion of our individual agency (illusion might apply to 'individual' or to 'agency' im not sure) and how that sometimes seems to sorta seep down (or up?) into the collective we share and then suddenly we seem agenciless. or our agenciless becomes more pronounced. i dont know if the level of agency shifts or if only our perception of it shifts but i dont think it really matters either. i dont think it makes much of a difference because we dont disconnect from the collective. we are water in the wave when it's storm or when it's calm. we just might notice it less when it's calm. we may feel like we're just water then

and im thinking of gallifreyans building a big computer and- theyre already a collective. theyre a collective of a species and a society just like we are. but then they build a big computer and like a cybernisation that actually makes more sense if you think about it, than our current cyberpunk ideas of we modify our individual body, they modify their collective. not makes more sense but is an addition that now that ive thought it i cant believe i havent before

thank you for this thought! im sorry that i have nothing to offer you but incoherent rambling

where we have waves of both memetic and genetic information moving our water, did timelords move all of it, all of the reproduction of their species, into memetic information? we've got two, we reproduce through both, the idea of us reproduces, we're driven to make the ideas of our societies reproduce, but our physical bodies presence is also important. like to make humanity live on, we really are driven to safeguard both right? how well these projects do or do not work is not the point now but: language revitalisation, colonies on mars, "this place is not a place of honour". and for genocide you have to kill both the people and the idea of the people.

did timelords make themselves entirely ideas? their dna is in the matrix, written into time or space or something. you can kill the body but you cant kill the timelord. you can explode gallifrey but you cant erase it. division uses every species every world every moment. "i didnt even think these were real" but you did know of it. an organisation that has time travel has always had time travel, will always have time travel

[demadogs]

What's your least favorite byler "proof"? Like when someone shows somebody it in an argument/interaction/whatever and it makes you go "noo wtf not that please" 😭 I think for me it's that one part in the infamous byler slides where there's a koala/bear in between mike and El and that represents will.

oh my god youre gonna get me canceled theres so so many i think are insane and dont believe in at all lmao. the masterdoc is fun but theres so much i think wasnt intentional. and so much of what i see here i think is a stretch.

bouta break my silence and come out as an anti believer in so many popular theories on here… no one be mad at me

dont think mike had a letter for will in his pocket in s4 (im SORRY but that wouldve been addressed)

dont think the tracks being different and youre the heart are connected in any way or supposed to be played together they dont sound good or seamless together at all

dont think mike walking into the school newspaper room for nancy and looking around was him looking at guys and gay panicking at all

hate the sauna test theory. they walked in on a bunch of gross naked wrinkly old men theyre not gay panicking?? maybe if they were conventionally attractive young guys but no. i think the masterdoc argues that mike looks down in shame bc hes thinking about his future self as a gay man but i dont believe in that at all tbh. i also dont think that zoom in on the men sign had anything to do with byler it was just an establishing shot of where they were.

not sold on lucas’ new coke speech being related to byler (the seating arrangement in that scene tho was definitely intentional)

i dont think at alll that mikes break down on hopper in s2 yelling “liar liar liar” had anything to do with internalized homophobia. i dont think he ever thought about his sexuality before s3

i think a lot of the times we’ve seen the colors of a certain sexualitys flag has been unintentional. something specifically pointed out like the rainbow ship for will probably was but a background character somewhat close to mike wearing colors that vaguely resemble the bi flag? or the lighting on his shirt kinda looking like the mlm flag? i dont think thats intentional at all. when they do symbolism shit like that its much more obvious (framing mike in the closet)

this one im actually on the fence about because it would be really cool, theres just one word that makes me second guess it. the idea that the girl fake choking at suzie’s house and the dad freaking out was foreshadowing of mikes monologue. on some levels it makes sense but the way the kid said “your terror it looked genuine” kinda makes it seem like it would be implying that mike wasnt actually scared for els life in that moment which i dont like at all. if he had said “your performance” instead i would be 100% sold

i dont believe in most the s1 byler theories. i do think they had the idea of byler in mind from the beginning but at that point they didnt even know if theyd be renewed so i dont think they prioritized anything that could foreshadow byler. i think the lack of romantic tension with mike and el in comparison to jonathan and nancy is telling, but i dont think there was anything in that season relating to mikes sexuality or feelings for will, both because of logistics and prioritizing mlvn for the first season, and because they had TWO SCENES TOGETHER

also dont believe in flickergate as much as i love the idea of it it would break the rules of the universe that theyve already established. the upside down isnt actually in the past its a place frozen in time. things happening there dont affect the past.

theres definitely more but those are the ones i can think of rn.

[karumashadowchicken]

hii!! can i request a one shot where the bau (original bau please and they’re also possessive/obsessive over the reader) catches the reader and their secret significant other kissing or showing some sign of affection towards eachother? the reader isn’t allowed to have any friends/romantic partner.

ty! ❤️

Hi again! :) This is a great idea, here's what I think would happen in a vague way. (Working on a few other writings rn)-

Honestly It depends on who caught you, it also depends on if one of the members of the bau has romantic feelings for you. I'll do more platonic headcanons this time! Except for Rossi, He's got a dad vibe, he;s just yandere Dad.

Rossi- He'd react like a protective father. He'd glare at your partner, until they're so nervous they just excuse themselves and leave. If it's a long time relation ship he might have to do the intimidation talk, or say something to scare them off. He's like an Italian Mafia boss uncle.

Spencer- I feel like Spencer would react like an older brother, like "Y/n. You know you aren't allowed to date (Or have friends)." He'll probably even pull a, "If you break up with them/stop talking to them, then maybe I won't tell Hotch/or/Rossi." He will of course tell Hotch, but tell him that it's dealt with.

Hotch- disappointed dad vibes. He's gonna scold you like a child. "y/n, you know better." He's probably yell you that you've lost half your alone time privileges. He might also do the, "I expected better from you." He'd make you feel a little bad, not to bad, he doesn't want you to be sad. But on the other hand he can't have people taking you away from them.

Morgan- "Y/n, who's this? now you know, you can't have friends, or lovers, right?- If I tell Hotch, he ain't gonna be to happy about this." Morgan also acts like a protective older brother. He's gonna tell Rossi. Your Italian pasta mafia boss uncle.

Garcia- She had her suspicions! She's telling everyone. Family meeting! You're about to get scolded by everyone.

Emily- She scared off you lover/friend. No need to tell anyone, they are not coming back.

Sorry that these prompts are small, it took a little while to think of how they would react, but I think I figured it out. Thank you so much for suggesting again @robijune I appreciate it! :)

[lizadale]

Shame. A Mario POV from you would have been fun to read. I always get excited whenever he shows up in the main story!

wait, i found it

blurb of Mario visiting after the, uh, beta ending? of dimigi au

related posts: [ ⁜ ] [ ⁜ ][ ⁜ ]

[]

It’s alarming to find a portion of the forest missing at the western edge of your brother’s lawn. It isn’t hugely noticeable, for all you’ve paid attention to the number of trees, but there’re scorch marks in the earth, an impact mark of something hitting the ground and possibly being dragged, and the scattered, broken limbs of charred trees that indicate a significant struggle. Almost like an angry mob came streaming through with torches and then started a fistfight amongst each other. Or maybe just Bowser running full-tilt through the woods while breathing fire. The wreckage extends beyond the yard and deeper into the forest, a trail of destruction wide enough for a car to easily pass through. You’re thinking of heading in to see the extent of the damage, when Daisy calls you back in exasperation.

“Yo, 'Rio, we going in or sightseeing?” she yells.

You skirt around the perimeter and stop near the vegetable garden, which is littered in debris from the house. The western wall of the house near the second floor has a sizable hole in it, charred around the rims of it, hastily boarded up from the inside with wooden planks. It’s a terrible job. Luigi isn’t the best contractor you’ve worked with, but he knows better than to do this type of haphazard patch-up so close to spring when the wood will swell with rain. Which means that he must really be in as bad a spot as Peach implied on the phone.

You inhale, joining Daisy at the door. When she reaches for the handle, the knob turns before she touches it. Neither of you are surprised; Luigi always knows when you arrive. What is disconcerting is seeing Dimentio in the open doorway, as if he belongs in this house, and also the expression on his face, which isn’t his.

“Uh, hi,” he says. He takes a step forward, then reconsiders, then steps back again. “Sorry, uh, might be kinda… Hugging you might be weird, huh?”

You respond by grabbing him by the front of the poncho and stumbling him into your arms. He laughs in surprise and relief, and it’s a weird sound coming from that particular voice box. You can say it’s a lot easier to hug someone closer to your height, but for that same reason it’s also not quite right.

“Okay, that’s a really weird visual,” Daisy says a little awkwardly. “When Peach talked about this, uh, arrangement, I didn’t think it was so…literal?”

Peach had been a little uncomfortably vague about the ‘solution’ to your brother not dying, which was apparently to shove his soul into Dimentio for safe keeping. You admit you weren’t a fan of the idea, but if it’s keeping Luigi safe and if he feels safe where he is, that’s really all there is to it.

“Mi dispiace non essere stato qui*,” you tell him somberly when he steps back to let you in.

He looks blankly at you for a moment, and you suddenly realize he must not understand. “Um,” he says. “Slower?”

You repeat the phrase [*sorry I wasn’t here] more slowly, and Daisy looks between the two of you, bewildered.

“Ah,” he says after a moment. “V-va bene. Really, I—” He snorts, amused. “Sorry, I have to really look for Italian in his head. It’s not front and center like in me, so— And if you go too fast I can’t parse.”

“What, did you forget your own language, being jammed in there?” Daisy jokes.

“Well.” Luigi shifts a little, and you see he’s less than an inch off the ground. Like that’s natural.

“Left your brain,” you surmise. You could tell right away when he opened the door that you were looking at your brother controlling Dimentio’s body, but only by his expression. Otherwise, there’s no change. He looks like Dimentio, he moves like Dimentio, the voice is Dimentio’s—it’s almost like an optical illusion.

He seems to have made himself at home, though. He’s dutifully wearing Dimentio’s clothes, but his hair is noticeably down and it’s been brushed until it shimmers healthily in the light. You’re almost certain that the host had no say in that matter. You’ve seen it pulled back before, but you had no idea it was long enough to touch his shoulders.

He looks relieved that you understand. “Yeah. I mean, it’s my soul in here, yeah, but I can’t—it’s not like I could bring my brain along. So.”

You point to the ceiling. “The boards?”

He grimaces. “That was me. I know, I know. C-can—?”

You pat his shoulder. “Go sit.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but Daisy takes the wheel then and bullies him into the living room to sit before he collapses.

He looks exhausted. There are dark circles under Dimentio’s eyes, and the rest of him is paler than usual. There are bandages on his face and arms, though he’s wearing layers so you can’t see much of them. They don’t look too serious. You didn’t get the full story, you just remember sensing your brother was in danger and you couldn’t get here from Metro Kingdom fast enough to head off whatever happened here. All you know is Luigi’s body evidently suffered mortal damage, and yet he has a chance to survive if you can get it fixed. You’re not sure how that works, and the medical staff you interned with in Brooklyn would laugh you onto the streets if they heard any of this.

You head out the back door to the shed in the yard and find some extra sheets of drywall and other supplies that will do in a pinch. The tarp from the garden goes under one arm, a ladder from the shed under the other, and in a few minutes you have the hole from the outside stapled over with the tarp to hopefully keep most of the cold and wet out. Then you head back inside with the drywall to rip the boards out and patch the inside until more extensive repairs can be made. The upstairs is freezing because of the winter air leaking through the hole. There’s a sheet jammed under the crack between the study door and the carpet.

The study is a disaster. Books everywhere, scattered by an explosion, some badly burnt and some just a mess of loose pages. Furniture toppled over. The hole looks even bigger on the inside, which means that it was made from the inside. Slightly charred around the edges, like the house was briefly on fire. Lightning, you think. Thunderhand went off in here, and not in a pleasant manner, and you can’t think of a time you’ve ever heard of Luigi using it so aggressively. Well, once, when he sent it through Dimentio and Peach was barely able to save him.

Which means, you’re guessing, that Dimentio got hit with it again, and probably blown out of the side of the house and into the forest. That explains all the terrible bandages. You should’ve tended to that first. You close the study door and shove the sheet back under it for the time being. Then you head back downstairs and squint at the thermostat on the wall, which reads a ridiculous 30℃ [86℉], and yet no part of the house feels like it’s being heated. So you turn and run immediately down to the cellar to see what the heck’s wrong with the heater next.

“You done?” Daisy asks when you enter the living room.

“Dunno,” you say, giving your brother a pointed look. They’re both on the sofa; he’s wrapped up in a blanket that should normally be on his bed, and there are pillows discarded on the floor. Which means he’s been sleeping on the sofa for probably days now, since there was no heat upstairs. He gives you a sheepish look.

“Lu was just telling me how he can’t cook himself any dinner because literally Dims doesn’t know any useful skills,” Daisy tells you. “Dunno how he survived this long. We need to bring him some takeout.”

“Soup,” Luigi returns. “He can make soup. And tea. And I think he could manage a sandwich.”

“That’s a raw deal, though. Getting stuck not knowing anything.”

“He knows a lot of things!” he says defensively. “I mean, a lot of things. Most of them are terrible. I’m not sure it’s physically possible for him to know this many things, actually, it kind of creeps me out.”

You sneak into the nearby bathroom and steal the first aid kit.

“Terrible things?” Daisy prods. “Like…how to get away with murder? Or……”

“Memories, honestly,” he says. “Mostly memories.”

“That’s……kind of a downer. I guess if you’re going to grow into someone who wants to recreate the world, you’ve probably had a pretty terrible childhood.”

He rubs his face wearily. “It wasn’t all bad, and some of the later stuff was his own fault, but yikes… Oh, hi,” he says to you when you sit beside him on the sofa with the kit in your lap.

“Arms,” you motion, and he obediently pulls the blanket and poncho back so you can see them.

“They’re just scratches from hitting the forest,” he says. “But, yeah, Boo wasn’t much help in wrapping them.”

“Where the heck is King Boo?” Daisy asks.

“No clue.”

You stop changing the bandages and give him a hard look. Admittedly, you’re fine with Luigi taking shelter inside Dimentio. Dimentio is the one who’s kept him safe while you were away and oblivious. What you’re NOT okay with is the knowledge that King Boo is running around with your brother’s body, supposedly tasked with keeping it safe.

“Polterpup is tailing him,” Luigi offers. “To make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Boo’s been oddly…agreeable, so I don’t think— I mean, he’s probably just out there doing backflips again. I’m not that worried, surprisingly. He says my body practically drives itself. Dio had to stop him from eating everything in the pantry, though.”

“What happened?” you ask.

“Oh, you mean— Uh,” he says. “Well. I lost. Dio was researching here like crazy, but he couldn’t really do anything without Boo, and Boo wasn’t answering the call, so—” He swallows. “—so the Heart got control over me and immediately decided Dio had to…go. And then, you know, the hole in the study happened. He hit the ground pretty hard and got all scratched up from the trees.”

That explains the marks on the ground and the broken branches.

“And then I—well, it—chased him to finish the job, and, you know, he couldn’t—ah, he couldn’t do it. Again. It was too—ugh,” he says, rubbing his face again. “Sorry. I’m pulling the memories out of his head and they’re not, you know, they’re not framed with pleasant feelings. Antasma tried to help. Kept it from killing him—most of the damage on my body's from him. And then eventually Boo showed up fashionably late and, uh, put a nice hole in my chest.”

“He what.”

“Not intentionally!” he says quickly. “He was trying to phase through me, to remove my soul, but. He’s always corporeal to me, so, uh. Yeah. Then the Chaos Heart blew up in his stupid hands and badly fractured his soul, and Dio contained it right after, and Boo went into my body to heal, and that’s pretty much it.”

“Antasma?” you ask, perplexed.

“Oh, yeah, by the way. Antasma’s been hiding in the attic for a while. Apparently I just store washed-up villains in my house.”

You wish anything like this surprised you anymore.

You finish his bandages, and let him withdraw his arms again. “Anywhere else?” you ask. Since he’s mostly covered up, you can’t tell what all might need attention.

“No, I don’t think—” He exhales. “Thanks, bro. Sorry you came all this way to fix everything in the house. I think I shorted most of the wiring with Thunderhand, and, well, Dio doesn’t exactly know how to get it working again. Hence the shitty patch job upstairs. The cold was driving me insane. Oh, by the way, Boo just popped back into the forest,” he adds, pointing north. “Wanna go punch him?”

“He’d technically be hitting you,” Daisy points out, at the same time you flatly say, “Yes.”

“I’ve been decked by Mario before, it’s not that impressive,” Luigi says, but the accompanying eyeroll isn’t quite as effective with only one eye. “I don’t really care that he’s in my body, I think it’s a damn shame if you miss the chance now that he can actually feel pain.”

“Can I actually hit him?” you ask curiously. Perhaps for future reference, should the opportunity present itself. Not that you’re overjoyed about hurting your brother in the process, but you’re always extremely disappointed at never being able to connect a hit on King Boo. Luigi always has to lead that charge for you.

“Definitely. He’s stuck on the physical plane now, if he tries to phase while in my body he’ll effectively send himself to purgatory. I’ve toasted him a couple times already for treating Dimentio like a servant.”

You snort. Does that qualify as self-harm?

“Dims won’t fight back?” Daisy says. “Really?”

“He’s got hang-ups about hurting me,” Luigi shrugs. “But, personally, I have zero regrets about punching myself in the face when Boo gets obnoxious. So he tends to leave the house a lot now that I’m awake. Speaking of which, I need to tap out.” He sighs wearily, slouching down against the cushions. “Sorry I can’t hang around longer. Can you hand me that pad of post-its? And the pen.”

Daisy frowns but reaches for the items on the coffee table. “What’re you doing?”

“Leaving Dio a note,” he says, “this is how we communicate.”

The way he talks about it implies that he’s leaving an actual message, but from what you see he’s just lazily doodling various hearts all over the length of the post-it note. At the very bottom of the note, he squeezes in some writing. It’s in careful, elegantly curved letters that you don’t recognize.

“What is that?” you ask.

“Ancient,” he says. “Dio just became conscious again and I tax his body too much when we’re both awake, so—” He unclicks the pen, setting it down on the coffee table, but leaves the note in his hand. He glances at you. “Uh, maybe—”

You scooch a little bit away, as Dimentio is known to favor personal space much more than Luigi does. Daisy doesn’t move, but you think he’s more comfortable with her anyway.

“Try to be nice to him, he’s really tired,” Luigi says sadly, exhales, and sits still for a moment. He pitches forward briefly and then straightens with a jolt, as if nearly falling asleep before catching it, and then you can tell by the way his face relaxes that you’re now looking at Dimentio as himself.

“Sup, Dims,” Daisy says. “Enjoy your nap?”

“No,” he says; then, more accusingly: “Which one of you made him feel that ludicrous amount of guilt?”

He glances at her, then turns to look at you. His eyebrow lowers a little, but you wouldn’t describe his expression as annoyed. Maybe ‘mildly inconvenienced’ fits better. The bags under his eyes look impossibly deeper now that Luigi’s chipper attitude isn’t masking them.

Like he’s expecting it, he brings the note up and looks at it, and his expression softens. “Moron,” he sighs fondly.

You weren’t going to ask, because the matter might be private, but Daisy has no issue asking, “What’d he write?”

“It does not translate very well from Ancient,” he says absently, tucking the note under his poncho and supposedly into a pocket you can’t see. “The closest you can get is ‘yes, homo.’”

Daisy thinks this is the greatest thing she’s ever heard. You admit that Dimentio saying ‘yes homo’ out loud is almost as hysterical as Luigi writing it out on a sticky note in a dead language.

Dimentio pulls his hands back out and drops nearly an entire pad’s worth of sticky notes on the table. All of them have that strange, beautiful writing on them, and about half include those little artistic hearts.

“Can you tell which ones Luigi wrote?” he murmurs, amused, and Daisy’s laughter gets louder.

“You’re running out,” you observe, noting that the pad only has about twenty pages left. You get up from the sofa and go rummage around in the stationary drawer of the buffet in the dining room. There are more notes in here, stuck to the walls and leading into the kitchen, but you don’t find any fresh pads in the drawer. You do find a regular notebook, and remove it before going into the kitchen.

There’s nothing in the refrigerator but a couple drinks and condiments. Three cans of soup are in the pantry, some crackers, and two boxes of cereal. You don’t find anything fresh, which means that a trip to the grocery is long overdue.

You return to the living room, where Dimentio is batting away plenty of personal questions from Daisy about the bodysharing experience, and slap down the notebook on the table.

“Grocery list,” you demand. “…In English.”

Dimentio blinks at you owlishly.

“Ooh, ooh, give it to me,” Daisy says, forgetting her privacy invasion interview, and grabs the notebook. She snorts, noticing you’ve already written ‘sticky notes’ at the top of the list. “I’ve got you. Name some things.”

You’re relieved that she’s willing to shop in your place, as it’s not one of your favorite activities. Daisy is an impulse shopper, but as long as she comes back with essentials you have no problem with her filling the cabinets.

“Do not feel obligated…” Dimentio starts wearily. Luigi must have influenced him a lot in the last few months for him to not immediately jump for someone doing things for him.

“Tea,” you say to Daisy. “Bread. Cheese.”

“Oh, duh,” she says, scratching notes into the paper. “I’ll bring some tea from Chai, they have the best teas there. Not that I like tea, but I’ve heard it’s good.” She continues writing things on the paper before throwing the pen down in disgust and hopping off the sofa. “You know what, I’m better hands-on. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” And she’s out the door before anyone can say anything.

You both watch her leave in silence. Polterpup is barking in the distance now, barely heard carried over the wind.

“Thinking of staying a couple days,” you say after a minute.

Dimentio just looks at you, mildly confused. “Did you not ask your brother?”

“No. I’m asking you.”

You know Luigi has no issues with you staying in his house. But Dimentio might.

He studies you for a moment. “You fixed the heater,” he says.

“Yes.”

He nods curtly, as if this is the pivotal evidence for his decision. “I will allow your boarding.”

Your mustache twitches in good humor. “Hole upstairs is fixed, too,” you add, wondering if that’ll net you any additional benefits.

He clicks his tongue. “Are you implying I should vacate the living room and sleep up there? I decline. It is much too lonely in that bed—”

At that moment, the front door gets kicked in nearly off its hinges and Lui—no, King Boo stomps into the entryway and immediately is speaking way too loudly. “Yo, did you find anything to eat, yet? Or’re you still sitting on your ass whimpering about the cold?” He comes around the corner into the living room, aiming a kick at Polterpup, who has followed him in at his heels angrily barking. “And get your stupid dog off me, I’m startin’ to get a complex with it followin’ me around all the—oh-SHIT-who-invited-you?” He jumps back in surprise upon meeting your narrow-eyed stare.

Boo’s possession of Luigi has taken a different form than what Luigi is doing with Dimentio. His appearance is more of a merged quality, with your brother’s eyes now taking on the black sclera and glittering pink pupils of the ghost. Boo also has his hair slicked back ridiculously and is wearing a jacket with the collar popped, giving him the appearance of a 1960’s greaser. It irks you that he’s doing whatever he wants while Dimentio is left to clean up after him, and now you understand why Luigi has been attacking him on sight. He’s just unrepentantly annoying.

You take a heavy step forward, and King Boo steps nervously back toward the door, apparently having no misgivings about whether you can and will punch him in the face. Polterpup dutifully braces itself behind his legs so he trips backwards and falls on his ass, and then he comically scrambles across the threshold and out the door again.

“Ci vediamo all’ora di cena**,” you call after him merrily, and the door slams shut. [**see you at dinner]Polterpup’s barking resumes into the southern edge of Forever Forest.

Dimentio exhales, cocooning himself in the blankets and relaxing on the sofa. “…You may stay as long as you like,” he amends.

[imkylotrash]

What Goes Around

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: Could I please request an imagine/fic with Hardin Scott x Reader and basically Hardin of course has his bad boy reputation but this intrigues the reader. She is his complete opposite and finds his rudeness quite funny. Hardin is a little too mean to her one time and makes her cry. It doesn’t occur to Hardin that she likes him and by that point he feels like he has lost his chance to get to know her because of his.. ‘wicked’ charm? You can choose the ending. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​​

He’s watching you give your coffee order and it makes you smile. Everywhere you go, you seem to run into each other. At first, you’d just steal glances then go your separate ways but then it turned into “hello”. He made the first move and asked if you should have your coffee together one day. Ever since than you’d made polite conversation when you ran into each other and you had to admit that something intrigued you about the tattooed boy who refused to care about anyone other than himself. You couldn’t exactly relate to his perspective on life but you wanted to know more, to understand the boy who considered the world a cruel place rather than an opportunity to happy days. 

“This seat taken?” you ask standing with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The “Red Queen” series have become something of an obsession for you after finishing the first book. You never thought you’d stray from the classics but lately, YA books had been catching your eye. 

“I see you’re still on the third book,” he smiles and in the same moment letting you know how he feels about YA books. You don’t take it too hard considering he’s not even willing to admit his love for books for anyone other than you. 

“I’m taking my time and enjoying the words.” You have a tendency to get too invested and rush through a book to get to the ending meaning you miss a lot of the little Easter eggs along the way. You’re trying to change that. 

“Hey, no judgement from me.” He’s lying but it’s a cute lie so you’ll allow it. Once you’ve finished your coffee, you stand up grabbing your things. You have exactly ten minutes before your class start but you like to get there early in case you need to do some last-minute preparations. Hardin remains seated and you remain neutral in regards to his lack of motivation when it comes to college. 

I’ll be going classes now. Want to come?” Okay, maybe not that neutral. He shakes his head smiling and you know what that means. It takes three days before you run into him again. This time at the library where you reach for the same book which sounds completely absurd and something that would only happen in one of your books. It’s a cute moment though. 

“I guess great minds think alike,” you say and he scoffs.

“Please. You wish you were as clever as me.” He offers you the book about to sit down when he spots some of his friends outside. You know he’s been a little vague about who you are considering just how different you are to them and frankly, you don’t mind. Hardin is an interesting character because there’s more to him than just the casual alcoholic teen while the people he surrounds himself with at those frat parties really don’t have much else going on for them. You went one time and you’d never been more bored in your life. 

“I should go,” he says Within minutes he’s out the door walking in the direction away from his “friends”. After that you don’t spot him for a while or maybe he’s avoiding you to avoid the questions his friends will inevitable have. Either way, you find yourself missing his sarcastic comments. You hadn’t realised just how much of an impression he’d made on you until he wasn’t around. But he comes back to you eventually. 

“Hey,” he says when he spots you at the coffee house. 

“I thought you’d moved city,” you tease pushing out the chair across from you with your foot. He sits down sliding a book across the table. 

“As an apology,” he grins. You turn the book over to see the cover and you can’t help but smile. 

“You remembered.” One of the first conversations between you and Hardin had been about ecocriticism and a book called “The Road” that you’d borrowed from the library more times than you could count. You’d discussed the topic in class where your professor had recommended this book and now Hardin had gotten it for you. 

“You wouldn’t shut up about the book for at least five hours. How could I not?” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal but it still means a lot to you. Now you could read the book whenever you felt like it. And he’d gotten the original cover rather than the movie cover. It would’ve been the perfect gift if his friends hadn’t shown up and ruined everything. You see the change in him the second they enter the coffee house. 

“Hardin, who’s this?” Jace asks with hungry eyes making you feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Just a friend,” Hardin offers not wanting to give any information to these people. 

“Sure, friend. Do you feel the same way, honey?” Jace asks making the rest of the guys snicker. Before you have a chance to answer, Hardin opens his mouth and ruins everything. 

“Yes, friend. I mean look at her. Not exactly my type, is it? I mean, could it get anymore vanilla?” This earns him a high five from one of the guys but it cracks your heart. You’ve never thought much about your close or the way you looked because you thought the inside counted a hell of a lot more than the outside. But hearing that the idea of being with you seemed so ludicrous hurt more than you liked to admit. 

“I should get going.” You don’t look at Hardin when you leave and you don’t bring the book with you. If this is how he thinks of you then you don’t want anything from him. And it’s not even the fact that he considers you a friend. If that’s all it was, you’d be fine. It’s how easy it was for him to degrade you that really hurt. You tell yourself you won’t cry but it’s a lost battle as you head home. Unfortunately, you don’t reach home before he catches up to you.

“Leave me alone, Hardin,” you say picking up the pace. You’re determined to reach your apartment without stopping but of course, you can’t help yourself when it’s Hardin.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Mad at you? Of course, I’m mad at you!” you yell not caring who hears you at this point.

“You of all people should realise what it’s like to be judged on the way you look. I like the way I look and I absolutely refuse to let you make me feel bad about it!” You don’t care if he said it because of his friends or not, it’s the fact that it came to him so easily. That means he’s thought it before regardless of the situation at the coffee house. 

“It was a joke!” he yells back opting for defensive rather than just apologise. You’re not doing this. You turn around and this time he doesn’t follow you. It’s weeks before you dare return to the coffee house. You don’t want to meet him again. Instead you dive head first into the universe of Jane Austen thinking he could’ve been your Mr. Darcy with his sour attitude and soft spot for you but it didn’t turn out that way. But your need for good coffee eventually win over your fear of seeing him again. The plan is in, order, pay and leave. It’s just not that simple once you’re inside. 

“You forgot this.” He places “The Road” in front of you as you’re waiting for your coffee. You can’t believe he’s held onto to it since that day. You figured he would’ve just chucked it in the bin. 

“I’m really sorry for what I said. It was rude and thoughtless. You deserve better.” It’s a good apology but you can’t help but think what the insult will be the next time his friends catch you together. 

“You’re right. I deserve better.” You get your coffee and head outside. 

“Throw me a bone here. I said I was sorry.” Of course, Hardin follows you outside refusing to let this go. 

“Hardin, you’re only sorry because I called you out on it. You don’t actually care that it hurt me.” He’s not the first guy who thought he could walk all over you and he won’t be the last but you refuse to accept that treatment. You deserve a lot better than that. 

“I’m sorry because it hurt you. I didn’t think you’d read so much into it,” he defends himself making it clear to you that it’s a pointless discussion. He’s not going to understand why what he said was hurtful despite his own appearance and the comments he’s received. 

“How could I not? I’m sitting there thinking we might have a shot and then you pull the rug out from under me. I’m not playing these games with you.” 

“What?” You don’t bother repeating yourself instead using this moment of shock to hurry away. You manage to avoid him for another week before he corners you on campus. 

“You can’t just throw something like that out in the world and then leave. It’s been going round and round in my head.” He has a hand on each side of you leaning against the wall. It’s effective for keeping you in place and distracting you from why you’re actually upset with him. 

“I never thought you’d like me like that. Shit, I would’ve done things very differently if I ever thought I had a chance.” This time you’re the one in shock. You didn’t think he’d put so much thought into what you said last time. 

“What would you have done differently?” Despite vowing to yourself that you’re done with Hardin, you find yourself curious once again. This bad boy persona with a loving man hidden inside seems like an impossible paradox.

“I would’ve kept you well clear of those idiots from the frat house. Bought you flowers maybe. Taken you to dinner. Bought you a hell of lot more books.” You don’t want to forgive him but it’s hard to think when he’s this close to you. 

“I can start now if you’d like.” He places a hand on your cheek and his touch gives you chills. You inhale sharply telling yourself not to give into him but your body has already thrown in the white towel. He leans down stopping inches from your lips. 

“I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.” Instead of answering, you lean up closing the gap between you. It’s the first kiss but definitely not the last. 

[gorogues]

belphegor1982 said: Aw, darn. I hope they have enough episodes to do a proper conclusion to the series. Is it the last CW DCU show?

My suspicion is that the season's length has been chosen to let them wrap things up organically but not draw it out too long, and if so then that'd be a good idea.  Superman and Lois is still going on, and Gotham Knights is supposed to debut soon too, so that's two shows left.  Don't know if Stargirl's sticking around, but I hope so (or hope the show keeps going, I wouldn't mind it leaving the CW).  Definitely reduced from its heyday.

purplecyborgnewt said: I’m not even sad tbh (sad about all the possibilities that never came to pass, maybe), but no matter how much I tend to yell lately at the show, I’m still glad it was in my life, and without it, i wouldn’t get into comics. Because I didn’t grow up with either comics or internet, and even after internet happened, for a while the most important thing I knew about Flash is “there’s this character called Hartley Rathaway, i want to know more about him”

purplecyborgnewt said: [then fucking Countdown ensues and I see the scans and regret everything] Like, I knew bits and pieces, but wasn’t terribly interested in anythong biut (oh fuck. Can’t type today.) In anything but Hartley (and too scared to learn anything new about him in case it gets worse than countdown). And then Eowells appeared on my computer screen, got me into the show, and I decided to learn more about the comics, and turned out, I actually enjoy a lot of those. So there’s that.

Yeah, I got exasperated with it seasons ago, mostly because it kept dropping the ball over and over and the Rogues became a HUGE disappointment. ��But I'm also glad to have had it in my life....particularly the first season because it was pure hype and inspired a lot of new Flash fans.  I suppose my disappointment was significantly increased because it fell so far.  

I've always thought the Flash is best suited as an animated series, and dearly hope we'll see one someday.  Hopefully WB doesn't think the concept is tapped out, especially because the movie has been such a mess for them.

purplecyborgnewt said: (To clarify about not growing up with comics or internet: it’s not that I’m *that* ancient, it’s just that I’m not American)

Understood!  I actually am that ancient, so I didn't grow up with the internet either :] (also not American, just a filthy Canuck)  But we're so glad to have you around now!

purplecyborgnewt said: (I feel like maybe it’s not very clear when i talk about comics in general and when about The Flash specifically. Didn’t grow up with superhero comics at all, had only vague knowledge about Flash characters beside Harley (of whom I had… somewhat less vague knowledge) before the show happened. Sorry for endlessly specifying and clarifying)

It's all good, and thanks for sharing your story :)  Sometimes I feel like individual fans' stories get lost within the morass of fandom, including what the hobby itself means to them...which is actually pretty important.  It’s so much easier to relate to others when you know where they’re coming from.

[gureishi]

dude okay so this is kinda specific and also probably not very original or anything ekdbsisj

but-

how do you think saeyoung would react/feel if (during the apartment days), his MC started crying (or almost) after that one (or maybe two? cant remember, and im only halfway through day 7 on the current playthroygh) time where he just... got really mad n yelled... hhh his expression was scary,,

getting yelled out is already a lil agitating for me... and I know i would be automatically already a lil sensitive cos i would be nervous from the last few days (rsd would nerf me) -- meaning i would be a lil more emotional/easily affected than usual ;;;

on top of that ive never had a guy yell at me djvdjdj so it would be a lil scary, i wont lie.

wanna clarify: the crying wouldn't be on purpose lol, i would definitely try n hide it. easier said then done though... OTL

jsvfsh this is so long n specific n kinda personal to me?? im sure im not alone regarding the general idea though. anyways jdbdjs sorry lolol-

and im jus asking for your thoughts or maybe HCs? whichever you feel works best!

also sorry if we've talked about this before i have a bad memory-

[417]

btw ur amazing love u

Love you too dear Four! And oh boy do I relate to this. I do not handle being yelled at well and would, without a doubt, cry multiple times in this scenario (/ω＼)

Saeyoung reacting to his MC crying in the apartment 

He’s never felt like this before. He sort of thought he’d been through it all: wrung every last bit of love and fear and desperation out of himself till there was nothing left but the things that make him useful: his clever hands and his brilliant (weary) mind.

When you speak to him so tenderly—hovering just at the edge of his space, eyes full of something he can’t (won’t) identify—he feels like his heart is too big for his body, and he can’t think straight, or see straight, or make his miserable mind form the words he needs to say to you.

He’s angry because he can’t understand why you’re gazing at him that way, like you’d do anything to ease the pounding in his skull; he’s angry because none of his words are getting through to you, and he doesn’t know how to make you understand that he’s not the person he made you believe he was. And he is angry because he knows, without a doubt, that he’s in far too deep already, and that if anything were to happen to you now, his desperate heart would break for good.

He knows how to lie (it is, in his opinion, the only real skill he has)—so he does. He tells you he wishes you’d leave him alone—tells you to stay away—tells you he feels nothing for you at all. He raises his voice (but oh, as the stinging words tear from his throat his heart wants to crawl out of his skin and throw itself into your arms).

You say nothing. Good, he thinks; and he forces his attention back to his screen (eyes blurry, hands shaking). He hears the sound of your footsteps as you retreat to the farthest corner of the apartment, and something inside him seems to go with you—since the very first time he heard your voice, he thinks, a part of him is always with you. With every day that goes by, that part gets bigger: soon, there will be nothing left of him at all.

With his eyes trained on the screen (and most of his attention on you), he hears the tiny sounds you’re making: shifting, he thinks at first, getting comfortable. Maybe even going to sleep.

But no: you are so quiet only somebody with senses that have been heightened from years of training (years of hiding, and fleeing, and fighting for his life) would hear. But there’s a whimper—a vague, almost indistinct sniffling.

Oh no. Oh god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

Years of agency training have taught him to turn his back on people who are begging, or whining, or crying—but he’s never been any good at it.

And this is you: and his scrambled mind races, his heart drumming so loud against his ribs he is sure you can hear it. He would, he thinks wildly, do absolutely anything in the world to never hear you make such a miserable sound again.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he stands. The room spins; he’s weak, and hungry, and angry, and scared; his stomach is in knots and the darkened room seems to tilt sideways around him. 

You don’t seem to have noticed that he’s moved; you’re hiding your face in your shirt, back turned to him—and you are still (so very still). He doesn’t remember how to breathe.

“Uh...” he says, and the sound echoes horribly in the dull, sparsely furnished room. You say nothing. He clears his throat, takes an unsteady step toward you. He’s not thinking rationally anymore—not thinking about scaring you off, or keeping you safe. All he wants is to see that look in your eyes again: that soft one, the one that makes his hands and feet feel too big and his skin seem to burn and his breath catch in his throat.

“Are, uh...are you okay?” he rasps. You’re still ignoring him, which is a first; your face is turned away, so he goes to your side, kneeling on the floor beside you. You sniffle. He feels like his heart is going to burst.

“Yeah,” you say—and unlike him, you are not such a good liar. Without meaning to, he reaches for you: finds his fingers (of their own accord) doing what they’ve been itching to do since the moment he first laid eyes on you. He touches your hair—brushing it off your face, tucking it behind you ear.

Your eyes, he thinks (fiercely, irrationally): he needs to see your eyes.

“Don’t believe you,” he says. With a sigh of exasperation, you turn to him: oh, and your eyes are blazing, red-rimmed. And he is the one who has done this to you—he is the monster who has made you suffer.

His mind seems to have driven itself into the ground. Suddenly, he can’t remember how to do anything at all.

But his body moves of its own accord, because his heart has always been eons ahead of his (brilliant and foolish) mind.

“Hey,” he finds himself murmuring, brushing your cheek with his rough fingertips (and he knows he shouldn’t, but now that he’s here, he is finding it almost impossible to resist). “I know,” he says, without even quite understanding what he means. “I know.”

You watch him; and there it is again—just for a moment, that softness deep in your eyes that sets him on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words springing to his lips before his brain can get in his way. “I’m so, so...I didn’t mean to...I never...”

You shake your head, and your hair falls into your eyes again. He brushes it back, finding that there is nothing—nothing—in the world quite as wonderful as the feeling of your warm skin under his fingers.

“I get it,” you tell him. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I can’t...” He makes himself take a deep breath, and regrets it instantly as his senses are flooded by the warm, enticing scent of you. He feels you all around him now. “I didn’t mean it,” he says quietly. “Please. I can’t stand to see you making that face.”

You force a watery laugh, and the effort you are making for him is almost too much. His mind races. For a moment, he imagines how it would feel to wrap your small body in his arms—to press his lips to your temple and feel your heart beating against his skin.

“How’s this?” you say. You offer him a passable impression of a smile, and he wants to throw himself at your feet.

“Terrible,” he says. You laugh, and it sounds a tiny bit more believable this time. You are looking at him, and there it is again: that softening in your eyes that makes him think (just for a moment) that there could be a happy ending for him after all.

“I...” he starts. What? He can’t tell you how he feels—what he wants—what he is afraid of. Not here. Not now. Not yet. “Please,” he finds himself whispering. “Can you...just give me a little more time?”

You nod, and there is a strength in you that nearly knocks him off his feet.

“Yeah,” you say: and this time you sound like you mean it.

Against his will, he pushes himself up—makes his way back to his miserable little corner of the room. But he pauses—turns—and you are still waiting, still watching him. Of course you are.

“I’m gonna make it right,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. Never, he thinks: he will never ever make you cry again.

“I believe you,” you say.

It is the first time anyone has ever told him this.

His heart shivers.

“I won’t let you down,” he says—promises. He means it with all his heart.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

idk how many people would even want to see this BUT i wanna yell about Leela and Brax so here's a list of all their scenes togethr/scenes pertainng to them that i can recall (pLEASE add on if i missed anything/ you have any additional thoughts!! i could talk about these two all day!)

right off the bat in Weapon of Choice when Leela is on the outskirts of the Citadel and Brax goes to bring her back (which is interesting in and of itself, bc usually i would imagine a chancellery guard would go do that so what made Brax decide to instead??), Leela kinda goes off at him bc she's hurting and instead of trying to actually explain what's going on Brax doesn't even try to argue he just says "we need you" which is great bc Leela has that instinctive desire to be needed and to help people and he's speaking right to that -- also as far as we know, this is Leela and Brax's first actual meeting in canon? it's implied that they know of each other, which makes sense, but it doesn't seem like they've ever directly interacted before: Brax seems almost slightly uncertain, and Leela is combative, but when he's gentle with her she's actually quite receptive

the literal next scene after that, where the OT4 is all in one room for the first time (they still kinda hate each other at this point but still !!!). Narvin explaining Gryben and being a real jerk about it and Leela (understandibly!) questions if Gryben is a prison world, and Brax (who to this point has been mostly quiet as Narvin and Romana brief Leela) jumps in to both clarify Narvin's previous xenophobic statements while also maintaining the inherent questionable/negative connotations

(btw it's actually pretty important to note that Romana self-edits herself a lot when talking to Leela, especially in the earlier seasons; you can actually hear her revising the things she says to put it in terms that she thinks Leela will better understand. and i mean she does it out of genuine consideration for her friend associate but it often comes across as varying levels of patronizing. Narvin also obviously "dumbs things down" when dealing with Leela early on, but like... Brax never does that on any level. the only difference i can tell in how he addresses Leela vs how he talks to anybody else is that he seems much more kind with her than almost anyone else???)

their conversation about the Matrix in The Inquiry: this is REALLY important (and if you've ever talked to me on ao3 i've probably gone off to you about it lol) because it's layered. they're talking about the Matrix but they're also not because in answering Leela's question Brax is making a very thinly veiled allegory (which he outright states a minute later) to Time Lord society/politicians/most importantly HIMSELF -- he's actually strangely open about his morals/beliefs in this scene and i'm living for it tbh -- and i find it very interesting that even though he does directly explain what he means ("how do you know all this?" / "because i am a politician.") he also leaves it for Leela to work out the implications. like it's a very nuanced conversation bc there's double meaning in it and most people on Gallifrey seem to think that Leela is tone-deaf and can't pick up on that stuff (even Romana sometimes oversimplifies things to her) but Brax totally just lets her take from it what she will bc he believes her intelligent enough to understand. he doesn't think her any lesser because she's human.

ALSO on a secondary note to the above: the fact that Leela has a question/needed clarification (sorry, haven't listened to this in a while i forget how it actually happened) and actively sought out Brax to talk to about it?? like she knows Romana better she could have gone to her but i feel like Leela kinda imprinted on Brax and someone she can go to for help if she needs it; maybe it's partly bc she knows he's under marginally less pressure than Romana is but also the truth of the matter is that Brax was the most genuinely helpful person to her in the previous stories and that probably means a lot to her (esp. bc he acts like the essence of everything she hates about Gallifrey but he doesn't treat her the way she would expect from that). btw this topic is gonna come up again in a hot minute

that part where Brax gives her that information that might help her re: the Andred thing, even though he really probably shouldn't have done that -- it kinda makes me think about what he must have been like with Theta tbh???

actually this is mostly my own conjecture but there's some neat stuff in Spirit bc during the *waves hand vaguely* bodyswap dream sequence thing, Romana is very "!!!! Brax can help us !!!" which is tecnically Leela brain talking, so like there's the implications of the stuff i've said above about Leela having this idea of Brax where she knows he's someone she can go to for help

can u tell i'm soft for them

Leela sounding really sad/distracted when she talks about how Brax isn't there YES i'm grasping at straws but a lot of this relationship really is conveyed through the voice acting bc of how little direct focus there is on the characters. there's actually several scenes in Mindbomb where she mentions him and she outright says that she misses him during her discussion with Matthias

that implied scene with them in Mindbomb!! i have a Lot of thoughts about that!!! it's all conjecture and fanfic fodder!!! but the reason i mention this is because it seems pretty meta that out of the whole Gally Gang, it's Leela who first sees Brax when he comes back to Gallifrey and in turn she's the first person (besides Matthias, i guess) that he sees upon his return?? idk i just feel like that's somehow a meaningful detail??? also her reaction of utter shock after spending the entire episode missing him and how worked up she is when she tries to tell Romana, like I desperately need to know what happened in this missing scene MR RICHARDS PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED

Leela insisting on going with Brax when Pandora starts hurting him and their whole conversation there is just. so good. like they're both just so soft and then when Darkel comes in Leela instantly goes into protective mode. like they just have such an open relationship bc Brax doesn't even try to be all pretentious with her, like he doesn't even try to keep up any facades when he's with her he's just very genuine and it really says a lot about both of them -- Leela is so good at seeing people, like getting down to the core of who people are and what makes them them (which is why she's good for Romana, btw, bc Romana has a lot of identity issues) and Brax is so tangled up in who he presents himself as that he barely knows who he actually is anymore but Leela can see that and she makes it so he can truly be himself and he doesn't have to hide. also she's so gentle with him when they talk about Pandora, she's very caring and empathetic and wants to make sure he's okay and i am WEAK

it's been a hot while since i listened to Panacea but I think i remember Brax being really soft with Leela when he first brings the gang to the Axis, like just sounding really glad to see her

ok other than the fact that Brax is lowkey relatable in Reborn (daydreaming fanfic about yourself/people you know? simping for Mary Tamm Romana? yeah mood, my man) there's that scene where they're first appraoching the Citadel on the alt!Gallifrey and it seems like none of them, and Brax specifically, have seen it from the outside in a good long while bc he's very in awe and he tells Leela that he wishes she could see it and he sounds sO hEcKiNg sOFT oh my word-

and once again with Leela thinking of Brax as someone she trusts for help: in Dissassembled when everything is going to crap she straight-up says that she wants to go find Brax bc he'll know what to do/be able to help

at the beginning of Annihilation when Romana is depressed and questioning if Brax truly was her friend and Leela INSTANTLY, NO HESITATION assures her that he was; i lost where i had her exact lines written down but she actually kinda goes off to make sure Romana gets the point

literally forcing myself to talk about this bc it makes my brain stall out but like,,, the Brax Hound in Annihilation,,, Leela being like "goodbye, Braxiatel... again" she sounds so sad and like UGH i always kinda forget how sad it actually is for them to lose Brax in Dissassembled bc like, it was so sudden and they didn't get to say goodbye and Leela is always losing people and i have many many feels about this scene and how all that emotion is made very clear in how they each respond to the Hound (might make a separate post abt this later if anyone is interested ::eyes::)

Enemy Lines is utter bullcrap about these two and I will never stop being salty about how they not only sidelined the very good, very subtle friendship they had in s1-4, but they??? made Leela acutally not trust Brax??? when literally this entire time she's been the one person who probably genuinely trusts him the most?? what the heck, David

I haven't heard TW3 or 4 yet but i'm assuming there's nothing worthwhile in those with regards to this duo (correct me if i'm wrong tho lol, i would love to be mistaken in this assumption)

TL;DR Leela and Brax mututally imprinted on each other and have probably the most open and healthy relationship within the OT4 and it is an absolute CRIME that nobody besides Gary Russell and Justin Richards cared enough to actually build on it in canon

[nevilles-insinuations]

Something Close To True Romance - Pete Davidson

Requested by Anon: can I get a little something with pete (davidson) reuniting with his s/o after being apart for a while?

A/N: Too that ‘little something’ quite literally ngl. Sorry it took so long! 💖 

Warnings: Mostly fluff, alludes to sex but pretty vague, swearing, terrible puns

Word Count: 742

8 months. That’s how long it had been since you had seen him. 

Well, that was if you didn’t include the 3AM calls when he was chilling in his hotel room. You didn’t. It wasn't like you weren't proud. You were immensely proud of everything Pete did, and he knew that but you missed him like crazy. The distance sucked, and he had been witness to your many rants about the time difference. Now he was finally coming home, you couldn’t wait. Like a kid at Christmas - you couldn’t sleep. Although not sleeping had become your new normal, with that cold space in this bed. 

The apartment felt empty without his laugh filling every room, you couldn’t remember the last time you had left the house for a random adventure just because. A piece of you had been gone for so long and it absolutely sucked. Pete said he was probably coming home sometime next week, barring reshoots and flight times. Time seemed to pass even slower, now you were waiting for something that was actually important. 

Then, you thought you heard a noise. Maybe something falling over but you ignored it, going back to your phone. Then you definitely heard a sound. A crash or at the very least some sort of Davidson related chaos. You sighed knowingly, getting up and moving closer to it.

“Pete?”

You yelled across the hall, hearing a dejected sigh in response.

“Yeah?”

Turning the corner, you finally saw that face. The gorgeous face. His hair was bleached blond, but he was still yours. You almost take a step back. Immediately you felt your lips curve into a smile. You both felt this wave of utter happiness wash over you that wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

“Hi”

Breathing out in disbelief, you waved at the 6′2 surprise, that was finally in front of you.

“Hey”

He did a small wave back and then you actually take in the view of your man for the first time in months. Your outfits were almost matching, which made you laugh. You opting for one his old hoodie’s that you had stolen before he left. His was bright orange, paired with Spongebob pants.  Of course it was.

“I was trying to be all fucking romantic and surprise you”

He sounded very annoyed at his failed plan.

“But?”

“Dropped my suitcase and nearly fell over it”

Pete gestured to it, half the contents were struggling to escape.

“Do you want me to pretend I didn’t see you?”

He nodded at the offer, intrigued as to how you would play this. Honestly, he just wanted to hear your voice. You could say anything right now and he would hang on every syllable. Even a meaningless ramble would mean the world to him, because he just needed more of you in his life.

You gasped dramatically, and he chuckled while you kept up the ruse.

“Oh my god, baby I missed you so much!”

Practically leaping into his arms, your hands cupped his cheek and your lips met his. Grinning, Pete reciprocated and his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

“I missed you too, though clearly not end-of-shitty-romantic-comedy much”

Head buried in your neck, his tall figure engulfed you and gentle kisses met your skin while the two of relived the trauma of him almost breaking his ankle.

The messy suitcase was quickly abandoned and you dragged him to the couch. Hands almost glued to his, tangled together because you were unable to do even that for so long. Almost on top of him, you had claimed his lap as your new home. His presence was warm, like a favourite blanket that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Or forever, that was good too.

Pete’s laugh broke the comfortable silence that had developed after you had caught up on everything. 

“What? Were you expecting a cake or something?”

You sassed, sending him a playful look.

“Because all you get is me”

“Not gonna lie I was expecting some cake-”

Looking your figure up and down, he wore a smirk as the words trailed off.  Apparently he liked the idea of just you, very much.

“That was a terrible segue but I will allow it because I love you”

“Butt you will allow it?”

“Just shut up and kiss me”

And for once in his life, he didn’t interrupt you with a joke, but he still smiled as your lips touched again.

[bbugyu]

can i kiss you yet? + hong joshua

a mutual friend always made a great excuse to see you, but he definitely wanted more.

wc.2.4k | joshua x gn!reader, fluff, first snow au, foreigners in korea squad up, josh is a tutor u are an ambiguous worker everything is vague shhh, there are really no warning this is just fluff, oh drinking, but only the once, miss park chaeyoung please text me back

haha..... i am....... im not........... im in my joshie feels ok do not talk to me about it im embarrassed. thanks @babiemingoo for ruining my life by saying joshua would fall in love with me, and i quote, "no cap."

~

you spent a lot of time with joshua. by proxy, mostly, but you enjoyed his company nonetheless. your best friend called him her brother - they weren't related by blood, but by circumstance, having separately moved to korea at an old enough age to take care of themselves but young enough to still need the support of someone going through something similar. they were neighbors, and rosie had no way of stopping him from barging through her front door at all hours of the day. she always yelled at him to let her have some privacy. he insisted that if she was doing something that required privacy, then she should tell him beforehand. you always just laughed from your spot on the couch.

joshua would smile and put up a hand when he pretended to notice you for the first time, as though you weren't the express reason he had made an excuse to show up. "hi, y/n."

you would smile back and wiggle your fingers at him. "hi, josh."

this happened almost every time you came over to rosie's apartment, and while you never intended to see him, you would be lying if you said it wasn't a lovely benefit.

she rolled her eyes. "don't you have a job?"

"that's the great thing about being an online tutor," joshua said, making himself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from you. "flexible scheduling."

you realized you had never asked him about his work. "what do you tutor?"

he looked at you, and you thought you saw a flash of nervousness in his eyes before he grinned. "english. and korean. and algebra. and calculus, sometimes."

"that's, like," you paused, your head knocking to one side. "impressive?"

"is it?" he laughed. "i just voice chat with high school students in sweats."

you shrugged. "i'm bad at math and i'm pretty sure i'd be bad at teaching, so anything like that is impressive to me."

he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. it was hard for him to believe that you could be bad at anything, but he figured math was an okay thing to be lacking in. "noted."

rosie coughed loudly, making you both direct your attention to where she was leaning against the kitchen counter. "if you guys are done, i would love someone's help deciding what kind of pizza to get."

when you left hours later, rosie asked joshua why he even came over, trying to imply that he was taking too long to admit he liked you.

he pouted out his lips and shook his head. "no reason. i just heard you talking to someone and wanted to make sure you're not inviting over weirdos."

she gave him a sideways glare, knowing that if that were the truth, he would have come over when mingyu showed up the day before. or wonwoo last week. or any of her other friends that frequented her studio apartment. but conveniently, he only ever barged in when it was you, and she had a suspicion that it was because he had learned to recognize your laugh through the thin walls.

the first time you ever met joshua, it was at a bar. you and some work friends had agreed to get drinks together, and when your coworker-turned-bestie got a call from her neighbor saying she got a package, you nudged her.

"is he your oppa, like, just a guy, or like a boyfriend?"

she squinted at you, registering your language switch "ew! oh my god, he's just a guy. he's like a brother."

you heard an indignant noise over the line at her exclamation, and you giggled as you guided the straw in your cocktail to your lips.

"am i lying, joshua?" rosie said, rolling her eyes. "are you not like my brother?"

"joshua?" your eyebrows quirked up, realizing he had an english name, and only processing after the fact that he also understood her. "is he like us?"

"foreign?" rosie asked, looking at you. "yeah, he's from la."

you looked at her expectantly. "well, is joshua free tonight?"

she laughed at you, but redirected the question over the phone anyways, then promptly invited him out to join you at the bar, and he said he could be there in 45 minutes. he arrived with 6 minutes to spare (not that you were watching the clock, but you totally were), and rosie waved him down to join your table, quickly introducing him to the coworkers you had deemed fun enough to hang out with.

"and this is y/n," she said, grabbing your arm. she leaned over to joshua, pretending to whisper. "the other foreigner."

you laughed and shook his hand, saying it was nice to meet him. he smiled back, warmly, and returned the sentiment. he was korean, you realized, despite being from america, and he was incredibly handsome. like, absurdly so, in a way that felt impossible in reality, yet here he was, gaze flickering over your face as you brought your (new) drink to your lips, and the liquid almost caught in your throat when you saw an entire galaxy twinkling in his eyes. you blinked when he went to get a drink, thinking you must be drunker than you thought to have mistaken the reflection of the fairy lights that littered the bar as galaxies, but for some reason, your initial impression seemed to suit him more.

months later, you went to rosie's apartment just to drop off some food - you were teaching yourself how to make korean side dishes, and she volunteered to be your auxiliary food tester if you made too much, which, big surprise, you absolutely did. she made fun of your cooler bag and your big puffy jacket, saying you reminded her of the grandma down the hall, and you laughed heartily as you made your way to her kitchen.

she had an essay to write, so you didn't stick around. shortly after you announced your leave and exited to the hall, the next door opened.

"oh," joshua said, hand still gripping the handle of his front door as he made surprised eye contact with you. "you're leaving already?"

you pursed your lips to hide a smile, wrapping your scarf around your neck. "already?"

"you usually, um," he paused, his hand going to the back of his neck, the other pushing into the pocket of his jeans. "you're usually around for a few hours."

you giggled. "i was just dropping off some food, rosie has an essay to write."

he puffed out a cheek and nodded slowly as he let it deflate. "i guess i shouldn't bother her, then."

you watched him avoid your gaze, then peeked slyly past him into his apartment. you had never been, but it looked neat. neutral. comforting. it seemed like him.

the jig was up, joshua thought, studying your eyes briefly. you clearly knew he only ever barged into his neighbor's apartment because you were there. he had obviously just given it away, but maybe you had always known, and you had just let him think he was convincing when he said he had no idea you were over. but maybe he was okay with that, because you never complained. and maybe that meant you liked seeing him, too.

"are you busy?" he asked suddenly. "i don't mean to keep you, but-"

you shook your head quickly. "i don't have plans."

"uh," he turned to his apartment before looking back at you briefly. "let me grab a jacket, i'll walk you home."

you couldn't help but smile. "okay."

joshua made sure he was quick to get his winter coat and a scarf, but instinctively adjusted his bangs in a mirror and checked his breath. he silently scolded himself for making this out to be something that it wasn't - he was walking you home, not taking you out. but he hoped he would work up the nerve to ask before the end of the walk.

"ready?" you asked, pushing off the wall you were leaning against as you waited.

he smiled at you, silently hoping he was. "yeah, let's go. it's gonna start getting dark soon."

when the two of you exited the apartment building, hands shoved into pockets, joshua commented that it felt like it was gonna snow.

"i think the forecast said tomorrow," you mused, looking up at the overcast sky.

he stared at you as you walked beside him, your lips curved upward in a vague smile as you thought about how much you liked the snow, and when you looked over and caught his gaze, he redirected his eyes just a little too late, then laughed at his own behavior. "sorry, you looked really cute just then."

you couldn't help but smile, nuzzling down into your scarf to hide it. "as opposed to normally, when i don't."

"not what i said," he defended immediately. "i think you always look cute."

you giggled into your scarf, hoping he couldn't see how flustered you felt. "thank you. i think you always look cute, too."

you caught a small smile sneak onto his face as he looked down at his shoes. "thanks."

joshua had never once seemed shy to you. a little hesitant, maybe, when you had first met him, but he exuded confidence. you got the impression that he knew himself better than anyone, and he was happy to express himself genuinely around people that accepted him. he was a bit of a smooth talker, you thought. he had a way of saying exactly what people wanted to hear, whether it was true or not. but today, now, he seemed genuinely reserved. quieter. like he wasn't quite sure what to say to you as you walked side by side on the sidewalk, headed to your apartment.

"what kind of food did you bring to roseanne?" he asked, trying to fill the quiet.

"standard fare," you said, smiling at how he used her full name. "kimchi, seasoned beansprouts, sweet potatoes, fishcakes."

"oh, korean?" he asked, looking at you. "i didn't know you cooked like that."

your lip quirked into a smile at the reaction. "i'm practicing. gotta please a korean husband if i wanna get a permanent visa, y'know."

"right," he said, nodding at your joking tone. "a korean husband."

you blinked, eyes focusing on something in the air, then looked up. "oh my god, is it snowing?"

joshua tore his gaze from you, looking around at the flakes that were gently falling from the sky. "i told you it was gonna snow."

"but the forecast said tomorrow!" you laughed, pulling a hand out of your pocket to try to catch some flakes. "has it snowed yet since new year?"

his heart fluttered lightly as he watched you shove your hand back into your pocket. "no, not yet."

you looked over at him and giggled at how much snow had gathered on his dark hair. "oh, jeez, it's starting to come down." you reached out to him, brushing some flakes off his bangs, and he hoped you thought his ears were just red from the cold. "if we don't hurry, you're not gonna be able to walk home."

that wouldn't be the end of the world, joshua thought. maybe if the snow fell heavy enough, you would tell him to sleep on your couch instead of trekking home. maybe the two of you could chat, alone, just enjoying company until too late in the night. and maybe your heating would go out again, like you often complained about, and maybe the two of you could wind up under the same blanket as you got sleepier.

"do you know that belief?" he asked, glancing at you as you walked. "what koreans say about first snow?"

you looked over to him. "no," you said shortly, switching to korean. "what is it?"

he laughed, but continued in english. "they say that if you're with someone during the first snow of the year, you'll stay together for a long time."

you stopped in your tracks, and he only made it two steps in front of you before he turned, looking at you questioningly. "together?"

he gave a short affirmation, blinking and looking away as he shifted his stance. "yeah, like-" he paused. "supposedly, if you confess during the first snow, it's good luck. or something like that."

you stared at him, studying his eyes as he avoided your gaze, a tiny smile creeping across your face. "josh."

he looked at you, eyebrows quirked. "w'sup?"

you giggled. "are you talking about us right now?"

"oh, are you confessing to me?" he asked, eyes wide and making you laugh as he slowly closed the short distance between you. "confessing during the first snow, wow. you must really like me. y'know, i always kind of thought you had a crush on me."

you rolled your eyes. "yet it took you four months to mention it?"

his nose scrunched up as he grimaced apologetically. "i'm sorry for making you wait," he said, quietly and in korean, close enough that you felt his breath on your skin. you just shook your head at him.

"i made you wait, too."

he looked between your eyes, and you couldn't help but feel like the snow was melting around you from his warm you felt. "can i kiss you yet?"

you let out a breathy giggle, enjoying the way his eyes creased as he smiled at you. "of course you can."

this moment, joshua realized, was one that he had imagined a million times in his head. in a million different scenarios throughout the last four months, he had imagined how incredible it would be to feel your lips against his. and when he finally found himself there, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into him, the first snow of the year falling around you, he realized he had imagined it all wrong. because despite thinking that you definitely had the most beautiful lips that he could ever press his to, he had not accounted for the fact that you were smiling, and he was too, and that made them the sweetest. the most fun. the most exciting.

and he hoped you would let him keep kissing you for a long time.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

Next

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…”  He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

[mc-lukanette]

Loving Freedom (post-”Miraculous New York”)

Marinette sat on the couch and wrung her hands together, heart pounding in her chest as she watched Luka pace back and forth in front of her. Normally, she'd find the lighting of the Liberty's lounge room to be calming, but it wasn't doing anything for her anxiety at the moment.

She'd spilled everything about New York to Luka, excluding anything Ladybug-related. She felt guilty, obviously, which was partly why she told him, but there was also something about Luka that made her want to tell him anything that came to her head.

But, he hadn't responded yet, and her nerves were rising with every passing second. She was certain that he must be mad at her - why wouldn't he be? - but the unreadable expression on his face left her even more unsure at exactly how mad he was going to be.

Her gaze lowered to the ground, one hand moving to clutch the opposite arm. What if her actions were unforgivable? What if he hated her? What if he never wanted to see her again? Even beyond anything romantic she felt for him, he was also a great friend and more understanding than anyone else she knew, so how terrible must she be to turn away the kindest soul in Paris? What was she supposed to do without him?

She shook, her nails digging into her skin in an attempt to mask her emotional struggles with physical pain. She let out a soft whimper, her vision just barely registered Luka stopping out of the corner of her gaze.

"M-marinette," Luka's voice called out as he made his way to her. "I'm sorry, I got lost in my own head. It was a lot to listen to all at once."

She shut her eyes tight, curling in on herself more. "Y-you don't have anything to apologize for!" Voice was hushed despite the stress in her tone, she added, "It was all my fault! You should be furious with me!"

"I'm not," he said. Judging by the slight shift in where she heard his voice coming from, she guessed that he was leaning in to get a better look at her face. "Not at you, at least. Why would I be?"

"Because I freaked out around Adrien again!" she reminded him, covering her face with her free hand. "I was always near him and the thoughts wouldn't stop and—"

"—And I know it's not your fault," Luka interjected. She felt his hand attempt to pry her own away from gripping her arm, so she let him, even if she didn't feel like she deserved to have her hand held by him. He continued, asking, "Can I tell you what I heard in everything you told me?"

She didn't fully understand, but answered anyway, "I-I guess?"

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I heard a lot of pressure; a lot of other people telling you what to do, or how to feel, or setting things up that you never agreed to. I heard you trying your best not to think about how you felt because you didn't want it."

"I-I still danced with him," she told him weakly.

"When he pulled you in without you answering? When you were flying up in the air with only the two of you there and no idea how to get down? When Alya set you up to dance with him by playing that song?" he pointed out.

"I—" She hesitated, letting out a noncommittal whine from her throat. She wasn't quite ready to leave her state of self-loathing. "But I chased after him."

"After being yelled at. After you'd already been through more than enough. After you—" He stopped suddenly, a low sigh of frustration leaving him. "—after you came back in the rain after an akuma attack!"

The force in his tone shocked her to the point of uncovering her face to see how upset he was. "L-luka?"

"Out of all the things they could've worried about," he murmured, looking away at the wall, "it was getting you to confess, when they set you up to be in that room that the supervillain ended up being in, and they didn't even apologize for it."

"T-that was a set-up?" she asked in surprise, having honestly thought that Alya wanted her to get pictures of the saber.

Luka glanced back at her, the anger in his expression fading into sympathy. He looked down at their joined hands, then let go and stood up. Gesturing to the seat next to her, he waited until she nodded at him to sit down there. Permission given, he leaned against the couch and stared ahead at nothing.

She looked at his face warily. "You're... really not upset with me?"

"I'm upset at the situation," he replied. "You can be friends with Adrien and still want him to go to New York, or still want him to stay with you, but no one was worried about what mattered and kept playing a song you didn't want to hear."

She stared down at her lap. "I...I mean, I was crazy around Adrien. They—"

"Marinette."

She stiffened at him grabbing her shoulder, but didn't turn to face him.

"Please, don't blame yourself for this. You're working on it and you're trying your best. No one has any right to judge you or make fun of you and then wonder why you're not moving at their pace."

"Bu—" She trailed off, any argument dying before it could make it past her lips. It was almost strange, hearing someone tell her that things were okay and how she felt was okay so long as she was making an effort, but the implication of how jarring it was for her was something she didn't want to think about right then.

Luka's hand rose up from her shoulder, and Marinette was surprised when the back of his index finger touched her cheek. She turned to him, Luka's concern showing blatantly on his face as his eyes darted over every centimeter of visible skin. His hand found hers again and she couldn't help blushing at his caresses.

"Ah—"

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

His voice almost didn't register with her right away. "H-huh?"

"You were walking in the rain," he recited from what she'd told him before, "and then you fell off a bike onto the street. Do you have a fever? Did you get hurt?"

Emotions built up in her chest at the questions she hadn't thought she needed to be asked. Her gaze softened, eyes watery at the care she was being given.

Luka's eyes widened. He seemed to catch himself, slowly withdrawing his hand. "Sorry, I just—"

"No!" Marinette cut in, reacting quickly to the movement. She reached out, grabbing his hand with both of hers.

He ceased pulling away, but looked to her for further instruction.

She blushed, sheepishly bringing his hand back towards her face. "It's okay. I'm okay. I-I love this," she told him. Guiding his hand until his palm was resting on her cheek, she sighed blissfully. "I love how easy you make everything, Luka."

He smiled at her, slowly stroking her face with his thumb. "I wish it could be like that for you all the time." He hesitated, but added anyway, "I wish I could've been there for you in New York."

She released her hands from his, content when he kept it against her cheek. Looking at him with a small, lopsided smile, she joked, "So you could walk in the rain with me and get soaked while there's an akuma running around?"

He tilted his head to the side, vaguely amused as he suggested, "Yeah. Maybe I would've been able to catch up to that car on a bike, like I did with that bus?"

They giggled in harmony, the sound filling the room a lot more nicely than all her anxiety did. She felt her cheeks heat up, but rather in happiness than embarrassment, and she hoped that he could feel it.

"Thanks, Luka," she said softly. "I wish you could've been there too. I-I mean, not for the akuma destroying New York part, obviously, and that disaster that was the plane ride, and all those moments where I got stuck with Adrien somehow and it must've been painful to watch, and—"

He cut her off with another chuckle. "I know, Marinette." He raised his other hand in offering, and she wordlessly gave him permission to place it on her other cheek. "I'm sorry too, by the way."

Her brows rose. "Sorry?" She gingerly held onto his wrists. "For what?"

"I feel like a little of this is my fault." Before she could even argue, he continued, "I wanted you to get clarity, but I didn't think about your friends, or you and Adrien being forced together. I wanted you to feel out how you felt at your tempo, whether that meant getting close to Adrien or not, but you weren't ready for what that trip threw at you. You asked for help - you wanted off the plane - and you didn't get it. That was never what I wanted."

She paused to absorb the words, looking down and lightly playing with the bracelets on his wrist. "Y-you couldn't have predicted any of that though."

He shrugged. "I've learned that I can't predict what'll happen with you." With a fond smile, he added, "Especially how I end up feeling about you."

"L-luka," she chided with a squeak, only earning a bigger smile out of him. She turned her face towards one of his hands to hide herself, mumbling, "I should've just told them we were dating."

"You shouldn't have to," he retorted. "Besides, we're not official."

"I know," she huffed, immediately hearing him chuckle at how disappointed she sounded. Still, she couldn't help frowning. "I just... I hate feeling like this—about Adrien, I mean. I-I want it to stop. Everyone else makes fun of me for it and it's miserable."

"We'll get through it." He caressed her cheek with the hand she wasn't burying her face into. "I promise."

"Really?" She looked up at him with hope in her eyes, her hands falling to her lap. "You think so?"

He dropped both of his hands to her shoulders, giving her a firm nod. "Yeah. It won't last forever, Marinette. It's a bad song stuck in your head, and it doesn't have to stay there if you don't want it to."

"I-I don't!" she confirmed, almost eagerly. She had no idea how much she needed to hear someone validate her views on her Adrien crush. "And... you're the good song. You know that too, right?"

He looked briefly surprised, then smiled. "Yeah. That's why I can be happy right now."

She couldn't help herself. She leaned forward and hugged him, his hands that were previously on her shoulders moving to hug her back.

"You're the best," she murmured into his chest. "You're so patient with me, no matter how much I rely on you."

"Because it's what I want to do," he replied with a shrug, "and I should be thanking you."

She peeked up at him, perplexed. "For what?"

"For wanting to get closer to me and giving us a try. For giving me a chance."

She chuckled at that and imagined that he'd have no idea why.

"...And for letting me be selfish."

"Wh—" She pulled away to look fully at his face, gaping at him. "You? Selfish?"

He nodded. "Can I tell you something, Marinette?"

She nodded in return, wanting to know what he meant. "Anything."

He smiled gratefully. "I know I look like I know what I'm doing, but even I don't know how to handle what you're going through; I never had someone before you and Jule was lucky enough to get Rose on her first try. I really thought you just had a crush on Adrien and it was unrequited, and that was why you were hurting so much." He glanced off at the wall. "Then there was the time where Jagged Stone showed up at the Liberty to fight with my mom, and I saw how everyone reacted to you."

Marinette blushed in embarrassment, burying her face into her hands. "Don't remind me."

"I didn't mind," he consoled, "but... it did give me an idea of what was happening."

She peeked at him through her fingers. "Yeah?"

"I was really glad when you said you wanted to hear me play," he continued, referring to the time when everyone had gotten together to eat ice cream. "That's when I knew you were interested in me, and that it was different than it was with Adrien. You deserve to move on and feel loved, Marinette, and if that means we have to go on a few dates so you can hear how a good song plays, that's just what we'll have to do."

She mulled that over, having never thought of it that way. They'd had a mutual agreement to date without technically being "a couple," but she'd presumed that he was just doing it for her and she was the selfish one. While he knew what was wrong with her feelings for Adrien and was doing what seemed right - being a Couffaine, he'd never particularly cared about what was "expected" - he also had a crush on her and wanted to be in a relationship with her for both of them. After all, if she'd been in "real love" with Adrien, then Luka never would've been able to hold a place in her heart, and she wouldn't have felt so unsure by the time the trip to New York had ended even with all the time she had to think about it. Luka knew that, getting her in a way that Adrien could never seem to and being the only one willing to see past her anxiety and believe in her wants.

It was strangely comforting, actually, to know that he wanted to be mutually selfish with her.

Smiling, half to herself and half to him, she lightly pushed against his chest. "You sound really torn up about going on dates with me."

He snorted. "It's terrible. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself."

They laughed together, Marinette falling back against his chest in relief that the situation was sorted out. Luka wrapped his arms around her in response, hugging her tight while she enjoyed his warmth. The laughter eventually lowered to giggles, then to calm silence as they remained cuddled against one another, thankful that there were no interruptions or people coming in to break up the moment.

"...Luka?" Marinette called quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.

"Mm?"

"Can I take you out on a date tomorrow? Nowhere in particular, just... out."

His smile was warm. "I'd love that."

She glanced up at him, then reached up to touch his face, feeling loved just by the way he leaned into her palm. Lowering her voice further, she whispered, "Someday, I want to kiss you for real, when there's no Adrien obsession to worry about and everyone will finally stop talking about it."

"You're getting there," he replied just as softly, "and I want to see the looks on everyone's face when that last picture is down and they realize that they were too busy making fun of you to notice that you moved on."

"And that'll be your next song?" she asked. "Our duet?"

He pulled her closer, giving her a calm nuzzle. "Yeah. I might need your help with that one."

She hummed in agreement, making it clear that she didn't mind at all as she cherished his embrace. It was moments like these where her mind was clearer; where she understood what the difference was between how she felt about Adrien versus how she felt about Luka. She had to chase Adrien, whereas Luka was always by her side. He was her light in the darkness, showing her the way out when no one else was willing to guide her.

And the day she was out completely, he'd be the first to know.

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part four

This one is a little shorter than usual, so I wanted to go ahead and post it. It’s mostly a set-up for what’s about to happen (eek). We’re officially in the Civil War timeline now!

two years later

You meet Steve and Sam at Heathrow airport. The first thing you do is wrap your arms around Steve’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You have no idea how badly he must be hurting. To be taken away from his soulmate, thrust 70 years into the future to find her still alive, only to have her taken away from him again all too soon. You don’t know how he hasn’t collapsed from the pain. 

Steve hugs you back tightly, sighing into your shoulder. “Thanks.”

The funeral is quiet, not like you were expecting it to be anything but. 

The biggest shock of all comes when Sharon Carter reveals her relation to Peggy. Steve had mentioned Sharon in passing to you, something about her being a cute nurse that lived across the hall from him. You later found out that she was an SHIELD agent, but now she works for the CIA. 

Afterwards, when you’re standing with Steve, keeping him company in the church now that everyone has gone, he starts talking about Peggy. 

Anything and everything he can think of. Some of it inaudible from his tears, but he gets it all out and off of his chest, which is what he needed. He’s a mess, holding onto the church pews for stability that he knows he’ll never feel again, not with Peggy gone. 

You gather him in your arms again, fingers splayed at the back of his head, holding him close. Moments like this make you miss Bucky even more. Not only is he your soulmate, but he’s Steve’s best friend. The person who, alongside Peggy, is who Steve needs most right now. 

The good news is that Bucky’s feelings have been relatively normal lately. He hasn’t been the Soldier since he left D.C. that day. You would’ve felt it, and what you’re feeling, is nothing like before. 

Exiting the church, you see Sam standing under a tree, his phone pressed to his ear. You know he’s talking to your best friend, that’s for sure. She wasn’t able to come because of work. You also see Sharon glancing over at Steve, so you quietly slip away to join Sam, giving Steve the chance to talk to Sharon like you know he’s been dying to do. 

Sam continues talking to your best friend and you try not to eavesdrop, but mostly, you’re just feeling.

You think it’s because Bucky hasn’t been himself — without the Soldier’s mindset — in a very long time, but for the past year or so, you’ve had moments like these where all you can do is feel. Take it all in. 

You haven’t felt any overwhelmingly happy emotions from him by any means, but you’ve felt...peace. He’s anxious almost constantly, which you understand, and you desperately wish he was here for you to help him. Right now, he seems to be at peace. You’re not sure what caused it or how, but you hope, if anything, that he’s sleeping. 

In your most recent dream of him, that’s exactly what he was doing. Sleeping peacefully next to you. And when you shifted, he woke, only for a moment, to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. Nuzzling your neck with his nose, he fell back asleep, but not before placing a kiss there. 

You woke that morning with sweaty palms and a stupid smile on your lips. 

“Are you signing it?” You vaguely hear your best friend ask through Sam’s phone.

You blink, tuning back into their conversation. 

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Steve doesn’t like it either.”

“What? What’s going on?” You ask, patting his arm to get his attention.

“The Sokovia Accords,” Sam explains lowly. “We wrecked shit—”

“I heard,” you grimace. “Not a good look for you guys.”

“Yeah, the Secretary of State didn’t think so either,” Sam scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “Anyway, they slammed us with the Accords and it’s— They want us to sign our rights away, basically.”

“What?” You nearly yell. “You’re serious?”

“Deathly,” he nods. “Rhodes thinks we’re being dramatic, Tony too.”

“Great,” you groan. “Who else is signing?” 

“Natasha. Vision. I think that’s it.” Sam shakes his head. “Steve and I seem to be the only bastards with our heads on straight, but obviously they don’t see it that way.”

“That’s...I’m sorry,” you groan. “What’s this about, anyway? You took the bad guys down in Sokovia, wasn’t that the point? I know there was a lot of collateral damage, but...that happens no matter what. Avengers being there or not.”

“It’s not just Sokovia,” Sam sighs. “New York, too. And others. The guy had a whole damn presentation.” He shakes his head again, clearly torn up about it all. “They want to oversee us. Control us, basically. Tell us where we can and can’t go. And I just— I can’t do that. If I feel like someplace needs our help, we have to go. But if we sign that, then the government can tell us not to — or arrest us if we do. It’s not right.”

“I hear you,” you assure him. “I wish there was a way to amend it. They didn’t let you talk about it?”

“Nope,” he says. “Just slapped the book down on the table and said we had until today to figure out what we’re going to do. But basically said if we don’t sign, we’d be going to prison.”

Your eyes widen. “Prison?”

“If we go somewhere, which is inevitable. They’d be able to get us with anything. Probably bring up old charges just to get a headstart.”

“Fuck, Sam,” you say. “This is shit.”

“You’re telling me,” he mutters. He says goodbye to your best friend, her break from work ending way too soon for his liking -- you can tell by the frown he wears after he hangs up. “Anyway. Want a drink?”

You shake your head at his sudden subject change, and the fact that it’s still the early afternoon, but you agree nonetheless.

+++

The drink doesn’t happen. Well, you make it to the bar, but when you do, you’re met with the onslaught of news stations reporting a freak bombing in Vienna.

“Shit,” Sam cusses. “Where’s Steve?”

“He was with Sharon,” you explain, trailing behind him.

You share a worried look before starting to jog, back to the hotel they’re all staying at. He finds Steve by the elevator with Sharon -- interrupting a moment, by the looks of it, which you feel bad about, but you shove it away, reminding yourself of what’s just happened.

Sharon paces in her hotel room, on the phone, trying to get some answers. The TV screen shows a scene fit for nightmares. The UN Complex was bombed. The same complex that the signing of the Sokovia Accords was supposed to occur in today.

“Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier.”

Your heart stops. 

You stumble backwards, nearly falling on your ass if it weren’t for Sam reaching out to steady you. 

“That’s impossible-- It-- I would’ve felt him turn,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, the bile threatening to rise. “I-- That’s not him. I don’t know who that is, but it’s not him.”

“It’s his face,” Sharon says quietly, not intending to be rude at all, you hope, but that’s how you take it.

“I know my soulmate,” you argue, shaking your head. “That’s not him.”

The room is quiet. Steve glances your way, but you don’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t believe you. You know he doesn’t. Why would he? The proof is clear as day, right there on the TV screen. It’s obviously Bucky’s face.

But it’s not him. You don’t know how, but it isn’t. You’re sure of it.

You knew it was him two years ago in D.C. You have to trust yourself again.

“I have to go to work,” Sharon breaks the silence, looking at Steve. “I imagine you’re coming too?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, then looks at you.

You glare right back at him. “I’m coming. Don’t argue with me.”

He doesn’t.

+++

An hour passes and lands the four of you in Austria. Sharon takes off to work while Steve, Sam, and you figure out your plan.

Steve talked with Sharon and made a deal. She’s going to give you the best head start she can, but she said she can’t promise anything. 

You and Sam find a random cafe to fall into, ordering something to eat to blend in while Steve talks to Natasha.

He comes back ten minutes later, looking less than pleased.

“She tell you to stay out of it?” Sam asks.

Steve is quiet. That’s a yes.

“Might have a point,” Sam shrugs. You almost hit him.

“He’d do it for me,” Steve replies firmly.

“1945, maybe.”

“Sam,” you warn, giving him a fierce look.

“I just wanna make sure we consider all our options,” Sam defends. “The people that shoot at you, usually wind up shooting at me. And since we’ve got a tagalong--”

“Shut it, Wingman,” you do hit him this time on the back of the head. “I’m coming. You act like I don’t have any gear on me right now.”

Both men turn to look at you.

You give them an incredulous look back. “Come on. After what happened in D.C. you really expect me not to walk around with a bullet proof vest on?”

“You got a gun?” Sam asks, taunting.

“Snuck right past airport security,” you mutter, tapping your hip with his leg so he’ll feel it. “Shut up about it.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Because I’m tired of you acting like I’m some fourteen year old. I’ve been taking daily self-defense and combat courses for the past two years. I had to take care of myself somehow. I’ll be fine. And I’m coming with you. End of story.”

Both men share a look before shrugging, admitting defeat. Finally.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Sharon walking into the café. 

She steps in next to Steve at the bar, talking straight ahead to not draw any attention. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks The Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s noise. Except for this.” She gently slides him a pack of papers. “My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the headstart you’re gonna get.”

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly.

“You’re gonna have to hurry,” she whispers, avoiding your eyes. “We have orders to shoot on sight.”

Chills run down your spine and spread out through your hands and toes. Fuck.

“We have to go,” you say evenly, not looking at Steve or Sam.

We have orders to shoot on sight.

Not if you can help it.

[gumnut-logic]

Snake Bite (Part 1)

I wrote fic! For the first time this year. New fic! yeah, I know I have WIPs, but the muse was misbehaving and rebelling all over the place, so as you saw in a previous post (amongst all the amazing fanart, wow), I wrangled it and this is what I came up with. It’s not much and isn’t finished, but fic! I hope you enjoy anyway.

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @tsarinatorment​ for the read throughs and support. you guys rock ::hugs you both::

-o-o-o-

It was a beautiful evening. The day had been hot, but the sun was waning and a breeze had picked up enough to disturb the cloying heat prologuing the cool desert night.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped off the decking in a suit with a champagne glass in his hand, perhaps he should have left his explorations for another night when he could have been dressed appropriately, but Virgil was used to grabbing the moment and the inspiration when he could. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.

Tonight was a rare case. Lady Penelope had invited the Tracy family out to her station in the outback for an evening of entertainment. There were a number of notables there and Scott had been heard to mutter something about working holiday, but Dad had shushed him and promised to take some of the networking load.

It was times like these Virgil felt a little guilty. While he didn’t mind a party and it was certainly fun to socialise, he felt he didn’t have that suave business sense like Scott, his father and even to a certain extent, John, who hated parties at the best of times. Though if you gave John a long distance communication method and he could have anyone eating out of his hand. A skill Scott deployed on many a business occasion.

No, Virgil was more of the practical sense. Something broken, he could fix it, someone hurt, he could tend to them. Juggle the fallacies of business and the underhand agendas? He had no patience or tolerance. Besides, he had reliable feedback that he couldn’t lie to save his own life.

But whatever, he was good at what he was good at.

So, sometimes the quiet desert evening was more attractive than the bustling social scene inside.

He eyed a bird of prey circling far above and wondered vaguely what type it was. Thoughts of different birds on a different farm came to mind.

A sigh and he swallowed a sip of champagne.

The bubbles popped on his tongue.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped out, dressed in a suit, carrying a glass of champagne, but the evening was picture perfect and the quiet so alluring.

He didn’t go far. While Australia had become more familiar since they had moved to Tracy Island, it was still vast, still had a reputation of being deadly to the unwary, and this was no Kansas farm.

The red sand under his feet glowed in the evening sun.

Sharp grass - learnt the hard way - grew in tufted spikes along the path, tiny flowers dotted between the rocks. Penelope had said that spring was on the region and that they might see some lovely flower displays.

Virgil fully intended on investigating as soon as possible.

The path rose a little as he climbed a hillock and he couldn’t help but look back over the ranch buildings to the glowing presence of Thunderbird Two parked on the far side.

He had brought her with him for two reasons, the first being in case of a callout. The second was more related to that business manoeuvring thing. The overt presence of an International Rescue vehicle, while never explicitly used in dealings, was useful as a reminder to those who may forget exactly who the Tracy family were.

Virgil’s lips thinned as he stared at his ‘bird. It was a Dad thing. One of the many new things his father’s return had introduced. Scott had never used IR as a business tool and Dad technically wasn’t, but there was a contrast between how Scott worked and how their father worked and there were lots of little things like this that made that obvious.

The fact the Thunderbird was high up on her struts and towered over the landscape was functional and strategic at the same time.

A sigh and Virgil took another sip of champagne before turning to once again follow the path up the hill.

He didn’t see what he stepped on, but he felt it.

Soft, moving, he had that split second of realisation that his foot had encountered something alive, a stumble to try and avoid hurting whatever that was, and he overbalanced, only managing to not faceplant in the dust due to many years on the training mats with Kayo.

He still landed in an uncoordinated mess in the middle of one of those spiky grass tufts.

It stabbed him through expensive fabric.

Ow.

And rocks. There were rocks.

Damnit.

Red dust coated his pants and suit jacket and there was a definite scuff on one shoe.

Whatever it was he had nearly squished, slithered off into the grass on the other side of the path.

It only took him a moment to connect the dots.

He’d stepped on a snake, apparently, a little one, but a snake.

In Australia.

The continent renowned for such deadly reptiles.

Aw, hell.

But Virgil was an experienced responder. There was no need to panic. He rolled himself off the grass, his eyes pinned to where the snake had disappeared.

The grass complained and stabbed him a few more times through his clothes, but he got onto his hands and knees.

Nothing obvious was hurting, other than all the needle pricks, so that was a good sign.

His dress shoes were more red than black, along with the nice charcoal suit pants. The sooner he got off the ground, the better, but the medic in his head was yelling at him.

He yanked up both pant legs and poked around his socks, examining his skin for breaks. Even then, he almost missed it.

Two tiny little pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.

Shit.

The current locations of his family members flitted through his head.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was going to be absolutely fabulously newsworthy to have one of the Tracy brothers carted off in his own ‘bird simply because he didn’t look where he stepped.

The setting sun was still calmly gazing over the landscape, lighting everything up in gold. But it felt far more sinister now.

The breeze ruffled his hair.

Sitting in the dirt, knowing he shouldn’t move, Virgil sighed and thumbed his comms. Maybe he could minimise the damage.

“Gords, you got a minute?”

-o-o-o-

Gordon was having a great time.

If there was something he missed living on an island in the middle of nowhere, it was this.

Penelope had one soft hand on his arm and was smiling at him as several of her friends laughed at one of his jokes. The fact the stuck-up toff, Duke Butterfingers, looked less than pleased was just icing on the cake. He was definitely on Gordon’s scorn list after his snide remark regarding Sherbet versus his ‘real dog’ wolfhound blah-blah.

It appeared the dog was smarter than the owner.

But Pen’s girlfriends were great conversationalists and it was nice to talk to someone other than family or those with their lives at risk for a change.

Yes, it was proof that he needed to get out more.

The subtle twitch of his collar comms against his skin wasn’t to be ignored, however.

A hand on Pen’s hand. “Please excuse me a moment. Duty calls.” He did not bow. Well, not really, but the amused smile and the sparkle in Penny’s eyes made it worth it anyway.

Her hand squeezed his arm and let go gently. Her eyes didn’t leave him immediately. “Felicity, do tell me about your new parlour. I hear it is being featured in Great Homes of Britain?”

If her blue eyes hadn’t turned away at that moment, it would have been questionable as to whether he would have been able to leave. But leave he did, wondering which family member he had to torture in the future in revenge.

Finding himself a polite corner, he opened his comms and frowned at his brother’s worried voice. “Virgil? What is it?”

It took a moment, enough to grab Gordon’s attention a little more. “Virg?”

“I’ve been bitten by a snake.”

“What?!”

“I’m up the hill at the back of the ranch. I stepped on a snake.” I need your help. It wasn’t said, but it was obvious. “Don’t tell Scott or Dad. Yet.” That last was said a little tentatively.

But Gordon was already moving, running the list of dangerous snakes that could likely be found out here through his head. If anyone noticed him dash from the room, he didn’t really care.

Compression bandage. Immobilisation. “You stay absolutely still, you hear me?”

“I’m aware of the procedure, Gordon.”

The location of first aid kits in Penelope’s house was quickly overridden by the vast store of equipment out in the carpark in Two.

Gordon was in a full out run before he realised it.

The evening was cooler but still warm from the day as the sun still hadn’t gone down. Two loomed over everything as Gordon dashed between cars and dodged guard rails. Two parking attendants stared at him as he tore past, but he ignored them.

Reaching Two, he swiped a dance of finger code over his left jacket sleeve and a control hologram leapt up from the fabric. The keys to his brother’s ‘bird were a necessity he was ever grateful for in this moment.

The great green Thunderbird hummed to life and lowered on her struts, smooth as ever, down enough for her forward hatch to reach him. He jumped on board and was in the first aid lockers without a second thought.

The countdown in his head was predictably short as his comms went off only a few seconds later. That would be John.

Gordon ignored it and switched back to Virgil.

“Any idea what type of snake?”

“Small and brown. It’s all I got. Didn’t see it. Stepped on the poor thing.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Gords.”

“It happens.” He slammed the locker shut, grabbed a hover stretcher and linked it to his comms. He cursed the lack of his uniform and all its inbuilt necessities with it. The essentials woven into his suit jacket and collar comms were barely minimal.

A brief thought of moving Two to his brother faded quickly as he poked the pilot’s dash and Virgil’s location lit up. He wasn’t very far away at all and there was no room to park Two anyway.

No room in the Australian Outback? An oxymoron, but it would be faster to just grab his brother and throw him on Two.

It was going to be bad enough lifting off once.

He jumped back onto the hatch and lowered himself. Securing Two he broke into another run. “You know you’re not going to be able to hide this from Scott, Dad or anyone here? You’re going to hospital, bro, and Two’s the fastest way. No one is going to miss her launching.” He leapt over a fence, the hover stretcher darting to follow.

“I know.” It was a quiet and sad answer.

“Medical status, Virg. How are you feeling?” He peeled around the corner of the main building and fixed his eyes on a figure part way up a hill in the distance.

Virgil waved.

“Gordon, report! John says it was you who accessed Two. What are you doing?” Scott, as commander as ever.

A harsh breath as his feet hit the bottom of the hill. “Thunderbird Four responding to a medical emergency. One of Penelope’s guests has been bitten by a snake. Evac imminent.” Another breath as he finally made it to Virgil’s side. The expression on his brother’s face could only be considered despair. “Scott, we will need media management. Victim is high profile. We need to keep this on the downlow.”

A pause as Gordon set down the first aid kit. Virgil’s lips were tight as he pointed to the red and swollen twin pin pricks on the inside of his right ankle.

Gordon shoved open the kit and, without another word, grabbed bandaging.

Scott’s voice was sharp. “FAB. John is accessing Five. Victim identity?”

Virgil sighed and his shoulders dropped before he thumbed his comms. “Scott?”

“Virgil?”

“It’s me.”

-o-o-o-

TBC