#the bottom left is by far the hottest photo of him ever

[escapizm]

🎟️ 🎟️ 🎟️

[talesofsonicasura]

Broken Toys

Chapter 1: Bleed, I must be dreaming

Tragedy can give rise to many things. Rumors, change, legends than just suffering and heartbreak. One such creation had very bizarre habits in the eyes of a particular noodle shop owner. Warning: minor blood, slightly description of death and injuries, extraction of harmful object(goes with the minor blood), mild swearing, and one super creepy child. Prologue

'The Great Megapolis Raceway Disaster. On April 7, 20XX, an semi-annual street race had their route improperly marked and blockaded. As a result, the racers end up turning down a street full of people instead of an empty road.

The result was all 12 cars crashing into various buildings and bystanders as they tried to come to a halt. 30 injured with 7 being the drivers and 25 dead as 10 victims had succumbed to their fatal injuries. Strangely, 10 year old Qi Xiaotion, a child who was hit directly by the lead racer's car, body has subsequently vanished.

Police haven't found the missing child or any possibility he could be alive except for the remains of a Monkey King Plush and what is assumed to be the child's right arm and lower torso. Search is ongoing and any future updates are unknown.'

This national incident was widespread throughout the community of Megapolis for two reasons. One was that some of the victims had been either high up or related to powerful corporations throughout the city. A few of the casualties were rumored to be descendants of both well known demons and even some celestials such as the Yellow Wind Demon but also rumored Jade Emperor for some of his soldiers were said to be seen in the city.

Some speculated this was a planned terrorist threat but no evidence had been found. The second reason is the creation of an urban legend known as the Broken Toy Phantom. On that very day, the body of a 10 year old child had gone missing. After that, sightings of a strange entity began to crop up.

Witnesses said it looked like a child but had cotton coming from open stitches and sharp blades out of their skin. Whenever the Broken Toy Phantom was spotted, the chance of a large monster in the form of a destroyed children's toy would be there. It is said that if you meant no harm should you encounter this phantom, it would leave you alone.

To try and harm the phantom was met with the claws of the broken toys that protected the child. Only warning one had if they were in the presence of the Broken Toy Phantom is the vague image of a monkey plush that held glowing red eyes.

Pigsy's Noodles

It was a warm early morning for the city of Megapolis. The last dredges of Spring were slowly dwindling as Summer was almost here. A time of year for the popular restaurant Pigsy's Noodles to begin changing their menu in preparation for the hottest season.

This modest establishment known for its delicious noodles, homely and comfortable atmosphere was also a precious treasure to the owner. A pig demon nearing his 40s named Pigsy, this short and stout man was not only the store's owner but also the cook.

Every dish he made was handcrafted with strong dedication and passionate based skill that could be felt through every bite. So imagine the 5'2 tall pink skinned and dark blue eyed demon's face when he went to open up his shop for today. Lying at the front by the side of the door was a child.

A young boy probably around 10 years old who sat around 3'7 in height. Long wild dark brown that haven't seem to be washed in days, soft tan skin with a large stitch under his right eye alongside some on his arms from the man could see, an orange shirt with violet sleeves and red collar that were stitched on, black pants with the bottom half blue jean material that were also stitched on, violet sandals made from leather, polyester and felt fabric sewn together, and the creepiest doll he ever seen cuddled in the boy's arms.

It looked like one of those very rare limited edition Monkey King collectible plushies that his friend had been ranting on about. The only difference was the gold thread eyes were replaced with bulging white plastic eyes and the flat face instead had a large openable muzzle bearing large white felt teeth.

Despite laying on solid concrete, the young boy was comfortably fast asleep almost if used to doing such a thing. A bit confused and worried, Pigsy placed his keys in the breast pocket of his white polo shirt then walked up to the child. For a second, he thought the toy's bulging eyes went from looking at the ground and by proxy his black dress shoes and black work pants to stare the pig demon straight in the face.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter as the child began to wake up. Chocolate brown eyes looking straight at Pigsy, a look of nervous embarrassment came across the boy's face. "Heh heh… Looks like I overslept a bit." In seconds the child had jumped to his feet faster than any normal person could.

The nameless boy clutched the ominous Monkey King plush closer and put on a nervous smile. "Sorry about that sir. I'll get out of your hands now so you can open up shop without an issue." And before Pigsy could say anything, the child skipped away into an alley just as quickly.

The restaurant owner could only frown before heading into the shop. Homeless people weren't anything new, especially in a big city like this, but it stung more when a child is forced to survive on the harsh streets. All Pigsy could do at the moment was wish the young man good luck.

Next time the middle aged pig demon saw the mysterious kid was once again by his restaurant. It was nearly closing time when the bell of the shop's door rang. The establishment isn't anything grand, a few booths, stools set up at the front near the register, some potted plants and pastel white walls decorated with a couple photos.

Pigsy had poked his head from the back of the door to see that very kid walk in warily. Once again, he felt the eyes of the kid's plush looking straight at him. The restaurant owner had a feeling the doll was magical as the kid spotted him in seconds.

"Hello there. Welcome to Pigsy's Noodles. Please sit down and I can get you a menu." Pigsy put on a soft smile since he really didn't want to scare off the poor kid. The unknown boy nodded before sitting himself at one of the bar's stools.

When the restaurant owner had come back with a menu in hand, the kid's Monkey King plush was sitting on the table almost perfectly. By perfectly it meant that the doll didn't slouch and sat straight with the same dexterity of a living being.

Pigsy shrugged the oddness off and gave the kid his menu. "How are you doing today?" The restaurant owner's question had the boy look a bit from his menu. Shrugging at the inquiry, the child answered. "I'm doing fine. May I have a bowl of chicken lo mein please?"

Pigsy didn't take the menu just yet but had gone to the back to fix the boy's food. As he made the order, the demon could hear his customer talk from outside the kitchen. Or sing to be more accurate. "An old toy sat on the desk watching the day go by. Missing cotton, tons of stitches, a cherished plaything looked to the sky. The toy said: I may be damaged but I am beloved. Even broken toys like me can be loved."

The restaurant owner paused for a moment. He never heard a nursery rhyme like that before. It was strange but in an endearing sort of way. Pigsy had come back with the kid's bowl of lo mein to see the child was shuffling a deck of cards in his hand.

The man didn't recognize the brand or had a good chance to look when the boy had placed them in a deck case and deposited it into a sewed-in pocket. "One fresh bowl of chicken lo mein, enjoy kid." Rubbing his hands happily, the child grabbed a pair of chopsticks and dug into his food.

Pigsy cleaned up the remaining dishes while his young customer ate his food in silence. Once the demon had come back, the child and plush were suddenly gone. Not even the doorbell had moved an inch almost if the boy just vanished. In his place was some money alongside a note.

"Thank you for the meal, it was delicious. Have a good night and sorry for sleeping in front of your shop the other day. From MK and my little buddy Guarn." After reading the note, the restaurant owner had softly smiled before taking both the paper and cash left behind.

It was the only beginning of a MK's nightly visits. Near closing time, Pigsy was greeted by the child and his peculiar plush. At first, the boy wasn't much of a conversationalist. Something worrying since most kids the pig demon saw weren't this quiet even around strangers.

MK was also never without his plush Guarn. Pigsy had a suspicion that the plush was magical as he always felt that those plastic eyes were very aware of their surroundings. Whenever the restaurant owner felt like the doll was watching him out of the boy's view, MK seemed to know his presence. Almost like a separate pair of eyes.

He didn't know the child's situation other than homelessness and maybe magical plush but he had a feeling there was more to it. MK will open up when he is ready and Pigsy was a patient person. The demon did add some extra portions to the young man's bowl though.

A growing child needed proper nutrition or their growth would be stunted. He may be rough but the restaurant owner was far from heartless. In less than two weeks, MK began to open up more. That was the same time one of his regulars had also come back.

This 'customer' was one of his human friends known as Tang. A raven haired man who considered himself a scholar of sorts, and didn't really pay for the noodles he kept eating. Normally Pigsy would chase any dine and dashers out of his establishment but Tang was someone he could trust.

The scholar had gotten him out of some nasty jams in the past and someone he could talk to whenever the demon's stress reached its peak. Now you can imagine Pigsy's surprise when he saw Tang chatting animatedly with MK. The child who rarely talked was now chatting the spectacle raven's ear off.

Once again, the feeling of the Monkey King plush or Guarn came apparent as the child faced the restaurant owner with a sheepish grin. "Hey Pigsy, I didn't know you had a kid." That one sentence from Tang had both the demon and kid sputtering in seconds.

Between the two of them, MK had found his words. "No Mr Tang. Mr Pigsy is just a very nice man who gives me extra food when he thinks I haven't noticed. Plus, I'm pretty sure he hasn't filed any adoption papers yet." MK said, that sheepish grin becoming mischievous as he made Guarn blow a kiss.

The scholar laughed at the restaurant owner's further flustering face almost if the whole thing was planned. Something that was plausible considering this was Tang of all people. "Very funny you little minxes. What were you guys even talking about since MK doesn't really talk much around me?"

Pigsy's question was met with the little boy shaking his head. "I didn't want to bother you since you were probably tired and closing up shop. Mr Tang and I were talking about different legends like the Monkey King for one." The pig demon blinked his eyes in surprise.

So the reason MK was so quiet is because the kid didn't want to bother him? How considerate. "I appreciate your concern but you don't have to be silent all the time. Whatever topic or thing that pops in your head, you can talk about it. Might not always answer but that doesn't mean I'm not listening." Pigsy explained, the child nodding thankfully at his words.

That was one mystery about the kid out of the way. Only for Tang to bring up another. "Do you know that little MK here is an incredible craftsman? Show him that design you were working on." Smiling, the kid pulled something out of his pockets.

It was an incomplete small red tapestry depicting a peach tree that sat above a collection of clouds. The restaurant owner could only gawk at the masterful detail and skill that could easily be seen throughout the work. Every detail was as accurate as a photograph and not a single thread out of place.

"Holy moly kid! You made this?! I'm pretty sure you just put every seamstress from the Celestial Realm to shame." MK beamed happily at the restaurant owner's compliment. The kid was definitely a hard worker and that showed through his craft.

Even though culinary and weaving were different crafts, Pigsy could see the hard work, skill and dedication of a fellow artisan. "Thank you! I also make clothing and toys in my spare time. A good way to earn money so I can enjoy more of your tasty food."

From seeing the tapestry alone, both adults had a feeling that MK's clothing and dolls were made with equal skill. It did raise a question though. "Is your outfit like a fashion statement then?" Tang gestured to the boy's patchwork clothing.

Pigsy hit the scholar on the elbow for the offhanded inquiry but the child didn't seem bothered. "It actually is. You see I make all my stuff from mostly scraps rather than fresh materials. 'One man's trash is another man's treasure' type of ideology. Also recycles a lot of stuff people throw away that can still be used." MK flashed them a big toothy smile alongside his explanation.

Both men hummed at the answer. Like any big city, Megapolis had an issue with littering so the place was practically a gold mine for crafty people such as the kid. "Let me take your guys' order, and MK… you don't have to come by so late all the time. Come whenever you can and if anyone gives you a problem then I'll handle it."

Pigsy could only smile at the ecstatic look in the kid's eyes before the child ran over to both men. After that particular night, MK began visiting sometimes around mid day. On occasion, the boy would bring some of the crafts that he made.

Beautiful red ribbons decorated with gold dragons, a jade green cheongsam that held a silver depiction of a nine tailed fox, some plushies consisting of a gray rat with a heart in its paws, an ornate doll that wore a beautiful crimson Chinese dress and a white rabbit with a mallet used to make moon cakes.

Every piece was extremely well made alongside a story that MK would share with Pigsy or Tang. The rat plush beared the story of a fallen rat who was given a chance to relive their last day, the ribbons were of two dragons that strive to be with each other for eternity, and cheongsam was for a prince who escaped the life of royalty to live with a earnest farmhand that won his heart.

It only made both adults wonder how a talented kind child like MK ended up living on the streets by their lonesome. On a warm summer night, Pigsy was cleaning the front of the shop. The little boy wanted to help out around the restaurant so the demon let him wash the dirty dishes. Tang was also in the shop regalling a particular urban legend around Megapolis: the Broken Toy Phantom.

"-the Broken Toy Phantom must be a type of poltergeist. A very rare occurrence that poltergeists would roam with their haunted possession but the information all leads up. I even speculate that the phantom could have been brought to life after the Great Megapolis Raceway Disaster." Pigsy kept quiet while cleaning the tables but listened to the scholar's theory tangent.

The restaurant door suddenly opened with a loud slam, the restaurant owner turned around to be met with a gun aimed at his head. Pigsy didn't have to look to know that Tang had his hands up in the air since the scholar was now silent. Of course the pig demon needed a robbery once in his life.

From the looks of it, there were only three armed robbers with two being men and one woman. A white deer mask, black ski mask, and a turban paired alongside a thick bandana hid their identities. Right now Pigsy was praying to Guanyin that they don't find MK.

The kid wouldn't be able to survive a bullet should these bastards get trigger happy. "Alright, you two fuckers better listen to our demands right now. Give us everything you own and Porky here can open the register." Spoke the deer masked robber, poking the barrel of the gun to the restaurant owner's back.

Reluctantly Pigsy walked over to the register and took out the key. He was about to open up when… BANG! Horrified blue eyes watched as Tang fell to his knees, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his leg. The pig demon saw Tang's phone on the ground before the turban wearing robber stomped it to pieces.

"Call for help again then the next shot will go through your head, Four Eyes." Spoke the black ski mask who cocked his gun to reinforce the threat. Pigsy wanted to run over to Tang, treat his wound or help him up. However, he couldn't unless both of them were looking to get shot.

And the two hostages felt their hearts drop upon one single sound. "Excuse me." Standing on top of the bar table was little MK. Strangely, Guarn wasn't in the kid's hands as both were crossed against his chest. A large frown and judging chocolate eyes of the unnaturally calm child were aimed at the three robbers.

"What are you doing to Mr Tang and Mr Pigsy?" MK's once kind lively voice was now dead and cold like a grave. Neither the scholar or restaurant owner couldn't help feeling unnerved at the sudden change in the kid. It felt so wrong. Something that none of the robbers had noticed.

"It's a robbery little dipshit!" A haunting laugh came out of the kid, MK's eyes were alight in a twisted glee paired alongside a malevolent smile presenting unnaturally sharp teeth. "I know what a robbery is, you sad excuse of human scum. What I'm asking is why none of you haven't left yet?"

All three of the criminals were caught off guard by the little boy's taunt. None of them felt the child's ominous aura unlike Pigsy and Tang. What stood before them wasn't the same little boy that they've gotten to know over the past two months.

This was Death in the form of a 10 year old kid. "You barely have any mercy from me after this whore shot my friend in the leg. Lucky you that I was in a good mood, leave now or suffer the consequences. Know that you only have one chance between all three of ya cowardly worms!"

Offended by MK's threat, one of the robbers, the turban-wearing woman, aimed her weapon at the child. "Say goodnight brat! You have no power over us! That petty threat will be your last!" Finger on the trigger as she was ready to shoot the boy.

MK, still unfazed, shook his head almost if he was disappointed at the woman's choice. Then his smile grew so wide that it nearly tore the sides of his mouth, an insane look burned in now orangish brown orbs. "I warned ya. Davy Jones." With no warning, two long violet tentacles shot out from the darkness behind MK.

Both appendages wrapped around the woman and the man who shot Tang as the third deer mask robber watched in growing horror at what stood before them. Standing behind the 10 year old with two of the robbers wrapped in thick violet tentacles was a giant 15 ft violet plush squid.

It's squid capped head had four of those cap ridges with red stripes but also three mini tomahawk blades on the center top, black squid eyes that positioned on the sides of the mouth which held sharp teeth and a pair of glowing magenta eyes within the darkness, six small light cyan underside violet tentacle bearing some tomahawk blades, and two triple sized tentacles that had a black armband bearing a white skull n bones on the larger right.

"YARRRG! Those who dare trifle with Captain MK shall face the blades of Davy Jones!" A gruff, lightly deep, and growlish male voice ripped the monstrous toy's open mouth. Both caught robbers let out a strangled cry from the tentacles tightening their grip.

Immediately the remaining robber quickly went to shoot the monster plush or MK only for his weapon to be snatched from his hand's grip. Deer mask slowly looked down at the floor to see his gun in the paws of a particular bug eyed Monkey King plush.

Tang, Pigsy and the robbers saw a pair of glowing red eyes stare at them from within the small toy's mouth. Guarn then bit into the barrel of the weapon, felt teeth easily tearing through the metal and plastic like a hot knife against butter.

The immense shock nearly made the scholar and restaurant owner almost miss MK delivering a jump kick to the deer masked robber. Enough strength behind the blow to not only shatter the robber's mask but knock em fully unconscious. Davy Jones tightened his grip further until the two snared robbers fell limp like their comrade.

Pigsy immediately ran over to Tang once knowing they were now safe. The little boy followed suit, his ominous aura gone while the large plush kraken harshly dropped the two robbers. "Mr Tang, please bite on this while I get the bullet out." MK handed the raven a red plush oven cloth.

Pigsy had to put the rag in the scholar's mouth as he was too busy staring in shock at MK's fingers. The index and ring fingers of the boy's hands were torn apart by black claws growing from inside. Tang let out a harsh muffled scream when those sharp obsidian claws dug into the wound.

After a few seconds, MK pulled out the bloody bullet. He dropped it to the ground so he could pull out a sewing kit and needle. "I'm guessing you're the Broken Toy Phantom." Pigsy spoke for Tang while the boy began to sew the wound close. The little brunette merely nodded as he thread the needle through the scholar's leg.

"Yep! Although I'm not really a poltergeist, just a newly minted toy demon. Didn't think I had to bring out any of my Frightfur family so soon. Honestly, I hope that I had more time to figure out how to introduce you guys." MK tore the thread off the needle once it was sewn tightly.

Neither adult said a word since the kid did have a point. A giant plush kraken bearing razor sharp teeth and tentacles that ended with large tomahawks wasn't exactly friendly looking. Or the implications that MK had more than one of these peculiar beings.

Both men's thoughts on the subject were derailed in surprise when the sewed up bullet wound shrunk until unmarred skin was left. "Healing Suture Thread, perfect for minor to serious injuries. It works on humans too rather than just Frightfurs, Fluffals or Edge Imps." The little boy turned to see Davy Jones finish tying up the three attempted robbers.

Guarn waddled over to the brunette, climbing up the kid's clothes then situated itself on MK's shoulder. Tang took the rag out of his mouth and suddenly hugged the toy demon much to the latter's surprise. "We're just glad you're okay. You gave us both a heart attack back there with that stunt."

Davy Jones let out a hearty laugh from the flustered look on his smaller companion's face. Pigsy couldn't help the chuckle that came out of his throat to the little boy's further surprise. Soon enough, MK found himself laughing with them as he hugged the scholar back.

If this was a dream, then he didn't want to wake up. Moments like this should last as long as they can.

And that's it! MK has officially met Pigsy and Tang. I can say that the MK you are seeing at the moment...is more than he seems to be. Something that will be looked over in the next chapter.

Tang and Pigsy are going to take more fatherly roles involving our newly minted toy demon. A factor being MK's age and situation when they first met.

MK will be 21 when I get into the LMK series and there will be changes to particular episodes or plot pilots. Any major changes will have the episode title be replaced with a song.

Now people have been wondering MK's actual age in canon out of general curiosity and a certain pairing called Peachnoodles for certain artists and writers have been frowned upon. The driving law in China requires the person to be 19 in order to legally drive, so MK has to be 19 or a bit older in canon.

I hope this clears stuff up for ya curious folk.

The song used for this chapter is 'Bleed, I must be Dreaming' by Evanescence. Actually thought of using Evanescence's Imaginary but this felt more suited.

Will be going over the remaining Fluffals before we reach the next chapter for Broken Toys! Stove Novas next chapter is in the review stage so be on the lookout for that next! I'll see you guys back at Megapolis.

Song used👇

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[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Summary: Cori MacAdam was reeling from a broken heart when she stepped into the path of a moving car. Her out-of-body experience found her eager to leave her life until the hottest guy she’d ever seen showed up to save her. Now as she tries to navigate her life after the accident, things get complicated quickly when she meets her sexy promiscuous neighbor. When she finds love again, her secret comes out – will she be able to hold on to the guy she really loves?

Warnings: Angst, near death experience, smut, some bad words.

Pairing: Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Disclaimer: This work is a pure work of fiction and my fics are classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. Any likeness to real life people/scenarios is purely coincidental. I do not own any characters in this fic except O/C Corinne MacAdam. If you continue to read, you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: Story is 10 chapters + short epilogue

A/N: I wrote the bones of this story a long time ago but had so much fun plugging Colin Shea into it. I love him and love writing about him. You can find my work on Wattpad as well.

Chapter One

“Corinne? Corinne, did you hear me?”

Cori blinked, she’s sure she heard her name.

“Cori!”

Startled, Corinne MacAdam jumped, her coffee cup toppling off the edge of the desk. She looked up at her supervisor.

“Corinne, you know I like you very much. I have great hopes for you. But this has to stop. I need you to be present. This event will make or break the company, I need to know you’ll carry your part.”

“I will,” she said softly, dabbing at the coffee on the desk with a napkin. “I’ve got it. You can count on me.”

“Ok, then get down to the office and get the permit filed. We only have a few more days to do it.”

“Got it,” she said, retrieving the mug from the floor. She examined the words on the side – That’s a horrible idea – what time? Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the moment her best friend Amber had given it to her. She’d just secured a job with the leading events company in Boston. Over drinks at their favorite bar, Amber had presented her with a bag of “desk swag,” including the mug.

“We’re finally living the dream!” she’d gushed as they’d toasted martini glasses. They’d been friends since sitting next to each other in second grade. They’d shared every moment a girl could have – crushes, first kisses, first dates, driver’s licenses. She’d comforted Amber when a date with a guy she really liked had gone too far and she regretted sleeping with him. Amber had comforted her when Cori’s boyfriend and future fiancée had strayed during college. In spite of life’s challenges, their friendship had been rock solid. Until that night, the night before her wedding.

“Cori? Are you leaving now?” Her supervisor was definitely out of patience.

‘Yes, leaving right now,” she said. She pulled her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, grabbed the large envelope with the permit application and headed for the elevator.

It was amazing what triggered memories. As she pushed the elevator button to go down, the buzz of her fellow employees all around her, the memory of her wedding hotel flashed in her mind. They’d chosen the hotel because her parents were married there years ago. Her ceremony would be held in the same salon. Matthew had proposed in front of the hotel’s gorgeous fountain after her parent’s anniversary dinner the year before. He’d pulled her close after she said yes and told her in one year, they’d be right here, taking wedding photos. If he hadn’t left his credit card on the table at the rehearsal dinner, what would she be feeling right now? She wouldn’t have taken the elevator up to the 5th floor to his room. She wouldn’t have knocked and heard voices, one distinctly female and familiar, on the other side of the door. She wouldn’t have used her key to Matthew’s room and found him and Amber, her best friend and maid of honor, making love on the bed, destroying her life. They were the two people she trusted most in the world.

“Cori, are you getting on?” Her co-worker was holding the elevator. She sniffed back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes and stepped in to the back of the elevator.

She and Matthew were so good together. She laughed when she was with him. Being with him was effortless. In their four years together, they’d hiked, run, walked and traveled thousands of miles. They’d enjoyed so much live music and so many plays and musicals. They both loved the arts and history. It’s as if they were made for each other.

She’d forgiven him when he cheated on her in college. Their schools were a couple hours’ drive from each other but busy schedules kept them apart more than together. He’d broken down and cried when he told her about the girl – he’d attended a party with a friend and drank way too much. He woke up in a friend’s apartment with the girl next to him. He didn’t even know her name. He’d begged Cori to forgive him, telling her it meant nothing and she was all he wanted. It had been hard, but she’d worked to put it behind her and he did his best to rebuild her trust.

Now all she could think was how many – how many had there been? How many girls had he been with while they were together? It all came out after the wedding was cancelled. There was a girlfriend at work, a bartender at their favorite bar, a teammate on his co-ed rec soccer team. The list was long.

She stepped off the elevator into the bustle of the lobby. Her office building was home to many companies and there were always people coming and going, delivery drivers and couriers crowding the security desk for entry. She couldn’t lift her head, bumping into several people as she finally reached the exit. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and pressed herself against the front window of the building, trying to steady herself. What was the point? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She’d probably lose her job. She couldn’t concentrate and she knew she wasn’t giving her best work. Her supervisor had been more than patient with her.

She turned slowly and caught her reflection. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a bun, tendrils falling on either side. Her coffee brown eyes looked dull, dark circles underneath. Her lip gloss had faded and her face was pale. She was a hot mess. There was a time she wouldn’t have stepped out the door without her makeup and hair being perfect. But not now.

As she stepped away from the window, the din of city noise on Boston’s streets surrounded her but she shut it out. She was alone. No one would ever be like Matthew, and he hadn’t ever really loved her. If she didn’t have him, and she’d lost her best friend, what was left?

The courthouse was three blocks away on the other side of the street. She fell into a rhythm with the other pedestrians shuffling down the sidewalk. She could cross at the next light.

She stepped to the edge of the curb, eyeing the “Don’t Walk” sign across the street. How would she ever be able to erase the image? Matthew and Amber, wrapped in the hotel sheets. Matthew saying the same things to Amber he always said to Cori, calling her the same sweet name he did when they were intimate. She scrunched up her eyes, a searing pain gripping her chest. Her mother told her broken hearts don’t last forever. How did she know? She’d just celebrated her 30th wedding anniversary with her high school sweetheart. What did she know about heartbreak? The pain was unbearable. She just wanted to be in Matthew’s arms again, happy and hopeful, their future in front of them. She stepped forward, lost in the depth of her depressing thoughts, into the path of a cab, and the screams behind her were deafening.

[sweetxgxrl]

“Quick Before Everyone Comes Back” - Zane Hijazi

Everyone had met up at Davids house for a big movie night. We were all sprawled out on the couches and carpet as we watched The Conjuring. I was usually fine with watching scary movies but tonight was Friday the 13th and David had already pranked everyone with turning off the power along with having one of his hometown friends “break into” the house. Most people had left and the couches were clearing up. I was sitting next to Zane, and we were sharing a blanket on the floor. I had gotten so scared after Davids antics that I had snuggled so far into Zane that I could feel his heartbeat.

I had fell asleep sometime during the movie and was completely laying on him. He was laying his head on mine until a voice, which I am guessing was David, woke us up saying the rest of the people there were going to the store to get snacks. David, Natalie, Heath, Mariah, and Matt all left to go to the store once Zane and I said we would chill until they get back. “I swear, if you guys fuck in my house, at least have the decency to film it so I can have some content” David said, making all of us laugh. Zane and I had had a one night stand before, but it was only a one time thing. Everyone knew about it because we talked openly and didn’t really care who knew. They left and I got up to play the movie. Zane had got up to get some water and came back with 2 beers for us.

 Those two turned into 4 and then beers turned into tequila shots. After a few beers and a few tequila shots.... maybe a lot of tequila shots, we were wasted. I could barely stand up, but lucky me I had Zane to hold me up. He can handle his drinks better than me, but even he was slurring his words. I was crawling over to the couch trying to be funny and just to do something dumb, while Zane was behind me recording and making comments. I made it to the couch and tried standing but before I could fully Zane came and turned me and picked me up to where I was sitting on the couch. I straddled his waist while his hands went to my ass. He was squeezing my ass, until his attention turned to my neck. He started sucking on my neck. I could tell his goal was a hickey, and a dark one at that. I bent my head back relaxing more allowing myself to feel more into it. I confessed to him one day that one of my biggest turn ons were when guys give hickeys, so I guess he kept that in mind. “Baby you know how easily I get bruised” I slurred out. He stopped and just stared in my eyes for a second. I grabbed the back of his neck and went full tongue. He leaned me back into the couch and my shirt fell toward my face. My breasts were exposed and Zane sweeped his hands down towards them. His phone rang right as the fun was starting and he turned away and went to the kitchen. It was David. They were taking a pretty long time to get back and honestly I didn’t mind. I sat up and faced where Zane was turned away. I flung my shirt off and now my nipples hardened at the coldness of the room. My core was hot and ready for some action. 

Zane turned around after taking another shot and he just smirked and came to where I was sitting. He continued talking while bending over the couch and squeezing one of my breasts. I moaned and I heard David on the other end what we were doing. I took the phone from Zane and sloppily said into the phone “David uhmmm-we’re gon....na fuck and I need to haha knowwhereyourrrrr condoms areeeee” Zane giggled and jumped on top of me. He was sweaty but I thought it was hot. I put it on speaker and put it above my head while Zane started sucking my nipples. I held in the moans. David wasn’t telling us where the condoms were. “Dave if we make some irresponsible decisions then itsss on youuu” I heard people in the background saying things about regret but live life in the moment babyyy. “When will you be here, I’m hungryyyy” They said they would be back in like 15 because Natalie thought she lost her wallet but it was in the car. David reminded us to record it and we both giggled and I hung up. I saw Zane and he had slipped his sweatpants off so his dick was out. He still had his white tee on and i climbed on top of his lap making sure to rub my core on him and pulled at his shirt at the bottom. I pulled it  off and stood so I could take my shorts off. I had my cute thong on and I sat back down on him. 

He layed his head down on the arm rest and gripped my ass hard. I let out a small moan and he smacked my ass. “I couldn’t wait to grab this ass again. I’ve been wanting to for the longest time. You’ve been teasing me.” I smirked and pulled my underwear to the side. “Oh really have I?” I grab his dick and pump a few times. “I’ve been a bad girl” Every time I talk it gets more and more slurred. “I need to be punished hehe” I slide his dick in slowly, and get used to being filled by him again. He closed his eyes and his breathe hitched. “Fuck princess, quick before everyone comes back” Both of us are so sloppy right now that the only thing that could work with is fucking would be me riding him. I leaned over to the table in the middle of the living room and grabbed Davids disposable camera and told Zane to take some pics. I rode him and he grabbed one of my breasts and snapped a pic, obviously not putting my face in frame. He put it down for a second. and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. “God princess you’re so tight” He slowly sat up and brought me in for a deep kiss. While his dick filled up my tight core we made out with deep kisses. He slurred out to put my ass in the air, so I turned and put my face deep in the cushion. He put his weight down on me and he slipped deep inside me. We both were panting now, Zane sweating profusely as he usually does. “Baby I’m not gonna last much longer” Zane let out, trying to keep his moans in. I told him to let his moans go and he let out the hottest, most raspiest moan I’ve ever heard. Zane grabbed my hips and started going balls deep inside of me. He reached for the camera again quickly and snapped more shots but of my back with his dick inside me. I moaned loudly into the cushion as he fucked me through my high. My core tightened and my juices were all over his dick. A few moments later he pulled out and I wanted him to cum in my mouth so I got on my knees. He was suprised because I would never do this when I wasn’t drunk but He kept jerking himself off as I helped him. Right before he came I put him in my mouth and once I tasted his salty liquids I told him to get me another shot. I swallowed and he brought back a tequila shot. I took his shirt off the floor and slipped it on. I put my other clothes by my bag and He slipped his sweats on. We never heard the door open because we were sleeping on each other. Everyone burst in looking for us and found us all snuggled up with each other. They started taking pics and videos of where we just fucked and telling everything that happened. They kept the story to themselves but posted photos of us together. David saw the camera and knew the pictures would develop soon, and he was not ready for what was on there. When Zane and I woke up the next morning and didn’t remember anything we just ate and did dumb stuff for davids vlog, like nothing ever happened.

[e-milieeee]

Turning Page—Chapter 1

AO3

Description: Seven years ago, Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Miraculous disappeared. Along with it, so had Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Now, at twenty-two, Marinette has successfully put her Ladybug days behind her. Between completing her final year of university and interning at Gabriel Designs, her life is going perfectly according to plan.

When her Miraculous and Tikki inexplicably shows up on her doorstep, only one thing is clear: Paris once again needs their heroes. But seven years apart is a long time to make up for, and neither she nor Chat Noir seem to be able to work together as well as they could before.

At the same time, Adrien Agreste, teenage heartthrob turned world-renowned supermodel comes back to Paris. While Marinette swears her crush has long dissipated, it’s not her fault that he’s become even more unfairly attractive. And it’s definitely not her fault that he's moved into the apartment beside hers.

With Paris thrown into turmoil once more, the bug and cat must come together once more to defeat an ancient evil that threatens to destroy the world. Old enemies, old friends, and new acquaintances are made, and Ladybug and Chat Noir must find a way to defeat Hawkmoth—once and for all.

_______

March 12, 2012

Marinette remembered the morning her Miraculous disappeared very well. The thing that always stood out the most was how mundane it was.

It was another school day. Almost the weekend, which she was looking forward to, and she had managed to pull herself out of bed after a couple rings of her alarm clock before nearly falling off from her bed. The routine was as usual: get dressed, brush her teeth, and then go downstairs for breakfast.

Marinette was halfway out the door when she realized that Tikki was not in her purse. She had then run back into the house, startled her dad into dropping a loaf of bread, and tore her room apart looking for her kwami.

It then occurred to her a couple minutes later to check her earrings, and they were gone as well.

She was half an hour late to school, and the rest of the day, nothing really connected fully. The lessons flew by as a blurred jumble of nonsense, and the only things on her mind were: where was Tikki? What happened to her Miraculous? Had Hawkmoth gotten to it when she was asleep? Maybe Hawkmoth was about to make his wish, and maybe he had Chat Noir’s Miraculous as well. If hers were gone, what about Chat? Was his missing as well?

Marinette didn’t sleep all night, but it didn’t make Tikki return.

A week in and it dawned on Marinette that her kwami and her Miraculous might be gone forever, but there was still the question of Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. Even if Hawkmoth had somehow spirited the Miraculous away and made his wish, the whole world none the wiser, she could find Chat. Underneath the suit, Chat was a human, just like her. A teenager. He was out there, somewhere.

The problem was that Marinette had no idea where to start. Without their suits, they had no means of communication. Out of the tens of thousands of people, she had no way of determining which one was Chat Noir.

It took much longer to accept that he, too, was gone from her life. Marinette posted on forums anonymously, scoured everything she could think of if only to have a clue that she could find him, but it was hopeless.  

A month after that, Adrien announced that he was going to go North America to finish his schooling, and then university. There had been many tearful goodbyes, many promises about keeping in touch that were broken, and well-wishes that Marinette stuttered out.

So Adrien Agreste left as well, although at that point, Marinette was used to it.

They were gone, and none of them were coming back. And she would have to learn to live with it.

***

May 8th, 2019

Gabriel Agreste wouldn’t have said he was particularly fond of watching the news, but he still did it anyway.

It had become an old habit of his that he no longer had heart to change. Perhaps it was because although he wanted to keep away from what was happening, he couldn’t help the morbid sort of curiosity that always sparked in him. So he kept the news on, listening for reports of a woman in a red, polka-dotted suit and her partner in black.

Once, it was all Paris could talk about. That was seven years ago. Then, all of a sudden, Ladybug and Chat Noir had disappeared, along with Hawkmoth, leaving everyone (including Gabriel) with one big question: where had they gone? It was as if they vanished without a trace; all three dropped off the face of the planet, leaving no signs behind that they ever even existed.

And slowly, Paris forgot about them as well.

Gabriel wanted to forget with the rest of Paris, but he never quite managed.

Straightening in his chair, Gabriel massaged his temples. It was nearly time for him to return home, and the headache brewing in the back of his head was an indicator that he had been working for far too long. Nathalie, too, was probably exhausted. He glanced at the clock. 10:39 PM.

Ever since Adrien had returned to Paris from studying abroad, Gabriel found himself staying at the office longer and longer. Four years apart and their relationship hadn’t grown any less strained, if only more so. Adrien was no longer the quiet, obedient boy Gabriel remembered him to be—instead, every meeting between them was a clash of two opposing opinions, both too stubborn to back down.

So Gabriel avoided the house.

There was a knock on his door, if only for the formality of doing so. Nathalie stuck her head instead a moment later.

“Sir,” she said. “It’s quite late. I believe it’s time you returned.”

Gabriel nodded his dismissal at her, and she disappeared again. The headache had settled now, and it didn’t feel like it was going to go away anytime soon.

He reached over to close the screen of his computer, but something familiar caught his eye.

There, listed as the hottest news, was a blurry picture of a rooftop. On it, two distinct shapes stood: one red with black polka-dots, and another that would’ve blended right into the night if Gabriel hadn’t been so familiar with it.

His hands shook when he turned the volume higher.

“... have been spotted! Many are wondering the same question: could this be Paris’ beloved heroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir? What does it mean now that they’ve returned? Although spotted less than an hour ago, hundreds have gathered in the place where Ladybug and Chat Noir were speculated to be, hoping to catch just a glimpse…”

The rest of the sentence blurred, and all Gabriel could do was look at the photo.

Was it surprising? Not really, given that it was already seven years. Seven, that cursed number—where the inevitable would always be bound to happen.

And there the inevitable sat, another Ladybug and Chat Noir yet again. Another two poor souls chosen to fight a battle that could never be won.

Well.

Gabriel reached over and turned off his computer. It wasn’t his problem anymore; it hadn’t been for many, many years.

A long time ago, he would’ve felt pity for them. He would’ve sympathized. Or he would have looked at that Miraculous bitterly and missed the feeling of the ring on his finger and the presence of a small black cat.

Now, from the bottom of his cold, broken heart, Gabriel felt nothing.

After all, whoever they were, it wasn’t as if it mattered anymore.

[cap-ironman]

2018 Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange, and Community Gifts Creators Reveals & Master post

This year we got a record 111 works submitted for our event! Thank you all very much for participating in all kinds of ways: writing, arting, submitting the prompts for the Community Gifts, cheerleading the creators, and beta-reading! We hope you had lots of fun. And here, finally, is the full event masterlist revealing the creators of each work! Please remember to mind the tags and warnings at each individual work page.

★ Between the Minutes and the Beats by dreamkist for somalester (MCU, 2610 words)

A retrieval mission goes sideways and Tony learns there are ways out of the dark.

★ A Common Folly by royal_chandler for kellebelle (MCU, 3982 words)

Alongside the growing skirt of daylight, a miserable hangover had greeted Tony the next day. Steve sputtering through awkward morning-after talk had only made it worse, his hands a busy flurry in Tony’s face and dizzying. To save himself the trouble of lengthy jail time, Tony had smothered him with a cotton-dry mouth rather than with a pillow he’d be half-seriously contemplating. And after that? Well Tony discovered that he quite liked kissing Steve and being kissed by Steve.

★ From Small Things... by Shadowolf19 for Sineala (616, 15223 words)

Steve realizes he's been kind of a terrible boyfriend to everyone he's dated, and he'd like to change. He knows exactly who to ask for dating tips: Tony. Tony agrees to go on a practice date with him and give him some pointers based on what he knows about Steve, up to and including a kiss goodnight.

★ I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day by alexcat for ToneeStark (MCU, 4056 words)

Tony and Steve find each other under the mistletoe.

★ Roadside (Captain) America by salable_mystic for gottalovev (MCU, art)

Steve Rogers on a motorcycle ... .

★ Valse des Cygnes by Fluffypanda for mitochondrials (Ultimate, 4562 words)

The Ultimates are set to be the hottest new superhero team in America, but after the launch party Tony Stark's armor is found wrecked and he's presumed dead. Steve wants to get to the bottom of what really happened while the rest of the team is ready to move on.

★ Under Wraps by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1491 words)

Tony's spent a lot of time planning for this party. He's bought and wrapped gifts, sent out invitations, helped Jarvis decorate and made sure there will be enough food for a super-human crowd.

He didn't plan for mistletoe.

★ We Kill the Flame by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1017 words)

Steve runs his thumb over Tony’s lower lip. “You will break,” he promises.

He’s not right.

Tony’s broken already.

★ You Look Cute in That (2018 Gift Exchange) by One and Five Nines for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), art)

Fill for the prompt: Steve offers Tony to try on his Captain America uniform to make Tony's childhood dream come true (and he loves to see Tony's wearing his stuff)

★ Growing Old Together by Cachette for XtaticPearl (Any, art)

I loved so many of the prompts I had a hard time choosing! XtaticPearl has some great ideas and I hope somehow they get made in the future, but I hope you enjoy this one for now!

★ I Wanna Love You Like I Can by Nixie_DeAngel for marumo (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 1554 words)

After an unexpected visit from people that were long thought gone, both Tony and Steve have to reevaluate what they want from the present, the future, and most importantly, each other.

★ In Want Of A Ticking Heart by XtaticPearl for DepressingGreenie (AU, 20529 words)

They dealt with lightning every day, trapping and taming the power of gods on a ship that flew with the gibbons. For all that was strange with their everyday life, the Captain of Avenger never really had understood the stars even as he had admired them between stretched fingers. Little did the regular old Steve Rogers predict though, that the stars were trying to understand him in return too, and from quite closer than expected.

★ somebody to love (do you need anybody) by tony_starkrogers for salable_mystic (MCU, 4245 words)

Steve Rogers is Tony Stark’s PA... but will they ever be something more?

★ To spend an evening with me by Lets_call_me_Lily for monkiainen (MCU, art)

Steve and Tony, late in the evening at a cheerful little café... The perfect place for words of love to slip out.

★ where good affections grow by shell-heads for laireshi (616, 2780 words)

On nights when he can't sleep, dogged down by greyscale memories or intricate plans, Tony slips into orphanages and holds babies in their sleep. He doesn't talk about it, and very few know at all, but when he leaves bed to head out for the first time in his new, wonderful relationship with Steve, he doesn't expect Steve to come along.

He panics at first, because this is something he can't talk about, something he's never been able to share with anyone before, but Steve holds his hand and smiles at him like all the stars are in Tony's eyes, and when he says, "I love you," well-Tony can't help but think Steve could be yet another exception to one of his rules.

So he goes, and Steve comes with him, and like everything they do together, it's twice as good as anything they do alone.

★ Behind Closed Doors by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 3285 words)

The Mansion is in shambles. Tony's life is in shambles. And then there's Steve. Solid, dependable Steve, doing his best to keep them all whole.

Sometimes, there are no good answers left.

★ upon us all a little rain must fall by Lets_call_me_Lily for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, art)

Pathetic fallacy finds Steve sadly dangling his legs over the edge of a bridge while it rains. Tony, being Tony, goes after him.

★ You Don't Need To Surrender by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1703 words)

There's a reason why Tony knows so well what Steve likes in bed, but Steve does not remember what Hydra Cap did. He's just happy to finally be with Tony.

★ Christmas Affair by Neverever for tonystarkssnipples (MCU, 6646 words)

Tony thinks that Steve will be proposing to him after many years of living together, except that Steve has a secret that could ruin it all.

★ Escape by laireshi for Ironlawyer (616, 1712 words)

Tony Stark is tired of rebuilding. He finds escape the way he usually does, down at the bottom of the bottle . . . But it's okay. It's safe this time. Virtual reality isn't, after all, real.

★ Gift from the Heart by Neverever for SmileAndASong (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 4805 words)

Steve and Tony have been dating for awhile now but Steve struggles to get Tony just the right gift for Christmas.

★ Lying is the Hardest Part by kellebelle for dsidhe (MCU, 4889 words)

Tony gets hit with a truth serum. The struggle is real.

★ Smile at the Camera by littleblackbow for gryvon (616, Art & 51 words)

I wasn't sure what to do with the prompts since I'm gifting you some art. But my idea was that this was kind of a confrontation with the voracious press. What happens when the photo gets out.

Anyway, I hope you like it. Happy Christmas and New Year and all of that traditional good feeling stuff!

★ Under the Mistletoe by gryvon for afincf_tirwer (MCU, 1154 words)

He steps out and frowns at the other Avengers, all conspicuously hovering by the windows at the opposite side of the room. Clint's grin means nothing good. Bruce is far too interested in the cup of tea in his hands. Natasha meets his gaze, smirks, and very pointedly looks up.

Tony looks up. Every available inch of the ceiling is covered in plastic mistletoe except, of course, the area the other Avengers are standing.

"Goddammit," Tony says, with feeling.

★ Just wanted to propose! by afincf_tirwer for nasa (MCU, 4157 words)

Steve sees Tony nearly get killed and realises he cannot lose him. One thing leads to another and they make their way to the altar. Barring a few bumps in the road such as when Steve is kidnapped by Hydra and tortured. The night he meant to propose. CAN'T EVIL TAKE ONE NIGHT OFF?

★ Fervor by erde for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 4377 words)

Steve finds himself in some particular kind of trouble after breathing a chemical. Tony, who supposedly doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, gives him a hand.

★ One Acquainted with the Night by alexcat for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 2964 words)

Tony and Steve meet accidentally on purpose.

★ At Last by PjCole for shell-heads (616, art)

Art of Steve and Tony smiling on their wedding day.

★ Forever Linked by ashes0909 and athletiger for Hayluhalo (MCU, 11225 words)

Before the door even clicked shut, he opened his mouth to let the pink petals flutter to the ground. In the center of all this mess was a single rose, not yet bloomed, but Tony knew, deep down, what this meant.

But they were only teammates for sure; nothing else will go further.

-

“You have Hanahaki?” she asked, barely more than a whisper.

He fisted out the petal from his pocket and held it out to her. “If that’s what would cause this to come out of my throat.”

★ Heartlines by nanasekei for MusicalLuna (MCU, 7845 words)

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

★ Left Turn by mitochondrials for dreamkist (MCU, 2556 words)

Steve knows his past sins can't simply be washed away just because Thanos hurdled the Universe into the apocalypse. Still, he can't help but desperately desire Tony's attention. Tony's anything.

★ A Love Song (The Way It's Meant to Be) by msermesth for Missy_dee811 (616, 2750 words)

“I can’t do this anymore, Steve. I just… can’t.”

Steve hears the words out of Tony’s mouth, but he doesn’t understand them, doesn’t recognize what they mean when strung together in a sentence. Tony’s staring straight ahead, watching him, stoic and unmoving, and he’s ready for a battle he doesn’t want.

“What can’t you do?” Steve asks and the words catch in his throat because he knows when Tony isn’t going to back down.

“I can’t be with you.”

★ Matter of the heart by DepressingGreenie for athletiger (MCU, 1163 words)

Tony is diagnosed with a rare heart condition. Steve is the heart specialist he sees.

★ No Surprises by dirigibleplumbing for alexcat (MCU, 4313 words)

Tony (and Nebula) crash-land on the lawn of Avenger’s compound. The first person Tony sees when he steps out of the wreckage is Steve. He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or furious that Steve has survived, too. Somehow, the world keeps going. Tony mostly keeps going too—and figures out how to feel about Steve.

★ Chocolatier by somalester for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 1278 words)

For the prompt: "Tony, you're like, hot chocolate" - Or: Steve gets intoxicated by HYDRA and ends up being a little too honest.

★ forget-me-not by somalester for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 1731 words)

For the prompt: "Steve retires. Tony visits him." / Or, years after Civil War and Thanos, Tony and Steve have a much needed talk.

★ Fire No Guns, Shed No Tears by vextant for Fluffypanda (Noir, 3864 words)

10 November 1813

The Captain has not been spotted for nigh on four days — we all fear for the cargo she carries. To lose her would be to lose our young nation’s most precious treasure, our hope of fending off Great Britain and her puppet Commonwealth once and for all.

I told them not to risk it, I told them! The lake will claim what she will, and now too she holds the wealth, the legacy of this Brotherhood — nay, of these United States.

—

After officially retiring from adventuring in 1940, Tony Stark has found an old Freemason's journal that says there's treasure buried at the bottom of one of the Great Lakes. What he ends up dredging up is significantly more interesting than gold.

★ Frosting and Ink by kenshincha for malome78 (MCU, 1223 words)

Tony runs a bakery and Steve runs the Tattoo shop across the street. Steve goes into Tony's shop on a lark.

★ Good to Have You Back by Sineala for Lady_Katana4544 (616, 3863 words)

When business calls him away from Avengers Mountain, Tony leaves his AI at home to keep Steve company. And when the two of them are called into battle, Steve needs all the help he can get against a foe he never wanted to face again.

★ No Chance Of Listening by monkiainen for nanasekei (MCU, 1320 words)

Tony most definitely does not want to go back to the team after what happened with Ultron. Never. If only Steve could understand it.

★ This Simple Feeling by inukagome15 for Neverever (MCU, 17380 words)

When are two good friends not good friends? Sounds like the setup for a brilliant joke, right? Except when the joke mirrors real life. Tony and Steve are just very good friends. So why is it everyone thinks they're dating?

★ Synapses by Shaliara for magicasen (616, Art + 963 words)

"I dream we are back on Earth and you're telling me not to go."

★ A Good Man by alexcat for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 465 words)

Tony mourns.

★ Game Over: Start Again? by laireshi and runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 2408 words)

A first kiss is a beginning. A last kiss is an end. Steve and Tony have shared a few of both.

★ Impossible to Unsee by alexcat for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 2114 words)

Steve sees something he can't unsee or forget.

★ Animal Instincts by Meatball42 for Cachette (MCU, 1300 words)

When Steve's dog may be set upon by a dog-napper, Steve rushes to the rescue... only to find that he is the one in need of a little bit of assistance.

★ Better Days by Missy_dee811 for Shadowolf19 (MCU, 3056 words)

After the end of Infinity War, Tony finds himself drifting in space. When he returns to Earth, he doesn't know how to cope with Peter's death. He starts drinking heavily. Nothing anyone says helps, so it's up to Steve.

★ Just a little date by jayjayverse for Nixie_DeAngel (MCU, art)

Steve and Tony have an impromptu date night in the lab.

★ Rooftops, Rings and Rutabagas by Sadisticsparkle for adarksweetness (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 3428 words)

A date night goes horribly wrong and then goes horribly right.

★ Why We Need to Talk by navaan for ishipallthings (616, 3454 words)

After the Red Zone incident, Steve's sure he and Tony need to talk. But as always with them too many things are going down at the same time.

★ Your Way by brokenEisenglas for PjCole (MCU, 3894 words)

We've been riding the same train for nearly three years now... And I don't even know his name.

★ In the Dark by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 2452 words)

After midnight, in a private room, just the two of them and a movie they've both already seen. Anything could happen, right?

★ Malibu: Become Hero by Veldeia for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU/Detroit: Become Human, 17342 words)

To survive his injuries and captivity by the Ten Rings, Tony makes the difficult decision to take apart a damaged military android left gathering dust among scavenged weapons. What he doesn't expect is that he'll be gifted an intact unit of the very same prototype model later, or just how important this SR100, better known as Steve, will become to him.

(Fusion/crossover with Detroit: Become Human; fills the community prompt asking for one: "Anything that fuses Detroit: Become Human with a Marvel canon of your choice".)

★ Password required by cptxrogers for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 872 words)

Steve thinks that maybe Tony is trying to tell him something with all these security measures.

aka Tony's passwords for Steve change into increasingly more obvious love confessions

★ Romance! by Cachette for Cap Iron Man Community (Ambiguous, art)

Team trip to the zoo. Steve and Tony sneak off for some fun.

★ Bad Reputation by gottalovev for jayjayverse (MCU, 14337 words)

Obadiah Stane, CEO of Stark Industries since Howard’s son died before Steve even woke up, isn’t happy that the Avengers haven’t caught the villain Iron Man yet. The mysterious man in the armor keeps destroying SI weapons, and even though they tried to arrest him, he always slips through the Avengers’ fingers. It doesn’t help that Steve enjoys their bantering a bit too much, and that he’s starting to think that Iron Man has a worthy cause.

★ Count to Ten by Ironlawyer for msermesth (Ultimate, 1026 words)

Tony gets what he wants, but not what he wants

★ Good Morning Beloved by zappedbysnow for meatball42 (616, art)

Tony is off to train the youngsters after breakfast.

★ The Hoodie of Blasphemy by Meatball42 for Cachette (MCU, 3355 words)

The Avengers team gets closer, and so do Steve and Tony. If only Tony could figure out why Steve's sweaters smell so good...

★ I Got You by ToneeStark for navaan (MCU, 7350 words)

For Navaan. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! I hope you like it! Please check chapter 4 for artwork that goes along with the work. <3

★ Jingle Bell Rock by somalester for 1electricpirate (MCU, 6141 words)

Prompt: "Tony finds out Steve also doesn't like Christmas & instead invites him to spend Grinchmas together. Just the two of them in a ski lodge / cabin somewhere in the snowy backwoods. It turns out they are both much more full of the christmas spirit than they thought."

★ Kiss Me, Baby, It's Christmas Time by Shadowolf19 for inukagome15 (616, 2126 words)

“Okay, well, merry Christmas…” he wishes to his lab, deciding he’s allowed to feel sorry for himself right now, he’s like a fallen resistance leader or something along those lines who used to be surrounded by people who enjoyed his company, but who now spends his days alone trying to understand when it all went wrong.

★ Bad by One and Five Nines for Cap Iron Man Community (Ambiguous, art)

Fill for the prompt: Superior Iron Man and Hydra Cap, together at last

★ Charity Auctions and Scheming Boyfriends by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1165 words)

Steve wins a date with Tony at an auction. It goes very differently than he expected.

★ Fool Me Once by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1005 words)

Hydra Cap escapes and goes after Tony.

★ He sees you, Steve, he's wearing glasses by Cachette for Cap Iron Man Community (Ambiguous, art)

Steve finds himself constantly distracted by the sight of Tony in glasses, and the others are definitely noticing. Thank goodness Tony hasn't. Yet.

★ Heart on My Sleeve by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel Adventures, 1943 words)

Tony wears Steve’s clothes. Steve has no problem with this.

★ Off the Record by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1455 words)

Steve can't sleep, and when he can't sleep, he broods. After too many nights of restless dreams and nightmares, he hopes Tony can be the distraction he needs.

★ Willed Engagements by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 1846 words)

When Steve wakes in the 21st century he finds out that Howard had left him his son in his will... as his bondmate.

★ Crimson Kringle by SmileAndASong for zappedbysnow (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 4688 words)

Steve is ecstatic when he draws Tony's name for the team Secret Santa. He hopes that with the perfect gift, he'll finally be able to take their relationship to the next level.

There's only one problem — the name he picked actually isn't Tony’s.

★ Keeping a Close Eye by magicasen for sheron (616, 3017 words)

Steve and Tony are avoiding each other. Carol takes it upon herself to find out why.

★ Once the Brain Fog Clears by Impala_Chick for Shaliara (MCU, 5945 words)

SHIELD HQ loses contact with their Arctic Base, and they ask Steve, Sam, and Nat to go recover their agents. But there is a monster lurking in the ice, and it knows Steve's weaknesses.

★ Skrull Steve by Hayluhalo for dirigibleplumbing (Any, art)

Tony is biased when it comes to Steve, even if it isn't really him.

★ Until the Smoke Clears by cathydeff for RawWriting (MCU, 2778 words)

Tony was born an omega, but Howard, in shame, turns him into a beta.

After the fight at Johannesburg with the Hulk, Bruce & Cho inject Tony with experimental nanites to save his life. It works, but he’s also physically 21, turned back into his original omega gender, and is now apparently Captain America’s scent mate.

Captain America, who’s never noticed that Tony was interested, and then some.

Fuck his life.

★ wrench in the works by MusicalLuna for morcabre (MCU, 1884 words)

Steve hadn't known how to court someone in 1939 and he sure as hell doesn't know how to do it in 2014. He's determined to try though.

★ Fun Overdue by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1050 words)

Tony seeks Steve out for some fun, as it so happens... Steve was in the library.

★ If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now by vorkosigan for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 12953 words)

"Hold that thought," Tony said into his phone. "I apparently just got hit by a hitchhiker."

"You hit a hitchhiker?" Happy sounded horrified.

"What? Am I talking to a wall? I got hit by a hitchhiker."

Having just broken up with Pepper, Tony is driving to California on Christmas Eve. When he picks up a hitchhiker, he hardly expects him to be the former Captain America, defrosted and on the run from SHIELD.

★ In Sickness and in Health by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 1031 words)

If Steve has to physically sit on Tony to make him take a rest, he will. He just hopes it doesn’t come to that.

★ An Infinite Loop by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 750 words)

"You and I were meant to be together, even if we weren't meant to be happy."

★ Red by One and Five Nines for Cap Iron Man Community (616, Art])

Fill for the prompt: RACK S/M! I would love this to be really vicious and have them both really into it.

★ Off to a Caffeinated Start by Lets_call_me_Lily for Cap Iron Man Community (616, art)

After however-many (too many) hours of being awake, Tony was forced out of his workshop and into bed. Now, our tousled genius needs to reboot his brain.

This situation calls for coffee, of course.

★ Try, Try Again by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel Adventures, 1662 words)

Steve’s plans usually work out pretty well. This time, though? When all he really wants to do is ask Tony a very important question? Not so much.

★ unforgettable by gottalovev for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 5729 words)

It is pretty certain that even if Steve didn't have an eidetic memory, the images of Tony's sex tape would be seared into his mind anyway.

★ Apple Pie by marumo for Sadisticsparkle (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Comic)

Tony has acted suspiciously these days... Steve wonders what he is hiding.

★ between the gates by nasa for royal_chandler (AU, 9494 words)

“Have a lovely evening,” the flight attendant says, like nothing at all is wrong. And, really, nothing is - except for the fact Tony’s snowed in at an airport, sharing a room with the ex who broke his heart five years ago, who he was never able to get over. Totally great.

★ No It's Not Camping by brokenEisenglas for tony_starkrogers (MCU, 4043 words)

Steve and Tony go on a much needed Christmas vacation. They may just be getting more in their stockings than they had originally thought.

★ return ticket by adarksweetness for Impala_Chick (MCU, 2328 words)

Tony is alone when the apocalypse occurs. Steve finds his way back home.

★ Simple Truths by sheron for littleblackbow (616, 2863 words)

When Steve tells him about the romance novel he borrowed from Jan, Tony realizes his own feelings for Steve would fit perfectly in a book like that. Of course, Steve must never know.

★ Won't You Say Love by ishipallthings for vextant (MCU, 9969 words)

Steve's ready to tell Tony he wants to be more than friends. But after they're interrupted by a surprise attack that ends with Tony in the hospital, their relationship spirals out of control - especially when Tony starts avoiding Steve, who has no idea how to fix things between them.

★ Black and Blue by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 860 words)

Tony is injured on Avenger’s business. Steve helps care for his wounds.

★ Dispel by laireshi and faite for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 3925 Words + Art)

Steve is hit with a love spell, but he doesn't want it undone: he loves Tony and he's never been happier.

★ Eventually by One and Five Nines for Cap Iron Man Community (Ultimate, Comic)

Fill for the prompt: Post-apocalyptic slavefic au

Tony is godking of the wasteland. Steve is not.

PLEASE MIND ALL THE TAGS AND WARNINGS

★ Hidden Lives by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (AU, 1606 words)

Being a secret superhero is hard, as is keeping that secret from your significant other.

★ Operation Infatuation by Meatball42 for Cap Iron Man Community (3490, 1752 words)

As the Avengers gossip bond as a team, Natasha Stark is forced to admit that she used to have a crush on Captain America as a teenager. Suddenly, it’s all a pining Steve can think about.

★ Under the Table by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1191 words)

Tony's been thinking about Steve too much lately. It's time he did something about that.

★ A Warmth Like No Other by ishipallthings for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), 1992 words)

Tony invites Steve to make hot chocolate with him. Steve happily agrees, but then his mouth runs away with him.

★ When Your Best Isn't Enough by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616/Avengers Assemble/Marvel Adventures, 1229 words)

616 Steve and Tony get sent to two different universes where their alternate selves are married.

616 Tony is sad: if only his Steve loved him too.

616 Steve is brooding: if only his Tony loved him too.

★ Birds of a Feather by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 850 words)

Tony has noticed Steve behavior around him, and decides to act on it.

★ A Blanket Burrito by marumo for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), art)

Making a Tony Stark Burrito.

For 2018 Cap-IM Community Gift Prompts: Steve wraps up Tony with a blanket like burrito.

★ Collapse by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 390 words)

Steve Rogers is standing in Tony’s living room in his Captain America uniform with the three bloody holes from the gunshots that killed him.

★ Half-Truths by laireshi for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 1258 words)

Tony should've known the real Steve Rogers could never love him.

★ No, Steve! by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (Ambiguous, art)

Tony is sick of Steve's overly reckless heroic antics.

★ Of Theme Parks and Impersonators by SmileAndASong for Cap Iron Man Community (AvAc, 2082 words)

Tony can't stop staring at the Captain America performer during his and Steve's Disneyland vacation.

★ Of Things Lost in Time by erde for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 16090 words)

The Time Stone beckons Steve with the promise of home. He ends up in Clint's farm, reliving the same day again and again.

★ The Pawfect Gift by DepressingGreenie for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 899 words)

This was not going how Tony planned it to go. Steve should've loved his gift, what went wrong?

★ Safewords by cptxrogers for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 3109 words)

Five times Steve and Tony joked about safewords and one time they didn’t.

★ Tales of The Golden Avenger: Return of the Red Skull by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (616 Star Wars AU, 10932 words)

It’s been over a year since Tony left the Rebel Alliance to travel the stars with only Rhodey and his AI for company, but when the Wasp calls in a favor, he feels bound to answer. Even though there’s an active bounty on his head. Even though the last time he confronted a real, Force-empowered Sith he lost his right hand. He can deal with all of that.

Except Jan failed to mention that the mission involved Steve.

★ Truth Be Told by heartsandmuses for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 6478 words)

Tony didn’t believe in signs. He did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, regardless of whether or not the universe seemed to approve. Which was a good thing, really, because if he didbelieve in signs, there would be no doubt in his mind that fate or the cosmos or whatever cruel, eldritch god was ruling his life absolutely did not want him to propose to Steve.

No matter what Tony planned, something, somehow, always seemed to get in his way. Either it was an Avengers alert (which happened about two weeks ago), or a sudden downpour over midtown Manhattan (one week ago), or Steve suddenly being de-serumed (four days ago), or, well—

“A truth serum.”

(Right now.)

★ Upon a Midnight Clear by runningondreams for Cap Iron Man Community (1872, 562 words)

The little town of Timely enjoys a quiet Christmas Eve.

★ We’ve Got a Mystery to Solve, So Be Ready For Your Act by Meatball42 for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 3185 words)

The Mystery Inc. gang gets their biggest client yet. Will the team manage to solve the mystery, make a match or two, and secure a tax-qualified, defined-contribution pension account? Or will the various chemicals they've imbibed produce only chaos?

★ Younger by One and Five Nines for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, art)

Fill for the prompt: not long after Tony left the Avengers, the team is attacked and turned into kids... all except Steve. Steve is good with kids... but he is only one guy, super soldier serum be damned. He calls Tony for help.

Be sure to comment on the works you liked! Were your guesses right? Are you surprised at something? You can post your reactions to the guessing post! And finally, if you participated in the event, feel free to post your work wherever you want now! We will be reblogging every tumblr post tagged with #capimexchange in one of the first five tags. Thank you for a great event, 2018 Holiday Exchange and Community Gifts mods

[yuzusorbet]

Olympic Victory Parade Day, Sendai, 22 April 2018  

(my personal account) (photos are mine, please do not repost nor use for other purposes)

Scheduled time of parade: 1.15pm to 2.10pm.

7am.... wearing my parade t-shirt and wristbands, I left my hotel and walked a short distance to the road where the parade would take place (Higashi-nibancho-dori 東二番町通り).   People were already sitting in the ‘1st row’ of the roadside.   I met my friend Ella and we decided on a comfortable spot where we could wait for the next 6 hours (omg) and we spread out our picnic mat.  

We decided on this area because it was right opposite her hotel (Mitsui Garden) and it was in the middle of the 1.1km route.  Ella’s friends would be joining us later because they were lining up to buy parade wristbands.  Ella and I bought ours the day before as we arrived in Sendai earlier.  (The wristbands were sold on these two days only, 21 and 22 April.  Only 10,000 sets and limited to 2 sets per person.)  

While I waited at our picnic mat to ‘reserve’ our spot, Ella went on a hunt to buy various local newspapers because Yuzu’s face was on all of them.  Information about the parade was front page news, of course. :) 

It was nice and cool in the early morning but soon it was hot.  And it got hotter and hotter..... Umbrellas, hats, sunshades and sunblock came out of our bags. Later we saw news that it was the hottest day ever recorded for April in Sendai (29.9°C).  I told Ella, “Cos Yuzu is sunshine.”  She responded, “Cos Yuzu is the sun.”  Right! :D

Even though it was very hot, everyone was just so happy and excited to be there.  The event was very well-organised.  Policemen and volunteers were everywhere to tell people where they can sit and where they can’t.  There was always a path kept free for people to walk along the whole stretch of road.  The parade planning committee had also asked convenience stores around the area to let people use their toilets, so that was not a problem. For us, we used the nice toilets in Mitsui Garden Hotel as Ella and two other friends were staying there. This photo was taken by me from the 7th floor hotel lobby at about 9.30am.

At about 8 plus, a TV station crew came looking for people to interview.  There were 4 young guys who stood out from the crowd.  They said they were very inspired by Yuzu and he gave them courage and motivation for their exams.  As a result, all of them got into Tohoku University (one of the top universities in Japan).  Wow!!!!  They came for the parade because they wanted to say thank you to Yuzu.  They had started waiting by the roadside since 3AM !!!  I was so touched to hear that.....  (pic below is when the crew came back to do the live news report)

These 2 ladies were holding a banner with the Japanese words “shiawase desu” (meaning ‘we are happy’) and they said it’s because Yuzu is always thinking about skating to give happiness to others.  They want to tell him how happy they all are because of him.  Yes!  I want to tell him that too!  

After hearing their stories, the TV announcer said he would be back in 20 minutes to do the interview on live TV news!  Because we were sitting near them, the lady on the left (of pic above) told me to get ready cos we may be on national TV!   (Ella quickly ran to the nearest convenience store to get a disposable face mask cos she was so shy, haha.....)  Much thanks to a friend who uploaded Japanese TV news that day, we saw the programme that they appeared in: at 2.30 of this VIDEO.  So happy to see it!

Later on, I chatted with the lady.  Told her I really loved her banner and message and she told me how she carefully made it herself.  The two of them were so nice and friendly.   Much thanks to them for posing for my photo! 

After the TV news excitement, Ella’s friends joined us.  They managed to get their parade wristbands (they started lining up at 5am!  Sales started at 8am. The previous day, Ella and I lined up from about 7am and sales started at 10am).  Here are their Pooh bears happily showing off the precious bands. Behind them is one copy of the morning papers.  Ci

Time passed quickly as we occupied ourselves with snacks, chitchat and more photos and selfies.  I love my parade t-shirt.  Bought both colours, wore the purple one on parade day and the blue one the next day.  The S size fits me well and they are so comfortable. 

We also took turns to walk around to see other parts of the parade route and soak in the atmosphere.  At about 10.30, some volunteers (in light blue jackets) gave out Japanese flags.  On the flag handles were the words “Hanyu Yuzuru senshu 2nd straight victory congratulations parade”.  (’senshu’ = athlete)

All of us got a flag each.... so happy!  Now, when Yuzu approaches, shall I wave my flag or hold up my blue CiONTU towel as a banner or just hold my phone steady to take photos???  hmmm........

At 11.30, the sidewalks were packed but there was always a part left free for for people to walk. (see pic below).  The girl in the blue jacket was one of the many volunteers for the day.  

At 12.30pm, the roads were closed to traffic.  It’s finally almost time!!  We all started to stand up to get ready for the parade.  Our group was right behind the barricades.  It was good that we came early to get this “front row” spot. :) 

Pic below: friend sticking flag into hat so that hands are free to hold camera. xD  Blue parade wristband on arm.  Most of us wore both the blue and the purple wristbands, one on each wrist, haha. 

After the traffic closure, there were some mass movements to be made.  The crowd on the opposite side of the road was brought forward to the central divider because the parade bus would only be travelling down one side of the road.   So people could cover the road on the other side.  It was done really neatly even though the crowd was so huge..... I really love the Japanese for being so orderly.  One man with a loudhailer went down the road telling people what to do. Essentially, it’s to hold hands and move forward slowly a certain number of steps on his count.  And this was done section by section all the way down that 1.1km route.   So now the people on opposite side of the road were much closer to us!  (pic below)  Our side was also moved forward in the same way by 5 steps.  This also meant there was a lot more space for more people to join in and watch the parade.  

Another TV news crew came by, and then there were helicopters flying overhead.  It’s time!!!!

1.15pm, Yuzu is on the stage!!!  So handsome!!!  We watched the live stream of the opening ceremony on our handphones.  I shared my phone screen with 2 older Japanese ladies near me and they were very grateful. :) Then, finally, Yuzu was getting on the parade van!  Being in the middle of the route was good.  We didn’t have to wait long to see the start of the contingent approaching!

When the parade van approached our area, Yuzu was looking towards the other side.  We shouted loudly, “YUZU!!! YUZU!!!”  And he turned to our side and waved!!!  

[same pic cropped and enlarged:]

As he waved, he glanced down at our group at one point!  I was so happy that my mind went blank!  I should have shouted “omedetou!!!” (congrats) but I totally forgot!  I just stood there holding my Ciontu towel and looking up at his beautiful face.  Then he pointed at something in the crowd and laughed and said something (but we don’t know what)..... omg...... he was really too cute for words.  I recovered in time to snap a few more photos before the van became too far away.  Aww...... it was so awesome to see him so happy....... 

After the parade van passed our area, the crowd slowly dispersed.  We went to Ella’s hotel room to watch the rest of the parade on TV.   She made coffee for us and we also had some sparkling wine to celebrate.  Her friends thanked us for picking a good spot for the parade..... haha, we were really lucky!!!   

After the parade was the press conference and part of it was aired live on that TV channel.  As always, we marvelled at how well he answered the questions. When the programme ended, we all wrote postcards to ourselves to send back home, so that we would have one more souvenir of this fabulous day.  We used Yuzu-postcards that were specially made by one friend. These amazing fans have really great ideas!   Look how cute the cards are!

We went to the convenience store nearby to get stamps and dropped our cards into the post box outside the store.  While walking through a shopping street, we suddenly saw some people near us giving out newspapers.... it was a free paper with the parade photo and news!  Wow that was fast!  We quickly lined up and got a copy each.  How lucky we were to be passing by!

Being part of the crowd at the parade was a marvellous experience.  It was so wonderful to be among Yuzu’s people and to show him our love and support together.  Waiting at the roadside for more than 6 hours was fun, thanks to all the fans around me!  I would do it again in a heartbeat.  Thank you, Sendai!! Thank you, Yuzu-fans!!  And finally, the words that I wanted to shout from the bottom of my heart but was struck speechless (Yuzu’s fault)..... 

YUZU, おめでとう！！！そして ありがとう！！！(congrats and thank you!!!)

--I really enjoyed my Sendai holiday.  The local people were so warm and friendly and many of them thanked us for coming for the parade.  I plan to write soon about other parts of my trip.... like chatting with locals while queuing for wristbands and realising how pure and simple their love and support for Yuzu is;  going to Ice Rink Sendai and skating there;  being moved to tears at Sunao Noto-san’s photo exhibition;  eating delicious gyu-tan and zunda-mochi;  visiting places with Yuzu’s signature and simply enjoying the beauty of his hometown..... Update: [Part 2 of my holiday]  [Part 3]  [Part 4]

--Except for the parade route map which is from Japanese news, all photos are taken by me;  please do not use or repost without my permission.  Thank you. 

--For some numbers about the parade, see this post.

[lost-n-stereo]

Summary: Clarke Griffin doesn't want to join Cupid's Arrow, Los Angeles' newest online dating site but her mother insists she at least give it a try. Enter "Fake Blake", a man claiming to be Bellamy Blake, TV's hottest new up and coming actor. With a profile photo that can't be found on the internet, to stories only the man himself could tell, Clarke starts to wonder if her online crush could be her celebrity crush too. Modern Romantic Comedy AU

draw back your bow (let your arrow go)

Part 1 - Clarke

Tuesday night is her favorite night of the week.

Her roommate works late every Tuesday, which means that Clarke gets the television all to herself. And sure, she could always bring up Netflix or whatever on her laptop if she wanted to watch something that her roommate didn’t. But her favorite show is on Tuesday nights, the only one she actually watches live and not on Hulu a day or five later.

­­­It starts in five minutes, so she grabs her favorite plush blanket from her bed and drags that and a pillow onto the couch in the living room she shares with her best friend Raven. They go to the same college but are in two completely different programs and while Clarke is lucky enough to have help from her mom and stepdad for financing, Raven has to work most nights that she’s not in class.

She grabs the remote and turns on the TV just as the opening credits of The Ark are starting. She blushes a little when Bellamy Blake’s name crosses the screen. He’s by far her biggest celebrity crush at the moment. His character Robert Moore is her favorite and not just because Bellamy is so good looking. Robert is tough and strong but also kind and sweet. He’s a guard on a space station called the Ark that can’t come down to Earth because of a nuclear war a hundred years before that’s left the planet uninhabitable.

Sometimes she feels like a nerd for loving this show so much but it is what it is.

Her phone dings halfway through the episode but she doesn’t check until commercial.

Did you think anymore about joining Cupid’s Arrow?

Clarke rolls her eyes at the text from her mother, who’s been trying to get her to join a new dating site that just started up. It’s supposed to be only for people in the Los Angeles area, where she’s currently living while she attends university.

Mom…I told you. I’m not signing up for a dating site that’s just for L.A. People here are the worst.

Clarke, that’s not very nice! How can you say that when you met Raven there?

She’ll give her mom that one. Raven is by far the most badass chick she’s ever met. She briefly thought about trying to ask her out because the girl is a straight up ten. They were dorm roommates their freshman year and then as soon as Clarke got that college experience out of the way she insisted they get an apartment off campus.

Clarke sighs and pulls her legs up under her on the couch. Her mom only means well. It’s been almost two years since Lexa passed away and while Clarke hasn’t been exactly celibate, it’s still hard to think about being in another relationship.

I’ll think about it.

Her phone dings again almost instantly.

That’s all I ask!

She tosses the phone down on the coffee table with a roll of her eyes and turns back to finish the episode.

When it’s over, instead of pulling up Tumblr to check out spoilers for next week’s episode like she does most nights, she types in cupidsarrow.com into her browser and hits enter.

CUPID’S ARROW: THE NUMBER ONE WAY TO MEET NEW PEOPLE IN THE GREATER LOS ANGELES AREA. WHETHER YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A ONE NIGHT ROMANCE OR THE SOULMATE OF YOUR DREAMS, CUPID’S ARROW HAS THE LARGEST DATABASE OF FUN, ATTRACTIVE AND AVAILABLE SINGLES IN YOUR AREA!

“Good lord,” Clarke mumbles to herself as she clicks the Create A Profile button. “Here goes nothing.”

The signup process is pretty basic. Add a photo, but no nudity. Add a bio, but no profanity. She uploads a selfie she took on the beach of Cancun last spring break and starts to type in her bio, keeping it short and sweet.

I’m Clarke, a bisexual college student currently living in LaLaLand while I attend UCLA. I’m originally from the east coast but I plan to stay in California after I graduate. Not looking for anything serious but I’m not looking for a hookup either. Somewhere in between, I guess.

She groans as she reads it out loud. “What am I even doing?” She asks herself as she clicks enter and then her profile is officially live. A popup comes up almost instantly, followed by another, and she clicks through an array of guys and girls that have liked her profile already. Within ten minutes she’s got fifty “arrows” which are apparently the Cupid’s Arrow equivalent of a like. She’s supposed to check the other person’s profile and if she likes them back, she can send a message.

There’s a tab at the top that reads Cupid’s Top Picks, and she clicks it because if she’s here she might as well see what Cupid has to offer her. Her screen is filled with faces and she raises an eyebrow as she takes in how freaking attractive everyone seems to be. Then she remembers that it’s the L.A. crowd, notorious for putting their best face forward even if all they are doing is taking out the trash.

Every photo has two icons, a broken heart or an arrow, so she thinks, what the hell, and starts making her way through the list.

Broken Heart: Guy from Long Beach with a bio that reads “Fuck Bitches, Get Money”

Arrow: Girl from UCLA named Niylah that she’s 99% sure she’s seen on campus before.

Broken Heart, Broken Heart, Arrow, Broken Heart .

She’s almost starting to get into this now, picking and choosing a person based on one photo and a few lines of text might seem super shallow but it’s actually kind of fun.

Her heart stops in her chest when she reaches the next on Cupid’s Top Picks list.

Bellamy Blake’s gorgeous face is staring back at her. And it’s not a promotional photo either, but a candid shot of him sitting on a balcony smoking a cigarette. His feet are bare, propped up on the railing. He’s looking at the camera and smirking, his full lips curled up as the cigarette hangs from the tips of his fingers.

She’s never seen this photo before. And she’s seen a lot of photos of Bellamy Blake.

There’s no way in hell that it’s actually him. Last she heard he was dating a CW actress that plays on The Ark’s spinoff, Grounders. Curiosity gets the better of her and she’s clicking on the profile to see what kind of nonsense this imposter is posting.

I’m Bellamy, I’m 25 years old and I’m an actor. Recently got out of a relationship and I’m looking for someone down to earth, sweet and real. That’s the most important thing…that she’s real.

Clarke’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. That doesn’t sound like someone pretending to be someone famous but she knows that it can’t possibly be the real Bellamy Blake. He could have anyone that he wants, why would he be on some random dating site, making a profile that anyone in the world could find?

Even though it’s fake and she has no idea what the person behind the profile actually looks like, she hits the arrow icon.

That’s the most important thing…that she’s real.

For some reason that hit close to home for her. In this town she’s learned that it’s hard to find people that are real. And she realizes how ironic it is that she’s saying that when this person is definitely NOT being real by posting that he’s Bellamy Blake. But maybe there’s a reason they are hiding behind the façade. Maybe she wants to know what it is.

And maybe there’s a tiny part of her that wonders if he could really be behind the screen on the other side.

***

There’s a message from Bellamy Blake waiting for her when she wakes up the next morning.

She rolls her eyes at herself, her heart pounding when she sees his picture in her message box.

“It’s not fucking him, Clarke. Get yourself together.”

The message is short but nice, not at all inappropriate like some of the other messages she’s gotten.

Hello, Clarke. Thanks for the “arrow”. Is it just me or is that a very strange way to like someone’s profile? Then again, it could be even weirder considering Cupid is a baby in a diaper but I digress. Not to sound like a creeper but I like your profile photo. And not just because you look beautiful, which you do. I have been to Cancun a few times and those beaches are amazing. I’m Bellamy, by the way.

“Why do you have to sound so normal?” She drums her fingers on her keyboard, thinking of something to say back.

“Why does who have to sound so normal?”

Clarke practically jumps out of her chair when Raven walks behind where she’s sitting at the dining room table and into the kitchen. She pours herself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter, raising an eyebrow in Clarke’s direction.

“Uh…no one.” Clarke stutters and Raven snorts.

“Real convincing, Griffin.”

“Fine!” Clarke gives Raven the rundown of the night before. Her mom texting and insisting she try this new dating site and then finding Fake Bellamy’s profile.

“So you sent this guy a like even though you know he’s not the real deal?”

Clarke shrugs. “I know it’s not him but I don’t know. I just felt something when I read his bio.”

Raven blinks at her for a few seconds and then reaches for her phone. “Send me his profile pic.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to reverse search that picture. I know you basically cyberstalk Bellamy Blake, so I’m honestly surprised you’ve never seen this photo before. If it’s a fake profile, whoever made it definitely just pulled it off the internet.”

Clarke thinks about it for a second before right clicking and saving the photo and then sending it to Raven’s phone.

“Hmmm.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Hmmm? What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”

Raven turns her phone screen around so Clarke can see. “No image matches. Anywhere on the internet. At all. Do you know how rare that is? That a celebrity can take a photo without it getting out online?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t mean it’s him, Raven. It just means…well I don’t know! But it’s not him.”

“You’re right. It’s not him,” Raven says from behind her mug. “Just be careful, Clarke.  This guy could be anyone in the world. Well…anyone other than Bellamy Blake.”

They both laugh before Raven goes into a story about a friend from work named Murphy that Clarke always jokes is Raven’s work husband. They aren’t romantic, as far as Clarke can tell, but she can tell Raven cares for the guy.

“So, did I tell you Shaw asked me out?”

Clarke’s eyes go wide. “What?! When did this happen?”

Raven blushes, a look Clarke doesn’t see on her friend often. “Yesterday. He came into the diner and asked if I wanted to go to an air show at the base this weekend.”

Shaw is in the Air Force and frequents the diner Raven works at. Sometimes Clarke thinks it’s the only reason he goes there at all.

“That’s awesome,” Clarke tells her and she’s happy for her friend. Raven has had a tough go of it and it’s nice to see a smile on her face.

“Message him back,” Raven tells Clarke before she leaves the kitchen. “You never know, maybe it’s the person you’re supposed to be with. And you have to admit, this would make an insanely funny meetcute story.”

Clarke shakes her head. “You’re insane. I gotta get ready for class.” Raven just shrugs and walks out and before she can question herself, she’s typing a response to the Fake Blake.

I know your profile photo is bogus but I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt and hope you mean it as a joke. I also highly doubt your name is Bellamy, so what’s your real name? You’ve been to Cancun, that’s cool. Did you go for spring break?

She closes her laptop, expecting it to be awhile before she gets a response, but her phone dings almost instantly. She doesn’t recognize the notification sound until she remembers downloading the Cupid’s Arrow app to her phone the night before.

My profile photo is bogus? I don’t understand. My best friend Monty took that photo of me last summer at his beach house in Malibu. And my name is Bellamy, I promise. My mom gave it to me and everything. And no, not spring break. I filmed this little indie film there three years ago.

“Oh, you are good,” Clarke says out loud, laughing as she reads the message again. His best friend Monty. As in, Monty Green, who is another actor on The Ark. This little indie flick filmed in Cancun. If Clarke had to guess, she’d say it was a horror film that Bellamy Blake starred in a couple of years ago that no one she knows has ever even seen.

Whoever this person is, they did their homework on the real Bellamy. She’s going to catch them in a lie eventually. And she doesn’t know why, but it’s kind of fun talking to him.

You must think I was born yesterday. There’s no way in hell you’re Bellamy Blake.

She goes about her morning as she gets ready for class.

Oh, so you know who I am? And why is that so hard to believe? And for what reason would I possibly have to lie?

Clarke snorts as she reads the message. She’s got her mascara wand in one hand and her phone in the other, trying to type with one thumb as she finishes up her makeup.

Lots of reasons. Number one with a bullet, I’d guess, is you wanna get laid. What better way to get a girl’s attention that pretending to be the hottest actor on television right now.

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until his message and then she’s laughing.

Aha…so you think I’m the hottest actor on TV?

No. I said I think Bellamy Blake is the hottest actor.

Same thing, sweetheart. We’re one in the same.

She rolls her eyes and thumbs in a response.

I have to go to class. Maybe you should consider telling me your real name since you’re not entirely horrible to talk to. And honestly, I’m sure you’re a good guy. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.

Her phone beeps one more time before she walks out the door, and his response makes her stop in her tracks.

Pretending is my job, Clarke. Trust me when I say that this is the true me. Quite possibly the truest me that there is.

One thought crosses her mind in a loop as she drives towards campus.

What if it’s really him?

[reddiesaltedcrisps]

New Years Reunion - Part Four  Finn Wolfhard x Reader

Word Count: 2,040 (ish)

Triggers: Swearing, consumption of alcohol

Gender of Reader: Fem.

*Part One, Two and Three and be found on my page*

Summary: Y/N gets a visit from her best friend and fellow IT co-star, Finn. Y/N thinks that her and Finn’s friendship is purely platonic, but could all that change when they both stay at Wyatt’s house for New Years along with the fellow IT cast?

Writers Note: I’ve posted this on New Years day instead since technically the story continues past midnight of NYE. I hope you all enjoy Part Four, as there might possibly be a Part Five coming your way. Thank you all for the support on my writing as I only started this blog a few days ago, and already all my writing has over 200 notes.

I love you all, and wish you the best in the New Year :)

You stared down at your bowl of cereal, still unable to wipe the smile of your face from the night before. Today was New Years Eve, meaning Wyatt was throwing a house party with over 50 people attending. The others were still asleep in the living room, except from you and Wyatt, who were having breakfast together.

    “So,” Wyatt began, smiling at you from across the table, “How does it feel now knowing you’ve kissed Hollywood’s hottest, Finn Wolfhard?” He winked, causing you to blush.

    “You know,” He continued thoughtfully, “This had kind of ruined the plan we had for you both. I mean, we technically could still make it work though?” You were confused, had the plan involved you all along?

    “Come on Wy, you have to let me in on the plan, I’d do the same for you.” Even though, you knew quite well that he wouldn’t cave.

Wyatt shook his head and continued to eat his toast. Your mind led to other thoughts, which you began to think out loud.

    “But what does this mean now?” You questioned while stirring the spoon around your Cheerios, “Like are we a thing? Will we ever kiss again? Will it be awkward...” Judging by Wyatt’s confused expression, he wasn’t made for sharing relationship advice.

    “What are you girls gossiping about?” Jaeden said while entering the room. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, resting his hands on his cheeks and leaning in, eagerly.

    “I’m trying to help Y/N with her boy problems, but I don't think I'm totally qualified in the area.” Wyatt answered.

    “Boy problems?” Jaden replied, acting excited, “Well luckily for you girls, this is my area of expertise. Now someone put the kettle on, you ladies have a lot to learn.” He joked.

So far, you’d spent your morning gossiping with Wyatt and Jaeden, playing cards with Jeremy and Chosen, and you were now searching for your new years outfit with Sophia. You hadn’t spoken to Finn or Jack today, as they were both still sleeping when you and Sophia left.

    “If we don’t find something cute to wear in here, then I’m ready to blow my shit.” Sophia said, through gritted teeth. You’d both been shopping for hours and were now entering Urban Outfitters. 

You began to make your way to the first stand, when a dress caught your eye. It was a pale blue toned dress, with sparkly silver sequins, it had an open back, and a v-shaped neckline

Sophia saw you staring at it and came over.

    “Finn’s going to lose it.” She said, picking up the dress for you so you couldn’t change your mind. As much as no part of you ever dressed for anyone but yourself, you were excited to look nice in front of Finn at the party.

You and Sophia arrived back to smell burning and the high pitched ringing of the smoke alarm. Panicked, you ran through to the kitchen, the room was full of smoke.

    “Put the fucking biscuits in the trash!” Wyatt shouted at Jack, through the ringing of the alarm. None of the boys had realised you and Sophia were watching them.

    “But Wyatt!” Jack exclaimed, “We can save them. They’re only a little burnt?”

    “Guys!” Finn yelled from across the room, “The girls are going to be back any minute and if they come back to this mess, we’re dead.”

    “We can save the biscuits, they’ll never know if we just shove some icing on...” Jeremy trailed off.

    “Look okay,” Chosen sighed, “We tried to do something nice for them but it’s failed, let’s just tidy this up and pretend it never happened?”

    “No!” Jaeden shouted whilst waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm, trying to get he deafening sound to stop ringing. “We can save them. We’ve been through so much together, I think it’s about time we save a batch of biscuits. Now, who’s with me?” 

At this point Finn looked up to see you standing at the doorway with Sophia. He made his way towards you, engulfing you in a hug.

    “So,” He whispered into your ear, “I may have tried to make you you’re favourite biscuits and messed up a little.” You all began to laugh.

    “The party starts in a couple hours, you and Sophia can start to get ready, and I’ll clean all this up.” He continued, “I’ll see you in a bit.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before turning back to the kitchen.

As you began to head upstairs, you heard Wyatt shout from the kitchen.

    “Grazer! Put the fucking icing down right now!”

Smiling to yourself, you made your way to the bathroom with your new dress. You knew tonight was going to be perfect.

Guests had begun to arrive, and music was blasting through the speakers downstairs. You were currently in front of the bathroom mirror in your new dress, finishing off curling your hair. Jack knocked on the door.

    “Come in.” You called.

    “Wow Y/N,” He smirked scanning you up and down, “Finn is getting some tonight.” You threw a hairbrush in him in response, which made him laugh.

    “The real reason I’m here is to drag you downstairs, Finn wont shut up about you and I can’t physically listen to listen to him anymore. So, it’d be great if you just went and shoved your tongue down his throat.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down the stairs with him. 

Your stomach was flipping at the thought of being with Finn. As you reached the bottom of the stairs you could see him staring at you from across the hall, his face turned the same shade had the red cup he was holding.

His outfit included of black trousers, a white shirt, and a tie perfectly matching with the shade of your dress.

Jack winked at you, before walking away to join a group of kid’s dancing in the living room. Finn made his way over, bumping into everyone he walked past, as his eyes were only on you.

    “Y-you look b-beautiful.” He stuttered. You felt warmth travel through your body.

    “Thanks, Bill.” You smiled, “I like your tie.” He laughed softly, relaxing.

    “While you were both shopping, Sophia found a tie that matched your dress and made me wear it. I think you pull off the blue a little better than me though, you really do look incredible.” You felt light every time he complimented you, like your head was spinning.

    “Come on Y/N, let’s teach these people what bad dancing really looks like.” He pulled you into the crowd.

After you’d both been dancing for a while, you began to grow tired and wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear, and began to lean in. You were both soon interrupted by Jaeden stumbling over to you. He’d grown slightly tipsy.

    “Fuck, I love you guys!” He said whilst wrapping his arms around you both. Finn rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘sorry’ to you. You however just laughed.

    “We love you too Jaeden, but you know who loves you even more?” You began, Jaden was eyeing you curiously. “Chosen.” You finished, guiding him in direction to a not-overly-thrilled, Chosen.

Finn smiled at you, approvingly.

    “Come on,” He said, reaching out for your hand, “Let’s go some place where Jaeden can’t find us.” You nodded, and let him lead the way through the crowd.

He brought you through to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for you to sit on. Sitting down opposite, he placed a wrapped present down in front of you. It was flat and rectangular.

    “What’s this for?” You asked inquisitively.

    “It’s a present, well a belated present. I was going to give it to you on your birthday a few months ago but I backed out. It’s to do with the plan everyone's been on about, a plan that was also meant to happen months ago.” He beamed, at you, resulting in his contagious smile once again infecting you.

“Open it.” He whispered, his eyes glazed with excitement. You picked up the parcel and began to tear away the wrapping paper to reveal a black A4 book. You turned to the first page, a title written in Finn’s handwriting appeared;

“Y/N and Finn’s Moments together”

He’d made you a scrap book.

You turned the page revealing a photo of you and Finn laughing at something together in the first chemistry reading for IT, he’d written below the photo;

“The day I first met you”

As you flicked though the pages, you began to notice a pattern in all the photos of you both together, you were both always smiling. Finn had put so much effort into this book, he’d even filled it with handwritten messages and inside jokes. Since the photos from the book took place in chronological order, the last photo in the book was from yesterday when you were both watching a film. After this last picture, there were still numerous blank pages at the end of the book.

You looked back into Finn’s eyes, he was grinning from ear to ear. You were speechless. He filled the silence for you.

    “The back of the book’s empty because what you saw was only the beginning,” He pulled reached under the table to pull out a polaroid camera, a sharpie, and a glue stick. With one hand holding yours and one hand on the camera button, he took a photo of you both. Neither of you needed to smile for the photo because you already were.

Once the photo had developed, he stuck it in the next blank page of the book. Then, without saying a word he began to write a message below it. As he was doing this you looked through the kitchen doorway, people were counting down from thirty to celebrate the New Year.

Finn put down his sharpie and turned the book so it was facing you. The words written made your heart skip a beat.

“The day I asked you to be my girlfriend and you said...”

Without hesitation you uncapped the sharpie and began to write. The countdown was still being chanted from the living room, with only ten seconds left of the year. 

You swivelled the book round to face Finn. His eyes lit up as he read the finished sentence;

“The day I asked you to be my girlfriend and you said... yes”

He jumped up from his seat and ran round the table to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in his shoulder. The countdown continued from the hall, Finn joined in by whispering in your ear.

     “Five, four, ” He began, you could practically hear him smiling as the numbers grew closer to zero, “Three, two, one.” He pulled out of the hug and looked you straight in the eyes.

    “Happy New Year, Finn.” You whispered, which he had to lip read due to all the cheers throughout the house.

    “Happy New Year, Y/N.” His hands moved up so they were placed on your hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck again and made the distance between you both smaller. He glanced down to stare at your lips, you both began to lean in. Your pulse grew faster as your lips touched and electricity radiated throughout your whole body, Without hesitation, Finn lifted you up so you were sat on the kitchen counter. He continued to kiss you until, as per usual, you were interrupted.

    “Told you I gave good boy advice.” Jaeden said smugly, holding onto Jack for balance.

    “I’m just pissed Y/N stole Finn, he was going to be my New Years kiss.” Jack joked.

You and Finn looked at each other, he laughed and handed you the polaroid camera. You positioned Jack and Jaeden in the frame.

    “Smile guys, this one’s going in the scrapbook.” You laughed at the confused boys.

After you took the photo, you turned around to see Finn writing on a new page of the book. Your eyes scanned over the words, causing warmth spread throughout you.

“The start of 2018. The start of us.”

Writers Note: Sorry for the belated post, but I hope you enjoyed it. That you so much for reading and have the most amazing day and year!

[minalous]

BTS reacting to you sexting them - vocal line

bts reacting ♥ to you sexting them ✿ rap line ✿ vocal line

Jin: It was always something about his face and his smile, an invisible veil of purity that had you mistake him for an angel. Jin was one the most handsome, or even the most handsome, men you have ever seen. 

No one would ever get suspicious over the little touches he left on your bare skin, when your shoulders were exposed he would touch you over and over again with the tips of his fingers, making you hold back small purrs.

It wasn’t some kind of revenge what you decided to do on your anniversary,  because eventually you had to to do something to repay him for all the great pleasure he offered you those nights he secretly sneaked out of the dorm.

“Seokjinie..”

“Yes love?”

“Where are you?”

“I am having lunch with the boys”

You knew that he would get angry if you started texting me him all of your dirty thoughts but you couldn’t hold back for much longer. He wouldn’t get angry with you but with himself; not being able to restrain himself when it came to you was one of his weaknesses. 

“Your hoodies smell so good Seokjinie..”

“Are you in my room?”

“In your closet.. naked.. wearing one of your pink hoodies”

“Love, how did you even get in there?”

Jin was trying hard not to picture you into his big closet, contemplating whether he should come up to his room or not. You texted him a photo of you only in his hoodie and before sending it you added a small note. 

When he saw the note, a small grunt made its way into his throat but he suppressed it to not arise suspicion.

“I need you, jagiya. Right between here. I swear I’ll be good and quiet”

“Do you know what I need, jagiya?”

“Please tell me..”

“I need to fill you up until you can take it no more and have you full with my cum. And if you dare let it drip, I’ll make sure to use my fingers to put it back behind to its place. Even if there are people around us. Got it, jagiya?”

Jimin: The boys had a photoshoot that morning. Jimin told you he would do his best to look good but you already knew that it would be the easiest thing to do. Jimin struggled to understand how beautiful he was; there were times you tried hard to boost his ego and the times you succeeded were a blessing.

Hoseok sent you in secret some of Jimin’s best shots, thankful that Jimin decided to pull a hot, mysterious look. The longer you looked at his pictures, the harder it got to control your urges. 

You rubbed your thighs against each other, attempting to calm the need that was slowly arising between your legs.

“Your thighs look so inviting baby”

“...what are you talking about? Where are you?”

Jimin didn’t know Hoseok had sent you pictures of him, he didn’t know how bad his looks were affecting you.

“Jimin.. Your hands and fingers are so veiny. I need them around my neck”

“Is this where you only want them baby?”

“I need them inside me Jimin. My fingers don’t feel so well as yours do”

There were times you had control over Jimin and there were times he had control over you. The exchange of power between the two of you was the hottest thing in his opinion. And today was one of the days you made Jimin want to take control and ruin you.

“Who told you to touch what’s mine pet?”

“I am sorry, sir. But you look so good that you made me lose my mind”

“Wait until I come home. You’ll see how it feels to lose your mind”

Taehyung: Taehyung was a simple man. Whatever he wanted it, he claimed it. Your first few dates had you wonder even if they were dates. The way he treated you was as if you were his queen and the way he talked to you was as if you were his long missed friend.

It didn't take long until he claimed you as his either. Taehyung's touch was one of a kind; arms that could hold you safe and warm, and hands that could take your breath away, literally take it away.

Taehyung had asked you to follow him to the library that was near their dorm. Namjoon wanted some new books to read and Taehyung was willing to go pick some for him.

Taehyung enjoyed reading books too. When he saw an interesting book, he told you to join him by picking a book to read too. He leaned back on the bookcase with his fingers delicately wrapped at the bottom of the book.

"Why do you have to look like so hot even when reading?"

"Where are you, you little stalker?"

You had hidden around the library and continued praising him.

"What would you do if I wanted to suck you right now?"

"I wouldn't stop you, sweetheart"

Taehyung asked to say a detailed way of how you would suck on him, with you ending up all hot and bothered and with Taehyung sending you a picture of his huge bulge.

"I didn't know libraries can be so fun Tae.."

"We should have tried this sooner, sweetheart"

"Do you know what else is fun?"

"What?"

"This little isolated part of the library.. I can be quiet for you"

"Oh you will be, sweetheart. Because your mouth will be full and after that, you will be too wrecked to talk.."

“I wish you were already here to do that”

“By the time I am done with you.. your ass will still be red, little toy”

Jungkook: The youngest of the seven, the one so innocent and sweet but also the one who would make girls go crazy with his amazing dancing skills and angelic voice. And this amazing creature was in love with you.

Jungkook was so shy with you though, his eyes barely ever met yours in an attempt to avoid the continuous embarrassment of blushing when he saw you. It was easy to pull the cool boy facade in front of his hyungs but when alone with you, he would run away.

One night, Yoongi came to you and told you about his huge crush on you but that wasn’t what surprised you. He told you that Jungkook was the only one who never got into a “relationship” with any girl or boy before.

That made your heart bloom, the amount of satisfaction and pleasure it gave you to acknowledge how much you affect Jungkook. You started texting him but things got pretty heated quickly enough.

You asked Jungkook if he likes you and he cutely replied by telling you he liked from the first time he saw you. You talked for over two hours before he said that he wanted to see you more.

“Want to see me more Kookie?”

“I like spending time with noona”

When you saw his message and the mention of the cute petname, something suddenly inside you craved to make him reach his limits, to make him desire you more.

“So do I Kookie. We could spend some time alone”

“All alone with you?”

“I won’t bite you!”

“I wish you would noona”

Before you could reply, Jungkook hurried sending you another message.

“I am sorry about the last message noona. Yoongi hyung gave me some shots to drink”

Yoongi had taken action to make Jungkook loosen up even if it would probably shock him remembering all the things he told you.

“Biting is only one of the things I want to do to you”

“Noona..”

“What is it Kookie? I am sorry if I got too far”

“No! No! I want more of your teasing”

Since Jungkook asked for more, you could not let the opportunity slip.

“Touch yourself for me”

“I already am”

“Such a bad boy.. not waiting for me to join you”

“Play with me noona”

You didn’t hesitate telling him what was on your mind since it was too late to stop yourself from feeling your body giving in to the hot mess called Jungkook.

“Would you like me to ride your thigh while you’re pleasuring yourself for me? I bet you would”

“My fist doesn’t feel as good as you would feel noona”

“Close your eyes and imagine it’s my hand”

“Noona please call me, I want to hear your voice to come. Are you wet for me? I know you’d want to feel me stretching you”

And with all those filthy words coming out of Kookie, you called him only to be met with his low grunts and shaky breaths. Kookie wasn’t the shy little boy anymore and you were glad..

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, webuiltthiscityonescargot!

September 13 - "Are you jealous?" Darcy/Thor for @webuiltthiscityonescargot smutty and/or fluffy

Written by @iamartemisday

A/N: This story takes place after TDW but is not Ragnarok compliant.

Darcy Lewis was absolutely not the jealous type. Ask anyone. Whenever she and a friend liked the same guy, she lived by the holy commandment of Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Best Friend's Crush. Such is why, when Jane got through her science boner and started making goo-goo eyes at Thor, a.k.a. Literally The Hottest And Best Guy Darcy Had Ever Known… she'd said, 'okay.' She'd done as the song said and let it go. Jane deserved a sexy god boyfriend more than anyone, herself included.

Ever since their skirmish with the Dark Elves, Jane had been disappearing for hours at a time for last minute 'conferences' (read: hot raunchy god sex). Erik was away on a six month long vacation for 'spiritual betterment' (read: to not go insane from all the superhero shenanigans), so Darcy was left alone to worry about what time Jane would be home every night. While she waited, she could imagine what a great time Jane must be having with Thor holding her, kissing her,  pounding her into the mattress until the bed broke.

God, why hadn't Darcy made a move when she had the chance?

One morning, Jane didn’t come home. Darcy found Thor in the kitchen helping himself to a plate of waffles. Another, smaller stack swimming in syrup was on the table at Darcy’s usual spot.

"Good morning, Darcy," he said. "I hope you don't mind my making breakfast for you?"

"No, that's cool," Darcy said, curling her toes and wishing she was wearing something other than an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants. Here she was wearing a potato sack while Thor was over there making Fabio look like a gremlin.

"My apologies for coming on such short notice," Thor said as Darcy picked at her food, "but I'm afraid once you have finished your meal, you must come with me to Asgard immediately."

Darcy chewed slowly a bite of sugary sweet waffle. "Why?"

He chuckled, as if she'd told a joke. "Jane would've come herself, but she is in the middle of preparations for the ceremony. She is to become a permanent resident of Asgard and she hopes you will come to bear witness."

Darcy's heart dropped like a stone. One half of her wanted to kick the other half for not seeing this coming a mile away. "Just say it's a wedding, Dude. I can take the awful truth."

That one was a joke, and kind of a bad one. She was off her game and Thor was, of course, nice enough to force out another laugh and pat her on the shoulder. God in heaven, Jane didn't know how lucky she was. She really didn't.

"We have a dress ready for you which has been fitted to your size. Jane desires a quick ceremony. No frills, as she describes it."

"Yeah yeah. No problem."

Darcy performed her morning routine with the addition of washing her hair and applying makeup. She was ready in an hour as Thor waited patiently in front of the TV. He turned off a random episode of All My Days Of Our General Lives and cast an admiring glance her way.

"You are beautiful, Darcy," he said, his voice deepening.

'Is that how a man about to get married should talk?' Darcy thought but did not say. She probably should've, but couldn't bring herself to.

"You're not too shabby yourself," she said, holding out an arm to him. "Shall we?"

The trip to Asgard was rough. 'Rough' was, in fact, not a strong enough word to describe it, but Darcy had decided against linguistics as her minor and gone for history instead. The right word for traveling via bifrost couldn't exist in any human language anyway. Suffice to say, she was dizzy for ten minutes and would happily take a century long flight home when this was over.

Jane was not at the podium when Thor and Darcy entered the secret room in the palace where the wedding would take place, but Loki was.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Darcy pointed a quivering finger at Loki's bemused form. She'd never seen him in person before today, only on news feeds and internet conspiracy sites claiming he was a fabrication by the Illuminati to cover up a government conspiracy. He was much better looking than the grainy photos made him out to be, but last she checked, he was still one of the bad guys. Had she missed a memo somewhere?

"Unfortunately, it would take far too long to explain," Thor said, shooting a glare at Loki which was pointedly ignored.

At least now Darcy knew who the second witness was.

Jane arrived at that very moment, with the most impeccable timing Darcy had ever seen. She'd commend her friend for that alone. Dressed like a queen in a gold silk dress, she descended the stairs, grinning at Thor and a ‘barely-containing-her-tears’ Darcy. She moved fast for wearing heels, leaping off the bottom step and running-

Past Thor.

At Loki.

And then she was hugging him. And kissing him.

Jane was hugging and kissing Loki.

"What the hell? What? Why is-" Were Asgardians just really affectionate with their in-laws or was Darcy in the Twilight Zone right now?

"That is an even longer story," Thor said, reading her mind. "I myself have yet to learn the details."

"If you are finished talking amongst yourselves," Loki said, somehow tearing his face away from Jane's long enough to speak, "we would like to begin. Where is Heimdall?"

A man in shiny gold armor, presumably Heimdall, appeared through the same door as Jane. His timing was even better than hers. The ceremony was swift from there. Heimdall's frostiness towards Loki throughout was understandable, but he spoke warmly to Jane. He declared them husband and wife and the pair exchanged rings. This was clearly imported from Earth as Loki almost put it on her right hand. They sealed it with the kiss and before Darcy could finish clapping, they were gone with a swish of Loki’s cape.

"My brother is impatient," Thor laughed as Darcy blinked away the residual green light of magic. "We might see them sometime next month if they don't extend their honeymoon."

"Jane had better come home soon," Darcy said, folding her arms. "She's got a lot of explaining to do. How did she and Loki happen?"

"I confess I am mystified myself," Thor said, "but I have not seen Loki so happy since we were children. I would want nothing less for him or Jane."

"Yeah, me neither," said Darcy. Heimdall had bowed out of the room while they were talking, something Darcy had just noticed. That meant they were alone in what was essentially a cathedral, or at least a place where people got married. "So uh… I guess this means you and Jane are splitsville."

Thor furrowed his brow. "We decided to end our romantic connection and remain friends."

"Yeah," said Darcy. "Would be kind of hard now with the whole 'married to your brother' thing. I mean, I came here today thinking you'd be the one ravishing Jane right now. Which would be totally fine, and I would've been happy to cry my eyes out for my friend on her special day. Cry happy tears, that is. Not sad tears. That would be stupid..."

She trailed off and hoped Thor wouldn't catch on. The magazines back home which tried to paint him as the 'dumb blonde' of the Avengers had the exact opposite idea, though.

"You were jealous," he said.

Darcy let out a loud and dramatic (read: fake) gasp. "Jealous? Me? No. No no no no no… no, I'm not… no. No way. No. No…"

She bit her lip to shut herself up before she dug herself deeper. Judging by the look on Thor's face it was too late for that back at the first 'no'.

"I would not be concerned if you were, Darcy," Thor said. They'd stopped walking and his fingers crept down her arm to lace with hers. His hands were amazing. Big and strong and so so warm… "Forgive my forwardness, I know I haven't made an effort before now to visit with you privately, but I would like to have the opportunity to do just that if you would allow me."

With her free hand, Darcy gathered some skin on her leg through the dress and pinched herself as hard as she could. When she did not wake up alone on a cot in a cramped walk in closet of a bedroom, she concluded this was actually happening in reality.

"Well," Darcy said, pausing to take a deep breath, "I guess it kind of sucks when you have feelings for someone and you have to watch them be with someone else. I've been dealing with it okay, holding my head high and all that junk. But maybe I did still hope I'd get to be with the love of my life someday. Oh well, Jane is married now, so I guess you'll do."

Thor laughed uproariously, his gigantic arm wrapping around her shoulders. "Darcy, if you are serious, I will endeavor to make you forget such things."

"In that case, I'm two hundred percent serious," Darcy said. "Now get to endeavoring, big boy!"

He did, and it was the best night of Darcy Lewis's life.

So far...

[skarsbill-blog]

Forbidden - Chapter II

Chapter II! A little more character development but for the most part, it’s a long one and we’re getting in to the story now, and getting to the bottom of what exactly went down between Bill and Vida, and where their feeling are at now. Please let me know what you think so far! I would really appreciate hearing from anyone who reads so I know to do more. If you’re looking for the first chapter, I will be posting all parts to this under the ‘Stories’ link on my blog. 

Happy reading! 

It’s been a week since my move and I feel as though things are finally falling in to place, I’m feeling a little more at home. My apartment was completely unpacked and seeing it clean and free of cardboard boxes made my heart swell with gratitude at how grateful I was to be able to have such nice things in my life. My new apartment was gorgeous, beyond anything I ever thought I would ever be able to call my own. A four-bedroom dream home that featured dark brown, matte floor boards that covered every floor in the house, apart from my bathrooms where marble tiles took over from the floor to the ceiling. All of my walls were true white, my kitchen all white with marble bench tops and all of my furnishing either grey, white, silver or marble as well. My environment is important to me, this felt pristine and pure, crisp and perfect for me, perfect for my fresh start.

Today was my first day in my new office, and weirdly enough I wasn’t nervous. I think having gained experience with the company and the role already, this was just a matter of a change of scenery and people, which I could handle. I got up, put on my face, dressed myself in a loose black soft cotton t-shirt that I tucked in to a high waisted, ¾ length black skirt and accessorised with some black around-the-ankle strap on Lou B’s, a gold chain and a gold watch. Going to work I liked to keep it simple, and although my whole environment was a true reflection of how much my soul appreciated light, I truly loved wearing black. I grabbed my bag, my keys and headed straight to my car, knowing very well I had to allow PLENTY of time to get to where I was going in this city.

I parked in my designated spot and made my way in to the elevator, up to the top floor of the building. The office space was beautiful, luxurious, like they always were. I spent the day mostly introducing myself and building relationships with my new colleagues before attending all of my afternoon publicity appointments. While writing for Vogue as an expert in mostly styling, fashion, makeup and trends, I was always allocated a role in supervising photo shoots as someone with an eye for what will look good amongst the pages of our magazine. This also meant that I had the opportunity to meet a lot of amazing people, from models, actors all the way to people who did amazing things for the community.

Today’s shoot involved a male for our Hottest Man of the Year issue, I had no clue who it was but the title of the issue they were chosen for says a lot about the kind of person they would be. I entered the studio, introduced myself to the team and began discussing plans with the artists and stylists on set, trying my best to get a feel for the vision so that I could make accurate judgements on what needs to be done to achieve it.

“This all looks awesome, I’m loving it so far. So who is our model today, because truthfully I have no clue.” I laughed with one of the photographers and he rolled his eyes at me playfully.

“This year the lucky gentleman is none other than Alexander Skarsgard. Gorgeous if I do say so myself, very tall.. kind of weirdly tall.” He trailed off and I laughed, before completely coming to terms with name that came out of his mouth.

“Alex Skarsg.. fuck.” “What?” “Nothing! Nothing, I’m just going to check on everyone and make sure we’re all on the same level with what we’re after today, good luck with your shots.”

Alex fucking Skarsgard, why is my luck literally maybe the worst of anyone’s ever? A week in to my move and an encounter with a Skarsgard is the last thing I need. I began trying to figure out how I was going to make my way through this without being seen, the only people who knew I was back were my parents and my brother, and that’s the way I’d prefer it to stay while I’m finding my feet. I never even completely wrapped my head around what happened between his brother and I, and to be honest I don’t want to. It’s too painful to think about, and I know very well how seeing Alex will make me feel.

I manage to lurk in the shadows during the whole shoot, giving my opinion only when needed and staying quiet every other time, daring not risk him noticing me. The shoot finished and I snuck out and back to my floor before being seen, relieved as soon as I made it inside the glass walls of my office, in disbelief of the bullet I dodged, and what a large bullet it was. I got straight back to work, answering any remaining emails from the day, sending off final editions to articles and making sure everyone had what they needed before making my way home. Engrossed in my inbox, I heard my door open and assumed it was one of the girls bringing me the final copy of their piece, instructing them to leave it on my desk and to have a nice night.

“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m here.” I froze immediately, my neck going hot at the sound of the voice in front of me, afraid to look up.

“Alex.. wow it’s so nice to see you, what are you doing here?” I looked up at him, puzzled, cursing at myself for obviously not being discreet enough.

“You really thought you could get away before I noticed you, I noticed you five minutes in to the shoot Vida, I know that face anywhere.” He smiled down at me, and I stood from my desk, giving in and smiling straight back.

“It’s so nice to see you Alex, truly” I breathed, walking around to give him a big hug, “I’ve uh.. I’ve moved back.” I looked at him, waiting for his reaction.

He grinned, moving over to sit on the lounge in the corner of my office as I followed, “You have? That’s awesome, Bill will be happy with that.”

I swallowed audibly at his words, shaking my head and looking down, “I’m not so sure about that Alex.” I laughed nervously, playing with my necklace and thinking back to everything that went wrong as soon as I left, thinking back to my relationship with my best friend completely falling apart.

He smiled and took my hand, holding it and offering me a reassuring look, “It was so good to see you Vida, congratulations on all of this incredible success, if anyone deserves it it’s you.”

“Thanks Alex, and same to you of course, you big movie star.” I laughed as I stood up, walking him to the door and farewelling him with one last hug.

 What weird afternoon, I thought to myself as I fell on to my couch in a heap. While I can’t deny that seeing Alex had me shaken, I also can’t deny how nice it was to be in his presence, someone I grew so close to, being almost like a family member to the lot of them after knowing Bill so very well. Everyone knew the whole Skarsgard clan was full of lovely people, and there were never truer words spoken, I just wish things didn’t have to be snuffed out the way they were. On my way to run myself a rather large, extra bubbly bath with my extra full glass of wine, I heard my phone ring. Deciding almost instantly to ignore it, I continued on and spent the next hour thinking of every aspect of my life, making realisations and deciding what to have for dinner before hauling my ass out of the bath and in to the fluffiest bath robe I could find.

Knowing I couldn’t avoid checking my phone any longer after hearing my message tone three more times while bathing, I put the kettle on and walking straight over to it.

What I saw on the screen made my heart drop, I literally questioned whether or not I was hallucinating. A missed call and three text messages from none other than Bill himself. I stared at my phone like it was an alien, forgetting how to use it completely and unsure of how to make my brain start working again. I sat down slowly on the couch, first listening to the voicemail.

“Vida, it’s Bill.. in case you don’t have my number anymore. Alex told me you’ve moved home? I was so happy to hear, I was wondering if we could maybe catch up, I have so much to tell you and I’ve missed you s-“ he was cut off by the end of the message. I sighed, knowing this would happen and resenting the fact that it did. I had nothing to say to Bill, all of this makes me sound so angry but I’m not, I was done being angry a long time ago, now I’m just sad, hollow, disappointed and over it.

His messages were all similar, asking to see me and begging me not to avoid him because he knows I’ll try. I sighed, deciding to ignore the messages for now, needing time to think about how I need to answer these, well enough the first time for him to understand that I don’t want to go through this again.

The next day was thankfully Saturday, and I completely intended on doing nothing but sitting on my couch in my comfiest clothes, and doing absolutely nothing. I ended up mustering the courage to reply to Bill, confirming with him that I had moved back and that I needed time adjust and just be with my family. I was honest when telling him that I wasn’t really ready to see him and that I was still hurt by everything that happened. I hadn’t heard back from him, and hoped that this meant he got the message and was going to give me the space I requested.

It was around 5pm when I heard a knock on my door, assuming it was the food I had ordered I naively opened it, hating myself for not asking who was there first. There stood Bill, in all his gorgeous glory, looking down at me smiling, waiting for me to invite him inside. “Bill.. what are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?” I asked him, frowning, bordering on completely creeped out.

“Your Mum told me,” he smiled, moving past me in to my home like it was no big deal, “I know you asked me for space, but I know you would try to avoid me forever and I won’t let that happen.” “Bill, why couldn’t you just understand-“ “I understand Vida, but I don’t accept what you said, because I missed you so much and I’ve hated myself every day since we stopped talking. We were supposed to be there for each other, and for all of that time we weren’t, we were like strangers..” he trailed off, visibly upset as was I.

Seeing him in the flesh, right in front of me, made it hard for me to control my emotions. I began tearing silently, letting a few escape as I thought of what to say.

“Bill, you have no idea what you put me through, you ignored me for months, you pretended I didn’t exist. Don’t you dare come to my home, and act like this wasn’t all you!” I sobbed, visibly upset, feeling my sadness slowly turning to anger faster than I could process.

“You were the one who stopped answering my calls and texts. You’re the one who told me it was best if we stopped talking, what the fuck made you do that? What happened?” His eyes glazed over with guilt and sadness, but before he had the chance to speak I stepped in again,

“You have some nerve, waltzing straight back in to my life just because I’m back and you know you were the one who did this to us. Well I won’t let you, I finally have my shit sorted out, you destroyed me once and I won’t let you do it again.” I was back to sobbing like an absolute mess, staring straight in to eyes that were once so familiar, now I didn’t recognise them at all. ‘Vida.. please, I’m sorry, I swear I had reasons. You have no idea what doing that did to me too, I thought of you every second of every day, I-“ “Leave, now. Leave my apartment right now.. and never come back” “V,” “Now Bill, I’m serious.” I stood planted firmly in place, throwing daggers at him, completely serious and ready to call building security.

“Just know that I did it all for a reason, and that I want to tell you everything, that I’m sorry and that I just want my relationship with you back. You’re my best friend..” He trailed off, finding no sympathy from me, my body language completely defensive and dangerous. He frowned and walked away, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as I knew he would have been in the elevator, I fell in to a ball and cried all of my hurt out, or at least attempted to. In complete disbelief of what just happened and what I had done, I went straight to bed, knowing very well that dwelling won’t do me any good. I had been here before, and this time I wasn’t staying.

[fanfictionreader2015ad]

Humans First Contact with Alien Race Kanamit

Backstory

Date: April 25 2012

14 Year Old Young Girls (Claire Brady, Ciara Brady, Paige Larson) were reported missing this afternoon. They were last seen last Monday, right after high school, walking down the Gunning Street near North Park. The police supported by concerned parents and volunteers are still searching. Let's listen to one of the functionaries working on the case talk about the progress made. A finely dressed reporter on the screen announced coldly.

Then the image changed, a man in his 40s appearing on the screen. "So far we have no clues. No leads to follow. We might as well be just flouncing around in the dark." he said before his worried face was replaced by reporter's emotionless one again.

"As you could hear, the case is very difficult to handle for the police and especially for the parents. Stay tuned for the update on the case in the evening emission. Now, shortly, a kitten stuck on a tree lead to a 4-hour intervention involving firefighters and even an ambulance..."

The sound and image were cut abruptly with one press of a button, and whoever was watching the News left the room quietly.

Prologue

Date: July 4 2012

It was hot summer midday, the sun was shining tenaciously, blasting the pavement, the buildings and anything else on its way. This kind of heat usually makes people hide in their houses behind the shut sun blinds, but the town's promenade bustled with life. Young families with children, old couples strolling around, dogs on leashes and off leashes, followed by their owners. There even was a small group of foreign tourists, whom all were holding cameras in their pale palms and taking pictures of completely trivial objects and rather unimpressive looking buildings.

The gardens of the restaurants and cafes were full ass well, full of people and of noise. All the conversations combined together into an even cloud of buzz, raising above crowd's heads. Three girls sitting at a round table out in the Blair's cafe's garden were sipping slowly on their Carmela frappes while chatting with excitement. One of them was holding up a phone. She fiddled with it for a while then turned the screen in two other girl's direction.

"This is him?" asked a dark-haired girl. A pinch of disappointment could be heard in her voice, and the blond girl, that showed her the photo, took her phone back scrolling through her photos.

"Well, he looks different in person," she answered, failing to hide how someone could look at the hottest boy at their school and remain completely oblivious to his charms.

"Heh, don't worry Hanna, Spencer doesn't get it because she only has eyes for Daniel," reassured her the third girl, smiling widely. Her hair was short dark blond with pink speckles and she had a pencil stuck behind her ear, in a manner that's supposed to imitate an concentric artist's style.

"Daniel?" Hanna turned to her intrigued. "Who's that and why have I never heard about him?" added turning to Spencer. The latter made no move to answer, instead, taking a big group of her drink.

"Yes, Daniel Peters. The British student from 8-B."

"Muumuu, an upperclassman" Hanna wiggled her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, stop. I'm not in love with him and-" Spencer tried to put an end to the conversation, her face turning bright red.

"So where have they met?" Hanna pushed her chair closer to Aria's ignoring Spencer's protests, which only caused the latter to complain louder. Hanna and Aria began pretending they can't hear her, just so all three of them could burst out in laugh mere a minute later.

Their attack of uncontrolled laughter git disturbed by a notification pinging off on Hanna's phone.

"What is it?" asked Aria curiously, then leaned over Hanna's shoulder as the other was too absorbed in her phone's content to answer. After a moment or two of silence, Hanna raised her eyes from her phone, giving her friends a serious look.

"Have you heard about this new restaurant?" she began conspirator. "Which one?" asked Spencer unimpressed.

"Okay, so there's this restaurant that only a few chosen guests can visit. Its name and location are a complete mystery and in order to get inside you need a special invitation from the owner themselves!" With every word Hanna's, the smile widened, matching her eyes shining with excitement.

Aria looked similarly, as id she was ready to vibrate out of her skin any moment from now.

Spencer, on the other hand, remained skeptical. "Oh yeah? And how do you know that if the whole thing is so mysterious?"

"There's few YouTube's that got the invitation themselves. In the beginning, the whole thing was pretty low-key, but ever since my YouTuber mummy Grey Rouge uploaded a video about it, it got super popular!" said Hanna, undisturbed by her friend's negativity.

Spencer opened her mouth, about to ask another one of her pointy questions, but she was disturbed by a deep male voice coming from their left.

All three girls turned like on cue. They were met with a sight of a tall man around thirty, dressed in a nicely tailored black suit. The man smiled gently before greeting them with a simple "Hello" His voice was a nice calming tenor.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation..." he began.

"Would you be interested in visiting the said restaurant?" he asked before offering them a truly charming smile.

Hanna and Aria stared at him with eyes shining with excitement.

Spencer, on the other hand, stared at him suspiciously. Understandably she didn't want to believe that an extremely exclusive place as this almost mythical restaurant would send their staff to invite some random people from the street, just like that. Instead, thinking it was a scam, even more so given the man appeared.

However before she could thank him then politely tell him off, Hanna and Aria pushed the stranger for more information. Hanna, in particular, seemed interested in visiting the restaurant, which had Spencer stare at her cagily.

Eventually, the man left, but not before handing them three envelopes, each with their full names written on top in a fancy, swirly handwriting. Each contained a name invitation to the restaurant. At the very bottom in fine print, it was written that the invitation was valid as long as the concerned parties agree upon not sharing the location of the restaurant nor that they received the invitation with anybody, at least until the visit is concluded.

"We ask only that you trust us, Only that you simply trust us." Hanna finished reading the paragraph out loud, then raised her eyes to her friends. Her cheeks were painted red, bright smile an obvious indication she was willing to pass over any red alarms in order to visit the famous place.

Under Spencer's pressure tough, they all agreed to simply ignore the man and forget the whole situation, Hanna resultant so.

It didn't take much time for Hannah to break. Tuesday after classes she hurried to gather her stuff and left the school as fast as possible, trying to avoid being seen by her friends. However in vain. She was soon caught by Spencer and Aria, as she tried to sneak out through the main school gate unnoticed. Spencer tried once more to convince her that it is not a good idea. But Hanna didn't even want to listen to what she had to say. She refused to change her mind in pursuit of "her dreams".

"What dreams?" asked Spencer coldly. Hanna stared at her for a while then turned her back at her and crossed the street without a word.

Spencer and Aria shared a surprised stare then ran after their friend. When they caught up with her, they chose to accompany her, for the minimum of safety.

Spencer was still skeptical, which she hadn't failed to point out repeatedly. She did, however, believe it was better than to leave Hanna on her own, and so she followed her and Aria to the restaurant.

They arrived at the place indicated in the invitation about fifteen minutes later. At the entrance, they met a woman, with crazy eyes and cloths in complete disorder. She gave them an oddly pointed stare then walked up to them. She walked up to Spencer who tried to back up with disgust. When the woman saw that, she grabbed the girl by the wrist bringing her closer. Spencer struggled, trying to free herself from the unwanted touch. Before she could escape the lady leaned down and whispered to her ear in a weak voice. "TO SERVE MAN RESTAURANT IS HUMAN COOKBOOK!" Spencer looked at her with a mix of confusion and disgust on her face. To which the latter answered with a stare, crazy eyes fidgeting, thin lips forming a desperately sad smile. Then she let go of Spencer and nodded sadly, murmuring something intangible under her breath. Girls quickly walked way, thinking it was just yet another crazy lady, they were nothing of a rare specimen in the town.

After walking up the stairs they stopped in front of the heavy, wooden door and raised their heads to read the name of the restaurant. "To Serve A Human" announced simple black letters on a whiteboard.

"Ha, what a strange name," commented Hanna, aiming for a joke, but her voice sounded a bit wobbly. Neither Aria nor Spencer said anything. First absorbed in the

Once inside they were met with luxury in its purest, most old fashioned form.

They were greeted by a clean-looking old butler, dressed in a black tuxedo and white shit. Butler asked them respectfully to hand in their invitations. He inspected the papers shortly, then invited them inside with a simple hand gesture.

Three girls stood in the entrance, looking around admiring in the softness of the couches pushed against the walls of the large corridor, stunned by the richness of the colors, aromas, and textures surrounding them. However, before they had a chance to make even one step they felt something dull and heavy, hitting their heads. One after another they dropped on the soft surface of the fluffy carpet.

Chapter: Spencer Jill Hastings

Date: July 5 2012-August 4 2012

The first thing she saw after opening her eyes was a long dining table extending in front of her in a dim-lit room. Dull pain in her head reminded her the last few minutes before she was stunned. Walking into the mysterious restaurant, the guard checking their invitations then being hit from behind with something heavy.

"Well, that's how going to shady restaurants that you got an invitation to from a man in fancy black suit end like." she thought bitterly. She sat in the half-darkness for a while before she dared to make any move. Then she stood up. That had to cause some kind of motion sensor to trigger because suddenly the main lights turned on and Spencer was left squinting in the now brightly lit room. It had its pluses, however. Now at least she could properly inspect her surroundings.

The room was nicely furnished. With a large table laid with modern looking-late and shining silverware. Red wallpaper was home to oil paintings of landscapes and flowers, all of them flailed in golden frames. All that gave the room a look of a privet suite in a fancy hotel. But Spencer doesn't have time nor mood to appreciate the beauty of her prison. Apart from the expensive furniture and paintings, the room was empty, which meant she was now separated from her friends.

She did a tour of the room inspecting each piece of furniture, each painting, then finally the door placed on the opposite side of the room from where was the table placed. However, as expected her search turned out to have no issue. The furniture was just regular furniture, the door was shut closed.

She returned to "her" chair at the top of the table and sat its fluffy cushion, doubting highly that this was a part of the "amazing restaurant experience".

Soon enough a calm voice reached her. "It is the mealtime, Miss Hastings, kindly state your preference please." At first, it seemed though it came from nowhere. But upon quick look around she was able to locate a speaker, placed right above the door-frame.

When she made no attempt to answer the same message was repeated a few times. The voice unchanged each time starting with a high pitched "I" then sliding through the curves of the vowels and sharp peaks of the consonants ended low on the final "e". With each listening it appeared coldly unnatural, somehow dead in spite of its colorful appearance. Last time left Spencer shivering with uneasiness and disgust.

Finally, the unsettling announcement stopped leaving space for the equally unsettling silence to take over. Spencer wasn't however left to herself as she initially thought. After no longer than a few minutes from the end of what she concluded was a morbid recording the door opened.

A Male Kanamit, with large head supported by a puny, Female Kanamit walked inside, pushing in front of them a hotel-cart containing a wide variety of food. Next, the being started placing all of the delicacies one could imagine, from filet mignonette, trough meticulously plated ratatouille to the golden-crusted creme brulee. Spencer couldn't help but feel her mouth-watering at the sight of all the delicious food placed right in front of her, some steaming hot some freezing cold, but all without exception looking luxuriously tasty.

When she managed to shake away the amazement the Kanamit was just about to leave. She only had time to shout after them a pathetic "Where am I?"

At that, the Kanamit turned and looked her straight in the eyes. Their ice-cold gaze had Spencer shiver once again. The being smiled politely and offered her a robotic "Enjoy your meal". Then they walked out. The door shut closed with a muted thud and she has left to herself yet again.

She looked at the food suspiciously, with no intention to touch any of it at first. But then her stomach reminded her kindly that she hadn't had lunch this day yet, by rumbling loudly. The sound echoed in the empty room. She looked at the food once more. It was truly beautiful, like a piece of art shining in the yellow light of the lamps.

After another few minutes of hesitation, she reluctantly took one of the plates to inspect its content. It was definitely food, she wouldn't say "regular" as it appeared to be top tear chef's work, but at least she could say it wasn't plastic or some disgusting slime-like substance shaped into this beautiful pieces of sustenance. Carefully, reassembling a scared-cat she took the silver fork and dipped it into the piece of golden baked potatoes. She cut a little piece of it, then brought it to her mouth. The smell was amazing, taking over her senses, causing her nostrils to expand. She could feel spit gathering in her mouth at the godly aroma of the butter melted into the Pommel de Terrie's crisp skin.

Unable to control herself anymore she shoved the bite into her mouth. The food was almost dissolving in her mouth, tender flesh of the potato contrasting with its crisp skin.

After that first bite came another, and another, and another. She couldn't stop eating, all of this delicious food fitting in her mouth perfectly, as if it was its desire to find itself in her stomach.

After that, all the days became one, under the electric light of the room she was provided with all the foods she could imagine and more, some she couldn't even name. The Kanamits were coming and leaving, each time bringing more and more food. She felt full, constantly expanding, but there was nothing she could do as her body constantly longed for more. More gracious salads, creamy soups, crispy baked vegetables and tender meat such as Ribs to Burgers to Steaks. More sweet chewy toffee, more golden brown nougat cracking under her teeth.

Sometimes she tried to talk, to the Kanamits or to herself even, but no words came out of her mouth, only animistic growls and choked squelching sounds.

Before long she couldn't stand up anymore, her body spilling out from both sides of the chair.

Month Later, No longer than a day or two from there, although it was hard to tell as now her life was just a single string of endless meals, one of the Kanamit came, but they brought no food.

The Kanamit looked slightly different from the others, it wore a black uniform with a white headpiece, weirdly imitating a policeman hat. The Kanamit opened the door wide and Kanamits in similar uniforms came in.

They walked up to Spencer and no without great effort pulled her out from her chair. They then placed her on a cart, similar to those that were used by the Kanamits to bring her food. She is then dragged away, unable to protest or fight back, weakened and dumber by the weeks of being imprisoned, Delicious calories that she was fed with for weeks now proving themselves to be her greatest enemies.

She was led through cold corridors until they reached a large room full of hot steam, clinging of metal against metal and shouts. Spencer's fogged mind manages to identify the room as a kitchen. She was placed in one spot, then put away, treated no different, then a pile of dead meat. The worst part is that she was still unable to do anything but passively observe her environment. And what she has seen was a truly horrifying image of an organized butchery.

One of the Kanamit, the one walking around and shouting at everyone around attracted her attention. Spencer followed them with her eyes. They looked no different than the Kanamits, anatomically that is. The high hat and different colors of clothing made it obvious that they were way more important than all of the Kanamits, walking around with confidence, scolding the inexperienced novices, the Kanamit seemed to be this kitchen's top chef. However it was not their appearance or behavior that interested Spencer, but the book they were holding. It was a large tome, on its hardcover painted navy blue gold letters stated: "To Serve Human". This title rung a bell in Spence's mind, she couldn't, however, remember where she had seen, or maybe heard, it.

She focused on trying to dig the information out of her lazy brain, but with no result until the Kanamit read out a few sentences out of the said book.

"In order to make the human flesh tender and for the meat to tear easily apart it is imperative to cook the Human over medium heat for no shorter than two hours. The crispy skin is obtained by..." the rest of the text was muted by the loud pounding of the blood in Spencer's ears.

"It's a Cookbook For Humans!" echoed in her head.

She looked around in a panic, hoping for a last chance, for a way to escape. That's when she saw it. A huge grill with gentle orange flames rising dangerously, all the way up to the ceiling in one of the corners of the kitchen. Above the open fire, Huge Meat Hooks were hanging from the ceiling painted in black by the smoke. Sharp points of the hooks shone in the flames, waiting for flesh to pierce. Spencer tried to scream, but it was too late.

The Female Kanamit stripped her naked, then covered her body with thick brown sauce (Kanamit's BBQ Sauce), before finally hanging her on the hooks above the fire. Metal pierced through the mass of muscles and tendons, entering her body right under the shoulder blades on her back and peaking out on the other side, going right through her chest muscles. Flames began to lick her feet lazily, the heat rising steadily. With each second pain becoming more and more unbearable, up to the point when she could no longer tell when finished her body and where started the flames. She was being cooked alive on a slow fire, just as the Human Cookbook said.

She screamed in agony, once twice, until the smoke from the fire filled her lungs up completely. She drew one last breath of heavy grey pall, for her head to finally drop down. Her motionless body hung over the grill, surrounded by trivial sounds of a busy kitchen.

Meanwhile, in the great dining room, a Kanamit Noble awaited his lunch. The midday was approaching quickly, and as a reputable member of the Kanamit society, the aristocrat was getting impatient. It would be savage to start lunch even a mere second after 12 o'clock. And for any Kanamit being anything but sophisticated was unthinkable.

What's more, the table was laid in a truly bizarre fashion. Kanamit Noble squinted at the paper plates and plastic covers placed in front of them. Two colorful bottles, one red the other yellow stood in the middle of the table. The sides of sour pickles and other fermented vegetables were organized in gimmicky meanders on silver plates displayed in the center of the table. Kanamit Noble gave the setup one more critical look before the servants finally brought the main dish. Mountains of cooked, smoked and grilled meat rode into the room on few different carts. The aroma of meticulously prepared humans filled the room and caused the aristocrat's mouth to water. As the meat in various forms was put in front of them, they took a napkin and placed it on their knees, but made no move to touch the food. They waited patiently for the top chef to walk out through the kitchen door and present the dish.

They didn't have to wait long, The latter emerged from the kitchen shortly after the dish. The chef stood in front of their boss and reassured them that this is the way people on Earth eat their meat. To which the aristocrat answered by nodding and digging in without any further questions.

The meal was proven to be delicious. Tender meat easily separable from the bones dissolved on the tongue. Steaks were so juicy that a plastic knife could smoothly cut through the muscle. The crispy exterior perfectly complimented meat's tenderness.

When the lunch ended, pleased Kanamit Noble called their chef to congratulate him on a delicious meal and praised them for their job well done. Then they asked curiously about the name of the dish. The answers surprised them even more than the dish itself.

"It is simply called Steak and ribs sir," said the chef proudly. "Oh" Kanamit Noble raised their eyebrows astonished. "It's a popular food on Earth." added top chef. "Barbecue?" Noble Kanamit continued the questioning.

"Yes, Sir." answered top chef, now getting slightly uneasy. Was their master not content with the dish? Did they change their mind after hearing the simplicity of the name the dish was given by Humans?

"Very well, those humans are onto something," said the Kanamit Noble finally, as their grey tongue swung against their purplish lips. "I'll be awaiting your next creation chef." They added, at last, motioning for a top chef to leave.

The latter bowed respectfully then left the room in haste.

Chapter: Aria Marie Montgomery

Date: July 5 2012-August 6 2012

The gentle sound of a monotone voice brought Aria back into the consciousness "It is the mealtime Miss Montgomery, kindly state your preference please."

She shook off the remains of the sleepiness and looked around a classy room she had to be transported to while she was still unconscious. She was sitting at the table laid with astonishingly beautiful silverware and plates covered with contrived motives. For a while, she got lost in the smooth ribbons and circles painted on the plate's surface. Her head begun to spin and her mind was running a thousand miles an hour, away into the kingdom of art. When the voice spoke again bringing her back from the realm of abstract shapes and fantastic swirls, it appeared equally calm, but now that she focused on its timbre it sounded somehow inhuman

She looked around searching for voice's source. She was quickly able to locate a speaker attached to the wall above the door on the other side of the room. She hesitated, but it lasted only for a minute or two before she decided to speak, at first a bit in a shyly "Hello, who's there? Where am I?"

Yet she was met with the same monotonous voice, repeating the same question. After one more attempt to get something out of the voice, she shrugged then asks curiously "What's on the menu?"

"Whatever your heart desires" stated the voice.

"I'll take a Steak..." she responded almost instantly.

"A steak? Without ribs?" asked the voice truly surprised.

"Yes, who eats steak and ribs all alone?" Aria was confused. First, she was placed in this fancy room all alone and now she was to hold a conversation with what most likely was an AI. This restaurant operated in a truly bizarre fashion.

"We thought..." the voice sounded straight-up abashed. "Barbecue?" it finished hesitantly.

"Ahhh." finally the understanding flew down on her "No, thanks I'll take just a steak with mashed potatoes and Carrot Salad," she said cheerily. But the voice said no more, she was left to the complete silence and solitude of the room.

To her surprise, shortly she was provided not only with exactly what she ordered but with exactly what she envisioned as well. The dish was brought by a Kanamit server. But again this was a fancy, new, eccentric restaurant. That could explain the costume... When the Kanamit server placed the dishes on the table she accidentally touched the "disguise" and discovered it was real skin. She drew her hand back quickly as if she was burned on the contact. The slimy realness of the skin made her tremble inside. It either meant this was not a costume and the server was Kanamit. "Maybe an ill person?" she hoped. Once she's seen a documentary about the "tree man" disease maybe it was a similar case?

She looked back at the Kanamit server who seemingly undisturbed and oblivious to her disgust bowed slightly and left Aria with a horrible thought in mind. What if that was a costume? A costume made out of Human Skin or Alien? She laughed at herself and her over-reactive imagination, shaking her head violently, but her insides felt cold.

After she finished the meal weird sleepiness washed over her and even though there were around a million questions buzzing under her skull. Before long she was deep asleep with her head snuggled to her chest in a peaceful picture.

She woke up with the loud rumbling of her stomach. The food was brought to her, this time without the voice asking her about her preferences, just informing her coldly "It's the mealtime, Miss Montgomery".

The food placed in front of her had an amazing aroma, but it was not enough to calm her shattered nerves. She tried to stand up, however, all her strength had to leave her completely because when she attempts to even move her finger she feels a wave of violent nausea swipe over her. Scared, she pushed out a scream of panic, but with no result. No one came to rescue her, no one responded to her desperate calls. Tears flew down her chin, a waterfall of salty water

She decided she won't touch the food until she was informed about the whereabouts of her friends, but she didn't last even an hour. Met with the luring aroma of the meal she failed to resist the urge to fill up her mouth with something, with anything. She began to eat slowly, shame poking at her mind with each bite. However, before long, she was grabbing the food by handfuls, pushing it into her mouth savagely.

She ended up swallowing hungrily everything she was given, and the more she ate, the more hunger she felt. Time passed and all was just a hazy sequence of the alternating feelings of emptiness and fullness.

After several days or maybe weeks, Aria couldn't tell, three Kanamits walked into the room. Instead of food, they brought an empty cart. They approached Aria, who still in the state of half-sleep couldn't do much but murmur weakly "What is happening? What do you want? What... do... you... want?"

Next similarly to what happened to Spencer, she's led by the guard to the kitchen. She can't move due to her overweight and food-induced sleepiness.

She was next led through cold corridors until they reached a large room full of hot steam, clinging of metal against metal and shouts. She was placed on a large metal table and left by herself to observe her surroundings, what painted itself in front of her was a truly horrifying image of an organized butchery. The knives cutting rhythmically through raw vegetables, the fire flaring on the grill.

She tried to move but her body felt too heavy, as felt her eyelids. She fought with the sleepiness, and for an intensely painful minute, she managed to keep her eyes open. However, then the warmth from the grills and ovens put her to sleep, the sounds of cutting and frying a morbid lullaby.

She was brought back into consciousness by an explosion of pain in her chest. She looked down and in the haze periphery of her vision, she's seen a hook poking up from the middle of her chest. It took her a while to link the pain to what she was looking at, but when she did, she pushed out a loud, high pitched scream. Few Kanamits turned and stared at her with blank, emotionless expressions. They kept looking in her direction as she screamed and screamed until her lungs filled up with smoke. She stilled, then it was just a dead body hanging down from a hook above the fire.

This time the paper plates and the so-called barbecue were expected and the main dish was awaited with impatience.

The Kanamit Noble munched on the meat hungrily, as soon as the meal was delivered on the table. In a disgusting fashion, they devoured the whole human by themselves. Then licking their lips they ordered the servant to pay their compliments to the chef again.

The servant disappeared being the kitchen door and soon the Chef themselves emerged from the kitchen. Kanamit praised them once more, to which they answered with a polite bow. Next, the Kanamit Noble asked them to get the new batch ready for tomorrow.

At this request, the Chef made a worried face. He hesitated for a minute but rushed and encouraged by their employer he explained that the last "Human aka Animal" is not quite ready yet. "We are having some minor issues, Sir," he said squinting frightened.

Unhappy Kanamit Noble ordered the Chef to go back to the kitchen. Kanamit Noble offered him a parting "I expect better results by week midday." before the Chef crawled away in shame.

Chapter: Hanna Olivia Rivers

Date: July 5 2012-August 20 2012

There was light and sound of the dishes. Then the darkness behind closed eyes.

Once she woke up in a lit room, full of stains and silks, and pieces of art. Another time a long dining hall with a discretely elegant wooden table stretching its arms from one side of the room to another.

When the lights were on there were also appetizing aromas of many foods, swirling around, mixing together in a delicious dance of steam. After the aromas usually came the visions, the images of an infinite string of food of insanely wide variety being brought into the room, by strange figures. For Hanna, the Kanamit were no more than the silhouettes, faceless shadows behind the food carts. The food, however, was oh so vividly colorful, then, when the time for consumption came so tender, so delightfully dissolving on her tongue. And the taste! She had never tasted something similar before, the Boer bourgeoisie was sweat, yet salty with a little earthy note, meat falling apart before a fork even touched it.

After a while, all she could remember was waking up just to fill her mouth up with whatever she was given. Gasping around the food, astonished by its perfect texture and refined taste. Then she would fall asleep. What was happening in between those short periods of consciousness? She had no idea, and no way to find out. After a meal her body becoming so heavy, eyelids falling closed on their own. The sleepiness overpowered her, and she had no way to fight.

She was wakened up once more, but this time it seemed different. The room though still luxurious looked somehow menacing. Tall lamps in the corners emitting dim yellow light, which while it should be soughing somehow spelled danger to Hanna. A high pitched voice called "The mealtime" and Hanna lifted herself up from the chair she was seated on, not without struggle. She then took a look around the room, but with no significant results. She admired the craftsmanship on the heavily craved furniture for a while, then as she heard the sound of the doors opening she rushed back to take her seat. Yet again she was brought the food, but now she ate it in full awareness of what she was shoving into her mouth. The dishes were of truly godly appearance and taste. Once she finished and all the plates were taken away she crouched in one corner of the room. She leaned against the wall for a second then raised up her head opened her mouth, and forced to fingers into her throat.

You fat pig. You lazy bitch. You're disgusting. If you take the next bite you'll be fat, so fat. Spit it out! I said, SPIT IT OUT. Reasoned in Hanna's head, that the images of her previous self leaning over a toilet, with her fingers shoved deep down her throat returning to nature, the food she just swallowed.

She came here with a hope for change, thinking the restaurants amazing "fit food" would solve all of her problems. And now she was being fattened. Now she really was a pig, an animal to the slaughter. Bitter thoughts of her naivety fill up her mind as a string of half-digested food finally leaves her mouth. She vomits violently, her body shaking, even convulsing.

After being scolded by his boss, Kanamit Chef called his subordinates and presented them to a new plan, to a solution for the problematic "Animal Meat aka Human" he came up with. Kanamit kitchen workers and servants nodded approvingly, after hearing his words.

A guard came in and Hanna was taken away. She was brought into a completely dark room. She started to crawl-walk, trying to investigate her surroundings by touch. She found some cold, long "sticks" that to her horror turned out to be piles of femurs, humerus and other bones and Humans Heads in Glass. All human. This confirmed her initial suppositions, that is the fact that she was being fattened in order for her kidnappers to consume her flesh. She shivered in the darkness, letting herself spill a tear. There was no chance of escape for her. No hope for rescue.

Next, the door was open and a guard came in, the light was switched on, and she could now see the grim piles of bones, she had touched before. She was chained to a chair with an IV is fixed to her wrist. Then, suddenly a metal straw was forced into her throat. Ever since then she was forced to swallow disgusting pulp through this straw. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, even speaking was hard. She felt disgusting, like a container that was filled up with pulp which then spilled out through the other end. Her excrement were evacuated through a hole in the seat of the chair, their smell filling up the room with their

After a few weeks when she was finally properly fattened a guard came to see her once more. They took her to the kitchen, where she was hooked over the grill, just like many before her. She tried to scream, to struggle, but with no What was the most painful and horrifying for her though was that for hours she was forced to look at her own reflection on the surface of the metal fridge. The morbid image of her feet and the rest of the body cooking slowly over the medium fire. She couldn't help looking at her own mouth opening when she silently screamed in agony and closed forming a thin line when she tried to mentally push the burning pain away. Finally, she followed her friends passing out, then suffocating.

The steak and ribs were served the next Tuesday, to Kanamit aristocrat's excitement. They sat at the table looking approvingly at the now well-known paper plates and plastic knives. The meal rode in shortly after, a pile of meat plated graciously on a large platter. Aristocrat gave the servant a little nod, after which gesture the servant left the room with a polite bow. Once alone in the room, Kanamit aristocrat indulged in the dish.

This barbecue was proven to be by far the beast one of the those that they have eaten so far. Chef had to be congratulated at least twice for this one. Kanamit aristocrat licked their lips. Oh, and then prized, prized with a possibility to prepare the godly meal once more. Murmuring that under their breath the aristocrat called the servant back into the room. They ordered them to bring the Chef into the room, and so they did. A few seconds later Chef was already standing in front of their boss, with their back straight and head high they awaited a prize or a bane. What followed was a prize and that brought a wide smile to their face. They nodded vigorously at each end every of their employer's words then walked away an height spirits when told so.

The next day a new "Meat Delivery" was ordered by the Kanamit Noble. And so dozens of Humans Agents strolled out on the streets in the search of the new prey.

(Samara Cook's Breaking Fourth Wall to Readers)

Samara Cook hidden in the bushes in front of the "To Serve Human" Restaurant breathed in sharply. Humans Agents wrote a few words in their handy notebook then shook their heads violently. There was no way his suppositions were correct, though officer Public. Right? Right? If Samara was however right it was probably wiser to kill yourself than continue walking on this Earth surface. Not that it really matters, Samara thought. Then Samara stared intensely into the darkness, Samara eyes two wide plates of white and black in the dense blue marine of this night. There is no hope, Humans will all finish on a Kanamit Dinner Table.

[loudlytransparenttrash]

The Myths That Sparked The Black Lives Matter Movement

Recently we had the 5th Anniversary of the death of Trayvon Martin, who was shot dead by George Zimmerman. The facts of the case were reported fairly and accurately, and the legal analysis was always first rate. Where so many news outlets and bloggers seemed unconcerned with the actual facts or the law and were content to combine misinformation with their own narrative.

When it first happened, I was a full-blown social justice activist and I sided with the media, activists and Trayvon’s family lawyers who developed narratives before the facts were known. I should have known better and allow the facts to come in before we opine on the legal significance of the facts. Did Zimmerman hunt Martin down, or did the two come into unexpected contact with deadly results? It could be important. Given the high political profile the case had already taken, shouldn’t we have owed it to the victim and the accused for there to be a professional investigation free from politics?

From the very beginning, it was obvious they were setting up a very bad situation by turning it into a racial narrative and if and when those narratives fell apart, what happens when Zimmerman is found not guilty? George Zimmerman had been tried and convicted in the media and public opinion for the shooting of Trayvon Martin, with the case almost uniformly being portrayed as racially motivated, with the wearing of a hoodie by a young black male as the symbol. Even Obama framed the case in racial terms. A case which should have focused on the guilt or innocence of the accused based on evidence, and finding justice for a victim based on law, had been turned into a racial political play.

Sometimes you just have to go with your gut, and the early evidence suggested to me the case would not turn out the way the media and the activists wanted. There is no possible way I can cover every aspect of the case in this one post, so I’ll focus on just a few aspects of the lies about the case that framed the case and continue to live on in the coverage and commentary today.

False Hoodie Narrative

In trying to turn the case into a racial narrative, the initial burst of publicity and activism turned on Trayvon wearing a hoodie. The Hoodie has become the symbol of protests, based on the assertion that Zimmerman found Martin suspicious because he was wearing a hoodie. But the audio tape in which Zimmerman mentions a hoodie is clear that a hoodie was mentioned only in response to a later question by the 911 operator as to what the person was wearing. The dispatcher asks, “Did you see what he was wearing?” which Zimmerman replies, “Yeah a grey hoodie, either jeans or sweatpants and white tennis shoes.” So what is the source of this idea that Zimmerman found the wearing of a hoodie suspicious rather than any of the other clothing items Zimmerman described to the dispatcher or rather than Trayvon’s behavior? 

From images of former Michigan Gov. Jennifer Granholm wearing a hoodie, to the “million hoodie march,” to Havard law students wearing hoodies with a sign “Do we look suspicious?,” to Congressman Bobby Rush appearing on the House floor in a hoodie, the hoodie has come to symbolize alleged racial profiling by Zimmerman which led to the shooting. But as relates to the Zimmerman-Martin case, the hoodie narrative is not based on any known facts connected to the shooting. While Martin was wearing a hoodie that night, there is nothing other than surmise to suggest that Martin was considered suspicious by Zimmerman for that reason. Despite this lack of evidence of the wearing of a hoodie as an actual factor in the case, the hoodie today remains the symbol of the case.

False Racial Narrative

First came the racial narrative, that Trayvon was followed and shot because he was black. That was based on multiple falsehoods, most particularly the NBC News doctoring of police audio in which it falsely made it seem as though Zimmerman said he was following Trayvon because Trayvon was black. But that’s not what happened. Zimmerman once again only mentioned race when the police operator asked about race. The dispatcher asks, “Is he white, black or Hispanic?” and Zimmerman replies, “He looks black.” This is the only mention of race.

There also was the claim that Zimmerman used the term “f-ing coons” on the police tape. But that was debunked early on. One of hottest topics of argument had been whether George Zimmerman said “f-ing coons” under his breath on the 911 tape. The left-blogosphere has used the alleged racial epithet endlessly to paint this as a racially motivated hate crime. CNN used three different audio experts to analyze the tape, one of whom found “f-ing coons,” another “f-ing cold,” and another “f-ing punks.” In the Affidavit of Probable Cause, State of Florida investigators swore under oath that Zimmerman used the term “f-ing punks.” 

An FBI investigation also found no history of racism in Zimmerman’s past. To push the race baiting narrative, Zimmerman continues to be described as “white” when he’s very clearly Hispanic, have you guys even seen photos of him? He ain’t white. Also, a year before the incident, Zimmerman had angrily spoken out against the son of a white police lieutenant who had violently beaten a black man and Zimmerman had tutored black children for free in his spare time. Oh, and he was an Obama supporter and voter. Yet he is painted as a white black-hating racist who assassinated an innocent black male for no reason other than being a “murderous white racist.”

Feeding the media racial narrative, there was also widespread but false claims that neo-Nazis were patrolling the neighborhood where the shooting took place, even though Sanford Police rule this story out.

False Stand Your Ground Narrative

As Andrew Branca has explained many times, Florida’s Stand Your Ground law was not invoked in Zimmerman’s defense. SYG also is very misunderstood, it is not a “license to kill” - it only kicks in when all the other elements of lawful use of deadly force is established. SYG only addressed the need to retreat. 

It made sense for Zimmerman not to rely on SYG, because Stand Your Ground would only be relevant if Zimmerman had a route of exit, but the shooting took place while Zimmerman was on his back on the grass, his head having been pounded on the pavement and being beaten relentlessly by Trayvon. All witnesses say exactly the same thing. Zimmerman had a broken nose, two black eyes and cuts to the back of his head where Trayvon slammed Zimmerman’s head repeatedly into the ground. The left argues ‘but Trayvon was just a kid and Zimmerman was a man’ yet forget to mention that Trayvon was much taller and in far better physical shape and conditioning. He was far from being small and vulnerable.

Forensic analysis demonstrated that the trajectory of the single shot fired and burns on Trayvon’s sweatshirt were consistent with Zimmerman being on his back with Trayvon hovering over him at the time of the shot. Since Zimmerman was pinned to the ground, he didn’t need to invoke SYG because there was no reasonable means of avoidance. While the jury instructions did contain language similar to the SYG standard, the SYG statutory protection itself was not invoked.

False Claim That Zimmerman Disobeyed Police Instructions Not To Get Out of the Car

This is perhaps the most believed false narrative of the case: That George Zimmerman supposedly was told by the police dispatcher not to leave his car, but did so against police instructions. This allegation is used to claim that the entire confrontation was Zimmerman’s fault, and had he merely followed police instructions, nothing would have happened. Zimmerman was not in the car at the time of the comment “we don’t need you to do that.” The audio tape proves at no time was Zimmerman ever told to stay in his car. Trayvon had become aware that he was under observation and started circling Zimmerman’s car while Zimmerman was pleading for the police to come. At about the two minute mark Trayvon runs, and Zimmerman loses sight of him. When Zimmerman did exit the vehicle it was in direct response to the dispatcher asking him to report the direction of Martin’s travel. 

The dispatcher would testify at the trial that dispatchers are prohibited from giving orders over the phone because they are not physically on the scene and may inadvertently direct the caller into greater danger. When the dispatcher asked if Zimmerman was still following the direction that Trayvon ran, Zimmerman said yes, the dispatcher said they don’t need him to do that and Zimmerman replied “OK.” There is not a single piece of evidence - none - that Zimmerman continued to follow Trayvon after this point. Indeed, Martin would ultimately launch his attack on Zimmerman right at the corner of the building where Zimmerman complied with the dispatcher’s suggestion to stay where he is. Trayvon had more than enough time to achieve the safety of his father’s girlfriend’s condo had he truly been fleeing from a frightening Zimmerman.

Bottom Line - The Jury Got It Right

The verdict came as no surprise to those of actually following the evidence. It came as a shock to those who bought into the false narratives, evident by the eruption on social media, the mass rioting and outbreak of violence and the eventual beginnings of Black Lives Matter, who carried these false narratives and deceit into the Michael Brown case - another criminal who was legally shot - and have since continued to glorify and martyr criminals in their efforts to demonize police officers, remove accountability from the black community and place all blame onto white people. 

Soon after the verdict, Princeton professor Imani Perry wrote about her fright and dismay of Zimmerman’s acquittal. The following is the perfect example of this ridiculous, irrational, victim pushing narrative that BLM activists and much of the left continue to shout almost every day:

“My two sons, bright, creative and kind African American boys, aged 7 and 9, both wept when they heard that George Zimmerman had been acquitted. They were afraid he, or others like him, might come for them next. I did not anticipate that their young lives would be as much defined by the tragedies of the murder and execution of Trayvon Martin, as by the historic era of the first African American president. They already know the brutal truth of racial inequality, and that they are called to wage the battle against it, just as their forefathers and mothers. I believe that if children are guided honestly through the reality of the world in which they live, it will help them build resilience. I am training my sons to develop resilience in the face of the racial injustice.”

I have a question to Ms. Perry. Why on earth would your sons worry that Zimmerman might ���come for them next”? Is it because they are planning to break Zimmerman’s nose, give him two black eyes, and smash his head against the concrete while being on top thundering down punches MMA style? Or, is it because you lied to them, and falsely told them that Zimmerman “murdered” and “executed” Trayvon Martin for being black? If you believe that children should be “guided honestly through the reality of the world,” then why did you teach your own children that Martin was “murdered” and “executed,” when the medical evidence and witnesses called by the prosecution showed that Martin had violently assaulted Zimmerman, and that Zimmerman killed Martin in self defense?

Did you teach your children about Roderick Scott? Scott is a black man in New York who, in 2009, shot and killed an unarmed white teenager. A jury found Scott to be not guilty of murder because Scott had killed the teen in self defense. Scott was found not guilty for the same reason that Zimmerman was found not guilty. Both killings were done in self defense. But while you taught your children that the Zimmerman verdict was proof of racism, I very much doubt that you told them anything at all about the Scott verdict.

If you want your sons to have “resilience in the face of the racial injustice,” then why did you scare them by falsely telling them that the Zimmerman verdict was the result of racism, instead of reassuring them by truthfully telling them what pretty much every legal scholar who has closely followed the case has said - that the verdict was the result of the fact that Zimmerman acted in self defense?

Ms. Perry, did you teach your sons that a year before Zimmerman killed Martin, Zimmerman had spoken out against the son of a white police lieutenant who had violently beaten a black homeless man? I’m guessing that you did not tell your sons about this, because it contradicts your bogus claim that Zimmerman is a racist. Did you teach your sons that before Zimmerman killed Martin, Zimmerman had tutored black children for free? I’m guessing that you did not. Did you bother to mention to your children that Zimmerman is a Hispanic man and not some white hick KKK neo-Nazi? I guess you left that part out as well.

Did you tell your sons that before Martin was killed, a search of his backpack at his school showed it to contain a dozen pieces of women’s jewelry, including silver wedding rings, and earrings with diamonds, as well as a screwdriver, which is often used as a burglary tool? I doubt you told them this, because it gives credibility to Zimmerman’s claim on the 911 call that Martin was acting suspiciously and the reason Zimmerman was on alert was because he was in charge of neighborhood watch and reported many burglaries had previously been committed by youth. Did you tell your sons that Martin’s autopsy showed marijuana in his system? I doubt you told them this too, because it verifies Zimmerman’s claim on the 911 call that Martin was acting like he was on drugs.

Ms. Perry, since you want your sons to know “the brutal truth” and to be “guided honestly through the reality of the world,” I was wondering if you have ever told them that 93% of black murder victims are murdered by other blacks? Black youth are in danger but it’s not white men killing them. Over 1,400 more black Americans murdered other blacks between 2010-2011 than were lynched from 1882 to 1968. Despite making up just 13% of the population, blacks committed half of homicides in the United States for nearly 30 years. In 2012, black people - at just a fifth of the size - committed almost 1,000 more murders than their white counterparts. How about the fact it would take cops 40 years to kill as many black men as have died at the hands of others black men in 2012 alone. Black and Hispanic police officers are more likely to fire a gun at blacks than white officers. Blacks are 18.5 times more likely to kill cops than be killed by cops. Let’s not forget the black on white rape. 

Ms. Perry, your sons did not cry because of the Zimmerman verdict. Instead, they cried because you cruelly taught them to see racism and evil white supremacy where it does not exist. You taught them to celebrate and martyr a violent teenage thug who brutally beat a man’s head against the concrete. It’s your fault that your sons cried. It’s not George Zimmerman’s fault. It’s not the jury’s fault. It’s your fault for teaching your children they are the victims. Ms. Perry, I hope that for your sons’ own happiness, when they go to college, they get degrees in subjects such as math, engineering, computer programming, physics or chemistry and avoid at all costs anything to do with “African American studies,” a subject which seems intent on making people feel like helpless victims who are owed reparations and special treatment and for their own racism and bigotry to be allowed, instead of being empowered, intelligent and rational human beings. I also hope they stay as far away as possible from the Black Lives Matter movement as all they will get from joining this radicalized hate group is an even greater dose of victim complex and a violent ideology that allows them to believe they’re justified in attacking, lying about and demonizing an entire demographic of people. 

[racetrackthehiggins]

Johnny and the Delinquents: A Murphamy Rock Band AU

warnings: brief unspecific references to child abuse, alcoholism that was mostly in the past, lots of swearing, men who suck at talking, my aggressive inability to write lyrics, and John Murphy singing a cover Can't Help Falling in Love BECAUSE FUCKING EVERYONE ELSE IS RIGHT NOW.

apologies: on how long this took, and also the sheer number of JTHM references in here. I spent the early 2000's writing JTHM fics and it turns out the name Johnny is FOREVER linked with that so there's that. Also I know nothing about music besides singing so I'm sure I got a lot of that wrong and also I apologize for the stage names...I thought it was funny

and last but not least, a note: I'm pretty sure this is gonna be my last work in the 100 fandom, at least at the moment. thank you all for sticking with me, and who knows, maybe I'll return to the 100 in the days to come!

below or on ao3

Murphy answered the phone, because it was Jaha. As much as he hated his new manager, he had also learned better than to blow him off. “Y’ello,” he said, because he knew how much it irritated Jaha.

He was exhausted and had earned his uninterrupted sleep. He and Emori had a show that went until two the night before and then they had gone out for drinks. The City of Light had been months in the making, but their fifth major gig had gone splendidly, and he blamed the combination of sleepy, hungover and deeply satisfied on why he completely missed what Jaha said.

“It would be a really good opportunity for you,” Jaha said. “Everyone else has agreed,” Jaha said. “The publicity would really help The City of Light, and you know how much I want to see you all become a success,” Jaha said.

Murphy could tell there was something Jaha wasn’t saying, but didn’t know what it was. Jaha could be infuriatingly cryptic. Everything had been better before he had done a summer at Burning Man and come back frustratingly zen. “Okay,” Murphy replied. “What is this great opportunity?”

Jaha’s long pause was telling enough and Murphy really wanted to hang up, but resisted because Emori would be irritable if she knew he was blowing off their manager. “A reunion of Johnny and the Delinquents. Don’t hang up.”

Murphy took his finger off of the end-call button reluctantly. “No. I’m not doing it.”

Jaha continued like Murphy didn’t say anything, which he always, always did. “Album and tour, a couple of photos of you all hugging, and you’re done.”

“I believe I already said no.” Murphy felt anger already bubbling up from within him like a volcano of rage, but so far he’d kept his voice quiet enough that Emori was still passed out and he hadn’t threatened anyone or even cursed.

His anger management counselor would have been so proud.

Jaha took another long pause to find his words. “You’re contractually obligated. They expect you in New York in a week.”

Murphy could feel his blood pressure rise. “Excuse me?” he said, and it all went downhill from there.

The second he hung up with Jaha he called Raven. “What the actually fuck is going on, Raven?”

“I dunno,” she said, and he could tell she had a wrench in her mouth because he had known her long enough to know what that sounded like. “Just the sound engineer.”

Murphy rolled his eyes. He might be across the country, but he was not in a different reality. “I know you know, so spit it out.”

“Apparently your split from The Delinquents wasn’t ever made official—now that Kane’s in charge of the label, he wants the publicity from a reunion tour. Plus technically you’ve been in breach of contract for five years.” She paused. He tried not to fidget. “But that’s just what I’ve heard. I’m only a lowly engineer.”

Murphy took a deep breath and counted to ten. There’s background noise on the phone, something that sounded like voices.

Raven came back sounding too chipper. “Octavia wants to know if you still have your combat boots or if she should order you another pair.”

He hung up. Emori was still passed out in bed. He didn’t want to wake her. He looked at the clock. It was 9:23 on a Saturday, so he left the room, still dressed in his gig clothes, which he realized he hadn’t taken off, in search of somewhere serving brunch. He’s pretty sure getting mimosa drunk at brunch was acceptable.

He stormed back into the hotel two hours later, and five mimosas tipsier.

Emori was sitting up in bed, repainting her nails, black on black, which he, drunkenly, thought must be a metaphor for something. She looked up at him expectantly.

He stared her down. “I am contractually obligated to do a reunion-thing. I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Emori nodded. “Okay. When you are going?”

He sighed and slumped into the bed across from hers. “Friday. But I’d prefer never.”

She shrugged. “It’s almost the summer. You know I go every summer to teach some humility to those little rock camp shits. This summer wasn’t going to be any different.”

Murphy nodded. “I know, I just felt like we were finally getting somewhere, you know?”

She nodded again. She was very understanding when she wasn’t being destructive or angry. He liked that about her because he hated that about himself. “The City of Light could wait. Go finish out your contract, and if we’re still feeling it, we’ll keep going. And if not, we’ve had a good run.”

He wanted to hug her, but Emori hated hugs. “You’re the best guitarist I’ve ever worked with,” he said instead.

She laughed, and it was clearly at him. “Nonsense. You’ve worked with Bellamy Blake.”

And that right there was the problem.

He spent the rest of the week in a much nicer hotel that he bullied Jaha into paying for, and occupied his time looking through the lyrics he wrote for that last album that never happened and trying to get back into the headspace of Johnny.

It was harder than he expected. Johnny had been all about righteous anger. He was a violent character, vicious and hurting and eager to watch the world burn, and the music he had created had been the area of pop-rock that flirted with metal and punk. Murphy’s more recent work had been a solo album, that was embarrassingly depressed and almost entirely about heartbreak and acoustic, and his work with Emori, which was a neo-folk duo.

He didn’t want to be Johnny again. Johnny was an idiot, and Murphy liked to think he had learned something since then. He thought about seeing them all again, and it made his chest ache. Murphy probably hadn’t learned shit.

The week ended too quickly and then he was flying into JFK which was not his favorite, but at least wasn’t Newark, and wishing maybe a little more than he should that the plane would crash and his untimely death would cancel the contract for him.

“Who’s picking me up?” he texted Raven as he took the escalator down. It has taken forever to get off the plane and he was irritable and exhausted.

She texted back immediately, “why should i know im just the sound engineer,” followed second later by, “the blakes.”

Murphy looked up from his phone and saw Bellamy standing at the bottom of the escalator in his usual public disguise of a baseball hat and sunglasses.

“No,” he said, pushing past Bellamy and heading for the baggage carousel.

“John,” Bellamy said, and it almost sounded like he was pleading.

He managed to snag Murphy’s arm in his hand, but Murphy shrugged it off. “I’m taking a cab.”

Bellamy sighed. “We’re going to have to work together.”

Murphy sneered at him, but his heart was beating a mile a minute. “We’re not working right now, are we?” He turned around and stormed off to get his bag. Octavia was sitting on it, sipping something from a Starbucks cup.

“Do I at least get a hug?” she said, and he was so mad he wanted to say no, but he never had a problem with her.

She hugged him tightly, and she was still using the same shampoo that smelled like coconuts and he spent so much of his youth in the Blake’s basement so even the smell of her hair sort of felt like a home-coming, but then he remembered Bellamy and he wanted to cry.

“I saw your interview. About Skycrew. You guys sound good,” Murphy said, pulling away.

Octavia grinned at him, easily, like they hadn’t been out of touch for half a decade. “Thank you. We’re unfortunately on hold at the moment. Lincoln’s in rehab.”

Murphy managed a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s good. He’s getting help. Besides, I’ve been waiting for this reunion for ages.” She handed him another Starbucks cup that she must have had squirreled away somewhere. “I heard your new EP with Emori. It was really, really good Johnny.”

Murphy nearly choked on his hazelnut mocha (and was a little pleased to see that she had remembered his favorite drink). “No, no, no, no, no and no. Same rules apply as before, you use my stage name, I use yours, and I have no compunction calling you Babydoll in public.”

Octavia scowled. “Fine, Murphy. You win this round. Now, c’mon, if we hurry we’ll miss the worst part of rush hour.”

She grabbed his bag and started wheeling back in the direction of Bellamy, who he realized hadn’t followed them.

“Octavia, wait,” he said resolutely. “I should take a cab.” He was strong of body and mind, and his will could not be broken. Or something.

Octavia rolled her eyes, but the look was softened by the smile she offered him. “You should sit in the back with me and eat the cupcakes I got for you from Melissa’s.”

Murphy was the weakest of willed. “The mini cupcakes?”

Octavia laughed. “Come on!”

So he did. The car ride would have been awkward, in no small part because Bellamy kept shooting him these furtive looks in the rearview mirror, but Octavia was talkative and kept him from focusing too much on the back of Bellamy’s head.

“So what about Clarke?” Murphy asked, halfway to Manhattan.

“She and Lexa just finished a tour as Wanheda, so they were planning on a break anyway. She’ll be flying in tomorrow, and they asked if anyone would mind if Lexa hung around, and considering they’re the hottest couple of the season, we all said no problemo.” Octavia stole a cupcake from him, but he still had twenty left, so he chose not to complain.

Bellamy from the front said, “We would have asked you, too, but none of us had your number.”

Murphy very obviously turned to smile at Octavia. “It’ll be nice to see Clarke again in person. I caught Wanheda in Chicago, they’re very…” He tried to think a word that wouldn’t sound backhanded.

“They’re a lot,” Octavia said with a smile, and he smiled back. “Finn’s not coming back, but considering he didn’t do the last two albums with us, I’m not sure anyone will notice. Wells won’t be available for the tour, so he’s a no go. We’d love to get Mbege back, but he’s not responding to any of our calls since…”

Murphy nodded. “I’ll call him.” Mbege would come back for him. They’ve toured together twice since the split, and they were still as close as they’d ever been. He pulled out his phone and texted him, because calling was for losers.

Mbege texted back, “when and where?” so Murphy mentally patted himself on the back. He would be going into this experience with at least Mbege and Octavia on his side, maybe even Clarke. Things could have been a lot worse.

Things could not have been a lot worse.

“I’ll stay in a hotel,” he said to Octavia, because he was not making eye contact with Bellamy.

Octavia sighed. “We don’t know how long it’s going to take to record the album, there’s no need to throw away money on a hotel room when Bell has a perfectly good spare room.”

Murphy’s palms were getting sweaty. “What about your spare room?”

“Clarke and Lexa called it,” she said, and sounded so honestly apologetic that Murphy almost felt bad for how angry he was getting.

“I’ll get a really cheap hotel,” he bargained.

Bellamy spoke up for the first time during this exchange. “And you’ll have to also pay for transportation. I’m two blocks from the studio. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want, but you know the writing will go faster if we’re in the same place.”

Historically, Murphy wrote the lyrics, maybe half a melody, and Bellamy filled in the rest. Murphy didn’t give a fuck about history.

“Fine,” he spat, and he wasn’t yelling or swearing or punching anyone, so he figured he was doing okay. He dragged his bag into the spare room and slammed the door.

The bed was comfortable, and lying on it, he felt more out of place than he’d felt in years. He called Emori.

“How’re The Delinquents?” she asked without a greeting, because that’s who she was. He usually found it charming. Currently, he found it beyond irritating.

“I want to go home,” he said, because if she could speak in non-sequiturs, so could he.

“Give him a chance,” she said back.

He hung up and barely felt guilty. He spent so many nights of his youth in the guest room at Octavia and Bellamy’s house, desperate to get away from his mother and her shouting, and he had been so angry, Johnny had come naturally.

He was tired now. He was tired of the music and the attention and tired of acting and of Bellamy and of the person he felt himself becoming.

He fell asleep in his clothes and woke up to the sound of someone knocking quietly on his door. When he dragged himself out of bed there was no one there, but there was a tray with a cup of coffee and a real New York bagel.

It was nice, as far as peace offerings go, but nowhere near enough to make Murphy forgive him.

Bellamy was scarce all morning, and Octavia arrived at noon to take him to lunch. They got burgers and shakes and she sat across from him and waited for him to stop chewing.

“So do you know where this album is going?”

He chewed more slowly to give himself some time. While the band had always done edits, the actual meat of the stories had always been his. The first four albums were the evolution of Johnny, and everyone was waiting for the fifth, the last of the Johnny story, to end it somehow satisfactorily. He had been writing those songs right before the split. He had maybe half an album in notes. They were all concept albums, all a linked story. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t lost the concept.

“Maybe,” he said after a long pause, swallowing.

Octavia took a thoughtful sip of her milkshake. “The last album,” she reminded him, unnecessarily, like he hadn’t been listening to it non-stop, “ended with Johnny in his darkest place. Since the split happened so quickly after, a lot of the fans thought that it was sign. That Johnny died.”

Murphy nodded. He’d been skimming through forums for days. “I was thinking I could maybe go with that. Johnny in the afterlife. Johnny in heaven, Johnny in hell. Maybe being reborn.”

Octavia’s face turned thoughtful. “Huh. Not really dead, but changing into something different. I like it.”

“I don’t want to keep doing Johnny after this,” he blurted, and was embarrassed. He used to be so much more sarcastic, caustic, even. He missed that part of himself, maybe a little.

Octavia put her hand on his, which was more comforting than he wanted it to be. “I don’t want you to run away after this. There’s definitely room for you in Skycrew, or we could all start something new. Just don’t leave.”

Murphy absolutely was not crying in a Schnippers. “I can’t face Bellamy, O. I just can’t.”

“Think about it,” she said, and lead him out into Manhattan. She sent him away in an Uber; he couldn’t really blame her, plus he had work to do.

With Octavia’s support, the lyrics began to flow more readily. He sat on Bellamy’s inexcusably comfortable sofa and accessed his anger, which was easier than he would have liked. The comfortable couch only served as another reminder that Bellamy had built something successful—and comfortable—without him, while he had spent the past five years wallowing in his crappy one bedroom in fucking Wisconsin of all places.

By the time Octavia burst into Bellamy’s apartment with Clarke, Lexa, Raven and Jasper in tow, he had solid melodies and words for a few songs. Bellamy followed behind the group, looking around angrily, but Murphy ignored him, because he would much rather hug Clarke.

“Murphy!” she exclaimed, and gave him a very rewarding embrace. “So good to see you!”

“Clarke,” he said, because he was good at not being mushy. “I saw Wanheda in Chicago. You were great.”

Lexa smiled at him, and he shook her hand firmly once Clarke had released him. “We appreciate it, thank you.” Lexa was strikingly beautiful in a could-easily-kill-you kind of way, which tended to be the sort of women Clarke went for.

Raven slung an arm over his shoulder and gave him the most heartfelt side hug he’d ever experienced, which was nice, but unnecessary, because the two of them had kept in contact.

He and Jasper fist bumped. They had never been close—Jasper wasn’t even really part of the band—but they had hung out enough that a greeting was expected.

“Anyone want a beer?” Octavia called as she skipped into the kitchen, returning with an armful of bottles and corn chips, placing them all on the low table in the living room and ushering them onto the couch. She turned to Murphy and said, “I called Mbege, he can’t come tonight, but we have the studio tomorrow to start a rehearsal-slash-jam-sesh tomorrow assuming you write at the speed you usually do. That okay?”

Murphy nodded and threw his notebook to Bellamy, who was sitting in a separate chair as close to Murphy as he could get while not being on the same couch, and who promptly fumbled it.

“Nice one, Bell!” Jasper called, extended his bottle for a toast. Murphy reluctantly clinked with him.

“Shut your face, Jasper,” Bellamy replied, settling the notebook on his lap and flipping through it.

Bellamy had seen his writing since the age of seven, so the rush of anxiety that made his chest ache was completely uncalled for. Bellamy had read his first ever poem, which had gone, “I like my friends/I like the sun/I miss them both/When the day’s done,” and it didn’t get much worse than that. He sat still to keep from hyperventilating.

Bellamy scanned the lyrics and scraps of music he’d written around it and looked skeptical. “We’re doing Johnny as Jesus?”

Murphy’s face flushed hot with anger and embarrassment. “No, Johnny’s not that forgiving,” and turned away from him to face Clarke, who had her concern hidden badly under her curiosity and immediately engaged him in the backstory for the new album.

“I’m thinking more Dante than Jesus, yeah?” she asked him, and his breathing came more easily.

He’d always sort of loved Clarke. She was so unattainable in high school, popular and beautiful and honor roll smart, until one day she had walked up to him and said, “Bellamy said you’re starting a band, and I want to join, if that’s okay. My name’s Clarke Griffin,” and had shaken his hand so professionally. She was like a sister, but better because she didn’t have the baggage of growing up with him to affect her love for him.

“I like it,” Clarke declared after nearly an hour of intense plotting, and turned to Bellamy. “What would you change?”

“Oh,” Bellamy said. He looked like a deer in the headlights, like he thought he wouldn’t at some point have to weigh in on the situation. “I guess it’s pretty good.” He held up a page covered in Murphy’s scribbles. “How do you feel about this one in a minor key? Maybe acoustic?”

Octavia scoffed at him. “We don’t do acoustic.”

Clarke frowned. “Why not? Everyone’s expecting us to have grown as artists. They want the music to be familiar, but innovative. Bellamy’s not suggesting doing an acoustic album, just a song. I think it could be the kind of twist that people will like.”

Murphy nodded because words were too hard. He wanted nothing more than to leave. He looked up and met Bellamy’s eyes and it was like he’s twelve again, or fifteen, or eighteen, or twenty, because now he was almost twenty-five and the only thing that had changed was that his dream had gone from fantasy to impossibility.

He looked away. “I’m gonna turn in, if that’s okay.”

The others tried to stop him, and he could hear them, but he didn’t listen. He closed the door softly, resisting the urge to slide down it and cry like he wanted to. He lay in bed and looked at the ceiling. He missed it the night before, but there were stick-on stars, like there used to be in his guest room in the Blake house. He stared at the stars and felt homesick for a place that was never his home.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but woke up several hours later when there was a tentative knock on his door. The clock by his bed said it was 4:30 am. It had to be Bellamy, it couldn’t be anyone else. Murphy wanted to scream.

Instead, he counted to ten. His therapist would have been so proud.

Bellamy was standing there when he opened the door, eyes cast downward. “Could we talk?”

“I wasn’t aware we had anything to talk about.” Murphy’s hands were clenched into fists. “So if that’s all—”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Bellamy said desperately. He’s backlit, barely, by a light in the kitchen, but Murphy could see the bags under his eyes, the deep sadness in his face that never used to be there. Serves him right, Murphy thought, and tried to feel vindictive but he couldn’t muster it. “You were my best friend and I didn’t…”

It’s the “were” that made Murphy regret agreeing to come. He should have tried to weasel his way out of the contract. He should have gotten a hotel room. He should have—

“I’ve regretted losing you every single day.”

“You ran! You left! I left you 80 voicemails, trying to fix this, trying to make sure you were okay and somehow, I’m the bad guy! You didn’t lose me, because you never had me, and as soon as I’ve completed my contract, I’m gone and you will never see me again.” Murphy hands were shaking and his chest felt tight and his face was burning and he was so angry he might start crying and he hated that.

“John.” Bellamy sounded choked up, hurt almost, and it hurt Murphy more than he thought it would.

“Get the fuck out of my room.” He looked at Bellamy, whose face echoed the exhaustion and pain he felt. He sighed, and offered, “please.”

Bellamy retreated slowly with a look that said he’d really rather stay. But that was okay. Murphy had gotten used to not getting what he wanted, Bellamy Blake could afford a taste, too.

The next day went better, thankfully. The label had rented out a studio around the clock for three weeks, like they were the Beatles or something. After their first couple of albums, Murphy thought they would have killed for studio time like this. Currently, three weeks felt like centuries.

Despite how much he would have given to avoid the situation altogether, he and Bellamy worked like they’d been practicing for the past five years instead of avoiding each other like the plague.

Performing together again would be like riding a bike, Murphy thought, showing up last despite the fact that he and Bellamy lived closest to the studio; it would hurt like hell when he fell, but he’d have to just keep trying, anyway.

Everyone was tuning when Bellamy called him over to the upright piano he had set on the left side of the studio. He threw his shoulder bag on the floor and didn’t bother greeting his bandmates; hardly a minute had gone by that he hadn’t seen them and so the need for greetings had quickly evaporated. He sat down next to Bellamy without being asked, and Bellamy tried not to smile at him.

Bellamy’s stupid half-smile made a full body tingle rush through him, and he was resentful of his stupid body’s stupid feelings.

“I still can’t read your chicken-scratch,” he said, and pointed to a corner of the page where Murphy wrote what might have been lyrics, but also could have been a chord progression. Or a phone number.

“Lyrics,” Murphy clarified. “The rhyme is off though, and I can’t seem to fix it.”

“Hmm,” Bellamy said, looking over the page thoughtfully. He always used to help Murphy; it’s nothing new, but it makes Murphy’s head ache. “What if we,” he started, and Murphy got caught up in the “we” for so long he didn’t realize how animated they’d gotten until Octavia started laughing.

The candid picture that Clarke took of the two of them sharing a piano bench, huddled round a notebook like they were still the best of friends, became the bane of Murphy’s existence. She uploaded it to twitter with caption, “guess what’s coming?”

Not an hour later, someone unearthed a picture of them doing the same thing years before, with Murphy perched on Bellamy’s lap, and put the pictures side by side. Murphy wasn’t sure if praying for death would actually be appropriate.

“It’s not so bad,” Octavia said, scrolling through her favorite Delinquents tumblrs during their lunch break. “Ooh, this fanart’s pretty accurate, even though I’m not sure either of you gets off on choking.” The long considering look she gave him made him regret all parts of their friendship. “Do you think you’d be more of a bottom or a top with my brother?”

He thought about Bellamy, his long, strong, fast as fuck fingers which earned him his stage name, Twitch.

That thought had brought up a whole slew of feelings that Murphy had actually thought he had buried, as a semi-adult well into his twenties should have. Bellamy’s dexterity had been most of his fantasy life during his teen years, considering he didn’t have a reliable internet connection and who needed porn when he had a best friend like Bellamy?

Despite being a plain fact of his youth—the sky was blue, the grass was green, the thought of Bellamy’s fingers gave him a woody—it was also something he hadn’t actively thought about. His first few post-Delinquents years had been spent getting drunken blowjobs behind various concert venues, and the past few had been spent sharing hotel rooms with Emori who gave him judge-y looks when he had hookups, but judged him more when he masturbated in their room, assuming, wrongly, that she was asleep.

So it wasn’t as though he never thought of Bellamy, or his long slim fingers, or the afternoons spent in his basement watching Futurama and eating cheetohs, and being so far gone on him that the his fingers were even sexy covered in cheetoh dust, but instead that he hadn’t gripped his dick and actively imagined Bellamy’s long quick fingers there instead.

He had been in a funk for the rest of day. Half a song had been written and recorded, but not nearly enough if they were planning to finish in three weeks.

And now he just felt guilty. He stared at the door separating him from Bellamy and Bellamy’s loud 11:30pm moping. It wasn’t like Bellamy would come in without knocking, or like Bellamy could possibly know what he was up to. Fuck it, he decided. Fuck you, he then clarified to himself.

Murphy threw himself onto the bed and unzipped his pants. He closed his eyes and he could almost imagine Bellamy leaning over him, unzipping his pants instead, staring at him longingly, which wasn’t really a hard expression to conjure. He’d wrap his palm around the head of Murphy’s cock and—

The teakettle whistled shrilly.

Murphy groaned in frustration, hand falling apathetically onto his stomach and dick still bobbing obliviously. This was a mistake. He sighed again. He couldn’t keep that image of Bellamy in his mind, anyway. Instead it was replaced with the look of sheer panic that Bellamy had worn right before the split, his elegant fingers clenched into tight white fists, and he felt nauseous. His cock softened obligingly, and with one last look at the door he decided he would just go to sleep.

The fact the he could hear Bellamy in the kitchen humming the first ballad they had ever written together didn’t help at all.

When TwitchxJohnny was trending the next day, Murphy was reluctantly glad that at least they were sticking to their stage names, and couldn’t help but think that in a karmic way, he had brought this on himself.

They meshed much the same way they always did. Clarke had only become a stronger guitarist, Bellamy one-upping her and tooling away on the piano if the song called for it, Octavia doing her thing on bass and Mbege kicking ass on the drums.

Murphy, as usual, felt a little like the Davy Jones of their group, casually waiting for someone to hand him a tambourine or maracas. Despite his feelings, he had grown as a writer, and it was obvious that the group felt the same, deferring to him instead of Bellamy, which was both incredibly reassuring and deeply saddening.

By the third day, they’re on to their fifth track. Murphy missed this, even when he and Emori had finally hit their stride, there was always something between them that made their rehearsal times seem to drag.

The Delinquents’ music was buoyant, vibrant and adrenaline fast, and Murphy missed the quiet swell of The City of Light a little bit more than he thought he would, but this music was like being on a rollercoaster and he’s surprised at how much he missed the thrill.

Mbege got it. He had ended up in several indie bands, but was clearly thriving banging away with The Delinquents. The fact that he spent all his spare time glaring at Bellamy didn’t hurt either. He took Murphy out and around the town after that first week, supposedly to re-introduce him to New York, but really so Murphy didn’t have to be in that tiny apartment with Bellamy.

Mbege was really too good for Murphy.

“I’m so sorry, J2, you know I’d let you crash if I had any room,” he told Murphy several times when they were drunk off their asses and Murphy’s anger had turned to sadness.

“Don’t worry about it, J1, you’re still my fave.” And it’s true. Mbege’s friendship mostly relied on Murphy spending time with him when he had it. They wouldn’t talk for months, and then when did, it was like nothing changed.

Getting to work with him again was in many ways the balm to living with Bellamy. They avoided each other at the apartment, worked in each other’s pockets at the studio, and then tried to spend the evenings as far apart as they geographically could while staying in the same city and apartment.

“Do you think you two will ever get over it?” Mbege asked him, dropping another beer in front of Murphy. No seemed like too simple an answer.

It got harder during the second week. Murphy’s voice was embarrassingly unused to the amount of screaming and abuse he used to regularly subject it to. He left the studio every day with his voice shot, coughing, and after almost a week of this, Bellamy burst into his room one night holding a cup of Murphy’s favorite chai blend with a large quantity of honey.

“Thank you,” Murphy whispered and waited for Bellamy to leave. He didn’t. “You could sit,” he said after a long moment, because he knew Bellamy would just hover awkwardly indefinitely if he didn’t offer.

“Thanks.” Bellamy sat at the edge of the bed and stared out Murphy’s window. “This is kinda like—”

“—Midnight snack sesh,” Murphy said, because he was thinking it, too.

Bellamy smiled wistfully and it made Murphy’s chest ache. He was seriously considering going to see a cardiologist. “Remember? Every night after recording, we’d go out for a snack.”

“We were so fucking young then.” It had mostly been fast food, eaten quickly in Bellamy’s third hand Ford before they passed out from sheer exhaustion. He can’t remember a single one of those nights individually, but the summation of them was like a warm weight in his chest, a burning orange glow. “Clarke thought we were going to get fat.” Murphy smiled reluctantly.

There was a moment when their eyes met, and Murphy was unsure how he ever gave this up. How he didn’t fight harder. How could he have not fought harder?

Bellamy broke eye contact first. “Worse things have happened,” he said as he stood. He hesitated at the door, back to Murphy. “Good night, Murphy.”

“Goodnight, Bell.”

He drank the rest of his tea by himself and set the cup down, like an adult should do, instead of smashing it, like he wanted to.

Bellamy came back the next night, and the next, and it was almost okay. They didn’t always speak, but there was something between them, closer to what Murphy remembered.

It was the second to last day when Bellamy called a band meeting in the middle of recording. They had seventeen tracks which was excellent because there were always a few that were better in their heads than in their ears. Octavia shot him a warning look and crossed her arms over her chest, so Murphy knew this was something that the Blakes have discussed at least.

Which could be either really good or terrifically bad.

“I don’t like the way we’re ending the album,” Bellamy said, and made sure he met all of their gazes.

Mbege rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Bell, and you wait until now to say anything?”

Clarke shook her head, determined, as always to be the most levelheaded. “Let’s hear him out.” She reached very subtly and squeezed Murphy’s hand, which he appreciated, because he hated this.

Bellamy took a deep breath and tried to gather his words.

“Any fucking day now?” Murphy muttered and tried to avoid Bellamy’s gaze at all costs.

“The last song is still too angry.”

Murphy scoffed. “Yeah. Johnny’s angry. Johnny’s always been angry. That’s sort of his defining characteristic.”

Bellamy scowled, turning his whole attention on Murphy. “Yeah, but we all agreed, years ago to a five album sequence. Do you think it should end on an angry note? You and Octavia keep talking about growing and changing, and the entire album feels like a growth until the end.”

Murphy wanted to bite back, wanted Bellamy to look away and never look back. “End on a familiar note, is there a problem with that?”

He could see Clarke making panicked eyes at Octavia, but neither one cut in. “Don’t you think Johnny deserves more than that? Don’t we all? It’s our story, too.” Bellamy had always been a master of mixed signals, but the anger and, Murphy thought, hope in his face was beyond confusing and Murphy couldn’t believe it actually took him this long to realize they’re having two different conversations.

“How would you end it?” he asked, and pretended like he didn’t sound hoarse.

Bellamy’s eyes were boring into him. “I don’t know. Contentment doesn’t suit him maybe, but, I dunno, I…”

Octavia spoke up, but didn’t look any happier. “Optimism.”

Clarke nodded slowly. “Might be nice.”

He was furious. He didn’t get to have optimism, so why should Johnny? He wanted to yell and scream and throw stuff, because Bellamy didn’t seem to have a problem throwing this back in his face. “Fine, I’ll see what I can fucking do,” Murphy said, because he was a professional, before storming off and bunkering down in a conference room.

He was a good writer, had become so with sweat and effort. An anthem, he thought, because if he couldn’t be angry he’d be emblematic. It still was angry, when he finished an hour later. It was angry and it was an anthem and it was hopeful, and he felt 1/3 of those things, but maybe he’d earned some hope.

He brought it back to the room, and tried to ignore how broadly Bellamy smiled when he saw the words.

And then the album was done. It felt like they had just started, but then he and Bellamy were ushered into a meeting with Marcus Kane, who Murphy only hated slightly less than Jaha.

Kane smiled and gestured for them to take the two seats in front of him. Maya stood off to one side, and Murphy had only met her once, but he liked her. She was way nicer than Jasper deserved, but he couldn’t help but feel that her presence at this meeting was a bad omen.

It might have been her very uncomfortable smile.

“Gentlemen!” Kane greeted exuberantly, and looked at them both expectantly.

Bellamy nodded a weak a hello and Murphy managed an, “Uh, hi,” by utilizing all of his personhood skills.

Kane was still smiling, but his smiles didn’t reach his eyes as a rule and Murphy wasn’t convinced he wasn’t a robot or a pod person. “I heard the album, and it’s great, just great. I wanted to talk to you both about the tour. We’re pushing the timeline a little, so the album’s going to be in stores in five weeks, and then the tour will start one week after that, which gives you six weeks to get prepared, figure out choreo and costumes and whatever else.” He gestured to Maya and she gave a tentative wave. “Maya will be on the tour to do hair and makeup.”

He turned his full attention on Murphy. “The dreads were very popular, would you consider—”

“Nooooo,” Murphy interrupted. “No, the days of white-boy dreads are long gone.” Bellamy laughed, and Murphy pointedly didn’t look at him and pretended like he wasn’t blushing.

Kane frown said he was going to insist, but Maya, who he had clearly underestimated, came to the rescue. “What if did pulled back twists? Like in the promo pictures for the second album?” she asked and he nodded quickly. Anything was better than the dreads.

Kane nodded, smiling tightly. “Alright, twists it is. Maya, could you give us a moment please.” Maya left quietly and Kane gave them the exceedingly tight smile again.

It could only be a bad sign.

“I know this is…uncomfortable to talk about, but part of the appeal of Johnny and the Delinquents has always been the chemistry between the two of you. I don’t know the details of what happened, and I don’t want to. I don’t care what happens in your personal life, but on the stage, I need you two to behave how you always have.”

Bellamy choked, then croaked out a weak, “yessir,” and Murphy contemplated shoving a paperweight down Kane’s throat.

“Yeah, fine,” he said finally. “What-the-fuck-ever.”

Kane nodded decisively. “Excellent. Glad we’re all clear on that. Now then, John.” Murphy bristled. “I need you to have a more active online presence. Soon as you can. Periscope would help, twitter, the works. We’ll also be getting you on some late night programs, so play nice.”

He promised he would try but he meant it about as much as Kane meant his whole, let-me-be-your-father routine.

As soon as the CD’s were pressed they released a single, and then Johnny and the Delinquents job was hyping the hell out of it.

Kane got him on a late night show starring a white man in a suit, which was better than Murphy was expecting. He didn’t think his name carried any sway anymore. He sat on the comfortable chair in his Johnny clothes and smirked at the host and the audience and all the folks who had tuned in to see him flash his canines.

“So I’m sure you get asked this all the time,” the host asked him. “But what happened? Five years ago, Johnny and the Delinquents were truly on top, and then suddenly, nothing. Nothing for five years. So what happened?”

Murphy thought about what he could say, what Kane would want him to say. He finally settled on, “I decided y’all could use a little anticipation, so I took a long drunken sabbatical.”

He laughed. “And based on your pre-sales, you were not wrong. Where It’s Going, out this week!”

After Kane explained how very disappointed he was in Murphy, they both agreed he should try and stick to social media. Periscope, he stressed again.

Periscope helped with nothing. He used it, though, streamed rehearsals and coffee breaks. He wandered through the chaos of set-up for their first concert with his phone out and ready.

“This is Raven,” he whispered, showing the internet Raven as she yelled at a stubborn microphone cable. “She’s the best.” He walked a little further, stumbling upon Jasper, Monty and Miller. “This is Jasper, I guess he does lights, I dunno, say hi Jasper.”

Jasper smiled into the phone and said, “Hi, Jasper,” because Jasper was the worst.

Murphy tilted the phone away from him. “This is Monty and Miller. Monty does something…and Miller sleeps with him? I’m unclear.”

He was already walking away but in the corner of his screen Monty yelled, exasperated, “Craft services! We fucking feed you!” and Murphy couldn’t help but laugh.

He harassed Maya as she braided Octavia’s hair, and they were laughing so hard Murphy was barely holding up the phone when Bellamy appeared, right in front of him and said, “Hey, could we talk?” like they haven’t been living in the same tiny apartment for months and now was the perfect time to speak.

The broadcast cut off so suddenly that twitter was filled with gossip. Clips of the last three seconds of that video were looped all over twitter and tumblr and vine and Murphy couldn’t escape from his own awkward fumbling on his iphone and the pained expression on Bellamy’s face.

“What?” Murphy asked, gripping his phone in his shaking hands.

Bellamy glanced from Maya to Octavia to Murphy and grimaced. “Privately?”

Octavia scowled at Bellamy, glaring. “We’re not listening, are we, Maya?”

Maya smiled serenely at Octavia. “We are not, Octavia.”

“So please,” Octavia continued savagely. “Feel free to speak openly here.”

Murphy thought he could be in love with her in that moment (if, in reality, he wasn’t so horribly gone on her brother). “Well?” he said, and Bellamy frowned.

“I just wanted to—I wanted to talk to you before we—look, can we do this in private? Please?” Bellamy’s jaw was clenched tight and Murphy almost felt bad but he also felt vicious and self-righteous and living in Johnny’s pocket had made his anger so much easier to access.

“This is private,” Octavia insisted, still glaring.

“Very private,” Maya agreed, sealing one of Octavia’s braids with a load of hairspray.

Bellamy’s face fell, realizing he was losing and preparing to wallow. Murphy sighed. “I don’t have anything else to say, Bell. I don’t.”

Bellamy nodded slowly and backed up, turning around and running off with his symbolic tail between his very nicely muscled legs.

Octavia cackled, and Maya chuckled along and Murphy felt like he was maybe drowning.

He didn’t want to talk to Bellamy. Not at all. He didn’t think there was anything that hadn’t been said, and the tentative truce that they had formed couldn’t hold under the weight of real friendship. He wasn’t ready for that again.

Besides, he figured, storming off into his dressing room. He had a show to prepare for, figurative pounds of eyeliner to apply to his face, and twenty minutes of vocal warm ups.

The next day, sitting in Kane’s office, he wished he had maybe tried to talk to Bellamy a little bit harder than not.

Kane’s Disappointed Dad face was out in full form, and Bellamy was staring fixedly at his knees. Murphy couldn’t take his eyes off the computer on Kane’s desk, where a video of their last concert was playing. He had been aware, at the time, that he didn’t want to look at or dance on Bellamy, but he hadn’t thought that it had shown.

Watching the video, the tension between them was palpable. They barely made eye contact, and Murphy had kept far away from Bellamy’s part of the stage. It was painful to watch, like two strangers instead of people who had been best friends.

Kane cleared his throat and waited for them to look at him. “This, as I am sure you know, is unacceptable. I don’t care how you two feel about each other, really, I don’t. You have a job to do.”

Bellamy sucked his teeth and Kane glared at him. “Maybe—just throwing out some ideas here—maybe fake gay undertones shouldn’t be part of our job?”

And why did that make Murphy’s heart ache? There was almost nothing between them now, but hearing Bellamy be so cavalier about his feelings, the ones he had had since middle school, made Murphy want to drink. Heavily.

Kane scowled and folded his hands neatly on the desk. He stared at Bellamy for a long time before turning to Murphy and studying him as well. “I don’t know what went down five years ago. I don’t care. I do know that your fans are showing up for you, in droves, to try and capture the magic you had before. And you’re disappointing them. Your fans want the childhood friends who decided to start a band together, not the jaded folk artist and playboy rock star. Get your shit together, get your act together, and for fuck’s sake, try and remember that your fans are paying good money and all you have to do is remember what you liked about each other.”

Murphy glanced at Bellamy, who was staring at him, and so their eyes met, and Murphy couldn’t look away.

“Good,” Kane said. “Glad we’re agreed.” He excused them together and they walked silently out of the room.

“We should probably talk,” Murphy suggested once they hit the hall. It was surprisingly deserted.

Bellamy looked at him in surprise before fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Later? I gotta meet O in Brooklyn in 20 minutes. Wish me luck?”

They were currently in the Upper East Side. Murphy grinned. “There’s not enough luck in the world.”

Bellamy’s face shifted into a confused smile and he started backing up towards the elevator, eyes fixed on Murphy. “Later, yeah?”

Murphy nodded. “Yeah.” Later, they would talk, and they would work some of this shit out.

Clarke found him first. “Listen,” she said to him, grabbing his upper arm and herding him into a break room. Murphy glanced around anxiously, but Clarke had always been good at sensing what rooms were empty. “We’ve tried to be supportive without being overbearing, we’ve kept our distance, and we haven’t asked any questions, but this is getting out of hand, John. What happened with you and Bellamy?”

She led him to chair and looked at him expectantly until he sat down. She kept standing, and moved off to make him a cup of tea.

It occurred to him that Octavia was probably grilling Bellamy in Brooklyn, probably with less tact and more public yelling and he had never been more grateful for Clarke’s friendship in his life. That could have been him. “We fought, I quit, end of story.”

She walked over to him with a mug full of tea and honey and stood in front of him in full disapproving glory. She handed him the cup and crossed her arms, every inch the intimidating front woman she had grown into in Wanheda. “I don’t know what I did to make you think I was an idiot, but I’d appreciate it if you at least came up with a better story.”

“Clarke,” he started, sighing, but she interrupted him.

“Murphy, five years ago my family was ripped apart and no one will tell me why. Do you think this was easy on me? On Octavia? Do you think we liked having no idea what was happening with you, if you were okay? With Bellamy moping and crying and drinking and sleeping his way through everyone who looked his way?” She wiped an angry tear out of her eye and glared. “I’ve been accommodating and I’ve been kind but I am exhausted and sad and I need to know if this is something that can be fixed or if I’ve lost my family for good.”

Murphy was embarrassed his find his eyes were teary, too. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.” And he told her. “It was the after the last show we did for Goblins, the one in LA? Bellamy came up to me after the show.”

They had been sweaty, still covered in stage makeup and hours worth of musical grime, tired and delirious and bright and happy. Raven was packing up the van (or rather gleefully directing her underlings to) and Murphy was in the green room chugging plastic water bottles and trying to decide if he had it in him to go outside and greet the roadies or if he would just retreat to his hotel room and wait for morning.

Bellamy stuck his head in the door. When his eyes fell on Murphy he smiled lazily, and Murphy felt a flood of warmth like the stage lights hitting him all over again. “Hey, Murphy.”

He would have blushed if his face hadn’t already been red from exertion. “Hey, yourself.”

Bellamy had invited himself in, then, like he always did. They had been sharing a space for so long that they frequently forgot about personal space. He smiled, and then Murphy’s phone buzzed. He frowned instead. “Who is that?”

Murphy looked at his phone and then blushed even harder. “That guy. From the show in Philly?” Bellamy’s face still clearly asked for clarification so Murphy made with the clarifying. “We’ve been talking a lot. He’s in town. Wants to see me, I think.”

Bellamy was still frowning. “Are you going to see him?”

Murphy sighed, standing up and stretching. “I guess so.” He smiled at Bellamy, but it was a weak smile. “Can’t keep chasing my dreams forever.”

Bellamy scoffed and gesturing grandly around the green room. “That’s literally all we do.”

“Yeah but—” Murphy sighed again, tried to align his brain with his mouth. “It’s different now, isn’t it?” It was different. Wells was gone, Finn was leaving. Raven had gotten into MIT and Clarke was talking about college, plus Monty and Octavia were talking about settling down with their respective boyfriends, like they weren’t too young for that shit and Murphy—Murphy was chasing after Bellamy’s shadow, just like he had done his whole life.

When he looked up, Bellamy was close to him, so close to him Murphy could hear his breaths, could practically taste his sweat. “It doesn’t have to be different,” he said vehemently. “We can stay the same.”

Murphy shook his head. “I can’t stay the same. I need to stop chasing.” He smiled, melancholic. “Don’t I deserve some happiness, too?”

“Yeah.” Bellamy was so close he could feel the whisper of his words and then Bellamy was kissing him and Murphy was so caught up in the sensations he could barely process what was happening until Bellamy pulled away.

“Bell,” he said, and tried to close the distance between them, but Bellamy shoved him backwards and he hit the makeup table—not hard enough to hurt, but enough so that his things went flying.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said, and then he was out the door.

By the time Murphy was up and into the hall, Bellamy had disappeared into the throng.

When Murphy got to the hotel, Bellamy’s stuff was gone, and no one—not even Octavia, who would have absolutely lied for him but had no poker face whatsoever—knew where he was.

So he texted him. And he called him. Left message after message and email upon email and finally after five days he got a call from their manager politely demanding that they fix their shit, or Murphy, the volatile lead singer, was going to get the axe.

And Murphy was angry, the deep, hot, seething sort of anger that he had only felt before for his mother, that he channeled on the stage but never really let himself soak in anymore because he had been so depressed in middle school and high school and he had excised that anger through music and friendship and now he was adrift, and the figure that he had chased after for so many years was nowhere to be seen.

He thought, what would I have said in high school? And so, calmly, politely, he phoned up their manager and said, “fuck you, I quit.”

And then, he told Clarke, sitting in the recording studio, in the breakroom, “I drank for a week, and I thought about moving to Australia, and then I put out an album of me crying for seventy minutes. And now here we are.”

Clarke reached out and gripped his hand tightly in hers. “I love you, you know that?”

He was teary eyed again, and his voice was shaky with it. “Yeah, I do.”

Clarke nodded decisively. “And Bellamy is an idiot. But he loves you, too.”

“Clarke—“

She shook her head. “No. I know he fucked up and he hurt you, I get that. I do. But he loves you and he’s been trying.”

Murphy could feel himself getting angry but he swallowed it. His first thought was, fuck Bellamy. Fuck Bellamy and fuck the fact that he got to have Murphy’s family and Murphy’s job and Murphy’s life while Murphy had to settle with trying-hard-and-not-quite-making-it. “And I haven’t been.”

Clarke smiled at him. “You’ve been trying. A little. But he’s been trying a lot. Meet him half way?”

Murphy nodded, and stood up, figuring Clarke was done with him. She squeezed his hand and stood gingerly. “Good,” she said. “Now let’s go find Lexa, she has a proposition for you—before you have that interview to get to.”

He couldn’t remember anything about an interview but he hadn’t really been paying attention, had he? He hadn’t been trying. They found Lexa in the lobby, scaring off paparazzi with a glare. She smiled at them as they approached, which was much more friendly than he expected from her. She absolutely terrified him and he really liked that about her.

She laid out her proposition and Murphy immediately accepted, before being ushered into a company car by Clarke, presumably taking him to the aforementioned interview.

He texted Raven on the way. “Where exactly am I going?” he asked her.

“not ur calendar & am in fact doing important sound stuff,” she replied, followed almost immediately by, “casual fan interview, should mostly be a puff piece, but wat do i no im just the sound engineer.”

He got out of the car in a small cupcake café on the lower east side, which he wasn’t expecting, but considering Murphy remembered literally nothing about the interview, he supposed that wasn’t shocking. He walked in and looked around anxiously at the pastel covered café, glad he was in his civvies instead of his Johnny regalia.

“Mr. Murphy?” He turned and was face to face with a girl who was definitely younger than him, wearing a very professional outfit that did nothing to age her up. The French braids didn’t help, either. “Hi, I’m here to interview you! My name’s Charlotte. I’m a music blogger. I started SoundSiren?”

“Hi,” he replied, and reached out to shake her hand. It then occurred to him that he had heard of her blog before. “Oh! Hi, yeah I know you. Can I ask a stupid question before you start recording stuff?”

She laughed, a real sounding and very charming laugh. “Of course!”

“Why are we in a cupcake den?” He had been avoiding looking at the glass case because Murphy was weak and the cupcakes smelled like exactly what he deserved after the past few hellish days.

Charlotte grinned mischievously. “I heard they were your drug of choice.”

He smiled back but was instantly filled with guilt. He was pretty sure his drugs of choice were, in order of most destructive to least, Bellamy Blake, tequila, Bellamy’s twitter account, vodka, Bellamy’s old anonymous livejournal account, rum, and then cupcakes.

“You heard right,” he said, and let her lead him to a table, already covered in cupcakes.

“I wasn’t sure which kind you like,” she said apologetically, gesturing to the smorgasbord of cupcakes.

He laughed, and felt more prepared for this interview than he’d felt for anything in months. “Oh, you are definitely on my good side.”

She smiled and slid into her seat, Murphy following. She pulled out her phone. “Do you mind if I…?”

He hated having audio recordings of himself wandering through the internet, but despite himself he trusted her. Murphy nodded and bit into a red velvet cupcake. The girl had good taste.

“So,” she asked picking a caramel cupcake, “how does it feel to be back in New York?”

“Like a kick in the balls,” he said, and she laughed.

“Just like old times, then? Speaking of, how’s the band meshing after years apart?”

Murphy paused, chewing. She scribbled something onto her phone with a stylus. He hoped it said something like, “he chewed contemplatively,” instead of “he stared stupidly into the distance and messily devoured a cupcake.” He had seen her blog before and she could be ruthless when she wanted to.

“We’re coming together,” he said finally. “There were some road-bumps, but we’re family, you know? Even when we hate each other, we still love each other. And I think that comes across in the new album.”

Charlotte’s face turned a little guilty even as she said, innocently, “was last night’s concert one of those bumps in the road?”

Murphy choked on a piece of cupcake. “Yeah,” he wheezed and tried to remember how to swallow like an adult. “Definitely. But we’re working on it, and it’s only going to get better.”

“Good,” Charlotte said, and beamed. “I saw the show last night and it was…”

“A work in progress?” Murphy offered.

Charlotte laughed. “That’s a good word for it. Do you mind if I ask—what went wrong?”

Murphy paused and used the opportunity to cut into another cupcake. “I think there were some miscommunications. Some bad blood that we needed to excise.”

“Metaphorical or literally?”

He thought about how badly he had wanted to punch Bellamy’s face in the night before. “Metaphorical blood letting,” he clarified, “literal talking.”

Charlotte laughed again, and very kindly changed the subject. “So I asked my readers what they were most interested in me finding out, and surprise surprise, they want to know who is the inspiration for “Brainfreeze” and “Kill the Moment”?”

Murphy polished off the cupcake and moved onto a chocolate one covered in glitter. “Who says they’re about anyone? Let alone the same person?”

Charlotte pounced. “Well, general fan theory is that before your character, Johnny, died at the end of Goblins, he was developing feelings for someone. The imagery in “Brainfreeze” and “Kill the Moment” are very similar; wanting to stay in the moment that’s occurring right now, but wanting to see what happens next. All this rising to the high note of “Finger Guns,” before the album ends abruptly, presumably in Johnny’s death.” At his incredulous look, Charlotte blushed. “I’ve been a fan since I was in middle school,” she admitted.

Murphy laughed and wiped the chocolate off his mouth. She made another scribble on her screen. “There was someone in Johnny’s life—we intended to give him an accomplice. But his life didn’t turn out that way.”

“And your life?”

Murphy could feel the self-deprecating smile unfurl across his face. “My life didn’t turn out that way either.”

Charlotte gave him a very sympathetic look before visibly changing gears. “I was very excited to hear a studio version of “ ’07,” which has gotten consistent concert play, but has never been recorded until now. What made you decide to change that?”

Murphy sighed. He loved almost every song he had ever written—and he loved ’07. That said, if no one asked him about it for the rest of his life he would die happy. “People have been asking for you it, you know? I wrote it for our first album, We Who Are About to Die, but it was cut for space reasons, and so we could end on “Salute,” which clinched the reference, you know?”

Charlotte nodded avidly.

Encouraged, he continued, “So we’ve been trying to squeeze it onto somewhere, and Octavia—er, Babydoll suggested it be the bonus track, and we all agreed.”

Charlotte nodded. “Well, it sounds great! Definitely well worth the wait. And I believe you wrote it for your mother, correct?”

Murphy’s heart started pounding loudly in his ears. “No,” he heard himself say. “I wrote it about my mom, but I wrote for me. My mother was terrible—honestly if it wasn’t for Mrs. Blake I doubt I would have survived high school. When I turned seventeen, she disappeared and I haven’t heard from her since. So “’07” was for me to excise those feelings. She made my life hard enough when she was in it, she has no right to make it harder now that she’s out of it.”

She looked at him, impressed, or maybe even proud, and he reached for another cupcake because he’d earned it.

He got back to the apartment before Bellamy that night, and, exhausted, fell asleep before he heard Bellamy return. He figured, as he drifted, that they would talk in the morning, when Bellamy didn’t feel so angry from fighting with Octavia, and he didn’t feel so exhausted from spilling his guts out to small bloggers.

The article was up the next day, and Murphy was glad that Charlotte had made him seem engaging and funny and had left out that he had eaten a total of seven cupcakes.

Talking about his mother had, in some ways, put things into perspective for him. He was actively hating Bellamy because he had committed himself to it, even though it made him miserable. If happiness was his end goal, then he should try to make that happen, instead. Which probably meant reconnecting with Bellamy, even just to see if he could.

He walked out into the main apartment area, still skimming through the article, and looked up, when Bellamy made a soft, surprised sound.

“Good morning,” Murphy offered, before grabbing a piece of toast off of Bellamy’s plate and stuffing it into his mouth.

Bellamy gaped at him, open mouthed and floundering. “Um. Hi.” Even fishlike and baffled, Bellamy still managed to seem aloof and available and charming, and in the morning light as a new and improved Murphy, he realized he was just as head over heels as he’d ever been.

“You sleep well?” he asked, and tried to play it off like they had this kind of conversation on the daily, like two grown ass men.

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’m awake,” Bellamy said and then winced. “Sorry, that was—sorry.”

Murphy shrugged. He almost certainly deserved that. “You ready for tonight?”

Tonight was the real start of their tour, their biggest show ever and at Madison Square Garden (the Madison Square Garden, was this even the real life), before their stateside tour began.

“Honestly?” Bellamy asked, rolling his shoulders. “I feel like I’m about to vibrate out of my skin.”

“Yeah,” Murphy agreed. “It’s great, right?” Murphy held his gaze for a long moment, and his body hummed. He felt energized, centered and a little horny.

Bellamy swallowed hard and turned away, which was good, because it meant he missed how much Murphy stared at his throat. “What are your plans for the day?”

Murphy would give the amount that Bellamy’s voice didn’t waver an E for Effort. “Not a whole lot. You?”

“Nothing.”

Murphy tried to smile openly. He wasn’t really an open kind of guy, but he didn’t want Bellamy to think this was a trick. “Wanna order pad thai and watch Pulp Fiction?” which really shouldn’t have been a tradition but absolutely was.

Bellamy looked stunned, open and vulnerable, and the shitty vindictive part of Murphy wanted to laugh in his face, but the rest of him wanted to cuddle down on the couch with Bellamy Blake, thai food, John Travolta, and Samuel L. Jackson.

“Yeah,” Bellamy said. “Yeah, okay.”

Pulp Fiction had lead to Kill Bill which had lead, inexplicably, to Charlie’s Angels, and when they left, together, for MSG, Murphy more at peace than he had felt in years.

Because they were all big name stars now, they each had their own dressing room, not just a green room. Maya had emailed them all very specific schedules of when she expected them to be sitting in their rooms waiting for her, and Murphy was cutting it close as he spotted his name on the door. Or well, Johnny, but he’d take it.

He had just reached for the handle when Bellamy said, “Wait.”

Murphy turned around, conscious that every ticking second brought him closer to Maya’s subdued and quiet (but still probably dangerous) wrath.

Bellamy fidgeted, which made Murphy nervous too, before pulling something from his pocket. “I know, I—we—there isn’t really—here,” he said, and passed Murphy a tarnished silver nut on a chain. “I’m not sure if we do this anymore, but it was from before, so. Have a good concert. It’s from that night, but I—I should go,” he said, and ran.

Murphy squeezed it tightly in his hand and walked into his dressing room.

Bellamy had, at some point, created a tradition for them, whereby he stole a piece of the venue they did the last show of a tour in, and gave it to Murphy at the start of the subsequent tour. It was a silly tradition that resulted in stupid pieces of memorabilia like the dumb necklace in his hand.

He put it on over his head and sat down to wait for Maya. He looked in the mirror. He was stupidly in love with Bellamy Blake, but maybe, just maybe, Bellamy Blake was stupidly in love with him, too. He began applying the first of many layers of eyeliner and smiled.

Maya came by to do his hair and rolled her eyes at the way he couldn’t stop smiling. Raven came by afterwards and was even less amused.

“This is a microphone,” she said, holding the microphone in front of his face. “Microphones are for singing into, they are not for dropping, me entiendes?”

“Mhmmm,” he said dreamily.

Raven took a deep breath, and then whacked him with the mic.

“Hey!” Murphy yelled indignantly. “You’re the one hitting people with them!”

Raven nodded. “Right. Because they are my mics. And I know what they can take, like a light smack against the empty head of a dumbass. And I also know what they can’t take, which is being flung into the ceiling by the same empty headed dumbass.”

“It was funny though, right?” he asked, smirking.

Raven rolled her eyes but he knew he had won.

Tonight was going to be amazing.

And it sort of was. Unlike the night before, it had gone down without a hitch. Murphy had remembered how to properly stalk and run and throw himself around the stage including not one, not two, but four backflips (take that Brendan and Josh), and had engaged in some really questionable grinding on two microphone stands and also Bellamy, to the loud approval of the audience. He was surprised to find he felt like Johnny again.

They reached the first encore way too soon, in Murphy’s opinion.

He sneered into the mic while his bandmates tuned and hydrated. “What’s good?” he asked the crowd, and they screeched. “I’m Johnny,” he said, and paused for the cheers. “And these are my Delinquents. On my right,” he pointed to Octavia, “the beautiful Babydoll on the bass. Next to her, the incomparable Sandman on guitar,” he pointed at Clarke, who gave him and obliging sting on her guitar. “My pal Thanatos on the drums, and of course, Twitch, who doesn’t even need an instrument to play you.”

He blew Bellamy an exaggerated kiss and the crowd shrieked again. Bellamy rolled his eyes, but it felt so much more like their normal patter. Murphy grinned again. “Thank you, New York, you’ve been great!” he said, and then sauntered off stage. The others followed, and they huddled off stage while the audience chanted, “Johnny, Johnny,” over and over.

“Hey,” Murphy said to Bellamy, pulling him aside physically.

“What’s up?” Bellamy’s eyes were glued to the spot where Murphy’s hand was attached to his arm.

Their stage manager was already prepping them to go back out, but Murphy refused to be rushed.

“Hey,” Murphy said again, and then cupped Bellamy’s face and pulled him into a kiss. He could hear Clarke’s gasp and Octavia’s cackle and Mbege’s obnoxiously loud wolf whistle, but he ignored them. This was his moment. “I love you,” he said, and then ran back on stage.

The crowd roared again, and Murphy had never been in front of so many people in his entire life. “We got a surprise for you tonight,” he said, as Lexa marched on stage, looking like she could kill. “Lexa from Wanheda is here to play for you lucky delinquents, so make some fucking noise!”

The crowd did, as crowds are known to, and they began their first encore. Lexa was an incredible bassist, and Murphy was definitely going to tap her for their next group project.

Their first two encore songs went better than he expected, and as he desperately chugged water before their last two songs, he turned to see Bellamy actually smoldering at him.

He hadn’t wanted to play “’07” in public but Octavia had insisted. In part, he assumed, because it was one of only three songs where she got to sing back up. It was still one of his best, but also personal and way too relevant. It may have been written about his mother, but he could have written the same song about Bellamy.

He sang the entire song without checking on Bellamy again, which he counted as a personal achievement. “’07” ended in a false cheery tone that he loved and he waited for the cheers to die down.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Clarke motioning for the other’s to put their instruments away, and he was as, always, extremely grateful for Clarke. Lexa switched out her electric bass for an acoustic one and her eyes twinkled as theirs met.

“We got another surprise for you lucky criminals!” The crowd exploded with cheers.

Lexa began playing the melody on her bass, which was way more affective than he thought it would be and he gripped the mic and began to sing. “Wise men say, only fools rush in,” and the audience cheered its approval.

His hands were shaking, Jesus, more than they had ever shook in his life. He wanted to turn around and look at Bellamy but he didn’t let himself. Bellamy had to know, he was smart and he knew Murphy, and wasn’t that the problem, anyway? Murphy had let himself be hurt and he knew he was setting himself up for the same exact fall. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me a hundred times and shame on love.

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Lexa nodded at him, and he managed to take a real breath before he kept singing. The final time through, as he sang, “Take my hand, take my whole life, too,” he tilted his microphone out to the audience, who obligingly sang along.

He felt the hands on his shoulder spinning him before he could register it. His hand was still outstretched, the mic aimed at the crowd when Bellamy swooped down and kissed him again and he dropped the mic and Raven was absolutely going to murder him, but he could hardly care because Bellamy Blake was playing tonsil hockey with him in front of the biggest crowd they’d ever played for and he was pretty sure he wasn’t dreaming.

The crowd was deafening or Murphy’s heart was just pounding so loudly in his ears that when Bellamy pulled away, his equilibrium had gone to shit—and it had to be the noise because there was no way he just got weak in the knees.

“Don’t run away this time,” Murphy said against his mouth.

“Never again,” Bellamy said, and Murphy reluctantly detached himself.

Lexa had just finished playing and was smiling at him smugly, which both meant that Murphy had impeccable timing and that he and Bellamy had made out for possibly an embarrassingly long time.

“Good fucking night New York,” he hollered, and ran offstage, dragging Bellamy behind him.

“We should talk,” Murphy started, but Bellamy interrupted him.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you and I’m in love with you and I’ve spent the past five years hating myself for chasing you away.”

“Oh,” Murphy replied, and prided himself on his sharp wit. “Well in the case—” and let Bellamy pull him into a kiss again.

Behind him, he could hear Octavia say, probably to Clarke, “I’m beginning to think we made a huge mistake.

“I don’t know,” Lexa replied, managing to sound introspective and domineering all at once. “I think they’re cute.”

Epilogue

“So,” Charlotte asked, and smiled charmingly at the webcam. “What can you tell us about your new project?” Her set-up had improved in the last year, and instead of a cell phone and some cupcakes, she had a full a video portion of her website and a studio to match, although her hair was still in two little braids.

“Well,” Murphy said. “It’s massive. It’s a coalition between Skycrew, Wanheda, City of Light, The Delinquents and Lexa’s old band, Tree People. It’s me, the Blakes, Lexa and Clarke and their old bandmates Anya and Gustus. We have Mbege—Emori and Finn are going to be on selected tracks—and we have Lincoln, who is finally fighting fit and the kind of badass a band of this size really needs. We strings and a trumpet, more drummers than I personally know what to do with and so many guitarists that I literally can’t make a g-string joke without risk to my life. Oh—and we’re calling ourselves Polis.”

Charlotte’s excitement was very poorly hidden, but he liked that. It was nice that she had asked to interview him first, nice that he could finally do a press interview in his civvies. “I can’t wait to hear your new stuff! When does the album drop?”

Murphy grinned back. “It’s called Power to the People, and it’ll be out mid-march. But actually, we wanted to surprise you and your viewers with our first single.”

Charlotte’s disbelief was so genuine he almost laughed. It was replaced by excitement almost instantly. “I—thank you—this is such an I honor—I—”

“It’s called “Arcadia,” why don’t we take a listen?” he said, and nodded to Bellamy off camera, who had taken over her sound equipment, and let it play.

Afterwards Charlotte whispered to him, “I’m going to cut the part where I’m all googly-eyed and cry in the middle of your new single okay?” and Murphy nodded, because he was nothing if not accommodating.

She gathered herself and looked him in the eye. “Mr. Murphy, I know I shouldn’t, but I have to ask. How are things with you and Mr. Blake?”

He glanced at Bellamy off screen, who was smiling a reluctant, dopey smile, the way he always did when Murphy did interviews. “Things,” he said, still looking directly at Bellamy and feeling possibly contentment. “Things have never been better.”

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON TITANIUM’S MAIN VOCAL ZHU GUANLIN ...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Gui CURRENT AGE: 27 DEBUT AGE: 23 TRAINEE SINCE: 18 COMPANY: Midas SECONDARY SKILL: n/a

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): n/a INSPIRATION: inspired to audition after watching videos of past kpop groups SPECIAL TALENTS:

plays guitar and piano

fluent in mandarin/cantonese and english

ridiculously good at the cham cham cham game

NOTABLE FACTS:

currently attending university majoring in photography

is an only child

has dyed his hair every color under the sun, even while a trainee

known for his love of reading, photos have circulated online about his book collection

is a known jinx fanboy

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

to be recognized as a successful singer.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

to be an all around successful performer/model in the korean industry.

IDOL IMAGE

in the early days of titanium’s career, gui both shy and struggling to speak efficiently in korean tended to hold himself back from participating in interviews and variety shows. he was content to stand in the back and to smile and laugh along rather than to jump into the fray. because of this gui struggled to build a presence for himself with both the fans and in the industry.

somewhere along the line, a fancam showed up online featuring gui breaking up his members fun antics with fans with a cold look on his face before ushering them off to the next schedule. this tiny moment caused a bit of an uproar with the titans. rumors started to spread about gui like wildfire, video and photographic “evidence” by fans soon surfaced online claiming that gui was “only in it for the money” and “secretly controlling and abusing” the other titanium members. while none of this was ever proven true, it has left a bad taste in the mouths of fans, leaving gui with the most antis in titanium. and gui has never fully been able to shake it. instead he continues to appear as unapproachable, leaving variety hosts to steer clear of him if they can, only acknowledging him as much as they need to when saving face with the few fans he does have.

being instructed to ignore the variety aspect of his career, gui was groomed to answer the more scripted and less candid questions posed to titanium. he’s often handed the mic to answer questions about their newest comeback or to shoot down anything scandalous posed by reporters or variety hosts. known for his looks, and in an effort to keep down the negative perception of him, gui was encouraged to take up modeling; putting his boy next door smile and chic expression to good use.

gui in private is much different than his stage persona.  instead he’s much more upbeat and laidback than most would realize. he tends to joke around, probably way too much making dad jokes and puns in both korean and mandarin, confusing most of the people around him. he’s known for breaking out into song and dance just to keep the mood lighthearted. gui also tends to look after the titanium members as more of an older brother figure, worrying about their happiness and health more than his own.

IDOL HISTORY

the harsh march rainstorms slowly fade away, revealing the brilliant fragility of april and her newest creation. he takes his first breath, quiet and blooming as a child much like the orchid bows its head under the might of the sun. he is delicate, far too fragile for the family he’s born into. the zhu, a family steeped in tradition, chasing after the pursuit of knowledge spanning back generations. and it is clear very early on that he doesn’t fit into that puzzle as effortlessly as his parents do.

and he struggles. he loses his footing under the crushing weight of the legacy he’s meant to uphold. he fails more than he succeeds to meet the goals and expectations set for him long before his birth. and so he becomes ridiculed by this cousins, the son with no backbone, the failing heir with a peony for a heart. he’s nothing if not resilient, all the more stubborn. it doesn’t make his youth easy by any means, if anything it makes it harder to navigate the muddy waters of the zhu household. it makes his family determined to break him, to tear him apart and rebuild him in their perfect image. and try as they might, as much as they expect him to bow, to break his back with the sharp edges of their words, he retreats but only to steel himself, to cover his soft peony heart and to soak up the sunlight through any crack he can find.

in the war torn household, his only solace is music; small moments stolen in the late night and early morning hours. and maybe it was always inevitable but he slowly and surely falls in love with it, finds himself singing along, humming words under his breath. and in a household that abhors the arts, bans everything but classical literature, he struggles to carry around his love like a secret as he falls deeper. intrigue turns to desperation, turns into late nights muffled beneath blankets, to skipping class to let his voice soar free unrestrained.

and in a flash desperation turns into opportunity. a tiny spot on a mainland variety show, a small segment featuring the hottest trends. he stands, frame alight with excitement and a little bit of anxiety next to this friends. showcasing the youth of today, the spotlight burns bright and hot as the audience cheers on their talents. he watches his best friend fumble his way through a popular dance song, the words and movements unfamiliar. and before he knows it the mic passes from hand to hand until he’s holding the weight in his unsure hands. he’s terrified but the atmosphere is welcoming, infectious and before he knows it, he lifts the mic to his mouth in a fit of bravery he didn’t know he had inside of him. he struggles with the words on the bottom of the screen, trips and stumbles over them but his voice soars loud and clear through the studio. and for a moment, he blooms brightly under the spotlight caught in the feeling of pure happiness and exhilaration. and as just as quickly it starts, it’s over. the staff are ushering them off of the set and out of the studio. but it doesn’t matter because he’s already ensnared.

the clip surfaces online not too long after that. and he probably watches it a hundred time, enraptured at himself and the audiences reaction. and for a moment that fragment in time is enough. it’s enough to get him through the war until he comes out on the other side, still whole and unbroken. an audition, that’s all it takes for him to put all of his hopes and dreams on the line. cold sweat, absolute terror, he again fumbles over the song he practiced until he could sing it in his sleep. but that one chance is all it takes to prove his talent, his worth. and before he knows it, he’s leaving behind all he’s ever known for the unknown.

seoul, it’s vastly different from the life he left behind. he gets caught up in the movement, in the fast paced life of a trainee. and while he’s never felt enough for his family, he learns that it’s nothing compared to one of few foreign trainees in midas. it’s frustrating, being unable to communicate properly. he struggles to listen, to learn, to do more than to just settle with pointing and hoping that his wants, his needs are understood. it’s a long process and it nearly defeats him, nearly sends him home with his tail between his legs. but as the days trickle by, slowly he starts to learn and to understand until he feels like he’s finally able to breathe.

but he should have known that his life would be one of struggles, has always been for as long as he can remember. the brilliance, the shine of debut is unlike anything he ever imagined. he’s a bundle of nerves and excitement to get out there, to share his talents with the world. but it’s all short lived. months of good luck seem to pale in comparison when he’s being pulled aside by staff. he learns that his shy nature, his hesitation before speaking have not done him any favors. he learns about the rumors and spends hours struggling to read through fan accounts, through comments painting him out ot be some sort of monster. he remembers crying himself to sleep that first night and learns to walk with caution when chasing after his future.