#this is inspired by that jesus meme. i hope it comes across

[memefever]

sometimes i get so caught up on the joy of being autistic that i forget to take care of my adhd needs

[withjaejae]

Hell-ish | JHS

With nothing to do and a sudden urge to summon the devil, you find yourself unlocking your inevitable fate.

Parings: Devil!Hoseok x Unhinged!Reader

Warnings: Demon summoning, swear words, Stripping, reader is borderline psycho-ish, choking, teasing (?), eventual smut but not today, minors dni

A/N: Hello! I had a brain fart an decided to write it out. It'll probably have 3 chapters. Hope you like this one. Inspired by a meme

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"You can't be serious?" You friend's voice rings through your earpods as you set up the floor.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You finish lining the floor with salt. "Wouldn't it be cool if I summoned an actual demon? Heard they look hot."

"YN, you need Jesus. You can't just summon a demon because you're bored." You snort. "Whatever. If you're not going to listen to me then just hang up or—" You end the call.

You stand up to study your set up.

Candles, check.

Salt circle, check.

Demonic book, check.

Cameras, check.

Lucifer's star, check.

You seemed to be all set. The cameras are for evidence just in case someone tries to mess with you.

You nod and took a deep breath. You step into the salt circle and immediately felt different.

You read the incantations off the book.

The fact that your grandmother left you her boat house in the middle of nowhere and your broke ass self could not find anywhere else to live sort of gave you the idea of finding a demon. After reading too much books about them being hot sorta messed with your head. But you've already been borderline psychotic according to your friends.

"I summon thee —!" You look up and strong wind burst through the front door. You were sure you locked that.

All the candles die with the blow, you sat on the floor staring at the open door. Waiting for someone or something to crawl through but its been a minute and still, nothing.

You groan and stand up to close the door.

As soon as you turn around, there was. Shadowy figure standing in the middle of your salt circle. Emerging from it was a man.

Not just any man, but the prettiest, sexiest, hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. His eyes, crimson.

"Who dares summon the prince of hell?" He growls. Not leaving the salt circle.

You immediately bow as a sign of respect. He raises an eyebrow. You rush to take out your earpods and toss it across the room.

"Do you have any idea how cursed you have become?" You shake your head. "You are a fool."

"Yes, I am. But I have summoned you in hopes that you grant me a wish." You finally speak.

The prince of hell suddenly laughs. "Do you think I'm fucking genie?" A pair of expensive looking shoes come into view from your position. "Get up." He commands and you immediately stand. "Oh." His eyes stare directly into yours. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

You startle as he plops himself on your couch. Man spreading. Even you are shocked at his behavior.

"Well, I don't know who or what you are but I gotta thank you for pulling me out of that hell hole." He meant that in every way. He stretches his body, he's lean and wearing what looks like a custom made suit.

"You look... Human." You say from your position, standing before him.

"Would you rather see my original form?" His skin starts turning red but it immediately recedes as you shake your head. "Come sit." He pats on his lap.

You're not sure but you certainly did not hesitate to straddle his lap. You felt like you were in a trance.

"What's your name?" The tip of his nose trailing your jaw line.

"YN." He hums, you crane your neck to give him more access. "You must be Lucifer."

He chuckles. "We go by many names, but I am merely one of the princes of hell. You may call me Hoseok." Your hands rest on his chest.

"Hoseok." You try to be bold by slipping your hand beneath his suit jacket. "So... I don't get a wish?"

"No. But you do get a curse." He states it so casually, you're not even worried. "You smell so good."

"A curse? What's my curse?" He wasn't sure if he was imagining the sparkle in your eye as you spoke of the curse.

"Hmm... You must give me your first born child." His eyes turn completely black as he said it. You shiver.

"Okay." Your reply made his eyes go back fo being crimson. "When do we start?"

"The fuck do you mean?" He frowns. A human confusing him is rare.

"Oh. I'm sorry, your highness." You scramble off him and start undressing, he wasn't complaining but he's absolutely confused.

"Wait. What the fuck?" He can't help but get hard at the view of your naked body. Its been eons since he last fucked a human.

"You said you wanted my first born, so..." You gesture your hands offering your body. "I shall give it to you."

He finally understands and he cackles. "You're definitely not an ordinary human." He gets up. "But that's not what I meant."

You're very comforable in your own skin, you've been to nude beaches, even tried to be in a porno once but it wasn't your thing. Too much moaning.

"Well, how else would I make a first born?" You chuckle and take a seat on the couch across him. "If you choose to wait then I'm okay."

"Wait for your husband?" He's lost.

You snort and start laughing. "I don't even have a boyfriend. That was kinda the whole point I summoned the devil."

"You summoned me, a prince of hell, to ask for a boyfriend? That's all? Not even riches or a better house?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, this my home. My grandma gave it to me." You cross your legs, you're both ignoring the fact that you are fully naked in front of a really handsome man. "But hey, if you want my first born from another man, I may meet you in hell first before that even happens because human men are shit." You laugh in between your words.

Okay, something is not screwed on right in your brain, Hoseok can assume this because of how your personality switches.

"That's kinda sad." Hoseok leans back on the couch again.

He studies you... You're HOT. Tattoos on your shoulder and your entire thigh, he wasn't expecting all these artworks beneath the turtle neck and pants you were sporting earlier.

"Well, if we're done talking and you don't wanna fuck then you can go back to your hell hole." You stand up and walk away, he's baffled.

You blinked and he was standing in front of you. A hand to your throat, pushing you down on the couch.

"You do not leave until you are dismissed." His eyes pitch black again, you've pissed him off. But instead of being scared you fucking smiled.

And its freaking HIM out.

He looks into your eyes and sees what you're thinking. It makes him release you, the smile on your face vanishing as he does so.

"What kind of demon are you?" He frowns.

The amount of nasty things he saw in that second he looked into your soul, there was no other explanation for it. Other than you being a succubus. That's not right, he's a prince of hell, he should know a succubus from their mere aura but you, a human with the soul of a fucking succubus?

"Did you see it? My soul?" You sit up for him again. "I always knew I was different. I mean, two of my exes ended up in the hospital after having sex with me. They got really sick with no explanation. Its not STDs either." Hoseok paces around the room.

This has to be a test.

"Did Namjoon send you?" He stops in his tracks.

"Who?" You sit cross legged again, a confident aura spreading through the room.

You don't know Namjoon but he could also wipe out memories. But you have memories, your grandma and such. Could it be Yoongi that sent you? He could fabricate lies and make you believe they were true.

No, why would his brothers play with his feelings? Wait, feelings? No. The pang in his chest is merely confusion. Lust, yes. Its probably lust. His dick can tell.

So... Was he summoned to fuck you? How can a woman like you summon a high ranking devil like him?

He turns to the book that was on the floor on the portal he came out of. An old book, hand written.

"Where did you get this?" He asks, he turns to see you getting dressed and he raises an eyebrow again.

"What? Its getting cold. I found that in one of the shelves while I was cleaning. My grandma was acused of being a witch." You shrug. "So I thought I was one. Tried it out and boom, here you are."

"Boom, here I am?" He runs a hand though his hair. "How old are you?"

"27, full grown adult if that's what you're worried about." Its not.

"How long have you been 27?" He asks again making you laugh.

"This is the skin of a killer, Bella." You say in a low voice. Were you mocking him? "What? Haven't watched Twilight? That movie belongs in hell."

"I would never admit this but I am so fucking confused right now. I need to go." He stands in the middle of the salt circle. "I'm taking this." He raises the book.

"Cool. You got yourself a souvenir from me. Don't forget me, m'kay?" You give him a really warm smile and the pang to his chest came back. Why wasn't he confident on leaving?

The shadows started to envelope him and he was gone.

"Damn. I didn't confirm if I was still cursed." You mutter before cleaning up the mess you made.

You check the cameras and sure enough you looked dumb, he wasn't caught on camera like you suspected.

Meanwhile, in hell.

The doors slam loudly, all six on the grand table for dinner.

"Where did you go?" Namjoon frowns since his brother disappeared in the middle of their monthly meeting, of all days.

"I was summoned." Hoseok was frowning too, the events of the past hour was very confusing.

"Summoned?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

A loud thud startled the rest as he throws the old book on the table.

"A woman, very very interesting one, summoned me. Asking for a wish." He groans and rubs his face.

The younger ones chuckle. "What was the wish?" Jungkook ask, his golden eyes sparkling. He's been with humans too but he was disguised.

"A fucking boyfriend." Hoseok takes his seat next to Namjoon. The rest laugh but Hoseok wasn't.

"Wait. A mere woman was able to summon you, and all she asked for was a boyfriend?" Taehyung recaps and Hoseok nods. "She must be insane."

"But that's the thing. I thought she was but when I entered her mind, she wasn't. She was bored and just tried it out." He huffs. "Anyways, I'll study her after the meeting." He sighs.

"Show us what she looks like." Seokjin hands him his crystal ball.

It took Hoseok a second to decide if he should show them knowing that one or two would pay you a visit if he did.

"I will but you swear not to touch her." His eyes flicker to Jungkook and Jimin.

"Damn. Why would you do that?" Jimin groans. "She must be hot."

"We can only back off if you've cursed her." Jungkook shrugs.

"I did. Thats what got me, I said that she needs to give me her first born and the woman fucking stripped and asked when do we start." A beat of silence before they all exploded in laughter. Even Namjoon thought it was funny.

They stopped laughing when the crystal ball shines and Hoseok's memories play in the middle of the table. Your face made them shift in their seat.

Just before you started stripping Hoseok stops projecting his thoughts earning a groan from the two at the end of the table.

"She looks, interesting." Seokjin takes back the ball and puts it in his pocket.

"She is, whatever. On to the meeting. I'll just—" Just then Hoseok is back in your house. "What the?"

"Oh, you're... Back?" You come out of the hall way.

Hoseok turns around, no salt circle, no candles, no nothing. Just you and the house.

"Did you forget something?" You were holding a bottle of wine, his eyes flicker from it to your face. "What? Talking to you got me in a drinking mood."

"What did you do?" He stomps towards you but you remain unfazed.

"I didn't do anything. I cleaned up and thought of you so I grabbed my wine..." You didn't finish what you were planning to do.

"You thought of... Me? And I appeared?" Hoseok was entirely confused.

"Yup." You popped the P.

"Do you have any idea what you're interrupting?" The monthly meeting was very important, but it was very boring. Namjoon would be pissed though.

"No?" You looked confused. Hoseok held your wrist and was about to tell you off when a shadow envelopes the two of you and he's back in the room with his brothers.

With you.

Your eyes wide but somehow you were calm.

"Oh shit." Jimin says, he was the one who could summon anyone and anything.

"Jimin, take us back." Hoseok growls and he snaps his fingers again.

You're back in your living room. You're taking deep breaths, your knees give in. Crossing worlds drained you.

"What the fuck was that?" You asked as you clutched your chest, breathing hard as if you had just ran a matathon.

You pop open the bottle of wine and chug it.

"If you wanted to go, then go. Fuck." You stand up on shaky knees, Hoseok was about to reach to help you but stops himself.

Why was your weary state making him worry? Shouldn't he be... Not worried?

Since when did he worry? Worry was not even in his vocabulary, he was a happy-go-lucky devil.

He steps back and once again, transports himself back in the meeting room where his brothers were discussing things.

They stopped as soon as he takes his seat, he was spacing out. The image of you being weak and walking away was stuck in his brain.

"Hoseok." Namjoon calls and he snaps out of it. "We think she's..."

"No." Hoseok sits up and adjusts his coat. "Let's not talk about her. She's cursed and she knows it. Moving on." Hoseok clears his throat.

Namjoon nods and proceeds with the meeting.

Their meetings last for an entire day. But in a place where there is no time to constrict them, they have no idea how long it takes. They simply have to go through mundane meetings, to make sure that hell runs smoothly, they may be the devil but running an entire world is exhausting, even for them.

Hell was not what it seems like, its a city. Like all other places, sure there were castles and such but the place looks more like Croatia. Except the sea was made of damned souls only a few are given a chance to become demons.

For eons, the seven of them managed to run it smoothly. They had no king nor queen but they have sexual partners, some demons, others prefer humans. But Hoseok, he hasn't taken a partner in a long time.

The last time he had a human was, too long to remember. She was a good soul, she loved Hoseok but he couldn't admit that to himself, so when she found out that he was otherworldly and that her soul was tainted, she got angry and took her own life. Hoseok has seen her in hell, but she refused to acknowledge the prince, he has not heard from her in over 500 years.

"Hoseok." Seokjin approaches his brother who was staring out into the city. "You know how one of us is destined to become King?"

"The divine shall choose a king through a queen? That's a dumb prophecy." Hoseok takes a sip of his scotch.

"Well, in the short time you were away, we thought that maybe she is what the divine meant." Seokjin pours himself a glass of scotch. "Did you not notice how Namjoon stopped talking when you asked? Its as if a crown has been placed on your head."

Hoseok scoffs. "If anyone should become King, its Namjoon."

"He is a leader, yes, but he is not chosen." Seokjin pushes.

Hoseok sighs and thinks of his brothers.

Seokjin can see into the future. But not of his brothers, he can see how humans will die or what affect will any decision make. He is the butterfly in 'Butterfly effect'.

Namjoon had the power to command, he could make anyone follow him. The entire city could bow to him and nobody would question it. He could wipe out memories and make you a mindless minion.

Yoongi, can make others see what he wants them to see. He twists realities causing humans to become delirious.

Jimin, other than teleporting things and people, he can be invisible, he often walks among humans but if anyone with a soul touches him its instant death.

Taehyung, he lures those who belong in hell with music, he's the hunter for escaped souls. He and Jungkook are given the freedom to come and go from hell as they please.

Jungkook, that rabbit, is in charge of repopulating demons. But, he creates them through various ways, he can give life to whatever, be it statues or dolls. He takes a soul and puts them to work.

"Hoseok." Jimin interrupts the two men in their silent bonding. They turn to face him and he looked like he had a nightmare.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok urges the men to sit.

"I know you said you didn't want to talk about her, and you know listening to commands is never my strongest feat but I went to see her." Hoseok immediately felt rage but Jimin stops him. "She saw me, when she wasn't supposed to. She came out of the house and approached, asked if I needed anything."

"And?" Hoseok could only imagine what had happened, a touch of Jimin. No...

"Well, I said no. And I was just lost, I wanted go see if she is what the divine sent so when she offered to shake my hand..." Hoseok stood up and Jimin flinched. "She didn't die."

"What?" Seokjin and Hoseok were shocked.

"She shook my hand and she didn't die. She showed me the way back to the main road and I left." Jimin shakes Hoseok's shoulder. "She is the prophecy."

"And she has chosen, Hoseok." Seokjin immediately gets down on one knee. "Our King."

"No, get up." Hoseok tugs on his brother's arm and Jimin follows. "Stop it, both of you."

Yoongi strides in to see what has happened.

"Get up. Until she has been crowned Queen, Hoseok is not King... Yet." The two men get up and hug Hoseok.

"Congratulations! You have a wife!" Jimin was back to his old self. "Oh to have a wife to constantly wait for you at home."

"Jimin, you have six wives." Yoongi comments.

"Yes but they're getting boring. I might take on a seventh, who knows." Jimin shrugs and poofs away before Seokjin could smack him.

"So... Are you going to see her?" Seokjin asks and Hoseok refills his glass.

You're feeling tired, and weak, ever since you summoned Hoseok last week and since you had a glance of hell. You didn't see much but you remember there were six others watching you.

You tread slowly from your bed to your bathroom, you run yourself a warm bath. As soon as the tub was full enough you strip and get in.

You wonder what Hoseok is doing. You avoided thinking so deeply about him so you won't accidentally summon him again.

But just like that, he appears in your bathroom. He was holding a book and he seemed to be dressed in nothing but Pajama pants.

"Fuck. I knew this would happen eventually." Hoseok groans and sets the book down. "You should stop thinking about me if you want to live."

You simply hum, he takes in your appearance. You've become pale, your eyes were dull, a different woman from when you had first met.

Hoseok was reading up on the Prophecy from the book that he had taken from you as you summoned him again. It was said that once the Queen had been identified, the chosen must take her home to take her place.

But he had not done that, he takes the book and skips a few paragraphs to find what he was looking for.

"In the event that the chosen refuses, the queen will lose her purpose and hell will cease to exist." He murmurs, you on the other hand had submerged your entire body in the water. Too weak to struggle.

Hoseok panics and drops the book pulling you out, making you cough. Just then Jimin appears again.

"Somethings happening." Hoseok curses under his breath at Jimin's words.

Hoseok lifted you out of the water and nods at Jimin. He takes you all back to hell.

When Jimin left the sky had turned grey and the land was shaking but as soon as they got back, its as if nothing happened.

Hoseok walks down the hall with you, naked in his arms, as he takes each step he notices that your skin was getting more color, your lips now red, your hair was glowing.

The Divine really has made you for hell.

What a cruel fate.

---

Ch. 2

[starwarsmum]

I made a thing! Just a silly drabble.

Alfred's Appreciation Party

Summary:

Just a fun little supposed-to-be crack fic.

The bat boys decide Alfred deserves to know how much they appreciate him and are throwing a party. Fluff ensues when Damian contacts an internet famous baker that Alfred likes and convinces her to come and cater the desserts for the party.

Notes:

Hi! Welcome to my first Daminette fic, inspired by the song "Bread" by Anya Nami.

It started as something that was supposed to be light and funny and then spiraled into a whole 10k word fic. I'm not really sure what happened, I think I was possessed. Hope you enjoy it!

I'm not sure how in-character everyone is, but I think I stayed fairly true. Either way, aging up a little means they've had time for growth, so I think it's a reasonable progression.

Bold is messages, italicised bold is in French.

“Tt, I already know what I shall be procuring for Alfred, I do not need your input, Todd.”

The boys were crowded around the dining table, Alfred having gone food shopping half an hour prior and they were trying to coordinate gifts for Alfred's upcoming appreciation party. Jason had been needling Damian about his usual efforts in gift-giving, and he was determined to do better for Alfred.

“Oh yeah, demon spawn? You sound mighty cocky, what's your plan?”

“For your information, I am awaiting a response from Alfred's favourite online baker, whom I shall convince to come and make his gift.”

“Oooh, sounds fancy. What, did you message them yesterday or something?” Jason was mocking him and Damian bristled, a sneer working across his face.

“Do you really think I would leave it so last minute, Todd? I messaged her 3 weeks ago, and it is just as well as she is yet to respond.”

The silence in the room was nearly absolute, the only sound being Tim's fingers tapping away on his laptop. If Damian was a lesser man, he would have fidgeted.

“Why are you giving me that look, Grayson?” Damian ground out, trying to rein in his irritation. Dick was perhaps the only person other than Alfred that Damian would like to impress with his thoughtfulness and it appeared as though he was failing.

“Baby bird, if you messaged her 3 weeks ago and she hasn't responded yet, I don't think she's going to.”

“Tt, this is ridiculous, she is well known for her friendly manner. Why would she not respond to my request?”

“Well, what did you send her?” Damian tutted again before pulling up the direct messages on his phone and turning it to face the others. They peered down, Jason choking back a snort and Dick glancing over at him in pity. It read:

Hello. I request your presence at a family event, to bake one of your masterpieces for my pseudo-grandfather. A timely response is advisable as the event in question is taking place in 8 weeks. Regards.

“...baby bird, this sounds like a bot.” Dick sounded exasperated and Damian huffed, snatching his phone back.

“How would you suggest one goes about requesting services via message? She is clearly a professional and therefore I have messaged accordingly.”

“I dunno, Dames, but it wouldn't be like this! You write like a stuffy 80 year old!”

“Jesus, demon spawn, don't you ever do anything like a human?” Jason added, half jokingly. Damian glared at him, making the taller man's grin widen.

“I do not see any of you coming up with something better.” Damian was already outside of his comfort zone, messaging a complete stranger even if it was for a service.

“I mean, I guess it depends how old this baker is. I wouldn't message the same thing to a 40-something year old as I would someone my age.” Tim said, interjecting to try and bring them back on point without a fight brewing.

“Elaborate, Drake.”

“Well, someone my age would probably work well with a funny meme or something but a 40 year old? Probably a cutesie video, especially if it's coming from someone as young as you.”

“Very well, Drake. How old do you believe her to be, based on her posts?” He knew that Tim was best versed in business, being co-CEO, and trusted him (in this) to give him the best advice.

“I mean, she's pretty proficient at her craft and she writes pretty professionally, but she also shared that whole bread meme thing, so…late 20s? Purely as a guess. I'd need to do more research to get an exact age but if I search it on the batcomputer, there's a higher chance of Bruce seeing it and it getting back to Alfred.”

“Tt, very well, we shall have to go with your initial assessment of late 20s then. What do you suggest I do to get a response?”

“I mean, you already tried to message once which means you need to prove you're not a bot…so a video maybe?”

“Drake, that sounds-” Damian was cut off by Dick, who squealed and bounced up in his seat.

“Like the best idea ever! Oh my god, Tim, you said she shared that bread song, right? Lil D should do a video with that song in it! It'll show he's paying attention, and prove he's a real person!”

“That's a bit of a leap, Dick, but it'll show he's not a bot I guess.” Tim had returned to being engrossed in his work, not bothering to spare any more time on Damian's problems.

“Didn't the original video have the singer in some kind of bread costume doing a dance? Damian, you should definitely do the dance! And then we can help you craft the message to send with it!”

“Grayson, I do not think that a damning video of me doing what I am sure is a demeaning dance is a good ide-” Damian said, beginning to get frustrated with his favourite older brother, only to get cut off again.

“Come on baby bird, this is for Alfred! I know none of us can do a cake justice and you've already started a conversation with this woman. You don't want his big day to be a flop, do you?” Dick’s eyes were wide and he had a slight pout. Damian sighed internally.

“Tt, fine. Show me this cursed video and I shall endeavor to replicate the dance.”

“That's the spirit, Demon Spawn.”

_ _ _

Damian sat in his room, glaring at the video paused on his laptop screen. It was just as horrendous as he had assumed it would be. How could anyone find this amusing, let alone a professional baker?

He scrolled further down the page, looking for any alternative videos that she seemed to enjoy but most everything else was professionally made cakes, breads and desserts. He was about to give up when he came across a post she had shared about an animal shelter and commented that she would be attending and providing goods for the charity event. He smiled slightly, a plan beginning to formulate.

_ _ _

Marinette was working on her latest masterpiece, a suit for Jagged which had an English theme - she had run with it a little, adding little embroidered crowns and clock towers. A few of her friends were there, working on various homework pieces and revision for tests, but they were working in amicable silence.

She stretched when a chime sounded from her phone, allowing her concentration to move over to it as she had finished a particularly stubborn section. Rolling her shoulders, she saw that someone had messaged her through her baking channel. She had set it up on the American part of the site so that she could spread her expertise further than France and it had been well received. She opened the message, frowning as she recognised the chat name as one she had received a suspicious message from just shy of a month before.

*video file attached

Greetings again. I have yet to hear back from you regarding my request for your services at my pseudo-grandfathers party. It has been brought to my attention that you may have believed my message to be a ‘bot’, which is not the case. I have attached a video of myself, and two of my pets, to prove that I am serious about requesting your services. I am now 1 month away from the family event and need to know whether you would be willing to come and prepare the aforementioned baked good(s). I look forward to your timely response.

Marinette sighed and clicked onto the video, after making sure it wasn't sending her to a different site. She raised her eyebrows as a familiar song started up and a tall Arabic boy (man? She couldn't tell but she thought he might be just slightly older than her) began to sing along. He looked uncomfortable but determined, a very attractive look for Marinette and her jaw dropped as a black and white cat sat regally beside him, its tail seeming to swish in time to the music. And then a great dane joined on ‘thick and fried’ which made Marinette giggle.

“Dupain-Cheng, I thought we agreed that you were not allowed to play that ridiculous song any more?” Chloe groaned, dropping her head into her hands as everyone else laughed.

“This is not my fault, Chlo!” Marinette squeaked, flushing and pausing the video. “I can't help it if someone else sends me the song! I was just trying to be responsible and check my messages for the baking channel I run.”

“Wait, someone other than you likes that song?” Alya said, leaning over to take a look. “Is that English? Why are you getting messages in English? Like you're not famous enough in France, you're spreading to America? Damn girl!”

Marinette giggled and shushed her, biting her lip as she read over the message, then silenced the sound on her phone so she could watch the video again without annoying her friends. She contemplated the message and decided to write back immediately, getting carried away in her enthusiasm for his video.

>>

Oh my God, that video is my new fave thing!

How did you get your dog and cat to do that??

Wait, wait, sorry, I'm supposed to be professional on this profile, dammit.

Let me start over.

Hi! You were correct in guessing that I thought you were a bot, sorry about that. I would love to offer my services to you, but I will need to know what it is you want so that I can plan accordingly.

Also, there's not much on your profile, so I can't work out where I would be coming to? That's also kind of important information, so I can plan around my other commitments.

>>

Damian hadn't expected her to answer so quickly but was pleased that the video had done as intended. He pondered how to continue the conversation before responding.

Thank you for your responses. I am based in Gotham, New Jersey and the event is being held at a local hall. Such an important event would normally be held at the manor but Alfred would become too aware and that would spoil the surprise.

>>

Rose squealed, reading the messages over her shoulder, before turning to tell the others that Marinette was being commissioned for cakes in America. Everyone else started chattering at this point, excitement building as Alix counted forward the dates from when Marinette had received the messages.

“That means you'd be over there just before the end of November. We don't have any big tests or anything planned for then, do we?”

“Hn,” Marinette confirmed, still slightly in shock. Her mind was racing and she was already flying through some websites to look for cheap flights, and whether she would be able to take the baked goods from home or if she'd need to be there early for set up and baking itself. She found reasonably priced flights and a hotel near the airport that she could use, but that meant more traveling on the actual day…

New Jersey USA? Uh, sure, I mean, I am based in Paris, France so it'll be a little harder to get there but I think I can get some cheap tickets. When exactly is this event?

>>

*picture attached

Please find all the relevant details on this invitation. The distance is of no consequence, if you are amenable. I can provide transport to and from the event, as well as somewhere to rest.

>>

Okay, that sounds fine. Is there any chance we can change from a text conversation to a phone, or video call?

>>

That sounds agreeable, is now convenient?

>>

Marinette excused herself from the room, running her fingers through her hair and making sure it wasn't standing up on end as it tended to when she got too deep into her creative groove. She wanted to make sure she looked appropriately professional as this was technically a client call, even if it had started with a silly video.

When she was slightly calmer, she settled herself onto the kitchen stool, with the laptop on the bar and clicked the video call icon. It rang twice before connecting to a much darker room, the sun just beginning its path into the sky. Marinette gave a little squeak as a pair of green eyes connected with hers and she felt herself flush lightly.

“Greetings, my name is Damian. You are…much younger looking than my brothers and I had assumed.” The Arabic boy began, brow furrowed in thought.

“Oh, uh, hi, I'm Marinette! And, um, thank you? I mean, I'm nearly 18 but people do think I'm much younger. It's the height usually, I think.” She fidgeted slightly, wondering if he was going to change his mind. If he had thought her older, perhaps he was uncomfortable with having a seventeen-year-old work on such a big event.

“I did not intend to make you uncomfortable, my brothers and I merely thought you were older based on your skills and manner of conduct. But if you are not yet 18, I am not sure whether we are able to conduct business.” Damian's brow was still furrowed and Marinette struggled to get a read on him. She wasn't always great at reading boys, especially ones she found attractive- no, bad Marinette, stay on topic.

“Oh, no, that's fine, my honorary uncle has been commissioning me for things since I was 14 and he's based in America. And my parents are bakers, so I think they'd rather I'd rep them internationally.” She was babbling, but all of her words were coming out in the right order at least. She thanked every kwami in existence that she had been taking English lessons from Felix since she decided to go international with her brands.

“Excellent, then the next thing we will need to discuss is the actual request. Alfred is very important to our family and so I would like something equally special for this occasion.”

They chatted for half an hour, discussing Alfred's favourite foods, drinks and hobbies. Marinette gathered that whilst he wasn't a blood relation, he was important to Damian and that meant she needed to get this right if she wanted to impress him. Not that she wanted to impress Damian for any reason other than professionally!

When the call finally ended, Marinette promised to send him an email with her final designs for the desserts as well as an estimate on price. Once those were all finalised she would send him a list of ingredients she would need on the day. He in return would make sure her flights and accommodation were arranged and send her all the details for those.

As Marinette turned back towards her loft room, she saw the trap door snap shut and heard giggling. She groaned before going to face her friends. She glared at Alya and Rose, the two most likely to have been spying on her conversation with Damian and only got smirks back.

“So, he was cute,” Rose began, squealing when Marinette blushed. “I knew you thought so too! And his voice sounded so…” she sighed and waved her hands gently.

“Rose, he's a client,” began Marinette, turning resolutely back to her work station. She only had a few finishing touches to add to Jagged's suit, so she wanted to push through and finish it so she could turn all of her attention onto Damian's request. “Regardless of his voice, politeness or eyes, I am going to be professional and work on his commission without making a fool of myself, I hope.”

“His eyes, huh girl?” Alya interjected smugly, making Marinette flush again. “Let me guess, if you were distracted by his eyes, they must've been green, and he was super sunshine-y? You so have a type.”

“For your information, he was perfectly polite and not sunshine-y at all. So clearly I don't have a type-”

“Oh, so you are interested in him?” Alix piped up, glancing up from her maths homework. Seeing Marinette turn an evening deeper shade of red she chuckled before turning back to her work. “Whatever, I'm not interested in forcing you to admit it.”

Marinette grinned at her gratefully before turning the topic forcefully onto the coming week's events at school. There were a few more good-natured jokes but they all knew that Marinette did things in her own time. Even though she and Adrien hadn't worked out, she had managed to start dating him eventually and they had remained amicable even after the break-up.

_ _ _

“So, baby bird, did you get a response from the bakery woman? We've managed to book the entertainment, the rest of the catering, all the invitations are back so it's just the cake! We just need to know if we need to arrange an alternative.”

Dick had come to Damian's room and they were sitting on his bed whilst Damian groomed Titus. Damian had been chatting with Marinette regularly for the past 3 weeks and felt confident that come the following week, Alfred would be both surprised and pleased with his gift.

“Tt, that will be unnecessary, Grayson. She responded and I have arranged for her to come the day before and for her to have access to an adequate cooking space.” Damian gave Titus a final brush before ordering him to lie down. He turned back to Dick and pulled his phone towards himself. He could see the light indication showing that he had a new message, which he was sure would be from Marinette.

“Wow, seriously? Way to go lil D! Is she aware of the amount she'll need to bake? We, uh, kind of went overboard on the invites.”

“I have made all necessary arrangements, Grayson, I do not appreciate your lack of confidence,” he snapped back, a slight sneer curling his lips. His look softened however as he opened his chat to see the final designs of Alfred's desserts. He turned the phone so Dick could see them, huffing. “Do you see? Marinette has adequately captured the theme for the event and I have no doubt that she will be able to perform exceedingly well on the day. Was there anything else you required?”

_ _ _

Back in Marinette’s room, she was chatting on the phone, holding up the suit she had created so that it could be seen in all of its glory.

“Yes, uncle Jagged, I have your latest commission ready to go! I didn't realize you had another concert already, are you going on tour?”

“Rock n roll M! It looks awesome, better than I could've hoped. And nah, it's not really a concert, an old family friend is throwing a party for his butler and I grew up around him so I offered to rock the house for them.” Jagged gave her a thumbs up through the screen and played a riff on an imaginary guitar.

“He's throwing a party for his butler?” Marinette blinked several times, shooting him an incredulous look. She knew Jagged was eccentric but it sounded like his family friend was equally, I'd not more, so. She tried to imagine Chloe, even after she had made vast improvements to her personality, doing anything remotely nice for her butler and drew a blank.

“Well, he's more of a father for him since his own mom and pops passed away. Old Alfie P has been with the family forever and the kids decided he'd earned a little party. So I'm headed back to Gotham next week to rock out.” Marinette was nodding along to this until she did a double take.

“Wait, Gotham? You don't mean Alfred's appreciation party, do you?” No way, there was no way that Jagged was talking about Damian's party. She knew it wasn't his actual grandfather but he had spoken about the man with such warmth and affection that Marinette had assumed it was an old family friend that had been around enough that he was basically family. Like Jagged now was for Marinette.

“M, how the heck do you know about a party halfway round the world?” Jagged was laughing again, although he looked incredulous.

“Jagged, I'm making the party cake! I got a request from Damian ages ago, he's flying me over and putting me up for a couple of days so I can sort it out.” Flabbergasted, Marinette immediately started thinking about how she could avoid people making the MDC connection if Jagged was at the party too. She had no idea how popular he was in the states and didn't want to be outed before she turned 18.

“Well hell kid, small world I guess! Rock n roll, if you're gonna be there it'll be the party of the century!”

_ _ _

The flight had been long and Marinette struggled to sleep thanks to an older man snoring loudly only 2 seats from her. She was sorely regretting insisting that Damian only pay for standard seats instead of business but she hadn't wanted to take advantage. As the plane landed, she rushed to get her belongings and get out of there, hoping she wouldn't be too delayed by customs.

As she wheeled her carry-on suitcase through the arrivals area, Marinette could see the tall, dark and broody Arabic boy standing primly to the side. He held no sign but was wearing the agreed upon colours so she would be able to spot him easily. She felt her heartbeat pick up as he spotted her and clipped a nod in her direction and she let a smile spread across her face.

“Hi Damian, thanks for picking me up, this airport is bigger than I expected! And you are way taller than I thought you'd be.”

“Tt, I imagine you think that of many people. You are much more petite than I had assumed as well.”

“Wow, rude! I'm just compact,” Marinette laughed, before taking his proffered elbow delicately with her hand. She felt how tense he was

“Apologies, I merely-”

“I'm kidding, Damian, I know I'm short. But you're still way hotte- taller, way taller than I thought you'd be.” She blushed at her slip, looking away, missing the slight pink tinge making its way across his own features, though she did feel how he relaxed and allowed herself a moment of relief.

“Ahem, yes, well, we should make our way to the car, my acquaintance is likely growing bored.” He had taken hold of her suitcase and wheeled it along. She beamed at him again, embarrassment pushed aside by the news of meeting one of his friends.

“Oh, sure, let's go! Do I get a name for this ‘acquaintance’ of yours, or do I have to guess?” she said teasingly, watching as he rolled his eyes but allowed his mouth to upturn slightly.

“Tt, Kent is of no importance, you need not concern yourself with acquainting yourself with him. You will likely have to interact with many imbeciles in the next 24 hours, there is little point in beginning your torment early.”

“Kent, huh?”

_ _ _

“Hi there! So you're the mysterious baker from France that Dames has been chatting with. Did you have a good flight?” Another tall, dark-haired boy was leaning against the car, although he was much more smiley than Damian. Marinette smiled up at him and extracted her hand from Damian's elbow to offer it for a handshake

“And you must be Damian's acquaintance, Kent! The flight was okay, just very long. I'm very relieved to be back on the ground for the next 24 hours.” The boy’s grin widened and he took her fingers in a light grip. He shot a hurt look at Damian, although I was tempered with exasperation.

“Acquaintance? Damian, buddy, that hurts.”

“Tt, your feelings are of no consequence to me, Kent. If it were not for the fact that Alfred cannot know of this collection, I would not have involved you.” Damian had looked away and Marinette stifled a giggle. She was trying very hard not to find him overwhelmingly attractive but it was cute when he squabbled with his friend.

“Wow, just wow. I'm gonna tell Dick that you were mean to me again, and in front of company as well!” Damian opened his mouth to say something scathing but Marinette felt it was time to get them back on track.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it really has been a long day for me, any chance we can wrap this up and head on over to my uncle's place? I already messaged him to say I'd landed.”

“Of course, allow me to take your luggage and settle yourself into the car, please.” Damian immediately opened the trunk and slid her suitcase in. He then held open the back door for her before gently closing it. Jon was shooting him a raised eyebrow over the top of the car but he chose to ignore it, settling himself into the front passenger seat.

But in spite of this, he couldn't help the red tinge to his neck and ears that crept slowly and stayed for the duration of the drive.

_ _ _

Marinette had spent most of the morning prepping in the kitchen of the party hall. She had known there were going to be quite a few guests but the size of the hall had still shocked her. But once she was in the groove of baking, she had forgotten about what she was baking for.

So when Jagged and Penny showed up, early so that he could put on the suit she had made and set up, she was once again blown away by the grandeur, as well as by the decorations which had appeared in the interim.

“Wow, this is a gorgeous set up! And that backdrop is exactly Jagged’s style! Penny, did you see the backdrop?”

“Yes, Marinette, I saw. The tables for the cakes are through here.” Penny was smiling indulgently, much as she did when Jagged was getting overexcited, as she steered the younger woman towards a group of ridiculously attractive men. They all had dark hair, although their ages seemed to range slightly, and Marinette was relieved to see Damian standing with them.

“Oh my God, lil D, is this her? The baker? She's so adorable! And tiny!” The oldest looking one positively bounced towards her, holding out a hand that she accepted gracefully.

“Hi, I'm Marinette and this is Penny. Are you another of the hosts for this evening?”

“Eep! Too cute! I think I'm gonna combust.” Dick felt like a tensed up coil, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as Damian maneuvered himself beside the tiny French girl and glared at him.

“Tt, Grayson, calm yourself. Yes, Marinette is the baker and Penny is her aunt. We still need to set up so if you are capable, you can carry some of the boxes through from the car.” He continued to glare at Dick, although it only seemed to make his grin wider, before Marinette interjected.

“Thanks Damian, but we can do it ourselves. I'm sure he has plenty of other things to be getting on with.” Marinette beamed up at Damian and he relented, huffing. Dick's smile only grew until he was beaming too, watching as his baby brother took hold of the girl’s shoulders and began steering her away from them all.

“Tt, then he should be getting on with them, whilst we finish preparing your uncle’s set.” Jason and Tim eyeballed Damian as well, although they were still fairly engrossed in their heated debate over which of Jagged's songs he would be playing that night.

_ _ _

“Rock n roll, M! Those cakes look incredible, and the macarons are perfect. And the suit fits perfectly, just like always!” Jagged hung himself over Marinette's small frame for a moment before removing himself and draping an arm over Penny's shoulder.

“Jagged, please, you're embarrassing me!” She flushed, burying her face in her hands as Jagged chortled and Penny smiled. She was smiling though, she knew the cakes looked incredible, macarons arranged by colour to make a picture of Alfred’s face, a cake in the shape of Buckingham Palace, which Marinette had been reliably informed was where he had worked in his youth and an assortment of sweet and savoury scones.

“Nonsense, Rockette, you should be proud of what you've done! Penny, isn't Marinette just too shy of how good she does?” Jagged ruffled a hand through Marinette's hair, making her squawk and flap his hand away.

“You really are, Marinette, Jagged wouldn't have such an iconic look if not for you.” Penny chided, pulling Jagged's hand away herself as they were approached by Dick and Jason.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! You're Jagged Stone! Like, really, actually Jagged Stone! Jason, did you see who's here?” Dick was flapping again, bouncing up onto his toes and gesturing wildly.

“Shi-”

“Language Jay-bird! There are cute little ears around,” he said, gesturing to Marinette, who pouted adorably.

“Believe me, I've both heard and said worse. There's a reason people say ‘excuse my French', Grayson,” she snarked back, folding her arms across her chest.

“Oh, please, call me Dick, Grayson is just what lil D calls me. My name's Dick Grayson,” he said, ignoring her attitude.

“Wait, does the little French chick know Demon Spawn? How? Isn't she way too sweet to be anywhere near him?” Jason eyeballed her, taking in her messy hair, jeans and apron.

“Marinette here is the dessert caterer for the evening! And she makes it possible for me to be on stage, like, ever,” Jagged said, nodding sagely. He was beaming with pride.

“Oh, does she provide you with snacks or something? You must be older than you look, those cakes are perfect,” Jason said, complimenting her whilst also fishing for information.

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, little M’s in her last year of high school, loads of people think she's in her first though. But my niece is killing it, especially since old hawky got caught.”

“Jagged, don't you need to set up? Maybe do a practice song?” Marinette started prodding him towards the stage, trying to get them off of the embarrassing topic. “Sorry about him, he tends to get a bit dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes as he finally sauntered away.

“You know he only does it because you sell yourself short, Marinette.”

“Penny.”

“What? You know, you'll be 18 soon, you'll need to come out with your brand if you want to make it more global. Commission-only might not work so well.”

“Wait, I'm confused, won't you just open a bakery when you graduate?” Dick looked confused, his gaze bouncing between the two.

“Bakery? No, Marinette’s a fashion designer. Baking is what her parents do, which is why she's so good at it. Her parents would need to disown her if she hadn't started learning as soon as she could walk,” Penny said, laughing at the mix-up.

“Oh, really? What sort of things do you design?” So sue him, Jason was increasingly curious about the kid.

“Well, everything I wear tends to be my own design and I make accessories too.” Marinette looked away, hedging around the conversation guiltily.

“Marinette, you're still selling yourself short! What she's not saying is that Jagged wears her brand exclusively on stage. Honestly, I think he'll be wearing her brand until he retires.” Penny's eyes gleamed as Jason's jaw dropped and he whirled to face Marinette fully.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Wait. Are you telling me that you, small sunshine child, baker extraordinaire and that has been chatting with Demon Spawn, are MDC?!” he shouted, making several heads turn their way before continuing with party prep.

“I mean, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so it's literally my initials,” Marinette shrugged, cringing slightly. “I plan on going bigger with my brand once I'm out of school though.”

“Then why on earth are you here as a baker? Oh man, Timmy's gonna freak, he's been searching for MDC’s identity for literal years.”

“I mean, I have socials, why didn't he message me?” Marinette asked, bewildered. Whilst she wouldn't have shared her identity with an internet stranger, she would have been fine to take on a commission.

“Tt, because Drake is a caffeine addict who doesn't use his intelligence appropriately. I assume he only attempted to find your data instead of opening a dialogue.” Damian appeared at Marinette's shoulder, gently touching her elbow to get her attention. “I assume you would like to change before the event begins, Marinette? It will not be long before the guests begin to arrive.”

Marinette startled when she saw the time, cursing under her breath in French which made Dick and Jason raise their eyebrows, and Penny to laugh. Excusing herself, she started to pull the rest of her bun loose as she walked away, hastily untying her apron as she disappeared through another door.

_ _ _

The party was in full swing, Alfred having been suitably surprised and bashfully appreciative of their efforts. He had personally thanked all of the boys under his care - all of them, Bruce included, would always be boys to him - and mingled with old friends and family acquaintances alike.

Damian didn't smile at the result, but he did feel a deep-seated sense of satisfaction. He had already heard Alfred commenting that the dessert looked wonderful, and he was looking forward to telling his pseudo-grandfather that he had arranged for his favourite online baker to make them personally.

He spied Marinette near the stage where Jagged was crooning an old song, apparently from his earlier work. She looked beautiful, wearing a red dress that ended just above the knee, her black shoes comfortable but not visibly well-worn. She had redone her hair into an intricate bun, leaving her shoulders and neck bare. He flushed lightly as he caught himself following the lines of her neck, up to her sparkling smile.

He decided to make his way over to her, noting that she was chatting with Kent again. He was unreasonably pleased that she seemed to be getting along with his friend, although he hoped that they weren't getting along too well. “Marinette?”

“Hm? Yes, Damian?” She turned her smile towards him and he blinked as his heart stuttered. Jon gave him a curious look but he ignored him.

“I would like to introduce you to Alfred, as the main reason I sought you out is because he is a fan of yours. Would this be acceptable?” He offered his arm once more, trying not to preen when she took it without hesitation.

“Sure thing, Damian! Jon was just telling me about some of your pets, but I'm sure we can pick back up on that later?” She smiled back at Jon, flushing happily at how well her evening was going. She had mostly outgrown her awkward teenage phase so whilst taking hold of Damian's arm made her heart thrum pleasantly, she wasn't a stuttering mess.

“Tt, if you wish to know about my animals, I shall be more than happy to introduce you after this event,” Damian said, unreasonably pleased once again that she had been talking about him.

“Really? Awesome! Then I guess I'll see you around Jon, thank you for keeping me company.” She allowed him to pull her away, giving a small wave to a grinning Jon as she went. She leaned in to Damian conspiratorially and whispered, “So, how do I look? I don't want to meet your pseudo-grandfather looking messy.”

“Alfred will not comment on your appearance, regardless, but…you look…well put together.” He flushed slightly as his gaze flicked down and over her, making her skin buzz. She bit the inside of her cheek and refrained from squealing at the almost compliment. She had spent enough time chatting with him over the phone to know that true compliments were rare and he very much understated things.

“Oh, uh, thank you. You look well put together too,” she said, pulling slightly away without letting go of his arm. They were approaching Alfred, whom she recognised from the picture Damian had sent her in preparation for the macaron art.

“Tt. Marinette, this is Alfred. Alfred, this is Marinette, she is responsible for the desserts this evening. You may know her better by her online handle 'dc.boulangerie’.” Damian was a little stiff, feeling self-conscious even though he was only introducing her as the evening's dessert chef. It felt more momentous than it should and Damian felt an unusual amount of pressure building up inside of him. He wanted Alfred to like Marinette, and he had wanted to be the one to introduce her, whatever that meant for him.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Marinette. I have been a long time admirer of your baking. I would enjoy having a conversation with you at a more appropriate time and venue.” Damian let out a breath as Alfred inclined his head towards her respectfully and he felt himself relax.

“Well, Damian invited me to meet his pets, assuming you all live together, I'm sure we can find time to chat,” Marinette said, squeezing Damian's elbow gently as she leaned towards him. The conversation continued lightly and Marinette allowed herself to reciprocate Damian's dry humour, startling a chuckle from Alfred and a warm eye roll from Damian.

_ _ _

A short distance away, Jason, Tim and Dick were watching the pair with interest. Jason commented on it as Bruce joined them. “So…we all see Demon Spawn flirting with the French Pixie, right?”

"It's so adorable! And did you see him blush? I wish I'd caught it on camera.” Dick was watching them with a sappy grin on his face, squealing as Damian leaned down and murmured something in the girl's ear.

“Are we sure we weren't all dosed with something? Cos this is freaky. Either that or the world's ending,” Jason said, eyeing them more warily than any of the others. He grunted a hello as the Kent family came to join them.

“Well, you might be able to get something on camera next time Dick - he invited her to meet the other Alfred as well,” Jon said, not bothering with any preamble. He was both smug and floored that his best friend was showing interest in a girl - especially one as cute and friendly as Marinette.

“No way, he set up a second date? That's so smooth! Bruce, have you been teaching him how to talk to girls?” Dick was practically vibrating at this point, beaming at Bruce now.

“Dick, I wasn't even aware he was inviting Miss Dupain-Cheng this evening. Do you mean to tell me nobody here has been giving him pointers?” As everyone either shook their heads or gave a sound of derision (Jason), Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps he's better socialised than we give him credit for.”

“No, that can't be it, he threatened a girl at school just last week for getting too close to his locker. It must just be Marinette, she's a total sunshine bomb on him.” Jon was cocking his head slightly as he very obviously (to them) eavesdropped on Damian’s conversation.

“Well, I think I’ll go and introduce myself and see it firsthand,” Bruce said, clapping a hand on Clark's shoulder in a friendly manner.

“I'll come with you, Bruce, Jason said something about her having an in with my favourite designer,” Tim said, as enthusiastically as he could manage with how tired he clearly was, before they made their way over to the pair in question. Marinette was speaking animatedly, clearly in the middle of a very entertaining story as Alfred had a small smile.

“...and that's when everything went downhill! I mean, who thought it was a good idea to put those colours, with that fabric?” Those around Marinette laughed out loud, even Damian giving a short bark. Tim and Bruce watched as Marinette smiled up at him, clearly delighted that she had produced that sound from him.

“Alfred, are you having a good evening?” Bruce and Tim had finally reached the small group, making their way to Alfred first and foremost. The older gentleman inclined his head to both of them individually as Damian leaned down once again to murmur something in Marinette's ear.

“Good evening, Master Bruce. It has been splendid, I must confess that I had not expected such a grand event for me.” Alfred was also eyeing Marinette and Damian, who had seemed lost in their own little world for the moment, although Damian proved he was listening when he rolled his eyes and responded.

“Tt, Alfred, that was the point of the evening. If you had expected it-”

“What Damian means is, you're welcome Monsieur Alfred. Honestly, Damian, can't you hear a compliment for what it is?” Marinette chided him, making him grimace in good humour. At some point during her story, she had let go of his elbow to gesture and his hand had found its way to her opposite hip and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

“...I am glad you are having a good evening, Alfred. Father, Drake, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is responsible for the dessert catering this evening.”

“I'm Tim, and you must be the person with the connection to MDC! You're wearing an original of theirs this evening, aren't you?” Tim barrelled into the conversation intent on only one thing, making a pained expression cross Bruce's face.

“Ah, yes, Jason mentioned that you've been trying to track down Jagged’s personal designer for a while. What is it you want from her?” Marinette sounded politely bemused and Damian had to cough to cover a snort that tried to escape him.

“So you do know them! Oh my god, I can't believe I might know who they are soon! Okay, so, I've been hoping to commission a piece for the next Wayne gala.” Where he had seemed half asleep before now, Tim was wide awake and buzzing with anticipation.

“Oh, is that a big event?” Marinette asked, frowning slightly when they all turned to look at her in astonishment. She raised an eyebrow delicately at Tim, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Do…do you not know who the Waynes are?” Tim sounded dumbfounded and he was looking at Damian, who was looking uncomfortable suddenly, rather than Marinette. She glanced at Damian before responding.

“I mean, I live in Paris? I'm guessing they're American celebrities. And if they aren't a big name in fashion, I'm not really interested in celebrity gossip. I take it they're a big deal over here?”

“I'm surprised Damian hasn't mentioned them, at least once, given how vain he can be,” Bruce said drily, causing his only blood son to glare at him.

“Tt, that's enough, father. If I had thought it relevant or worth mentioning, I would have. Marinette, you said you wished to continue your conversation with Kent earlier, is that still something you desire?”

“Sure, it's been a pleasure to meet you, Alfred and I'll look forward to chatting with you tomorrow! If your kitchen is big enough, maybe we can do some baking together?”

“Our kitchen is of an adequate size and appropriately stocked. I shall look forward to it.”

Marinette gives a goodbye to Bruce and Tim before placing her hand back into the crook of Damian's arm and strolling away with him.

“Well, that was interesting. How did Damian get in touch with Miss Dupain-Cheng? She doesn't seem like someone he would normally spend time with.” Bruce was slightly blown away with the interaction: since when had Damian been willing to get to know other people?

“I mean, actually, he spends most of his time with Jon, and she seems a lot like a smaller version of him.”

“Yes, but he still complains about spending time with Jon, even if he doesn't mean it, whereas that? He was polite, let her touch him and chose to walk with her instead of dismissing her to get her away from us. And, apparently, he didn't tell her his last name. I would just like to know how he came to be acquainted with her.”

“Oh no!” At Tim's sudden outburst Alfred moved towards him, alarmed.

“What's wrong, Master Tim?”

“She didn't tell me how she knows MDC!”

_ _ _

Across the room, Jon glanced over at the trio before turning back to Marinette and Damian. “So anyway, Marinette, Damian never told me how you two met!”

“It isn't a very interesting story, I'm afraid,” Marinette said ruefully. “He messaged me on my baking socials, and then we did a couple of calls. Et, c’est l’histoire.”

“So Damian successfully navigated an online message? Well enough to get you to fly over from France for a single event?” Jon was amazed, Damian didn't really use social media, and he certainly didn't message strangers on the internet.

“Oh, no, he most definitely did not! I read his first message, he sounded like a bot and she ignored him.” Dick sounded gleeful as he pushed himself into the conversation. “So we told him he should send a follow up with a video to prove he wasn't a bot.”

“Mon dieu, so you're the reason for the video! I thought it was out of character for him after speaking with him for a while. I must thank you Dick, that video was the highlight of my year.” Marinette looked delighted and bounced onto the balls of her feet as she shook Damian's arm.

“Wait, you actually did the video?! How come I never got to see it, lil D?” Dick looked offended, pouting at Damian. Jon laughed aloud, quickly covering his mouth to stifle it.

“Tt, because I only chose to embarrass myself for Alfred, not for your amusement. Marinette, I forbid you to share it with these cretins, or I shall be forced to rescind my invitation to the manor tomorrow.” Damian sounded annoyed but his neck and ears were red again, making Marinette giggle as she patted his arm.

“Alright, Damian, I won't share the video with your brothers this evening. I want to meet Titus and Alfred junior far too much to risk making you my enemy.” Damian allowed his mouth to turn up at one corner before he fixed his face back to neutral.

“Excellent. Which reminds me, we should arrange a suitable time for me to collect you tomorrow.” He had leaned back down to her, making it more intimate and she flushed again, although she managed to keep the conversation going.

“I can make my own way to you if you give me the address! It doesn't make sense for you to come and collect me if we are only going to return to your home.” She whisper argued back to him, her head leaning back so she could glare playfully into his face. It was entertaining, if a little bewildering. More bewildering was when Marinette was knocked slightly sideways by a purple haired man.

“Little M! My mate Brucie invited us to lunch tomorrow at his house, you're not flying back til the next morning, are you Rockette?”

“Jagged! Tu m’as fait peur! Oui, I am not flying until the day after tomorrow but Damian has already invited me to spend the day with him. You will have to go with Penny I'm afraid.” Marinette was holding her hand over her chest whilst Damian had a hand hovering nearby to her. Whilst she calmed down, Jagged threw himself back over her shoulders with a slight whine.

“Aw, c’mon Marinette, it's not every day you get to spend the day with Bruce Wayne! He's got connections which could help boost your brand, way better than I ever could. I know you do more than just my style so I can't be the only one repping you around here.”

“Mon dieu, alright, Damian, would it be alright to visit with you in the evening? We could have dinner together. I will just have to check with Monsieur Alfred in regards to his schedule.” Marinette turned towards him apologetically only to see a pained expression crossing his face again.

“Wait a second, Dames, does Marinette not know your full name?” Dick sounded delighted again, throwing his arm around Damian’s shoulders. Damian huffed angrily and jabbed Dick in the ribs to make him get off.

“Jesus, Demon Spawn, did you forget to introduce yourself to her? Normally it's the first thing you say. Or, well, the only thing you say.” Jason had a smarmy grin and he stayed just outside of stabbing reach, which Damian found irritating.

“It was not relevant, Todd,” Damian bit out, his jaw tight. Marinette looked at him concerned for a moment before the confusion on her face cleared up.

“Ah, I see why Tim was confused as well now. I take it you are a Wayne, Damian? I understand, many celebrities choose not to use their last names before getting to know someone.” Marinette shrugged delicately and took hold of Damian's hand.

“Rockette, are you telling me you flew halfway around the world to a party without knowing who you were with? Hardcore.” Jagged looked impressed which made Jason snort, breaking the tension again.

“It would hardly be the first time, Jagged. Marinette told me the story of when she first met Adrien, she-” Marinette squawked and flapped her free hand at Penny to quiet her.

“Merde, yes, thank you, Penny! I very much doubt everyone here needs to hear every embarrassing thing I have done. I have already explained to Damian that I don't follow American celebrities. The Waynes are not in fashion, yes?” She peered up at Damian with a grimace.

“Well, no, but they do have a hand in almost everything else. You're friends with Max, how do you not know Wayne Enterprises?” Marinette groaned at Penny, bringing her hand back to her face. She stood like that for a moment until she whined again, turning to bury her face into Damian's arm.

“Wait, so Bruce Wayne is from Wayne Enterprises? That's why Felix was laughing so much when I told him about the party! Oh, I will never live this down!”

That made everyone laugh and Marinette glared around at them all. She was muttering obscenities under her breath again, as she ran her hand through her fringe. She blushed as Damian squeezed her hand, before fucking it back into the crook of his elbow. Jason nudged Dick, motioning his head towards the pair which would normally make Damian glared at them, but it seemed as though he was too occupied.

_ _ _

Marinette nervously straightened out her shirt, checking her hair. She had 5 minutes before Damian arrived and she had been ready for at least 20 minutes already. He had told her to dress in her jeans today so she had paired it with a long sleeved green peasant blouse that she had made after the first time she video chatted with Damian. The fabric reminded her of his eyes, not that she admitted it to anyone.

When Damian arrived on a motorcycle, Marinette felt her face burst into flames. She had known he was attractive before - it was impossible not to know, he was over 6 feet of muscle - but his long legs flicking over the back of the bike before he sauntered over to her? That reverted her back to a stuttering mess, and she felt 14 years old all over again, instead of the confident, capable 17 year old she had been around him so far.

She remained unable to say a complete sentence to him, even as he handed her a spare helmet and helped her into a jacket. Then she sat behind him, holding tightly and feeling his chest moving with every breath. He wove through traffic expertly and she felt safe leaned against him, his warmth seeping into her on the chilly November morning. It was lucky it was dry, the air crisp and whipped against her clothes.

They pulled up to Wayne manor and Marinette temporarily forgot about how gorgeous Damian looked in the face of the enormous mansion. She swore softly, eyes wide as they removed their helmets.

“Mon dieu, I thought manor meant, like, gah, un maison? But this? C'est un château! Damian, mon cher, how do you find anything!?” The endearment slipped out of her but she was too amazed by the manor to notice.

“Tt, it is not as grand as you are making it. It has been in the family for many years, although it was rebuilt after the earthquake. But if you are uncomfortable, we can forgo lunch with my family and find somewhere quieter-” Damian was almost rambling, she thought, as well as slyly trying to get out of the family meal. His cheeks were dusted in pink at her slip and he found he did not want to share her time with the rest of his family.

“Of course not, Uncle Jagged would not forgive me if I failed to attend. Penny would be disappointed too, and I cannot stand when she is disappointed. Besides, if I want to spend more time with you, I shall just have to adjust. And…I am sure I would like to spend more time with you.” Marinette’s own cheeks reddened as she said this, stealing a glance to see the flush spreading up Damian's neck.

“I would like to spend more time with you also,” Damian said softly, offering his hand which she took gratefully. “Alfred has asked that we visit with him first, and then after lunch I shall take you to meet Alfred the cat, Titus and perhaps we shall take a walk so you can meet my turkey and my cow.”

“Will you be staying with me whilst I cook with Alfred? I would hate to have to try and find you in this giant house.” She tugged on his hand gently until he began leading her inside. Despite Damian's insistence that the manor was not as big as she was proclaiming, Marinette was awestruck by the gothic interior designs and knew that once she had her sketchbook available, she would be designing many new items. Perhaps she would talk to Jagged about a more gothic theme for his next show, or maybe she would make something for Juleka…

Time passed quickly in the kitchen with Alfred, friendly chatter and expert advice both given and received. Damian. Sat quietly to the side, sketching in his own workbook and adding his thoughts every now and again. Marinette couldn't forget that he was there but she did feel a fresh blush steal over her every time she looked towards him. Luckily, Alfred said nothing about it, perhaps not wanting to embarrass the young woman and man.

Eventually, everything was cooking, so Damian set aside his book and fully joined their conversation, starting a friendly debate about the merits of vegetarianism. The time passed even more quickly when Alfred announced that they should take their seats in the dining room as both Jagged and Penny should be arriving soon and the others would then make their way for lunch too.

As it turned out, Jagged had arrived about an hour before this and had been chatting with Bruce and the other boys as they were huge fans. He took the admiration on the chin, chatting amiably with them until Tim woke up enough to remember that he still didn't know who MDC was.

“What're you talking about mate, you met MDC last night!” Jagged exclaimed, slightly bemused when Tim went bug eyed. “Little Rockette is my one and only designer, Timmy. She has a wicked sense of style, she even made my suit last night.”

“Wait, Damian's new girlfriend is my favourite designer?! How has he hidden this from me?” Tim wailed, turning to the door as Damian and Marinette stepped through it. “How long have you known? Why wouldn't you tell me?”

“Tt, first of all, Drake, I was not aware that she did fashion until last night. Secondly, Marinette pointed out to me yesterday that I contacted her with relative ease and she has social accounts as MDC. Therefore, you should have contacted her yourself. Do not hold others to blame for something you brought upon yourself.”

There was silence for several minutes while Tim stared slack jawed at Damian. And then Penny stage whispered to Marinette, “I see why you like him, Mari. Do I need to have a talk with him?”

“Penny,” Marinette hissed, swatting her whilst everyone else laughed. “Oh, sure, laugh it up, everybody laughs at Marinette.” She pouted and crossed her arms, which made Damian glare at them, which only made them laugh harder.

_ _ _

After lunch, Damian led Marinette around the manor grounds, Titus on his leash, so that Marinette could meet Jerry the turkey and Batcow the…cow. She had giggled adorably when Dick had mentioned the name of the cow and promised that she didn't think less of him for naming his pet after a hero.

“Tt, Batman is a vigilante, not a hero. And if there had not been a batsymbol on her side, it would never have occurred to me to name her Batcow,” he said, grumbling. She giggled again, walking on the other side of Titus. Damian would never admit to it, but he wished he had offered her the leash so that he could walk next to her.

After the visit to his other pets, Damian led her back to the manor, releasing Titus from his leash and ordering him back to his room. Marinette cooed over him for another minute before reluctantly letting him leave. They chatted comfortably about different pets they wanted, which led into their future plans.

Whilst Damian didn't want the day to end, he reluctantly took her back to her hotel, with the promise to pick her up in the morning as her ride to the airport. As he walked her to the door of the hotel, Marinette screwed up her courage and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. Blushing furiously, she stammered a goodbye before rushing into the hotel.

Damian stood dumbfounded for more than a few seconds before shaking it off and climbing onto his bike with a small smile on his face.

_ _ _

“Thanks for everything, Damian. I wish I didn't have to head home so soon but what with lycée, I can't afford to stay any longer. But we can stay in touch, right?”

They were standing before the departure gates in the airport, Damian holding the handle of her suitcase whilst Marinette fiddled with her handbag strap. Her courage from the night before had fled in the morning light. As he handed over her suitcase, reluctantly, he grasped her hand tightly. He smiled as a blush worked across her face.

“Of course, Marinette, I shall await your message to say you have landed safely. I am certain we can find time to meet again before Christmas. Father has been saying that I should travel more to learn about his business and there is a Wayne Enterprises branch in Paris…”

“Then a bientôt, mon cher, I will let you know once the plane lands and when I get home.” Marinette felt emboldened with her hand in his and placed her other on his cheek. She brushed a kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly.

Unlike the night before, Damian retained some of his faculties and firmly placed his hand on her own cheek before leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. Marinette froze momentarily, making Damian freeze and start to pull back before she flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer and kiss him back enthusiastically.

EDIT! Now with a part 2

[imadethisblogtoaskaboutspnmpreg]

what is spm mpreg

My friend. My buddy. My pal. My sweetheart.

What is spn mpreg?

I am so glad you asked!

The answer awaits you... right under the cut 😘

Way back when, when the land was lawless and tumblr was a hopeful place, there was a show called

✨Supernatural✨

This show was beloved by many on the still budding hellsite and beyond! It was the show du jur, the universal blorbo. It was the hottest thing and everybody watched it! Nowadays, you will find but ruins of its former glory but I was there, Anon. I saw it with my own two eyes.

The show itself was about two brothers, Sam and Dean, held together by bonds of trauma formed through shared hardship, who would go on adventures and defeat evils for the good of humanity. Until...

Dean, beloved older brother and sweetheart of many on the internet, perished. The circumstances are irrelevant but oh, was it tragic. Fangirls wept across the planet as one and nobody knew what was going to happen.

But, oh! A sudden change in direction! All of a sudden, Dean was being pulled up by an angelic hand, resurrected like Jesus before him! An impact so strong, so intense it left a permanent mark on his body which the writers never forgot about, ever! Dean Winchester was reborn and all rejoiced for it was Right.

But whoever was the mysterious being that had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition? It didn't take long for the show to explore this and oh my, did it get explored! The answer, of course, was Castiel, and angel of the lord who would henceforth devote himself to Dean and only Dean.

Thus, Destiel was born.

On another platform though, the well respected and important LiveJournal, there were Things abrewing. One of the many things prevalent in the Supernatural (or SPN for short) fandom was the RPF.

As you may know, or you might not, RPF stands for Real Person Fiction, it is similar to the traditional fanfiction but with "characters" who are not characters at all but based on human beings. Despite this, it occasionally features fantastical elements, AUs and other such things.

One user on what we used to call a "kink meme", a place for fans to inspire each other by pawning off ideas, suggested a very particular such RPF. The result took elements from existing tropes such as the heat fic, a longstanding gift from the house of Star Trek, as well as (alleged) wolf behaviour as described in one singular study.

The unholy concoction we were gifted that day is now known as Omegaverse or ABO. Within this trope, there are additional axes to the gender spectrum - but not in a fun, non-binary way! Rather, all humans will fall strictly into one of three categories: Alpha, Beta and Omega.

Alphas are strong and dominant. They can impregnate people regardless of agab and go into ruts. They also have a 💦knot💦 that will fix their penis in a hole after they come.

Omegas are weaker, more pliant. They can become pregnant, once again regardless of agab, and go into 🥵heats🥵 at certain intervals. An omega's heat is what causes an Alpha's rut.

And Betas... well, they're normies, basically. You're a beta 🤷‍♂️

The most common form of ABO fanfic tends to involve the desired characters being an Alpha and an Omega, the Omega going into heat and the Alpha... helping them with it, if you know what I mean 😏

Since the trope makes it so cismale characters can get pregnant (ABO predates the rise of commonly accepted trans headcanons) the community has, of course, attracted many breeding kinksters such as myself. I've seen surprisingly few Omegaverse kidfics tho which is a pleasant thing for me considering I hate kidfics.

And since ABO originated in the SPN fandom (more or less) it is quite popular within it. And before I get a billion asks: yes, there are many other ways to achieve mpreg (male pregnancy) in your blorbos such as oviposition or simply making the character in question trans, but since ABO is the most common Watsonian cause of specifically spn mpreg, I figured I'd focus my reply on that.

Anyway, it's late and I'm getting tired but I still wanna post this before going to bed because my dear Anon, you have yearned long enough!

I hope you've found this explanation entertaining 💜

[sparklingsin]

— say you want me too | robin buckley

+ robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: "are you really that oblivious?" in which robin thinks the reader is straight, when she's definitely not. [requested by @taylorsmylover]

tags: just fluff, getting together, robin pov, confident reader

a/n: first robin fic! i love her sm. yes, this fic is inspired by that popular girl applying makeup on another girl meme. hope you enjoy reading it! feedback is appreciated. <3

Robin thumps her head against the side of the giant shelf. A couple of tapes come tumbling down from the top and Steve, who had been casually leaning against the opposite wall, scowls at her in distaste.

"Ugh. I wish she would look at me like that," Robin whisper-sings, feigning ignorance about the tapes. Her gaze is hooked on you, talking to a random blond, leaning casually across the counter. Your lips are stretched into a toothy smile and Robin can't help but think you might be in the middle of flirting.

Steve groans loudly, moving to pick up the fallen tapes.

"Jesus Christ, this again. She does, Robs! You're just never looking at her when she is."

Robin watches as you laugh coyly at something the guy says.

"She likes guys, Steve," Robin says, like a mantra at this point, trying to get herself to move on. You like guys. You like guys. You like guys. Boys. Men. Not girls. Not women.

Certainly not her.

"So? She could like girls too," Steve argues. The pile of tapes in his hand is high but Robin makes no effort to help.

"Ya know, she's always wearing that shirt you complimented that one time."

So not true. But, admittedly, you are wearing it right now. It's a bright orange top, with faded hems and a slightly scandalous neckline but Robin loves how it brings out your eyes.

God, you're biting your lip now and Robin has never felt such privation before.

"Shut up," she mumbles, spellbound by your laughter. "It's just coincidence. Happenstance. Yesterday, she was wearing that pink dress that makes her look like a pr—"

"Yeah, yeah we know you're in love but then explain why she made a face when you asked if I could tag along for your night out?" Steve questions and Robin opens her mouth before shutting it in response.

Steve smiles smugly. Too soon.

"Maybe she doesn't like you. Lot of people don't like you, you ever think about that, huh, Harrington?" Robin disses and the smirk on Steve's mouth fades.

"Well. You like me," he counters.

Robin shrugs, turning back to look at you once more. You're patting the dude's shoulder and ugly, ugly envy trickles down her chest.

"Anyway," Steve hisses, "She made a face 'cause she wanted it to be just the two of you. Take a fucking hint."

Robin doesn't have time to respond, because the blond man has already left and you're now making a beeline right to her.

"Hey Robin, Steve," you say, still smiling cheerfully. Much like the radiant sun, your presence warms her skin. Robin can feel her body start to tingle like it has been doing lately, every time you are in her vicinity.

"So... I just wanted to ask if we're on for tonight still?" you ask, looking in between them both and Steve turns to Robin, waiting for her to answer.

Robin's lips seem to be sealed shut and Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah w—"

"A-about that," Robin shuts him off loudly, suddenly finding her voice, and you blink back, surprised. "Sorry— er, Steve's not going to be able to make it actually," she continues, lowering her voice and wringing her hands.

"I'm not?" Steve asks just as you say, "He's not?" and you look between the two of them again, clearly confused.

Robin and Steve exchange quick glances. He sighs, something passing over his features.

"I'm not, yeah— I've got this... thing—" Robin shoots him a look, "I've got to babysit my kid's sister— er I mean my sister's kid. So I won't be able to come, sorry."

You look between the two of them, before shaking your head slowly.

"Um, sure okay," you say pressing your lips into a thin line and then turn to Robin. "I'll see you at my place at eight then?"

Robin nods, smiling in a way that she hopes isn't creepy but the look on your face says otherwise. You nod then, excusing yourself from the two of them.

Only once you leave does Robin realise that she'd been holding her breath all this while and lets go, sagging against the shelf.

"My kid's sister, Steve?" she asks wearily.

Her best friend makes a face at her. "So I fumbled. Big deal. I was just taken aback. A little heads up would be nice next time," he replies defensively.

Robin drags her hands down her face in exasperation.

Maybe they really are fated to be alone forever.

"But— you don't even have a sister!"

***

It is entirely plausible that Robin's a little too obsessed with you for her own good. She spends half an hour solely on deciding what to wear, settling on black jeans and a tank top in the end; fifteen minutes doing her hair only to get frustrated and let it down as is and then another ten minutes outside your door, scouting for the courage to ring the doorbell.

All the dilly-dallying proves to be worth it, however, because she's finally in your room, sitting on your bed as you stand beside it, hands on hips and deep in thought. You're wearing a cute crop top that says "Filthy Animal" over teeny jeans shorts, your lipstick a shade of red that she can't help but think would look lovely on her own skin.

Now, maybe, Robin is setting herself up to get a massive heartbreak when she (inevitably) finds out that you're not into her but that doesn't mean she's going to think rationally and pass up on the opportunity to hang out with you.

It simply isn't her style.

"I think this is closer to your style," you say, handing her a black dress with long bell sleeves. Robin does think it's pretty but she's never worn anything other than jeans and overalls before.

"You really think this'll fit me?" she asks.

"My sister's the same size as you, hon'. It's gunna fit."

Robin shrugs, rising to stand up from the bed.

"Wait!" you shout, gently shoving her shoulder to stop her from getting up.

"Not that you don't look absolutely beautiful without it," you say nonchalantly, reaching for a large box on your dressing table, "I really want to do your make-up."

Robin only absently agrees to the last part because her brain stopped listening the moment you called her absolutely beautiful. Beautiful. You called Robin beautiful.

Her brain barely catches up from it's derailing before you're whipping out foundation and brushes and Robin has to shake herself to the present.

"Whoa, whoa. I've never done this before," she says and a grin tugs at your lips that makes her insides warm.

"I'd pictured you saying that in a different setting, but we'll make do," you quip and Robin's brain just about shuts down. For the first time in ever, Robin can't think of words. Whatever the hell do you even mean? Did she hear you right?

"Okay. Why don't you lean back down so I can do your eye make up better?"

Robin's brain is having a hard time coping with everything that's happening. Her hands pushes her back onto your bed on their own accord, resting half her back and head on a pillow. She watches, with bated breath, as you climb onto the bed and crawl over her. You place your knees on either side of her, brushes in hand and lean over.

You're just barely hovering over her, not quite sitting, but Robin just about dies. You pick the eye-shadow with the brush and softly ask her to close her eyes.

Robin thinks she might combust.

Your warm breath fans her face as you gently dab the powder onto her eyelids, painting out the corners and the outer wing.

"What do you think about red?" you ask, voice lower than usual and Robin struggles to figure out what you're talking about.

"Like, the color?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, the color."

"I like it. It's the color of so many of my favorite things. Steve's car, a bag I bought in high-school, this old book I have from when I was a child. My mom's purse, the color of your lipstick and—" she bites her lip.

It was better when she didn't have words to say.

You continue to dab the eye-shadow on the other eye. Robin thinks this might be where you might call everything off, you might end your friendship with her.

"You like the color of my lipstick?"

Something faint blooms in Robin's chest. A wet tip presses against her eyelid— eye-liner.

"Yeah, it's— it's uh. It's a pretty shade." Looks good on you, Robin wants to add but the words die in her throat.

You brush her cheeks with what she assumes is the blush.

"Would you like me to apply it on you?"

That something fizzles and fades away in her chest.

"Sure," she agrees, heart folding in on itself tighter than she'd expected.

"All done," you say and Robin opens her eyes. You're still looming over her, lower lip tucked in between your teeth, as your eyes skim over her face.

She feels hot everywhere all of a sudden and hyper aware that you're leaning so close, hovering right above her stomach.

"Should I get changed, then?" she asks, when two minutes later you're still looking at her and have said nothing.

Her words seem to jolt you and you hop off of her, which immediately makes Robin feel cold all over.

"Oops, yeah. You can change in the bathroom," you say, pointing to the door opposite to you.

In the bathroom, she has to take a second to calm her racing heart. Having your crush sit on top of you like it's nothing... well, it's not nothing. And all those things you said about her being pretty and the double entendre— did you do that with all your female friends?

Robin knows she's going to get hurt. That somethings are simply too good to be true and her good might downright be unachievable. And yet, she tries the dress and it slips on like a glove. It is an almost perfect fit, the sleeves flowing down her long arms nicely, the hem falling down to her mid thighs.

You've given her almost silver, glittery eye-shadow and a lipstick that isn't the red you had been talking about. She looks almost like her natural self, save for the glittery eye-lids and flowy dress. But it isn't too uncomfortable, she thinks she might even look good. Checking herself out in the mirror one last time, she takes a deep breath and steps out.

"Tada!" she says nervously, drawing your attention since you have your back to her.

Robin thinks she imagines it but your jaw almost drops.

She begins to fiddle with the hem of her sleeves.

"Thanks for not putting on too much of the make-up, I'm just not used to it haha. And the dress," she pats down her thighs, "it's almost perfect, I might have to come over and borrow more of your sister's clothes because, well, even though this is, perhaps, the opposite of my style— I do kind of like it and—" she stops when she sees a smile creep up your face.

"What?"

"You're adorable," you say, stepping closer.

Robin feels heat creep up her cheeks. She rubs her neck nervously.

"Thanks."

"And shit," you say, stepping closer, until you're inches from her face. Your gaze definitely dips to her lips and back up, something dark flickering in your eyes.

Robin forgets how to breathe.

"You look so incredibly hot in this outfit," you say casually and all blood rushes to Robin's face. You're standing so close, gaze fixated on her face, skimming over her features like you can't get enough to look.

For the millionth time that night, Robin finds herself at a loss for words. It's like her tongue ties itself in your presence.

"You always look hot." You're whispering now.

"Robin Buckley—" you begin, stepping impossibly close, breath hot on her face. Heat flashes through her, tendrils of a tigngling sensation snaking all across her body.

"— You drive me insane."

All thoughts evaporate from Robin's head, leaving a bubbling mass of one surviving question.

"You... like me? Like that?" she says, before she can stop herself but she's stunned by your words to care.

You chuckle, that pretty laugh that stings Robin's heart in all the right places. You step closer and your hand finds it's way to her waist. Her breath hitches in her throat.

"Are you really that oblivious?"

And then, you're tilting your face and kissing her, a gentle brush at first that makes the ground slip from beneath her feet. The mere contact of your cheery red lips sends her head spinning. Your hands card through her hair then, cupping her jaw and pulling her further in this time.

The kiss presses deep into her body, lips moving against hers with fervour once she overcomes the initial shock. It's nothing like she's ever experienced — a hot want travels through her being when you push your bodies closer.

When you have to inevitably come up for air, the first thing Robin notices is that your lipstick is smudged all over your face.

It's the most incredible thing she has ever seen.

You pull her in again, biting your lip devilishly and looking up at her with half-lidded eyes that make her chest do flips.

"My lipstick looks so much better on you."

[blessyourhondahurley]

Charles in Charge

Flufftober prompt: Meddling friends Suptober prompt: Young at Heart Random word: serious

The heart of this fic was inspired by this tumblr post. The quiz in question is here.

(Read on AO3)

The email comes through with a beep, late Tuesday night.

From: Red <cbradbury42@nerdmail.com> Subject: This is serious

The body of the message is nothing but a tinyurl link, no greeting, explanation, or context. Dean is no fool. He texts Charlie.

 Dude, did you just send me an email? No message, just a link? Or am I being phished rn?

The reply is immediate.

 Yes, I did send it, and ten points to Hufflepuff for checking in with me before you clicked – trust no one, my friend. This was in fact a test, and you passed, but you should also in fact click the link. Now leave me alone, I have company. Text me tomorrow, after you talk to Cas.

Okay, that's weird. “Company” probably means Dorothy is over, which means Charlie is unavailable to chat tonight. But why is she so sure he'd be talking to Cas?

Sure, he and Cas are friends, have been since college. (Maybe Dean wishes they could be more than friends, but he knows that's a pipe dream). They hang out every Friday night at his place, movies and pizza, and if any of their friends are free they join in. (Maybe Dean likes the weeks best when no one else shows and he can pretend it's a date). They text each other throughout the week, memes and weird news stories and bitching about their jobs. (Maybe Dean's mood improves every time his phone plays Cas's personal text tone). But they're not inseparable – they sometimes go days without contact when life gets busy. They have no upcoming plans that Dean can remember.

So what did Charlie mean by “tomorrow, after you talk to Cas”? Hoping that whatever is at the link will shed some light, Dean clicks.

The page loads, and Dean has a series of reactions in rapid sequence.

First, an eye roll: A Buzzfeed quiz? This is what you call serious, Charles??

Second, a scoff: A quiz to find out whether my crush likes me back? Okay, I'm all for staying young at heart but we're grown-ass adults here. This isn't middle school. “Does your crush like you back?” Jesus Christ.

Third, a tiny stirring of curiosity: But, well, does he?

Pipe dream or not, there have been moments between them, here and there, when Dean felt a glimmer of hope. There's a certain smile Cas has that seems to come out only for him, a particular way he has of meeting Dean's eyes that always sends a jolt across Dean's skin.

Even the dependable regularity of their Friday night movie “dates��� is a little odd, now that he thinks about it. Why do they both have every single Friday free to sit on Dean's couch watching bad 50's horror flicks and scarfing down greasy pepperoni slices? They aren't monks, either of them, but Dean has never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months, and Cas's record is only slightly better. And no matter who they might be with or what's going on for them, they never miss a Friday, not in all the years they've known each other. In retrospect, the perfection of this record seems to be an indicator of... something.

Okay, what the hell, let's do this, he thinks and scrolls down. The quiz starts with the basics. “How Do You Know Your Crush?” “Does Your Crush Know Who You Are?” “How Often Do You Talk To Your Crush?” “Is Your Crush In A Relationship With Someone Else?” Click click click click. The answers come easily.

“Do You And Your Crush Have Any Inside Jokes?” Dean smiles, thinking about the dumb things they text each other, references no one else would understand. Click. “Have You Ever Made Your Crush Laugh?” He remembers last Friday, when he'd made Cas laugh so hard he'd almost choked to death on a piece of green pepper. Click.

“Does Your Crush Give You Hugs?” Ah, Cas's hugs. He'd never tell another soul this, but sometimes the bear-like hug he gets from Cas at the end of a movie night is the highlight of his entire week. Click.

“Has Your Crush Ever Touched Your Arm While You're Talking?” The question kind of takes him aback. I mean... Yes? Is that supposed to mean something? He and Cas have never been shy about touching when they hang out, even beyond the hugs. Someone grabbing the other one's arm when there's a jump scare. Playful wrestling over control of the popcorn bowl. Fond hair ruffles. The end credits of their weekly movie usually sees them sprawled across Dean's little couch, legs in each other's laps or arms resting side by side along the back.

Back when they were crammed into a tiny dorm room together, Dean hadn't given any of it a second thought. Space was limited, and cuddle puddles were a classic part of the homesick student experience. After his feelings for Cas had deepened, he'd gotten a little greedy about it, hoarding those moments of casual touch and letting them warm him from the inside all week. It had been one of his guiltiest little secrets, actually. He'd never considered that Cas might be doing the same thing. Click.

“Do You Feel Like You Notice Your Crush Looking At You From A Distance?” Dean has to think about this one for a minute, but... Well, yeah, actually. Casting his mind back over the years he is suddenly struck, remembering dozens of times he'd tried for a sneaky ogle, only to find those blue eyes already fixed on him. He's starting to feel like he's been blind to something important, that maybe he's been blind for a long time...Click.

“Does Your Crush Flirt With You?” I don't even... Maybe??? For the first time since he started this silly quiz, he has to really think before picking his answer. He wavers with his mouse, pointing to KIND OF and then hovering next to YES, back and forth and back and forth and then he cops out. I CAN'T DEFINE FLIRTING because apparently I'm a dumbass. Click.

The page scrolls to display the last question. “Do You Just Get A Vibe From Your Crush That They Might Like You?” He feels like that meme of the Brazilian actress trying to do complicated mental math because now that you mention it, Buzzfeed, I think I kind of fucking do, and there's a nuclear explosion happening in his brain and another in the vicinity of his chest, and he's reaching for his phone because he needs to talk to Cas, but his phone's already ringing, and he thumbs the answer button by reflex and–

“Hello? Dean?”

It's Cas.

“Hey! Hi!” his voice is a little bit strangled, and he can't seem to catch his breath.

“Are you... Are you busy?”

He tries for casual and misses by a mile, probably landing somewhere in the neighborhood of frantic. “Nah, nah, just hangin' out, chillin', you know, whatta 'bout you?”

“I, um...” There's a worryingly long pause. Just as Dean is wondering if the call dropped without him noticing, Cas starts again. “I needed to talk to you,” he says, all in a rush. “Charlie sent me an email–“

“Wait,” Dean interjects. “Was it a Buzzfeed quiz?”

Another pause. “How do you know that?”

“She sent me an email, too.”

“Oh, well... Was it about, um...?”

There's an awkward silence. Dean takes a deep breath and charges in. “It was 'Does Your Crush Like You Back,' Cas. And I think... I think my crush likes me back.”

“Same here.”

Another silence, but this one was comfortable, and full.

“You wanna come over, Cas? We could watch a movie, and then... you could stay the night?”

“I'll be right there.”

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

PS If you answer that Buzzfeed quiz the way Dean (or Cas) would, this is the result you get (with confetti and everything!):

[bebepac]

Ri-Liamo de Bergerac (Happy birthday Zoehanji )

Happy birthday @zoehanji​ !!!!!

Original Post date: 04/27/21 at 9:52PM EST  (4/28 where you are celebrating your birthday!!!) 

I have no idea when we started talking but we did, somewhere in the beginning of my writing journey on this site.  Even though I still consider myself to be a beginner here. Thank you for being my friend and being a fellow long distance cousin, as our relative in common would be Drama Whore!  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha   🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I hope you enjoy this.  I know that Fast Forward has always been one of your favorites.  

The Book:  TRH and Beyond

Pairing: Liam x Riley  /  Maxwell x Taylor  (Maxwell x F!OC)

Warnings:  Sexual Innuendo  and fluff. 

Word Count:  1889

Summary:  Maxwell and Taylor go on their first date.  Both are nervous and ask Liam and Riley for an assist.  

A/N:  This is a little similar version of Cyrano de Bergerac, not in the take that someone has a big nose, no one does, but the aspect of someone getting help in a conversation by using someone else’s words.  I did ask around to see if anyone had done something similar to this.  No one recalled of a similar story, so any similarities to anything currently on the fandom is completely unintentional.  

I also used @theworldofprompts  prompt: "All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you." which will appear in bold.  

Song inspiration for this.  I heard this song while i was desperately needing to calm down while i was listening to the calm station on my pandora and I came across this song and enjoyed it so, so here it is for you all to enjoy too. I feel like it has a little sweet nervous energy, but then the music builds like you’re getting used to being with someone. it’s truly a beautiful piece.  

First Love by Yiruma 

I don’t own rights to the music. But i’m quickly becoming a Yiruma fan.  Every song was amazing that i heard today and it had such a unique feel.  I could pick them when they started playing on pandora.  

Riley raised her eyebrow at Maxwell. She saw him pacing nervously as he kept glancing in Taylor's direction. Taylor was completely oblivious as she had her nose buried in a book she'd gotten from the estate library.

Finally Maxwell had psyched himself up. He walked over to Taylor sitting in the lawn chair next to her.

"Hey Softie."

Taylor put down her book, as did Ellie as she was sharing the oversized lounge chair in the sun with Taylor. Both lifted their sunglasses to their hair.  

"Lord Playlist?"

"So I was wondering if you want to have dinner tonight."

"Silly Uncle Maxwell, we eat dinner every night."  Ellie confirmed matter of factly.

"What Riley Jr. said."  Both Taylor and Ellie picked up their books again, sliding their glasses back to cover their eyes.

Riley laughed to herself.  Oh my God Taylor she thought. She is absolutely adorably clueless. 

Liam laughed softly.  He gently rubbed Riley's stomach.

"Aren't you glad we're married? We don't  have to do that."

"You were never like that."

Liam blushed.  "I felt like that when I talked to you the first time. I don't even remember what I said on the street to you. I was so dumbfounded by your beauty."

"You don't remember me being so awkward, Liam?"  

Liam shook his head. "You… were perfect, is all I remember, My Love."

A light blush hit Max's cheeks.  

"What I meant Softie, was you and me alone, away from the estate."

Taylor slowly lowered the book again, her eyes slowly meeting Maxwell’s.

"So like a date?"

"I mean date is a strong word, but it could be an accurate one. Two people dressed nicely eating food together at the same table. I mean I'm not opposed to the idea if you are."

"Auntie Taylor likes food, and to dress nicely. You should see Auntie Taylor's dress for the ball. I picked it!!!!!"

"Excuse me Miss Crown Princess read your book."

"So… whaddya say Softie? Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Riley Jr. nailed it pretty much."  

"Great! I'll meet you out front at seven."

Great."

"I swear this baby likes to just sit in there and poke my bladder for fun." Riley tried to roll out of the lounge chair she was on. “A little help Liam?”

Liam immediately jumped up to assist Riley to her feet.  

"You just went thirty minutes ago."

"You tell your daughter that."

Liam affectionately rubbed her stomach, kneeling to plant a soft kiss on it.

"Little One be nice to Mommy. She has kept you safe all this time and we still have a few weeks to go. Let Mommy relax.."

Riley had stepped out of the lavatory only a few steps when Taylor descended on her like a ninja.

"Jesus Christ! Taylor you almost scared the crap out of me, and the way this baby has my bodily functions out of whack it could have legit happened!!!"

“Ew. Riley. Gross.  Another reason I won’t procreate.  Did you see, Maxwell asked me out!!!! On a date!!!!"

Riley laughed.  "Because he likes you, and you like him."

"What are we going to talk about alone?!?!"

"You guys talk, and you are texting back and forth all the time."

"We talk in a group Riley. All Me and Maxwell do via text is meme war each other."

“Huh?”

"Our whole texting conversation… nothing but memes!!!"

She swiped on Maxwell's conversation in her phone it was nothing but pictures.

"It's okay, I'll get an ear piece set  from Nico, and help you.”

“You’d do that for me?”  

“Of course I would.  Can’t have your first date with the guy you like nothing but uncomfortable dead air.”  

“Thanks Ri.  Can you keep this between us?”

“Sure! Do you need help picking an outfit for tonight?"

"Nope, with the outfit, you kind of already did when you gave me my new wardrobe. If I can’t pick from there, I’m truly an idiot."

Little did Riley and Taylor know Maxwell and Liam were having a similar conversation.

“Liam I didn’t think she would really say yes!!!  She said yes!!!! She said yes…..” 

Then it looked like the gravity of the situation crashed into him.  Maxwell looked like he was about to hyperventilate.  

“Calm down Maxwell.  Taylor likes you.  It’s easy to tell from the trained eye.  She lets down her guard around you.”  

“What are we going to talk about?  I can’t talk about peacocks all night.  Or Memes. She’ll think I'm a complete buffoon.   I don’t even have reservations anywhere.  I asked her on a nice date and I don’t even have reservations ANYWHERE!!!! What am i going to do?!?!?!

Liam grabbed Maxwell by the shoulders.  “Get a hold of yourself man!!!!  And take a breath, your face is turning blue.”  

Maxwell took a few cleansing breaths.  

“Don’t worry about the reservations, I can handle that.  It’s good you are friends with the King and Queen.  And for conversation I can got it.  I’ll get an earpiece from Bastien, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell Riley.  She still hasn’t let go about the fact of my baby hippo tattoo.”

“Nor will I thank you for reminding me of it.”  Liam laughed loudly.  

Maxwell and Taylor left on their date.   Both Liam and Riley made excuses to not be in the other’s company for the evening.  

Both Liam and Riley were pleasantly surprised being a whisper in someone’s ear how well the night was going.  Both couldn’t stop thinking about how natural the moments between the two of them felt, and how perfect they were for each other.  

“I can’t tell you enough Taylor how beautiful you look to me tonight.  And I know you’ve had trouble seeing yourself that way when it comes to that word. But you are Taylor.”  

She heard her sister softly gasp.   Tears filled Riley’s eyes.    

Tell him Thank you, and that you wanted to look nice…. For him.”

Taylor parroted her words.

Taylor starred at the menu. None of it was in English and she had no idea what any of it meant.

I wish I had your eyes right now Riley. Taylor thought.  

The conversation was sweet and romantic. It was the perfect date.   Maxwell reached across the table taking Taylor’s hand.  

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”    

As they danced,  Taylor started relaxing in Maxwell’s arms.  

“You know I have a hard time sharing my emotions sometimes. All the time..”  

“I know. And that’s okay.  We can take this slow.  There’s no rush Softie.”  

This felt familiar to Liam..  Too familiar.  He knew those words…..her words.

Riley felt the same way but she couldn’t be sure.  

Both had gotten up from their desks to investigate to see what the other was up to.  

Taylor had never felt like a moment was so perfect and what Riley said, she really felt in her heart.

"All my life I've been searching for an answer as to where I belong. Then I met you and everything changed. You treated me like I deserved to be treated and you made me feel like I had a home. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

“Riley?”  But she had the feeling, it wasn’t Maxwell’s question.

Taylor pulled away from Maxwell.

“Liam?”  

Liam and Riley stared at each other in the hallway.  

He touched her ear feeling her ear piece and she touched his, feeling the same. 

“I knew it was you.” They both said in unison.

“I could feel your heart Riley, through the words even though it wasn’t you saying them.”  

“I could feel you too.”  

From the earpieces they could hear Liam and Riley kissing and the sounds of commotion.

“Bedroom, now?”  Liam's voice deep, rumbling with desire and need.

“YES LIAM!" Riley cried out.

"OH GOD!" Taylor shrieked.

Both Maxwell and Taylor ripped out their earpieces.  

“Well that escalated quickly.”  Max cleared his throat looking at their earpieces that were laying on the table.  “Won’t be using those for the rest of the evening.” 

“Why did you think you needed help on the date Maxwell?”

“Because I’m awkward, when I’m around you.”  

“No you’re not.  You’re funny, and really nice.  I’m the awkward one. I don’t know how to do this normally.  I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship before.”  

“That’s okay.  I haven’t been in many relationships before either.  We can learn together.”  

“So can I be honest with you?  I have no clue what the hell I ordered.  This place is nice but it’s too much for me.  I’m guessing it was Liam’s idea?  Can we go somewhere else?”

“I know just the place.”  

Maxwell and Taylor left that restaurant, and when they got to the second place, Taylor’s smile widened.  

“Now stop me Softie if you’ve ever heard this one,  a dashing noble wearing a squid tie with an affinity for peacocks, and a Queen of Cordonia lookalike walk into a bar…….”

Date one for Maxwell and Taylor part two was them dressed up like they were going to the ball, eating burgers and drinking cheap Cordonian Beer, playing pool.  And it was perfect.. For them.

No. Dead. Air.  Conversation flowed easily between the pair.

“Wow.  I can’t believe the earpiece stayed in.”  

“You don’t think they heard anything did they?”  

“I’m sure they probably took them out.”  

"Can I ask you something?"

He could hear the slight sadness in Riley's voice. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

"Do you think I'm cool?"

Liam laughed out loud but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Riley's face.

"Of course you are Riley."

"Then why is Ellie my sister's shadow right now?  Why do I feel like she wants nothing to do with me?"

"Riley… it's not that. This pregnancy has been rough on you.  You know how active our children are, and how active you were with them. Even while you were pregnant.  Well….Taylor fills that spot  for what you aren't physically able to do right now. Before it was me. I think you notice it more now because it is her.. But yes, it is clear Ellie adores Taylor. They have bonded and really love each other. “

"It was just so hard when I came back from California  Liam. She hated me."

"She didn't. She loved you, and it was my doing that put a wedge between you and her. She was hurting Riley. I did that to her. Not you. I’m sorry for that."

“It’s okay Liam.”  

*^*^*^*^*^*  Breakfast next day *^*^*^*^*^*^*

“How was dinner last night Taylor?”  Riley asked.

“It was great.  We went for Burgers and beers.”  

“That’s nice.”  

Liam lightly cleared his throat.

“So……..”

“We didn’t hear anything.  We both ripped our ear pieces out when we heard where things were heading.”  

“Riley you’re about to pop, how is that even aerodynamically possible right now?!?!?!”  

“Oh it’s possible!”  Liam chuckled.  “God yes it’s possible.”

“Taylor it’s like when the amusement park is about to close and you want to get on your favorite ride one last time.  Even if you’ve had too much food and you’re full and you might throw up.  You got to get on that ride one more time.”

“You went to a carnival Mommy?”  

“No, she just went on a royal scepter ride. God did I say that out loud?��  Taylor slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God!!! Can we change the subject now please?”  Liam inquired, beads of sweat were forming on his face.    

“Yes please because this conversation went incredibly awkward!”

Riley laughed looking around the table.  The adults looked like they wanted to climb out of their skins and her children looked either confused or unaware of what was happening.

Tags in the Comments!!!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a younger Avenger and mentoring Kamala

Kamala Khan x reader

warnings: avengers game spoilers, guns

a/n: so excited about this one; i made y/n just a bit older (and gn!) so that they’re in their mid-early teens during a-day! hope thats okie doke! reader has electrokinesis. this accidentally got really detailed

prompt: anonymous: “Hey there! Would you mind writing HCs for the Avengers Game about female reader being a young Avenger (around 17) and mentoring Kamala Khan?”

you were just a kid yourself when you joined the avengers

and you were an inspiration to kids around the world

“does SHIELD think nothing of child labor laws?” -bruce

the avengers became your family

and seeing what you could do...they knew you could handle yourself

and then a-day happened

the day started off so perfect

and the kids went ballistic over seeing you

“y/h/n! look, it’s y/h/n!”

“can i get a picture?”

“hi, guys! of course you can!”

but there was one kid who stuck out among the rest

kamala khan

“you’re the one who wrote about the sewers, right? i freaking loved it! may i just say your art is amazing?”

“r-really?”

“oh, yeah! and the part where you had thor spin mjölnir to push water towards the sewer lizards so i could shock them? genius!”

she could not wait to tell abu about what you had just said

you obviously took a selfie with her and handed her a little pin with your own “icon” on it

but your world got turned upside down that day

the battle was one you’d never forget

and the fighting with your own teammates afterwards would haunt you for years to come

“what do you know, y/n?! you’re just a kid!” -tony

“oh yeah? im one of the only functioning members of this team!”

“everybody calm down. y/n makes a good point, but—” -nat

“thank you”

“...but there’s some stuff you should leave up to us. you really shouldn’t have to take on so much responsibility” -nat

“she’s right, y/n. this was our fault” -bruce

“are you kidding me?! i’m just as guilty as the rest of you, i’m an equal member of this team! for years we’ve dealt with this together, taken the blame together! what’s changed?”

“y/n...you saw what we did out there. that changed everything...” -bruce

you technically were an inhuman, just not terrigen-based

didnt matter to AIM, they took dr. pym for god’s sake

so you had to run, you were on your own for a while

a long while

you laid low for five years, most boring five years of your life

at least you still had your life, though. it just wasn’t what it used to be

but you got a message one day

“‘tiny dancer,’ huh? my moneys on either nat or tony. nah, tony would have chosen ‘rocket man.’”

you couldn’t be sure, maybe it was just a random shield agent...maybe hank pym? god, this was crazy

the message brought you to, uh, cap’s memorial statue

and there was a young girl arguing with a couple of boys...an inhuman!

you hopped in and saved her, she seemed scared

“hey, kid, you alright?”

“y/h/n? is it really you?”

she seemed vaguely familiar

“are you tiny dancer?”

“no, i thought you might be? they sent you here, too?”

there wasn’t much time to chat, AIM was onto you

you two unfortunately got split up for a minute, but you were practically raised by the notorious clint barton and natasha romanoff, and various other spies

yes, you planted a tracker on her

and met her at the bus stop!

“you found me?”

“that i did, kamala. see, i do remember you”

“that is so cool! i mean—not almost getting killed, or the guy with the big head...”

“what guy? you need to tell me everything”

the whole busride was a bit overwhelming. kamala explained the resistance clues, her powers, her undying admiration for the avengers, you name it

but it made you feel good to know that there were people out there that didn’t hate you

“so what was it like? being the teenage avenger?”

“uh, it was...it was really cool. i felt like i was one-of-a-kind. but sometimes people didn’t take me seriously, it was kind of aggravating”

“yeah, no one takes me seriously either...”

“you know, depending on how this all goes, i might be able to give you a few pointers”

“really?! that’d be great!”

once you got to utah...you saw the chimera

it brought back some bad memories, kamala could tell

“you okay?”

“me? yeah, im good. just thinking...okay, well, do you have a plan on how to get yourself across all of this?”

“actually, i do!”

it was kind of creepy in there, but when you laid your eyes on caps shield, you kind of broke

“do you hear something, what it that?”

“...hulk. kamala, you need to get out of here, i’ll catch up to you, i swear”

she didn’t leave in time, so she got to see the greener side of bruce. you chased him back and tried to get bruce back

meanwhile, kamala found AIM troops...oops

bruce cooled off and man was he doing rough

“y/n, is that really you?”

“yeah, its me. surprise. how long have you been the big guy?”

“too long...a few years”

“jesus, im sorry. i’ll be right back, though. some kid brought me here, i gotta go get her. you kinda scared her off”

she was passed out when you got to her

but bruce is a doctor, he’d figure it out

“i could give her a little shock to wake her up, you know?”

“oh, i know. just let her rest for a minute. she needs it”

“right...well im gonna take a look around, maybe go see what i left behind. i could power the place up, but we’re missing some parts to actually get this thing running. best i can do is lights and doors”

you turned the little things on and turns out did leave a decent amount of stuff in here

your first pair of pistols that nat gave you, the gigantic stein that thor gifted you for your 13th birthday, gadgets tony needed an “extra boost” for *bzzt*, a note from cap that just said “good luck, y/n, you’re going to do great!” you cant even remember what it was he was referring to. you just missed him

kamala walked in while you were shuffling around and cleaning the place up

“hey, dr. banner wanted me to come get you. is this your room?”

“that it is, and it’s a huge mess. this is literally all my belongings ever”

bruce had his plan and you just went along, helping kamala out as you go

“baby steps, kam, don’t want you to pass out. but don’t worry, happens to the best of us” -you

“really? you pass out too?” -kamala

“oh yeah, for sure. tell her bruce, remember that time we had thor overcharge me to literally make me an EMP? and tony was busy listening to music so he wouldn’t get out of the blast radius and his armor shut down? so he was out of commission and i had just collapsed from it all? good times”

“y/n, we thought you died” -bruce

this hc is so long omg — anyways you guys ended up finding tony and it was sort of entertaining but he kinda punched bruce and then hugged you

“you got so big”

“shut up, tony”

you kinda harbored some bad feelings since none of the avengers did anything to help you once they started rounding up inhumans (but you still missed them)

getting attacked again

“okay, kamala, remember what i said about baby steps. dont overdo it. i trust you with this!”

“thank you, y/n! uh—oh my god!”

aaaanyways you went to the ant hill to see hank and pick up some supplies, boy was it great to see some familiar faces, then back the the chimera you went to fix it all up

“can you hold that right there for me, kamala? thanks. i think that just about does it. now i have a surprise for you...your own room!”

you helped kamala get it nice and tidy while talking about each other’s lives, she really did remind you of yourself when you became an avenger. excited, scared, underestimated, all of that. and she begged you to share some mission stories, so you obviously did

“you know, if you stick around for a while, you’re gonna have some cool stories, too. maybe even a kickass costume.”

“oh! a costume, ive got that sorta covered. check it out. a burkini, muslim women wear it for swimming and stuff. my mom got it for me”

“love it. soon we’ll find you a fitting name and update the suit, but seriously, this was the perfect way to go. you look great”

“you think so? i don��t know if i feel that cool. maybe i should try something else?”

“if that’s how you feel, you don’t have to stick to it. you can experiment all you want! but i really think you did awesome on this. come on, pose with me! and hey, i like your pins.”

at this point, you’d do anything for kamala, she reminded you so much of yourself. you would have killed for a mentor your age back in the day.

natasha was in fact tiny dancer...called it

“oh, god, y/n. you’re all grown up...im sorry we left you alone. but if it makes you feel better, i always kept an eye on you”

“well, i kind of took on a protégé...she’s like your grand-protégé. kam, c’mere”

after thor finally came back, everyone started fighting again and ditched, it felt so familiar. but you couldn’t leave kamala behind, you swore to yourself that you couldn’t do that.

she was so good for this team

MODOK was defeated (by kamala herself) but there was so much left to do, tons of threats to extinguish, training to accomplish

“y/n, tony won’t turn his dad rock off! he overrode the speakers in my room”

“oh, it’s on. get chastity’s fabric dye and bleach pens. we’re gonna start some trouble”

she gave you a high five one time and nearly broke your arm

sending each other tiny hand memes

“hey, ms. m, how’re your parents? doing okay without their favorite super-daughter?”

“my abu doesn’t stop texting me actually, says my family is super proud of me. it’s a nice change of pace”

you take her on covert missions for field training, it was Educational(tm)

*elevator music playing* “so...what do you want for dinner? i was thinking we could ask thor to barbecue”

sleepovers in her room that just turn into her showing you her superhero merch, listening to music, prank lists, sneaking off to the HARM room for hand-to-hand combat training and power experiments, thinking up new costume designs

“tip: you always need backup suits, you never know what you’re gonna run into out there. one time tony pushed me into a tower of paint cans and they spilled all over me. steve yelled at him for two hours afterwards. worst mission ever, except steve said ‘motherfucker’ and i have never recovered from the emotions of that day”

“wow, i wish i could have been there for that”

“don’t worry, kami, you’ll see some crazy ‘team bonding’ along the way”

she geeks out about captain marvel sometimes

“hey, i’ve got a book carol gave to me about ‘teens taking responsibility.’ you wanna read it?”

“is it any good?”

“i don’t know, i only read the first two pages”

you ended up having a true heart-to-heart with her after one mission when she made a mistake that nearly cost you guys the mission. you told her that not every mission is going to go perfect, each avenger had slipped up in the field, and she had just started, shes not going to be perfect

“i am literally always here if you need anything. i know what it feels like to be a teenager among legends, but trust me, you’ve made it this far and you’ve proven how much of a badass you are. i know you can take anything that gets thrown at you”

kamala said she makes vegan nachos and yeah she makes vegan nachos

you guys have to hide from the rest of the team when she makes them bc they eat ALL OF THEM

gaff (the SHEILD vendor) has you test his gear, you recommend gear to kamala

you were so excited to guide kamala on her journey of heroism

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

[anxiousnerdwritings]

ok so I sent in a 2nd part for that batman who laughs thing but I dont think u got it but whatever anyway here take like little headcannons about the bs u go through while being in his care - knull anon

~~~~

when he first found you, it was when he was attacking earth (his own not another one). of course he was like "why is this random person giving me instincts to adopt again I have like 10 other kids" but he just decided to roll with it.

fucking asshole about what you can and cant do. u know those tiktoks where they're like "toxic parent check", yeah if u were allowed a phone you would more then 10 parts. he made you sign a contract on what you could do as well, which you frequently find ways to destroy which then makes him create a new one and make you sign it again.

one weird thing about the fortress you're kept in is that they have loudspeakers. they're barely used, and you have actually never heard them being used, until one time when you were able to escape the basement, you found the control room to them. ofcourse, you at first tried to find a way out but everything was password protected so instead you were like hmmmm I've never heard the loudspeakers and that's how the rest of the evil batmen learned what country roads was

another time you went back up instead of going back to the control room you just walked around trying to seem not suspisious. of course everytime you sw a guard you turned the other way and you once even saw a batman, not your dad but one of them, and you actually found an old costume. it was sheer black and had what appeared to be a blue bird stretched across the chest. however you werent able to look long as your dad came home looking for you

once you pretended to play dead and he deadass pulled up an entire medic kit trying to wake you up before you revealed it was a prank

honestly whenever you get in trouble just play it cool, and hell probably just send you back to your room.

heroes were once trying to find out what the hell was so important in that damn place when they saw you walk onto the roof, boombox in hand and then just lay in the night sky as caramelldansen played in the background while your father tried to talk you to come back down

~~~~

oof so over the last two days I've acquired 8 new dads so now the dad count is up to 18 I really have a problem now anyway I might send in something else but recently depression has hit and all I can come up with is concepts so yeah maybe I'll watch some memes and get inspired. cheers love (why do I keep saying that jesus) 💖💖 - knull anon

I’m just living for whatever you send me!!🥰💕🥰💕!! I just posted your submission one and your name did pop up so I just pasted and copied it and made sure it said Knull anon. I hope you’re feeling better, even if it is a little bit. If you’re having trouble writing by all means take as much time as you need, we’ll always be here when you’re ready!

[ourceliumnetwork]

Tagged by @tumbleweedtech!!

What is your total word count on AO3?

Oh thank god you're asking me to look there where they calculate it for me so i don't have to try and figure it out across all eleventy-million of my fucking WIPs xD.

uhhhhh looks like...274,424 heh. that's lower than i thought but then again I post very little of what i actually write so...

How many fandoms have you written for?

On AO3? if I lump the related ones together (which i do) it's 4. If we're talking across the board in general? uh...f u c k. there's so much i haven't posted or thought about posting yet. just go ahead and like. add ten more on top of the four fandoms on AO3 i think that's about close if we're counting crossovers and inspired-bys

What were your top 5 fics by kudos?

Right Back to the Beginning

Constellations

Please, What?

Spearwort, Iris and Ash: Spearwort Yellow for Joy

Lia & Em's Adventure In Thedas Part I: The Wrath of Heaven

Do you respond to comments - why, why not?

I... want to? I try sometimes, if someone's comment touches me or came at a particularly bad time. It's overwhelming to respond to people - I'm a lurker by nature and never really grew out of the habit of teen-me knowing i wasn't supposed to be looking at the fics i was reading and so i wouldn't interact with them or the authors at all. So it can be hard to like. reconcile that I'm a fully grown adult person who is allowed to not only read and write what i enjoy but also that like. other adult people are reading and enjoying what i write? and that they'd want to tell me? I admit to also falling out of what little habit i'd started due to continued weirdly critical (yet not *negative*) comments that just. rub me the wrong way so I can't figure out how to respond? yeah.

What's your fic with the angsty-est ending?

Again I guess if we're going by what's actually posted, I'd probably have to say the Super Fucking Old fic I added from my FF.net days: A Late Summer Afternoon (hopefully that's the right link - sometimes copy and paste doesn't work the way i want). warnings for MCD. I...imagine you might be able to pick up on why that one's my angstiest ending xD I generally try to like. end my stories on a positive note? even if it's not all better yet - so the second angstiest would be Color of Your Eyes or Have This probably. Likely more Have This over Color of Your Eyes but they're both relatively tame as compared to my earliest writing xD

Do you write crossovers?

Uh...yes but i haven't posted any yet. Most of the reason nothing I write gets posted is because I am incapable of writing small projects and I get nervous about posting chapters before i know where i story is going yet because i feel like i can't edit if it's been posted? Anyway I'm going to try and get over that eventually. Not right now, though. I still have to edit some stuff.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Hate is a strong word. I...assume most people who have commented mean well, regardless of how their comments may come off to me on my end. Several have rubbed me the wrong way due to phrasing and an inability to read tone over text-based communication, but I refuse to believe they would have kept reading if they didn't like most of the story. Certainly it has been generally positive feedback across the board so I don't feel comfortable at all calling any negative comments i've received (intentional or not) "hate"

Have you ever had a story stolen?

As far as I'm aware, no. Thankfully I tend to write shit that people just don't care that much about so I'm pretty safe I think. Watch that come bite me in the ass xD

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nah. I hope one day to be proficient in my target language and will be able to translate my own fics myself but see aforementioned note about how no one really cares that much about what i write xD it won't happen unless i do it myself.

What is your all time favourite pairing?

You want me? to pick favorites? in THIS economy?

What is a fic you would like to finish but don't think you ever will?

currently none are looking like "never gonna finish"es which is good. RBttB sat unfinished for a long while and I probably won't polish the ending on that one, but it's technically done. I also don't want to finish that one either so. it wouldn't have fulfilled the requirements of the question.

Writing strengths?

You want me? to compliment myself? in THIS econo- alright alright i know, it's a terrible joke. Uh...I understand i'm pretty good at smut. and descriptions? i think? I feel like my humor is unparalleled but that's also because i'm pretty sure i'm the funniest person in my apartment (we'll just casually not mention i live alone...) Seamless integration of current and historical memes? Puns? i don't know. i am super confident about writing but i couldn't tell you for sure what i'm actually strong at.

Writing weaknesses?

uh. Getting anything finished. endings. d i a l o g u e. writing. flow. pacing. repetition. writing. see what i did there? i told you my humor was awesome. no but really i struggle with actually starting to write and then it ends up being a lot of me repeating myself a bunch until i find the sentence or four that work best. and like. my pacing is weird so it can be hard to...figure out what i'm trying to say? oh and commas. i use commas wrong.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages?

I enjoy the shit out of it. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but I try really hard to get it right. if I'm not 100% positive it's correct I will change the whole sentence. mostly because i only know a handful of people who know languages other than English and I am bad at reaching out for help when I need it. mostly the second part though.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

YuYu Hakusho! A friend and I wrote this epic fucking self-insert not-quite-isekai style fanfic back and forth in notebooks back in the 6th grade (which was about...oh. nearly 20 years ago jesus i'm old). Only one of my notebooks survived when she decided anime was demons and the devil trying to tempt her away from Jesus so a lot of the story was lost. It was also in pencil so it's half worn out of the notebook as it is. then there was the phase i went through where i decided i could make my notebooks more interesting by cutting them into shapes which lost me a bit of text in the margins that i'd forgotten about... look we're mostly lucky i had it at all or that i've kept it all these years. Why do i still have it?...hm.

What's your favourite fic?

Of mine? So far it's probably a toss-up between Spearwort, Iris and Ash and Lia & Em's Adventure in Thedas. you know. My two biggest projects Oh...oh possibly also the Current-Reworking-The-Title fic I've started that I've not posted anything of yet in the Arcana fandom. Which is also a huge major project. I don't write small if I can help it, apparently.

of someone else's? You want me? to choose favorites? in THIS- yes i know that's the same joke three times. I think it changes based on what I need most out of my fic reading experience. I have an extensive bookmark collection on AO3. one of them in there's probably holding a spot as favorite, most likely.

Tagging: @concertconfetti, @daughterofdungeonbat, and anyone else who wants to do this! If you want a specific tag to do this, please LMK and i'll tag you <33

[spiritmaiden23]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. For sure, for being the cutest of cutes!! All Zeldas are cute though but she was the blueprint ;v; 

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. I’m a devout christian virgin I would never ever look at those kind of topics the only hot I see is the flames of hell for even considering this smh smh bUT NO FOR REAL THO I’M NOT REALLY SURE???? I mostly see people gushing over how cute she is rather than hot. 

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / In some aspects. We don’t really see Skyward Sword Zelda’s abilities in the games as we did in, say, BOTW where she goes full goddess mode. Aside from blessing the master sword, sealing herself away, and the implications that the game gives us with Zelda being not only a student at the knight school but also a badass warrior goddess in her past life; I’d say she’s pretty up there in terms of strength. 

Are they underrated?  YES / NO. GONNA GO WITH YES AND NO ON THIS. As a character, Zelda is far from underrated she’s actually cliche blonde character we all love and stan but in this incarnation.... also yes and no because while I see a lot of people like SS Zelda keep in mind that SS is the black sheep of the series so not a lot of people have good opinions on it. I’ve seen some say she’s annoying, too shoujo or even Mary Sue at some points and hweoh we all know that the last one ain’t even close to true since she’s far from bland and OP written. But it’s all a matter of perspective!  

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL / FOR THE MOST PART, if we were talking verses like say witch verse she’d have more of a neutral reputation considering witches aren’t really well-liked ;-; 

How strictly do you follow canon?  

I try to do the best that I can do given with what we’re working with here all while adding my own spin to her characterization because we all have different perspective when it comes to art! How I see Zelda is someone who’s bubbly, playful (big ol bully hweoh), a bit of a busybody if she feels she needs to step in due to worrywart tendencies yet highly responsible and carries a wisdom that’s beyond her age, she doesn’t like seeing people bullying others and isn’t afraid to put her foot down to speak her mind if something is up. While kindness is sorta her strong suit I wanted to go beyond “nice girl” and just showcase other sides of her too, hence why main verse is typically set during the events of SS because here we see her growth into the girl we see at the end of the game where she’s melancholic of her past but is looking forward to seeing what the future holds and wants to build a brighter tomorrow with Link by her side along with friends and loved ones. I’m not at all confident in playing as her, despite playing as Zelda since 2017 haha!! So I can’t really say that I’m super strict in following canon considering that’s how I view the character through the actions and dialogue throughout the game, perhaps the creators had something different in mind than how I see Sky Zelda.   

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  

DO YOU LIKE WHOLESOME GIRLS?! Wait no, hold on, that’s a little too vague, so let’s try that again. Do you like wholesome genki girls who were once a god who fought in a war in their past life? How about pastel girls who may seem sweet but are deep down bullies towards loved ones? Are you at a point in your life where you find yourself wondering: where on earth can I find someone who’s ray of sunshine can brighten up my day. Will do I have good news for you buddy! Introducing your very own friend: Zelda from hit series Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. This Zelda is more extreme than the others due to the fact that she’s not a princess, that’s right no princess titles clogging up that beautiful name. Just a knight who somehow finds out she’s actually a goddess reborn as human, no biggie! 

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

SHOUJO PROTAG WHO’S TOO FREAKING CUTE!! So.... if that’s not your cup of tea ;v; but nah I can see people not liking Zelda because not everyone like the nice girl who’s your childhood friend characrter, I totally get it but if you dig a little deeper you see that there’s more to it than that.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  

My close friend was FINALLY getting into the LOZ series back when BOTW was first coming out, her playthrough of SS made me remember how much I loved each characters and honestly Zelda’s design in that game was always my fav right next to Tetra and ALTTP/ALBW! At the time I mostly played more introverted muses or straight up villains and I wanted to try my hand at playing more wholesome characters like Sky Zel and ALTTP Zel ;v; now look at me, the CEO of wholesome cute girls ;v; 

What keeps your inspiration going?  

Motivation and time at this point, I’m not the young starry-eyed rper who used to have playlists and replay things to keep up with canon. I just pray to god I’m doing ok, let jesus take the wheel and just sorta do my own thing. I think having fun threads or a friendship with partners or just good vibes from them def helps a whole lot. 

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. SORTA KINDA NOT AS MUCH AS I DO WITH ALTTP ZEL BECAUSE I’M ALWAYS NERVOUS THAT I MIGHT LIKE BREAK THE CANON OR ZEL’S CHARACTER!! 

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.  

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / Most of the time!

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. I mean, that’s a trick question because I can be sensitive in picking up tones and reading between the lines but like if you mean if someone says something mean than no not anymore at least, I’m too old to care about what people say about me or think about me. 

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  

YE! I do! I mean we’re all improving and junk so I see no issues with criticisms uvub I always worry about whether or not you can hear different voices within the characters I rp as among writing issues I have that comes with learning disability and ADD, I try my hardest but I know at the end of the day there will always be grammar mistakes and even spelling! 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

YES YES YES!! OMG YES!! I TAKE WHATEVER QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE AND JUST... WORD VOMIT BACK SEVEN PAGE ESSAY SOMETIMES ;V; 

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Eh, well yeah it’d be nice honestly to hear feedbacks and thoughts. Just saying ‘I don’t like this or I don’t agree with this’ doesn’t really help anyone who wants to improve but I’m not gonna like press them for it either because again I’m at the stage in my life where I’m just like ‘it is what it is’. 

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

Shrug emoji, and then move on! Again it’d be nice if they can tell me though but I won’t press them for it if they don’t feel like it. We’re allowed to have our opinions after all yo!

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

It is illegal to hate sky zel or any Zel really... NAH JK I DON’T REALLY CARE I’ve liked characters who aren’t popular among the fandom, I’m more or less used to seeing character bashing for faves so like it doesn’t really affect me at all I’m just like “lol” and move on. 

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

YES! Though keep in mind, despite me using Grey instead of Gray, I use US English ;v; so keep that in mind when spotting out certain words other parts of the world may spell differently because us US Americans just..... gotta be extra like that. 

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?  

I TRY!!! IDK IF I COME ACROSS AS THAT but I’m very much someone who goes with the flow anyway, I’ve been told that much IRL and I’m just hweoh not really someone who’s a stick in the mud or has a stick up their ass, you know? I’m pretty laid back and not much bothers me, I can get petty if I have to come across rude people that’s the one thing that kills it for me but aside from that, I just wanna try to get along with people. We don’t have to be friends if you’re not feeling the vibes but friendly terms is good enough for me!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

[whatevenismyaestheticidk]

Things I’ve heard high schoolers say pt 1

-Person:I don't want to go to college. I want to join a rock band.

-Person 1: A dangerous pogo stick

Person 2: Do you mean a jackhammer?

-Person 1: I only have five minutes, what can I do in five minutes!?

Person 2: Masturbate

Person 3: Dab

-*Person 1 snaps fingers in a Z formation and points* No.

-Person: It's the computer Jesus.

Person: I’m okay with being the human embodiment of a cookie recipe.

-Person: Her eyes were as blue as... the color blue.

-Person: angrily clicks pen

-Person: Fight me *said while dabbing*

-Person: Did you just assume the gender of that table?

-Person: How does that child have popcorn! It's Wednesday!

-Person: Yo no speako Shakespearean Englisho.

-Person: I AM looking at an AC! *shouted across campus during finals week*

-Person: You fancy English tomboy! *shouted during an argument*

-Person: The salt the salt it burns! *followed by horrendous screaming and someone collapsing on the ground*

-Person 1: It's spiky.

Person 2: Depression?

Person 1: No a porcupine.

-Person: I don't know what fake tan you put on, but you’re not brown. *Indian girl to another Indian girl when one thought a food was spicy*

-Person: Thicce. When she thicc but she French. *pronounced thick-ay*

-Person: Everything's breaking and falling apart. *cue a chorus of 'my life' and 'same'*

-Person: I searched up the word 'search'. Nailed it!

-Person: *to the tune of making my way downtown* Make a meringue right now.

-Person: Legiterally. *legit +literally*

-Person: See, the problem is, I don’t want to.

-Person: We're boycotting Amazon. Siri play despacito.

-Person: Dishwashers are just machines from the evil overlords. You don't do the dishes, the dishes do you.

-Person: It makes me want to dig my own eyeballs out of my sockets and eat them but I'm fine.

-Person 1: Is this strawberry jam?

Person 2: Yes

Person 1: Ehhh I'm allergic but it's fine.

-Person: You human bobby pin.

-Person: Technically, Fire trucks are just giant water guns.

-Person 1: But what happens if you take helium and sulfur hexafluoride at the same time?

Person 2: You die.

-Person: I want to breath fire like the dragon that I am.

-Person: (girls name)! Stop trying to graph life!

-Person 1: Great I’m a pterodactyl with 3D printers for ears.

Person 2: Oh my god it’s me!

-Person: I will consume your soul!!!

-Person 1: Did you just fall and accept it?

Person 2: Yes.

-Person: Dang. Life is just crunchy.

-Person: I relate to that shoe, because I am also alone in this world.

-Person: Being alive is to0 much of a commitment. TBH I have enough commitment issues as it is and I’m just not fully committed to this whole life thing.

-Person: Swiper no swiping! *shouted as another student tried to steal their water bottle

-Person: (persons name), you either have to solve the problem, or you have to stop whining and ignore it. That’s how life works.

-Person: I want an emotional support komodo dragon to emotionally support me by killing my enemies.

-Person 1: Move the table by (mans name).

Person 2: What? Physically?

Person 1: No, mentally… of course physically (person’s name)!

-Person: What do they speak in Brazil? Brazilian?

-Person: I’m  not going to have five kids fuck you buzzfeed.

-Person: How many calories are in a Pringles container? Cause I just ate all of them.

-Person: I could listen to him say penguin forever. If someone ever says penguin as good as he does I’ll just….

-Person: And then his reply just savaged me yeah!? I just want him to like me.

-Person: Me watching my life fall apart like ‘that’s a shame’.

-Person: Carry yourself upstairs! For gods sake (person’s name) it’s not that difficult!!

-Person: Do I look like the basic gluten free white bitch? Okay I thought so.

-Person: How could I give up on life when I never even lived it in the first place?

-Person: Have you ever gotten into a TED talk spiral? Like just a spiral of knowledge and inspiration?

-Person: You don’t know true fear until you almost drop your laptop without its case.

-Person: So they just yeet you into the water when you die.”

-Person: And in that moment she made four very straight girls turn gay for five seconds. That’s how fine she was.

-Person 1: Why is the sky screaming?

*thunder*

Person 2:It probably has cramps.

-Person: I’m here, I’m queer, and I shall be scoping you my dear.

-Person: You. 20-20. Vision. Person. Gah!

-Person: I guess I’ll just phase through the walls.

-Person: He has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair.

-Person 1: Not even sarcastically though, why do you care more about my life and health more than I do?

-Random Girl walking by: same though

-Person: Wait are potatoes a fruit?

-Person 1: Come on (person’s name), chop chop!

Person 2: I’m chopping!

-Person: I thought I ran into (boys name) but it was actually just a bench.

-Person: Are streptsils supposed to burn?

-Person: Does static electricity work here?

-Bro 1: Close your eyes bro

Bro 2: Okay bro

Bro 1: What do you see bro?

Bro 2: Nothing bro

Bro 1: That’s my world without you bro

Bro 2: Bro

Girl: I swear to god if you two do that again… *insinuating that this wasn’t the first time they had done so*

-Person 1: And how do you exactly get to the sketchy parts of London?

Person 2: Google maps.

-Girl in a dark room to roommate: Well you know what? *Turns on light* well fuck you I hope your eyes burn.

-Person: Oh my crapety crap crap.

-Person: Oh yes, we love a spiky shistar

-Person: Tbh no one else can hate me as much as I hate me sooo yeahhh

-Person: So I guess I’m just gunna dab and pretend like everything’s okay then cry later.

-Person 1: Well you’re... fricking... stupid.

Person 2:Wow language.

Person 1: I’m 15 I can do whatever the frick I want!

-Person: *shouting*I don’t have energy for this today!

-Person: I didn’t know the lady was not wearing garments.

-Person: That went from getting water to doing drugs. That wasn’t a jump at all.

-Person: I am a bright and colorful piñata and god is a 13 year old birthday boy whose parents have just announced their divorce.

-Person: Oh my god I just got a message! *pause* Never mind it’s just my cellular company

-Person: I only know how to express love in either dramatic, multi-page, 19th-century-style love letters or single memes presented without commentary so jot that down

-Person 1: As a member of the stop the bull community I kindly request for you to cease this activity.

Person 2: Oh yah? Well as a member of the START the bull community I wanna ask you to umm BACK OFF.

-Person: I’m feeling very third wheel. You and (boys name),  (boys name) and (girls name), (girls name) and 8-ball.

-Person: My entire life is the ‘awkward YouTube phase’.

-Person: Sliding into (girlfriends name) dms like *proceeds to perform a giant sock on hardwood floor style slide*

-Person: (Teacher’s name)’s voice just puts you to sleep. If you need to take a nap, just listen to a recording.

-Person: And then there’s me, having a mental breakdown over a water bottle.

-Person: Like girl, I know you’re thirsty but just drink some soda.

-Person 1: I’m sad lemme have some.

Person 2: Who broke up with you this time?

Person 1: HEY!

-Person: Excuse you, I’m always ashy.

-Person 1: 3/8 people on this group chat aren’t straight. That’s 0.375. Quick maths. Who needs to pass the math final when you can calculate the amount of gay in the group chat?

Person 2: Politicians use statistics to argue their points anyway so you need it in life.

Person 3: That was intelligent, (Person 1) you’ve been outplayed.

-Person 1: YAY WERE ALL GOING TO DIE

Person 2: Me in the face of the apocalypse.

-Person: God I miss Lagos, even the bumpy ass roads. at least Lagos had LESBIANS.

-Person: Does anyone else want to pretend their okay with me? No?

-Person: 8-Ball Bitches!

-Person: I’VE GONE BACK SO FAR INTO THE CLOSET I’M IN FUCKING NARNIA NOW

-Person: Attack! *Squeals as she’s squirted wit a water-bottle* Ahhhh you fricking fudger!

[maximilliandelirium]

somebody out there hates you

a/n: hhhh i wrote this in a pre-nanowrimo mania. wanted to post to ao3 but it’s acting weird so i thought i’d throw it up on the blog for now. notice me senpai fills me with joy, so i was inspired to make *~art~* the setting is anime japan so nothing is accurate and the points don’t matter (pssst! support me on ko-fi!)

Summary: Suzuki joins an anti-cafe out of curiosity and begins to re-evaluate his relationship with Yamato. Suzuki/Yamato (Idol Senpai/Rocker Senpai)

              Suzuki didn’t go online that evening intending to join an anti-Suzuki fan café. He usually didn’t dwell on his haters at all. But tonight, curiosity got the better of him. He’d been trawling the net after a long practice when he stumbled across a link to the anti-site. (Suzuki liked to Google himself; so what?) When he followed it, he realized he couldn’t read any of the message boards without an account.

               That’s a good thing, I guess, he thought. He didn’t really want to see what people were saying about him. He decided to forget about it and do his homework instead.

               At least, that was what he tried to do. He kept thinking about it as he struggled over his assigned reading. What did they talk about? Did they make fun of his hair? His personality? Maybe they picked apart his lyrics. The longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to know.

               Suzuki tossed his book aside and re-opened his laptop. He hadn’t closed the browser window. The link was still there. Yamato was always telling him to consider his weaknesses so he could improve. This could be beneficial. If Suzuki tried understanding where these people were coming from, he might be able to win them over, or at least get better at what he did.

               It didn’t take much to make an account. He had to create a new email—he didn’t want his regular one linked to the site. After that, he spent half an hour trying to come up with a screen name. It was imperative that no one know who he really was. His usual handle—“SuzuStar”—would give him away like a shot. Suzuki was also disappointed to discover that “YamatoFan#1” was taken. Eventually, he settled on “notafan1234.”

               Never having been on an anti-site before, Suzuki wasn’t sure what to expect. He was surprised by how plain it was. The header image was just the name of the page in bright red letters, along with a picture of his face with a “no” sign superimposed on it. He scrolled through the list of threads.

               Break Suzuki’s new MV!

               New Anti-Suzuki Memes

               Worst Lyrics Poll (CLOSED)

               Suzuki kept scrolling, horrified and fascinated. He found a thread titled “Important question for Yamato fans—should he be friends w/ Suzuki?” He clicked on it. He jumped when he saw the selfie he and Yamato had taken at the school festival. The original poster had written a caption beneath it.

               Ugh. I don’t get why Yamato wastes his time with this guy. They don’t have anything in common.

               A user named MerryPip added, Lol same. Yamato actually has talent.

               Suzuki frowned.

               They probably just hang out because they go to the same school, someone else said. Yamato doesn’t want to be mean.

               Tbh, SuzuYama shippers make me sick.

               Yamato shouldn’t keep feeding them by hanging out with him.

               They only do it for fanservice. I bet it’s in their contracts.

               Suzuki hadn’t been planning on responding to anyone, but the last comment had sent him over the edge. They had no right to question his friendship with Yamato. They didn’t know anything about him. He typed, Maybe Yamato and Suzuki are friends because they get along and like to hang out.

               A response appeared in no time. As if, Lonelygrrl said. Suzuki is too much of a ditz to get along with Yamato. He totally cramps his style. Yamato is just humoring him because the fans like it.

               Blood rushed to Yamato’s face. His fingers flew to the keys. That’s not true! How do you know Yamato is just pretending? You don’t have any proof. You’re just making stuff up!

               The backlash was swift and immediate. A gallery of photos flooded the thread with red outlines drawn around Yamato’s eyes and mouth, along with whole paragraphs explaining why his smile was faked, or how he couldn’t stand to actually touch Suzuki.

               His hand is just hovering here, Lonelygrrl wrote. All their selfies are faked. Their managers get together and tell them where to go. Like playdates.

               Suzuki slammed the laptop closed. He sat back, fuming. When his head cooled, Suzuki reached for his phone. He wanted to ask Yamato about this. (Yamato was saved in his contacts as “Yama heart eyes emoji, guitar emoji.”)

               Did u know there’s a whole website that hates me? Suzuki texted.

               Yamato answered quickly: No, but I’m not surprised. There’s always haters. You find one?

               Yeah. I made an account.

               WTF why?

               I wanted to see what they were saying.

               Delete it. That’s a waste of time.

               A waste of time. That’s what the anti-fans had said Yamato was doing by being Suzuki’s friend. He wanted to tell Yamato about it. But it had made him nervous. What if they were right? What if Yamato was only pretending to be friends with him? They’d become closer through school performances. Was that the only reason Yamato continued to hang out with him?

               Suzuki texted back: Ur right. They’re just mean.

               Don’t let it get to you. Some people have to be negative for no reason.

               Suzuki put the phone aside. He wouldn’t go back on the site. He’d just forget about it. Yamato was his friend and that was that. It wouldn’t do him any good to second guess it. Suzuki opened the laptop one last time to close the browser. There were a few more replies.

               Jesus, when will trolls learn not to come in here? MerryPip complained. Do. Not. Feed. The. Trolls.

               I’m not a troll, Suzuki thought, closing the window. He would delete the account tomorrow. Right now, he needed to get back to work.

               The next morning was rough. Suzuki hadn’t realized how much time had passed last night while he’d been reading the message boards, and by the time he completed his homework, it was 2AM. He shuffled into class, yawning.

               “Late night?” Reiji asked as Suzuki walked past.

               “It took me two hours to finish the reading.”

               “Me, too!” Takeru said. “And when I finished, it felt like I didn’t understand it at all.” He looked over at Ren. “What did you think?”

               Ren lifted his head slightly. “Huh? I didn’t finish. I fell asleep halfway through.”

               “You’re kidding. We have a quiz on it today.”

               “I can probably get a good enough grade with what I know.”

               Suzuki spotted Yamato sitting on the windowsill. He had his guitar balanced in his lap and he was strumming it idly. The things Suzuki had read last night started to seep into his mind. He pushed them away. I’m not going to think about it.

               “Yama-kun!” Suzuki called.

               Yamato glanced up and smiled. It looked real. Relief washed over Suzuki as he walked over. Yamato continued plucking on the strings.

               “Hey,” he said. “You look beat. What’s up?”

               “I got distracted by the internet last night and did all my homework late.” Suzuki blushed. Yamato liked to tease him for being irresponsible sometimes. “But I did get it done!”

               “Oh yeah. That site you texted me about. I hope you didn’t talk to anyone.”

               Suzuki laughed nervously. “No. Why would I?”

               “They’re trying to get a rise out of people. Starting an argument is just what they want.”

               He laughed again, this time more forced.

               Yamato tilted his head to the side. “You okay?”

               “Yeah. It’s all good.” Suzuki waved a hand. “Let’s stop talking about it. Do you still want to go shopping today after class?”

               “Sure. Just remember to change before we go out. I don’t want to get chased by your crazy fans again.”

               “I wouldn’t forget,” Suzuki said. He winked and stuck his tongue out. “Are you sure you don’t like the exercise?”

               “I’m sure.”

               Yamato met him in front of the school after classes let out. No matter how many times they went out in public together, Yamato never stopped staring at Suzuki’s outfit. Suzuki didn’t understand why he rolled his eyes every time he saw it.

               “What’s the matter? This is what I always wear,” he said.

               “I know. That’s the problem. We’re getting you some new civilian clothes today.” Yamato grabbed the hem of Suzuki’s t-shirt and gave it a tug. “How many of these do you own?”

               “A few.”

               “You’re supposed to be in disguise. Why would you wear a shirt with your own face on it?”

               “Because,” Suzuki said, lifting his index finger, “no one would ever suspect I’d wear my own merchandise. This face distracts them from looking at mine.”

               “If you say so.” Yamato let go.

               They walked into town, then took the train to the best shopping district. Though Yamato and Suzuki bought their clothes at different stores, they agreed that this part of the city had the best shops. The only problem was that it was crowded. Just getting off the train was a nightmare. Suzuki almost lost his hat.

               “Is it just me or are there more people here today than usual?” he asked, squashing it back on his head.

               “I think you’re right. There must be a promotion going on.” Yamato stretched to see over the crowd. “That one you like isn’t as busy. Let’s go to that one first.”

               They pressed through the crowd. Suzuki bumped into a woman carrying a dozen bags and made her drop all of them. He spent a few minutes helping her pick them up while bowing and apologizing. She gave him a dirty look. He wondered if she would’ve been as mad if she knew who he was.

               Or could she be one of the anti-fans?

               Suzuki hadn’t thought about it before, but those names online had real people behind them. They could’ve been from his own school. It was scary to think about. There might be some in this crowd. Suzuki readjusted his mask and sunglasses, making sure his face was completely hidden.

               “Suzu—!” Yamato cut himself off as he came jogging over. They’d gotten separated. “I turned around and you weren’t behind me.”

               “Sorry. It’s hard to stick together in all this.”

               Yamato sighed and looked around. Then he grabbed Suzuki’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get you a new shirt.”

               The changing room was cold. Suzuki quickly pulled on one of the shirts he’d brought in. It was a purple galaxy print. There were three mirrors placed in the corner of the stall, giving him a rounded view. He was pretty satisfied with his appearance. Suzuki had often been told he had a good face. And his rigorous dance practices kept him in good shape. Yet…

               Earlier, while Yamato was going through leather jackets, Suzuki had pulled up the anti-café on his phone. He needed to know if they knew where he was. His fans tended to track his movements. His haters might do the same thing.

               Though there wasn’t anything about where he physically was, but there was a new thread: “Is Suzuki actually handsome? Yes/No?” He knew he shouldn’t read it. It didn’t matter what a handful of bitter people on the internet thought. But the urge was too strong.

               It’s supposed to be his major selling point, but I’m a girl and I think he’s kind of lame.

               His hair color looks so fake and not in a good way.

               Didn’t he gain weight recently? No one’s gonna stick around if he keeps putting on the pounds XD

               Imo he’s kind of short.

               I’m 178 centimeters! That’s above average! Suzuki was shorter than Yamato, but that didn’t mean he was tiny. He remembered what Yamato had said about not engaging them. He wanted to set them straight.

               The school festival selfie had reappeared. Suzuki had been proud of it at the time. His and Yamato’s costumes were perfectly coordinated, they’d posed in front of the best decorations in the classroom, and they’d gotten a perfect angle. This site didn’t seem to agree.

               Look at this lame-ass Star Sailor costume.

               I stg Suzuki drags Yamato into his weird interests all the time.

               is it supposed to be funny? Who are they trying to appeal to?

               It had taken every ounce of Suzuki’s self-control not to go off on them. Star Sailor was one of his great loves. It was one of Yamato’s as well. That was the whole reason they had coordinated their cosplays.

               Unable to stomach any more, he had turned off the screen, gathered a few shirts and gone into the dressing room. He examined himself in the mirror. He still looked fine. Suzuki plucked a strand of hair. Was it too yellow?

               He took off the galaxy shirt and pinched his stomach. Suzuki wasn’t as muscular as boys like Makoto or Katsuo, but he had a lithe figure. Nothing seemed to have changed. Sometimes Suzuki’s manager warned him not to indulge his sweet tooth too much. Maybe he should start taking that message more to heart. He felt a pang of loss just considering skipping the cakes at the school’s café.

               Suzuki shook his head. He was letting the anti-site get to him.

               When he emerged from the dressing room, he spotted Yamato coming over, his arms weighed down with jackets and black jeans. He eyed Suzuki’s pile.

               “Did you find anything good?” he asked.

               “I like this one.” Suzuki pointed at the galaxy shirt. “What do you think?”

               Yamato shrugged. “You look good in everything.”

               “Aw, Yama-kun, you’re so sweet!” Suzuki said in an over-the-top cutesy voice. He shimmied his shoulders for extra effect.

               Yamato rolled his eyes and gave Suzuki a light smack on the arm. He disappeared behind the curtain. Suzuki put away the clothes he didn’t want while he waited. He wondered if Yamato had hate sites, too. It didn’t seem possible. Yamato was so handsome and talented; it was hard to imagine a bunch of people getting together just to make fun of him.

               Suzuki pulled out his phone again. He went through his pictures until he found another selfie he’d taken with Yamato. It was from the last time Yamato had hung out at his house. Suzuki hadn’t made it public. He didn’t know why. It was a good picture. There wasn’t anything scandalous or illegal in it.

               He supposed he hadn’t wanted to share it because it felt more personal than the others. They were both in sweatshirts and pajama pants, their faces lit up by the blue light from Suzuki’s TV. Suzuki was leaning heavily on Yamato, who was grinning at the camera. Suzuki was smiling fondly up at Yamato.

               If those jerks online could see this picture, they’d realize Yamato wasn’t faking his feelings of friendship. Suzuki couldn’t post it, though. This picture was just for him and Yamato, no one else. He sighed and closed the photo gallery.

               Yamato came out of the dressing room. “I’m ready if you are,” he said.

               “Are you buying anything?” Suzuki asked as he headed for the counter.

               Yamato shook his head. “I’m going to shop around a bit more. Do you want to get some bubble tea after the next stop?”

               “Only if we go to that one place next to the arcade.”

               “Okay, but you’re not dragging me into another DDR competition.”

               Suzuki put his arm around Yamato’s shoulders. “Come on, you’re not that bad. You almost beat me last time.”

               Yamato shook his head. He copied Suzuki’s gesture, linking them closer together. He gave Suzuki’s back a pat. “I’ll leave the dancing to the trained idol. Some other time. Now go, it’s your turn.” He nudged Suzuki forward.

               Suzuki reluctantly let go of Yamato. He brought his shirts to the girl working the cash register. She smiled at him.

               “You and your friend are cute,” she said as she rung him up.

               “Thanks! I try.”

               She giggled. “Have a nice day.”

               “Did you flirt your way to a discount?” Yamato asked.

               Suzuki’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses. “You can do that?”

               “No, idiot.” Yamato took Suzuki’s hand again. “Maybe you could, but I wouldn’t. I hope she didn’t recognize you.”

               “She didn’t. If she had, she would’ve asked for an autograph.”

               They could never get a seat by the windows, otherwise their combined fans would fill the restaurant. Suzuki was half thankful for the privacy it afforded them, but they had to sit in a dim corner where there wasn’t much space. One of Yamato’s legs rested against one of his own.

               “What kind did you get?” Suzuki asked.

               Yamato glanced up from his phone. “Honeydew. You wanna try it?”

               “Sure.” Suzuki took a sip from Yamato’s bubble tea. They had never worried about germs. The tea was perfectly sweet and mellow. He passed it back, a smile on his lips.

               “You know, that’s the first time you smiled this afternoon,” Yamato said. “It feels like you’ve been gloomy ever since we left school.”

               “Really?” He hadn’t noticed. “I guess I’m just tired. We’re already talking about the next comeback.”

               “They should let you have a break. I’ve been talking to my agency about a vacation.” Yamato lowered his phone and met Suzuki’s eyes. “We could go somewhere. Hawai’i maybe. I’ve always wanted to do a shark tour.”

               Suzuki shuddered. “That’s scary!”

               “They put you in a cage. It’s not dangerous.”

               “You can do that. I want to get a tan.”

               Yamato knocked his leg against Suzuki’s. “But you’d want to go? With me?”

               “Of course.”

               Yamato’s eyes lit up. He smiled. “Awesome. We can get it cleared with your manager. There’s a little while before our next break. We could go then if your team says it’s okay.”

               Hawai’I with Yamato. Suzuki imagined what it might be like. Sun, sand, and the ocean. Swimsuits. Sleeping in. Hawai’ian food. He sighed wistfully. Ever since he had first seen travel programs for it on TV, he’d always wanted to go. The best part might be going with Yamato. They could run around together as much as they wanted. They’d have their own hotel room.

               “Will you ask your manager about it?” Yamato said, pressing Suzuki’s leg again. He was chewing on the corner of his lip.

               “I will. I’ll text her now.” Suzuki fished his phone from his jacket pocket. He braced his leg against Yamato’s. He took comfort in the pressure. Yamato was strong. It felt good to lean on him.

               Some of the other guys invited them to karaoke after school that weekend. It was Hajime’s idea apparently, which meant he’d roped in Soujiro, who was bringing the twins, and so on and so on. Things usually turned out this way. If someone mentioned a party, everyone ended up unofficially invited. Ikemen wasn’t a small school, but word spread quickly, and the upperclassmen were all connected by a web of association.

               Suzuki didn’t remember who specifically asked him and Yamato if they wanted to tag along. It might’ve been Ai. Anyway, they showed up at the karaoke place after everyone else had already arrived thanks to an unexpected fangirl sighting.

               “You guys are late,” Tokiya said.

               “We just got chased halfway across the city,” Yamato said, tossing his jacket onto one of the couches. “Give us a break.”

               Suzuki removed his mask, sunglasses, and hat. He took stock of the group. Ai had brought Tokiya and Ryuu, but Kurou was nowhere to be seen, meaning there’d be a fight later. (Ryuu and Tokiya always fought.) Soujiro and the twins were there, wearing casual clothes for once. Yuu and Baa had shown up as well. Suzuki would never get over the goat head. Takeru was there, probably having heard about the outing through word of mouth.

               “Sorry, we ordered food without you,” he said.

               “It’s fine. We can get something later.”

               Suzuki settled in beside Yamato. He had asked his manager about the vacation. She hadn’t gotten back to him yet. He was starting to get nervous. Running from their fans earlier had only made Suzuki want it more. After this comeback. If the single does well, then I earned it. She can’t say no.

               The other third-years had already lined up a decent list of songs. They must have been feeling nostalgic, since most of the music was from the 80s and 90s. Takeru, being Takeru, shared some of his food with Yamato and Suzuki while Hajime launched into a heart-felt ballad at the top of his lungs.

               It was times like these that made Suzuki wish he wasn’t an idol. Being a senior in high school wasn’t easy, but there was so much more freedom. You definitely didn’t get hate comments. You could hang out with whoever you wanted. You didn’t get chased when you went outside. He could never just quit though. He loved music. He loved performing. But it was nice to just be with friends and not on a stage.

               Yamato nudged him with his elbow. “Are you going to sing?”

               “Obviously!” Suzuki hopped up. “I wonder if they have one of your songs on the machine.”

               “Ooh, do it!” Ai said.

               Yamato looked embarrassed. “Come on…”

               “What?” Suzuki scrolled through the song list. “Are you scared I’m gonna ruin it? I’ll let you cover one of mine?”

               “You should do a duet,” Hajime said. “Give us the collab everyone’s been waiting for!”

               Takeru nodded in agreement and Ai applauded. “Yeah!” he said. “Do that!”

               Yamato got up and walked over to the screen, picking up a microphone for himself. “Pick something we both know. One that’s in my range.”

               Suzuki kept scrolling. They had a couple of his songs, as well as a few of Yama’s, but none of them were duets. Then he spotted something. He let out a cry of excitement.

               “Yama! The Star Sailor duet! From the musical.” He grabbed Yamato’s upper arm and squeezed it insistently. “Remember? The part where Selena hears Damian join her from offstage, and then he comes down from the ceiling?” He shook Yamato’s arm for emphasis. “Let’s do this one. Please?”

               “Wait, you’ve seen the Star Sailor musical?” Ryuu asked with a smirk.

               Yamato blushed. “It’s good,” he muttered. To Suzuki, he said, “You really want to do this one? It’s kind of…”

               “I know all the words,” Suzuki said proudly. “I could sing it without looking at the screen.”

               Yamato still looked hesitant. An upsetting thought reared its ugly head. Suzuki remembered the discussion in the anti-café, about their Star Sailor cosplay. I stg Suzuki drags Yamato into his weird interests all the time. Suzuki’s heart sank. What if Yama really was only going along with it to humor him? Liking a sparkly and romantic mahou shojo wasn’t Yamato’s style. And he probably hadn’t wanted to broadcast any interest in it.

               “Um, we don’t have to,” Suzuki said. He reached out to scroll down the list again. “There’s probably another song we can both sing in here.”

               “No,” Yamato blurted, color still high in his cheeks. “I want to do this one.”

               “Are you sure?”

               Yamato nodded. “You can have Selena’s part. The notes are too high for me.”

               Relief washed over Suzuki. He might be humoring you again, a mean voice whispered in the back of his head. He tried to ignore it. As long as he got to sing with Yamato, he didn’t really care. He pressed play.

               They might have been in a random karaoke room, surrounded by classmates, but Suzuki poured his heart into the performance. He loved the Star Sailor musical. He thought it was hopelessly romantic. Especially the part where Damian appeared. Suzuki started the duet and Yamato jumped in after a few bars. His voice was perfect for the song. It was like he really was Damian.

               If Yamato had seemed uncomfortable before, he had shaken it off. He sang with confidence, turning to face Suzuki and holding out his hand. A thrill went through Suzuki as he took it. Yamato even twirled him under his arm. They could have been onstage. Suzuki had no trouble imagining Yamato in the top hat and mask (seeing as he’d worn the costume before). He also had no trouble seeing why Yamato’s fans left strings of hearts in the comments on his selfie posts.

               Suzuki was starting to feel lightheaded. It might’ve been because the room was hot, or all his breath was going into the duet, but at the same time, he knew that wasn’t the real reason. Yamato drew him in a step closer. They were reaching the end of the song.

               In the musical, Selena and Damian ended their duet by putting their foreheads together, eyes closed. Then, just before the stage lights dimmed, they would kiss. It was cheated, covered by strategic hand placement, but Suzuki squealed every time. Now, as his head came to rest against Yamato’s, he had a crazy idea.

               What if Yamato kissed him?

               Suzuki’s heart started to pound. Yamato’s face was so close to his. It would take just a tiny movement for their lips to touch. Even though the actors usually closed their eyes, Yamato was looking straight at him, and Suzuki couldn’t tear his gaze away. He’d forgotten everyone in the room. They might as well have been alone.

               Then, the last note of the song faded. Yamato stepped back. Suzuki released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Yamato’s hand was still in his. Suzuki was shaking. All around them, the other third-years applauded. Someone whistled.

               Suzuki came back to himself just in time. He raised his and Yama’s hands between them and swept into a low bow. “Thank you, thank you,” he said. “We’ll be here all week.”

               “You guys were great!” Tokiya said. “It was just like seeing the actual musical. Right, Ryuu?”

               Ryuu shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’ve never watched Star Sailor live.”

               “Oh really? Then what was that about telling Kurou how much you liked the actress that played Queen Pyrite?”

               Ryuu’s mouth opened and shut indignantly. He turned away to hide the blush that had spread across his face. “Shut up, Tokiya.”

               Yamato insisted on walking Suzuki home. None of their fans appeared, so it was an uneventful journey, but Suzuki’s heart hadn’t stopped racing. Yamato was at his side, keeping pace and chatting about his plans for a new song. Suzuki only half-registered the words he was saying. The rest of his mind was occupied with the ups and downs of his voice, his smile, the way the streetlights made his hair glow.

               Suzuki remembered how Yamato had held his hand earlier and while they were shopping and wished Yamato would do it again. It had felt nice. He was tempted to bridge the distance between them, to reach out and mesh their fingers. Suzuki put his hands in his pockets instead.

               Could friends hold hands whenever? He didn’t think there was anything weird about it, but most of the people he saw holding hands were couples. He could ask Yamato, but that seemed awkward. Why was he even getting the urge to hold hands in the first place?

               “Suzuki?” Yamato had somehow ended up behind him. His brow was furrowed in concern. “Isn’t this your place?”

               Suzuki looked back. He’d kept walking past his house. “Oh,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I was distracted. Thinking about stuff.” He jogged back.

               “You’re such an airhead,” Yamato said warmly. He ground his knuckles against the sides of Suzuki’s head, not hard enough to hurt. “What would you do without me?”

               Suzuki laughed, swatting Yamato’s hands away. “Mean! That’s it, we’re rivals now.”

               Yamato smirked. “I couldn’t be your rival. I’d crush you, and I don’t have the heart to do that. It’d be like kicking a puppy.”

               “Woof!” Suzuki’s chest grew arm as Yamato burst into a fit of giggles.

               Yamato took off his cap and mussed his hair. “Go on, your mom’s probably worried you got kidnapped by a crazy fan.”

               “Text me when you get home,” Suzuki said.

               “Will do. See you at school.”

               Suzuki watched Yamato go until he vanished around a street corner.

               Yamato texted him about twenty minutes later to let him know he’d arrived home safely. Suzuki tried to do his homework, but his thoughts were a jumble. He couldn’t concentrate. After an hour of struggling, he took a bath and changed for bed. If he couldn’t do his homework, he’d go to sleep now and wake up early to finish. And yet…

               Suzuki lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. What had happened tonight was different from how things usually went between him and Yamato. He remembered the light, fluttery feeling in his chest when Yamato had held his hand, and how it had doubled when their foreheads were together. He remembered looking into Yamato’s eyes as they’d sung the Star Sailor duet at the karaoke place.

               Friends didn’t react that way. Suzuki knew that. A friend didn’t set your heart racing just by touching you. They didn’t spawn butterflies in your stomach. Suzuki was starting to tremble just thinking about it. Heat burned up his neck to his ears.

               If he was being honest with himself, he had imagined kissing Yamato before. It was impossible not to. There was a whole legion of fans who thought they should be a couple. Suzuki had never missed an opportunity to please them. He thought it was actually rather sweet. Yamato had laughed at first, but in general had approached the whole thing with good humor. With that sort of thing going on, it was hard not to imagine what it might be like if they actually were together.

               Yamato seemed like he’d be a good kisser. He’d probably kissed lots of girls. Had he ever kissed another boy before? Probably not. Suzuki touched his lips. He had faked kisses with girls for MVs, but had never done it seriously. Yamato might laugh at his inexperience.

               But he might also smile as he kissed him. He might hold Suzuki to him in a firm embrace, stroking his hair. He might also push Suzuki against a wall and kiss him fiercely, channeling the energy of his music into Suzuki until they were both breathless.

               Suzuki opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. He took a deep breath in, then let it out. His imagination usually didn’t go that far. Suzuki felt a little uncomfortable. It was probably wrong for him to think of Yamato like that, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

               He pictured being able to hold hands with Yamato all the time, not just in a crowd, kisses before class, cuddling with each other while they watched movies… His heart surged. The thought of being with Yamato as more than a friend had made him so happy he couldn’t want anything else.

               Suzuki wasn’t stupid. Maybe somewhat naive at times, but not stupid. He knew what he was experiencing. He loved Yamato. He had been loving Yamato for a long time now. Why shouldn’t he? Yamato was so artistic and brilliant and kind. It was just now occurring to him that his feelings ran over the edges of platonic affection into something else.

               At the same time, Suzuki knew he couldn’t tell him. Yamato couldn’t possibly return his feelings. Even if he did, they couldn’t date without it being plastered over every magazine cover and celebrity news website. He thought of the message boards on the anti-Suzuki site. Those people would riot if Suzuki even hinted at the idea of loving Yamato. They might even go so far as to threaten him. And, worst of all, what if they were right? What if Yamato was only his friend because he had to be?

               Suzuki didn’t want to believe it. He refused to. But the seeds of doubt had been sown. If he confessed to Yamato, and what those people online said was true, then he’d just humiliate himself. They’d never be able to hang out again. Suzuki feared that the most. He’d rather hold these feelings inside rather than run the risk of losing Yamato’s friendship.

               He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. If he stayed like this long enough, maybe he would smother himself and never have to think of it again. He lifted his head eventually. It got too uncomfortable.

               “I’ll just keep going like everything’s the same,” Suzuki said out loud. “He’ll never find out and we’ll keep being friends. I won’t have to give him up.”

               Still, the resolution filled him with pain. He would never have that relationship with Yamato. It wasn’t going to be easy. Yamato would only have to touch him to send ripples of longing through Suzuki. He would have to train himself not to react, not to reciprocate where it wasn’t wanted.

               He got up and found his MP3 player in his backpack. He put his earbuds in. Suzuki had every single album Yamato had released. He started with the first one, for nostalgia’s sake. As he listened, he imagined Yamato was singing just for him.

               Pretending everything was normal was a lot harder than Suzuki realized. Yamato was everywhere. They were in class together all day, ate together during lunch, and even hung out after school. Suzuki didn’t want to stop hanging out with him; that would just make Yamato suspicious. But it was getting more and more difficult to focus on history and science when they studied together.

               They were at Yamato’s apartment that afternoon. Yamato lived alone, which Suzuki used to think was a good thing, since there was no one to bother them if they decided to stay up all night watching anime. Now, he desperately wished there was someone to ward away his thoughts of kissing Yamato.

               Yamato ran his fingers through his hair. He looked frustrated. “I’m not getting it,” he said. “What about you?”

               Suzuki shook his head. He hadn’t even been trying. The whole study session was turning out to be counterproductive. How do people with crushes survive?

               “Do you want to take a break and play Mario Kart?”

               Suzuki shoved his notebook aside. “Absolutely.”

               Hopefully, a game would keep his mind off of contemplating the feel of Yamato’s lips against his. He settled into Yamato’s couch, controller in hand. They weren’t competitive with each other in any area except Mario Kart. Soon, he’d want to strangle Yamato instead of make-out with him.

               The plan worked, for a little while. Suzuki got swept up in the races, he and Yamato resorting to cheating by bumping into each other in real life and trying to wrestle the controllers out of each other’s hands. It was just like how things had been before. Suzuki relaxed.

               However, things took a turn when Yamato hit him with a shell, right before Suzuki was about to win Rainbow Road. Bowser dashed across the finish line while Princess Peach was still spinning out. Suzuki threw down his controller and started pummeling Yamato lightly with his fists.

               “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

               “I’m just playing the game,” Yamato laughed.

               “That was my win, you cheater!”

               “Shells are a part of the game. You hit me with a blue shell a couple tracks ago. How is this any different?” Yamato grabbed Suzuki’s wrists. “You still got second place.”

               “I should’ve been first,” Suzuki said. “I did the shortcut and everything.” He struggled against Yamato’s hold. “Let me go. I’m not done beating you up.”

               Yamato pushed him backwards, pinning him to the couch. He hovered over Suzuki. “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try. When you were hitting me, it felt like being stung by a mosquito.”

               Suzuki went red. He tried to break free, but Yamato was strong. He went redder as he became more aware of their position. What was this, a scene out of a shojo manga?

               “Okay, okay,” he said hastily. “You win. Fair and square. Can you get off me?”

               Yamato let go. He leaned back. Suzuki lay there for a second longer, trying to catch his breath. Had he actually been wanting Yamato to kiss him like that? To just lean down and…

               Suzuki shook his head. He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. He sat up. “Um, I should probably head home. I promised Mom I’d eat dinner with her tonight. She says she barely gets to see me.”

               “Oh.” Yamato sounded disappointed. “It’s still early.”

               Suzuki coughed. “Yeah. I said I’d help her cook, too.”

               “Alright. I’ll walk you.” Yamato started to get up.

               “Ah, no thanks!” Suzuki squeaked. He winced at the sound of his own voice. What was wrong with him? “I can make it on my own. I have my disguise and everything.”

               “Are you sure?”

               Suzuki nodded. He gathered his notebook and school things as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow! Good luck on the physics homework.”

               Yamato followed him to the door. “Text me when you get home?”

               “Sure!” Suzuki chirped (too brightly, he realized). Then, before he could embarrass himself any further, he rushed out the door.

               Suzuki made good on his word to help his mother make dinner. She’d been surprised to see him home so early, but glad to spend time with him as well. Suzuki’s schedule was so hectic that they rarely ate dinner together, let alone cooked together. He wasn’t as good as Souma in the kitchen, but he managed.

               A part of him wanted to tell her about Yamato. He had a good opportunity to when she asked how he was doing. In the end, he said Yamato was doing fine and left it at that. He didn’t want to bother his mom with that kind of thing. (Truth be told, he was embarrassed to mention having a crush in the first place.)

               After dinner, he holed himself up in his room. Suzuki knew it was the last thing he needed right now, but he logged back onto the anti-café. No one had banned him yet. Suzuki hadn’t commented since that first time, so they’d probably forgotten he was there.

               It was full of the usual hatred and vitriol. Suzuki picked a thread railing against his and Yamato’s relationship. He scrolled through it for a while, his heart sinking lower and lower until it reached the Earth’s core. They despised the idea of him and Yamato together, whether they were friends or dating.

               It can never happen, Suzuki thought. His fans might turn on him.

               Suzuki finally closed the thread. Then, because he had no one else to turn to, he texted Jae. Jae was currently in South Korea, visiting family and the other members of his group. Suzuki hoped he wasn’t too busy.

               Hey sunbae, Suzuki wrote, do you ever get hate comments?

               It didn’t take long for Jae to text back. oh totally. happens all the time.

               How do you deal with them?

               i try to ignore it. block out the haters

               It was good advice. A no-brainer, honestly, if only Suzuki could follow it. have you ever found a whole site that hates you? an anti café?

               man don’t tell me you have one of those. you’re a ray of sunshine! how could anyone make a whole anti-café devoted to you?

               Idk either. It’s really been getting me down. What should I do?

               Jae spent a long time typing. Suzuki watched the little ellipses dance while he waited. Eventually, Jae wrote back, you can always block the site or their comments. it’s nothing to be ashamed of. you don’t owe them anything tbh. if they’re not actually sending you constructive criticism, if all they’re doing is trying to tear you down, then kick ‘em to the curb ㅋㅋㅋ seriously tho, don’t read that stuff. it breaks my heart that anyone could be so mean to my hoobae

               T^T you’re the best jae-sunbae, Suzuki replied.

               i try 😉 is there anything else i can help with?

               Suzuki hesitated. He could trust Jae with anything. But could he trust him with this? Maybe if he was vague, Jae wouldn’t realize who Suzuki was talking about. He took a deep breath and wrote, yeah. Have you ever had a crush on someone who’s like, your friend?

               are we talking about yama?

               Suzuki nearly dropped his phone. He typed a response with trembling fingers. Haha nooooooo where did you get that idea? I’m talking hypothetically.

               sure, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Jae replied. so in this hypothetical situation, is the crusher a j-idol and the crushee a rockstar?

               (^◇^；) no…

               suzuki literally everyone on the planet thinks you guys are dating. even my mom thinks so.

               Suzuki huffed. That doesn’t make it true! he typed. Answer my question: did you ever have a crush on a friend, yes/no?

               Again, it took a while for Jae to reply. yep! didn’t work out but hey! it was someone else in the music scene. you know how it is. not that you should get discouraged! you and yamato would be super cute together.

               Suzuki blushed. He thought for a while about what he should say. He typed out, do you really think so? what if a lot of people got mad?

               you shouldn’t care about what other people think. it’s your personal life.

               What if, hypothetically, it’s just one-sided and I ruin our whole friendship?

               i doubt it would ruin your friendship, Jae wrote. i’m 99.9% sure yama likes you. have you seen how he looks in your selfies? heart eyes <3

               Suzuki’s blush deepened. No way. Jae was just trying to make him feel better. Then again, the duet in the karaoke room gave him a sliver of hope. But that was a performance. They were acting like Damian and Selena.

               What about the other 1%? Suzuki wrote.

               you doubt my judgment?? look, even if he doesn’t feel that way about you, your friendship won’t tank just because of a little crush. not if it’s real and i think it is.

               Okay. Thanks again, sunbae <3 I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.

               anytime! it’s good to be home, but i miss everyone over there TT take care of yourself!

               Suzuki locked his phone screen and lay down. Talking to Jae had helped, but he still couldn’t bring himself to confess to Yamato. He didn’t understand how Jae could be so confident when his own crush hadn’t worked out. He knew just as well as Suzuki how hard it was for idols to date normally.

               Even if Yamato liked me back, I’d get flayed alive. Probably by my manager, too. His manager still hadn’t given him the green light on the vacation. Suzuki was starting to think that was her way of saying no. It might be better if he didn’t go. Hawai’i was a romantic place, right? What if Suzuki got carried away and blurted his feelings? It would defeat the purpose of a relaxing getaway.

               I should tell Yamato I can’t come with. Suzuki would do it tomorrow, at school. He’d rip the band-aid off, so to speak, and get it over with. Hopefully Yamato wouldn’t be too disappointed.

               Suzuki didn’t get a chance to tell Yamato the next day, because Yamato was suddenly super busy. He was on the phone with someone before class started, and he spent every break scribbling in his notebook. He disappeared during lunch before Suzuki could even ask if they were going to eat together. It wasn’t that strange, really. 3-A was full of students with irregular schedules. For example, Takahiro had taken off for some part-time job earlier.

               However, Yamato wasn’t there the next day either, so Suzuki couldn’t tell him then, either. And then Suzuki had to skip a day to spend it in a recording studio. He considered texting Yamato about it, but he would rather tell him in person. It seemed a bit too important not to discuss face-to-face.

               Suzuki finally got a chance when he and Yamato both arrived late in the school day. He guessed Yamato must have been recording something as well. He was dressed down from his usual leather jacket and had left out a few piercings. He only did that when he had an early morning session.

               “Are you free to walk home today, Yama?” Suzuki asked as they jogged up the stairs to 3-A. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

               “Today’s no good.”

               “What about tomorrow morning?”

               Yamato shook his head. “Busy. Sorry.”

               Suzuki paused. “What’s going on? Are you prepping a new release?”

               Yamato didn’t answer. He just kept going. Suzuki stared at his retreating back. What was the big secret? Yamato usually shared any and all details about his projects. He’d been talking about a new song after karaoke. Were the two related, or was this another thing altogether?

               What if I made him uncomfortable? Suzuki thought, gripped by terror. Or what if Jae was trying to be helpful and told him I have a crush on him? He knew he was jumping to conclusions. Yamato was busy; that was all. Even so, he felt nervous. Why hadn’t Yamato answered him?

               Suzuki investigated Yamato’s fansites. He wasn’t making special appearances anywhere. There were no concert announcements. Not even a rumor of an album release. So what was he doing? He hadn’t walked home with Suzuki or asked him over for a while. They didn’t even have lunch together anymore.

               A sick, heavy dread settled in Suzuki’s stomach as he logged onto the anti-café. It got worse. The café was overjoyed.

               No suzuyama sightings lately! He finally dropped him!

               Heard rumors from school that they’re split up.

               Maybe S*zuki will take a hint and stop clinging to Yamato like a puppy

               It’d be like kicking a puppy. Suzuki’s mouth went dry. He tossed his phone into his backpack. Did Yamato really see him as a dog, stupidly following him everywhere? He’d played along with the joke that time, but now it stung.

               “Romantic troubles?”

               Suzuki jumped a foot. Ai was standing right behind him, his quiver slung across his back. He didn’t wait for an invitation to take the empty seat next to Suzuki. Suzuki had thought he’d been alone in this courtyard, but Ai must have had a tracking device implanted in every boy in school.

               “I’m not having romantic troubles,” Suzuki lied.

               Ai smiled skeptically. “It’s about Yamato, isn’t it?”

               Am I really that obvious? Suzuki’s shoulders sagged. “Not you, too.”

               “What, is it a secret? Even that nice girl at the café knows.”

               Suzuki put his face in his hands. If everyone knew then how could Yamato not? He’s avoiding me, since he realized I’m bad for his image.

               Ai patted his knee. “Cheer up! You could do a lot worse than Yamato.”

               “Not if he hates me!”

               “Why do you think he hates you?”

               “He’s been avoiding me,” Suzuki said. “At first, I thought he was working on something, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about it. And don’t say he’s throwing me a surprise party. My birthday isn’t coming up.”

               “Hmm, that’s tricky.” Ai rubbed his chin. “He usually shares all his projects with you, right? Maybe he’s seeing someone else?”

               Suzuki went cold. He hadn’t considered that possibility. Had Yamato started dating and not told him? No, that couldn’t be. Someone would’ve snapped a picture or started a rumor by now, and the fansites were quiet.

               “No.” He shook his head. “He would’ve told me for sure.”

               Ai shrugged. “Then he’s probably busy. You shouldn’t get too worked up, Suzuki. Guys like him sometimes have trouble communicating their feelings. He might be focusing so hard that he hasn’t had time to tell you about it. Kurou does the same thing. He gets tunnel-vision when he’s working on a play.”

               It made Suzuki feel a little better, but it didn’t inspire confidence. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Yamato was purposefully ducking him.

               “Anyway, I’m meeting Sousuke for an archery showdown,” Ai said, standing up. “He’s going to regret challenging me. Are you going to be okay?”

               Suzuki nodded. “Thanks for the advice, Ai. Good luck.”

               Ai shot him a thumbs-up before he left. Suzuki remained where he was. He didn’t know how long he sat in the courtyard, staring at the flowerbeds. His phone buzzed, snapping him out of it.

               It was Yamato. Suzuki had been expecting his manager. His heart thumped rapidly. He opened the message. Hey Suzuki, can you come to the music room?

               He was torn. Should he go? Yamato had asked him, but what if it was just to say that they shouldn’t hang out anymore. Or worse, that he didn’t return Suzuki’s feelings, which were apparently so obvious that they could be seen from space? Eventually, Suzuki gathered his courage and went to the music room.

               School had finished for the day, so the music room was deserted, except for Yamato and Suzuki. It was quiet. All the clubs were meeting on the other side of Ikemen. Yamato was leaning against the piano, fiddling something. When Suzuki got closer, he realized it was his MP3 player.

               “Hey,” Yamato said. He sounded nervous. “Sorry for ghosting you. I was working on an important project.”

               A bit of relief crept into Suzuki’s veins. “Really? Why didn’t you just say so?”

               Yamato blushed. “Well, uh, it was kind of a surprise. I didn’t know whether it would work out. I, um… here.” He held out the MP3 player. “Listen.”

               Suzuki took it. He put an earbud in. There was only one track on the device, untitled. He hit play. A second later, the sound of Yamato’s voice filled his ears. Yamato’s singing voice was wonderful and familiar, but the backing track didn’t sound like his style at all. It sounded more like Suzuki’s music than his, though there was a hint of Yamato there, too. The more Suzuki listened, the more it grew on him. The lyrics were about stars burning bright for centuries, their light stretching across galaxies long after their death, and gazing at the same sky as someone you loved. A lump formed in his throat.

               “What do you think?” Yamato asked when Suzuki finished.

               “Amazing, like always,” Suzuki said. “Is this going to be on your next album?”

               “Actually…” Yamato scuffed the floor. “I was thinking it could be on yours. I wrote it for you to sing, if you want it. I figured it was the least I could do, after you made me that mixtape for my birthday.”

               Suzuki couldn’t believe it. Yamato had written him a song. Not just one to listen to, but one to sing. The lump in his throat got bigger. “W-what’s the occasion?” he asked, his voice trembling.

               “No reason. I just wanted to do something special, I guess. Do you like it?”

               Suzuki nodded vigorously. He couldn’t speak. Before he could stop himself, tears began to flow down his cheeks. I’m so dumb. I thought he was ditching me this whole time, and he was working on a song. For me. He covered his face, but it didn’t stop the noise from escaping. It was like a dam had burst; all of Suzuki’s feelings rushed out in one go.

               “What are you crying for?” Yamato asked, gently removing Suzuki’s hands from his face.

               Suzuki hiccupped. He was so embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to cry. “I…” he tried to say. “I was afraid you were tired of me.”

               Yamato sighed. “I’m not tired of you, Suzu. Have you been paying attention to what those losers online are saying? I told you they’re full of it. Come here.”

               He folded Suzuki into his arms. Suzuki let out another involuntary sob. He buried his face in Yamato’s shoulder. It was sturdy and strong. His t-shirt was soft. Yamato alternated between patting his back and rubbing circles.

               Eventually, Suzuki cried himself out. He stepped back. Yamato let him go, but he kept his hands on Suzuki’s arms. He was looking at him with concern.

               “Are you okay?”

               Suzuki nodded and sniffed. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t want it to get to me, but I guess…”

               “They’re just bitter and pathetic people who have nothing better to do with their time.” Yamato gathered Suzuki’s hands and held them against his chest. “They’re not real. This is. And any fan of mine who talks that way about you isn’t a real fan. If they can’t love you as much as I do, then that’s their problem.”

               Suzuki blinked. He wanted to wipe away a few stray tears, but he didn’t want Yamato to let go of him. “You love me?” he asked, half-stunned.

               The realization seemed to come over Yamato at the exact same moment. A blush covered his cheeks. “Did I say that?”

               “You did.”

               “Well… I mean, of course I do. You’re my best friend.” To Suzuki’s dismay, Yamato dropped his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, disturbing the spikes. “I thought you already knew that.”

               “I do now.” Suzuki smiled, trying to mask his disappointment. I shouldn’t be disappointed at all. Yamato’s friendship is super important to me, too. “I love you, too.”

               Yamato blushed deeper. “Alright, alright. Let’s not get carried away.”

               Suzuki laughed. This was good. He knew now that Yamato wasn’t going to abandon him. They were still friends. They could continue performing together at school. It would be fun. At least I had a chance to say it to him out loud, even if he doesn’t know how much I really mean it.

               Suzuki blocked the anti-café. He had to stop using it to punish himself. Besides, he couldn’t forgive them for leading him to believe Yamato didn’t care about him. He made sure to delete his account too, just in case the urge overpowered him, and he lifted the block.

               It’s been fun, he thought. He instantly felt better. Things returned to normal. Suzuki approached his manager with Yamato’s song. He leaned heavily on the idea of marketing it as a collaboration and watched as the yen signs appeared in her eyes. After that, she shocked him by giving him permission to go to Hawai’i.

               “If the song does well, we’ll find time for a vacation,” she promised. “I couldn’t answer you before, since there was a lot up in the air, but you deserve some time off.”

               “And I can go with Yamato?”

               “If your schedules line up, I don’t see why not.”

               The next morning, he told Yamato by throwing himself into his arms and shouting, “We’re going to Hawai’i!”

               “Your manager said yes?” Yamato said, brightening.

               Suzuki nodded. “She said that if the collab works out, then I can go with you. As long as we’re free at the same time. Hawai’i, Yama! Hawai’i!”

               Yamato actually swung him around the classroom but stopped short when their homeroom teacher gave them a death-glare. Suzuki let go and jumped back.

               “Oops. Sorry, sensei.”

               “You’d better concentrate on passing your exams before talking about Hawai’i,” the teacher warned. “And don’t do that again. You could’ve knocked over the desks.”

               It didn’t bring Suzuki’s mood down at all. He was walking on air. Later, when his and Yama’s managers called about some kind of music industry party, he agreed to go without hesitation. Yamato was a little more reluctant, but he caved when Suzuki said they could go together.

               All in all, life was good. Suzuki still wanted to kiss Yamato. He still wanted to hug him as tightly as possible and tell him how he felt, but he couldn’t bear to mess everything up. Why sabotage a good thing? Yamato clearly only thought of him as a friend.

               And that was fine. Everything was fine.

               Suzuki enjoyed getting dressed up for public appearances. Yamato didn’t. He always looked uncomfortable in suits. Uncomfortable, yet handsome. Suzuki’s heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest.

               “I hate ties,” Yamato muttered, playing with the end of his.

               “Then don’t wear one,” Suzuki said. He stepped forward and undid the knot. “It’s a formal party, but no one will care. See, I think you look just fine without it. Undo a couple buttons, and voila! Rock superstar Yamato is red carpet ready!”

               Suzuki might have been mistaken, but Yamato appeared flustered. He turned towards the limousine their managers had arranged to drive them to the event and held open the door for Suzuki.

               “After you,” he said.

               It was after sunset and traffic was bad. Suzuki checked the time. Unless they learned how to teleport, they were going to be late. Oh well, in that case they’d make an even more striking entrance. Suzuki stretched out, putting his feet up on the seat. They were barely moving.

               Yamato, meanwhile, was reading something on his phone. Suzuki didn’t know what it was, but it appeared to be irritating him. He kept frowning. Finally,          Yamato tossed the phone into the corner and folded his arms. He huffed, a deep furrow forming between his eyebrows. Suzuki was torn between laughing at his grumpiness and wanting to comfort him.

               “What’s up, Yama-kun?” Suzuki asked.

               “Oh, it’s…” He stopped, turning pink. “It’s stupid.”

               “You did something stupid?” Suzuki knew he sounded a bit too eager, but he couldn’t help it. He was dying to know.

               Yamato rolled his eyes. “Yes, actually.”

               “Are you going to tell me about it or am I going to have to tickle you for information?” Suzuki wiggled his fingers to demonstrate.

               “Don’t!” Yamato pulled his legs up onto the seat, as if to shield himself from Suzuki’s attack. “Jesus, Suzuki we’re in public.”

               “No, we’re not. The windows are tinted and the partition’s up. Now tell me what made you so mad.”

               Yamato relaxed. He retrieved his phone—which was undamaged—and passed it to Suzuki. Suzuki’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing: an anti-Yamato fansite. For a few seconds, he just stared at it. Then he began to actually process the words he was looking at.

               Yamato’s style totally clashes with Suzuki’s. Don’t know why they’re friends.

               Do u remember when he was talking about how “””fake””” Zuzu is? He said in a press conference that ur not a real artist if u don’t write and produce ur own songs. What a snob. Did he ever apologize for that?

               Suzuki laughed out loud. He glanced at Yamato. “They have a point. Did you ever apologize to me?”

               “It’s not funny.”

               “It is!” Suzuki kept scrolling. “This whole time you were telling me not to pay attention to the haters and you didn’t even follow your own advice. Aww, Yama, don’t feel bad. Wait a minute.”

               There was a new reply to one of the comments by a user named, “st4rpower826.”

               Do you guys ever get tired of talking trash behind the safety of your computer screens? Why don’t you say this stuff to Suzuki’s face and see how he takes it. Last I heard, he and Yamato were still really close. He doesn’t get mad until you insult his friends. If you actually cared about him, you wouldn’t do this.

               It had a bunch of negative replies. Suzuki looked at Yamato again. Yamato was chewing on his lip.

               “Is this you?” Suzuki asked, pointing at the screen.

               “That could be anyone.”

               “It’s you! You made an account!” Suzuki grabbed Yamato’s shoulder and shook it. He was laughing uncontrollably now. “You made an account so you could fight with them! Oh my God. That’s my birthday in your username!”

               Yamato’s ears were growing steadily redder. “You have to make an account to read the message boards,” he muttered. “You know that. Someone was going to come along and tell them off eventually. Might as well be me.”

               “How did you get that username? That’s, like, a prime fandom username. When I went on the anti-Suzuki boards, YamaFan#1 was taken.”

               “No one else spelled with a four for the A.”

               Suzuki was still giggling. He continued scrolling. “How long did you have this?”

               “I went searching for one about me the same night you went on yours. I was curious.” Yamato smiled sheepishly. “I could take all the garbage they spewed about me but when they started throwing you into the mix, I got really upset. So I fought back. Didn’t do much good though.”

               “These people say we’re so different, but we actually have lots in common, huh?”

               “Yeah…”

               “Oh, here’s a familiar one: ‘Suzuki is friends with Yamato for fanservice. Yamato wouldn’t be as popular if people didn’t think he was gay for Suzuki.’ People were saying the same stuff on my anti-site.”

               Yamato’s blush had spread down his neck. “They’re crazy.”

               “I know.” Suzuki turned the screen off. “You shouldn’t get into fights with people online, even if they are being jerks. We know the truth.”

               Yamato nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, it was really stupid, but I started to get scared that they might be right. Just for a second. Seeing all that old stuff I said made me wonder if you were still angry with me, and you were pretending not to hate me for the sake of getting along.”

               “I don’t hate you, Yama.” Suzuki kneaded Yamato’s shoulder. “I’ve always thought you were cool, even when you were criticizing me. I could never hate you. Do you wanna know why?”

               “Sure,” Yamato said, his lips quirking into a smile.

               Suzuki kissed him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, but he had never felt more sure of anything in his life before. The hand on Yamato’s shoulder was steady. When he pulled away, Yamato was staring at him, his eyes huge.

               “It’s because I love you,” Suzuki said. And because he couldn’t help it, he winked.

               The words were barely out of his mouth before Yamato returned the kiss. It took Suzuki by surprise, almost knocking him backward. He managed to hold himself up by catching hold of Yamato’s other shoulder. The realization that Yamato was kissing him sank in about two seconds later. Suzuki’s imagination had been lacking. Actually kissing Yamato was better than anything he could’ve dreamed up.

               Yamato was holding him, one hand braced against the small of Suzuki’s back, the other cupping his chin. His mouth was soft and smooth and warm. Suzuki tasted a hint of lip balm. He leaned into the kiss, following Yamato’s movements. Then, Yamato pulled Suzuki onto his lap. Both hands slid to Suzuki’s hips.

               “Suzuki,” Yamato breathed.

               “What?”

               “I don’t want to go to this party. Do you?”

               Suzuki didn’t have to think about it. “No.”

               He gave Yamato another lingering kiss as he got off his lap, then went to knock on the partition. It rolled down about halfway. Suzuki held up a hand in apology.

               “Sorry,” he said, “but could you take us back to Yamato’s place?”

               The next morning was strange. After they’d been dropped off at Yamato’s house, he and Suzuki had spent the rest of the night watching movies and making out. When they were too tired to keep their eyes open a second longer, Yamato let Suzuki borrow a t-shirt and pair of pajama pants, and they had fallen asleep in his room.

               Suzuki woke up thinking last night had been a dream. He wasn’t surprised by coming to in Yamato’s room. (They had sleepovers all the time.) What reminded him that it was real was feeling the weight of Yamato’s arm around him. Suzuki bit back a fresh fit of giggles. He couldn’t believe it. He had kissed Yamato last night. Yamato had kissed him back.

               Yamato stirred and lifted his head. It seemed to take him a minute as well. Then he smiled. He kissed Suzuki’s cheek. “Good morning,” he said softly.

               “Good morning,” Suzuki repeated. He wondered if they could get away with staying in bed all day. Their phones had been blowing up all night, to the point where they’d set them to silent and left them in the living room.

               Yamato groped for his alarm clock. “It’s almost noon.”

               “My manager is probably going crazy right now because I didn’t show up.” He laughed at that. She was going to kill him later, but there were other things on his mind right now. “Is there anything important going on today?”

               “No. There’s just you.” Yamato nestled himself against Suzuki again.

               “We can stay in today,” Suzuki suggested. “We’ll play video games and make pancakes.”

               “And make out,” Yamato added. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it around.

               Suzuki slapped his hand over Yamato’s mouth, laughing helplessly. “Gross! Don’t do that. You’re not a member of KISS.”

               Yamato laughed as well. He let go of Suzuki and rolled out of bed. “Come on. I’ll make you pancakes. I bought blueberries.”

The apartment complex was quiet. Everyone was either sleeping in or out. Suzuki helped Yamato get out the mixing bowl and the skillet. There were, in fact, blueberries in the fridge. (Suzuki may have helped himself to a few before putting some in the batter.) Yamato started a pot of coffee, promising Suzuki that he still had the French vanilla creamer he liked.

               While they were waiting to flip the first pancake, Suzuki decided to bring up the question that had been on his mind since he’d gotten out of bed. “So… are we boyfriends now?”

               To his credit, Yamato wasn’t caught off-guard, though he did hesitate. “I don’t know. I want to be,” he said. “Things are different for us.”

               “I’d be fine dating you in secret. Plenty of celebrities do it.”

               “Me too, but I don’t know how long we could keep it up. There’s a lot of stress involved.” Yamato did the flip. It was clean. He passed the spatula to Suzuki. “It would definitely make some of our fans happy.”

               Suzuki grinned. “Maybe that’s how we should justify it to our managers.”

               “Yikes,” Yamato said. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about it right now. I just want to eat and destroy you at Mario Kart again. We can talk about the serious stuff later.”

               “Can’t you go easy on me?” Suzuki whined. “I’m your boyfriend.”

               “What makes you think I’d go easy on you just because we’re dating now? I never let you win when we were friends and that’s not going to change now.”

               “You’re so mean.” Suzuki pulled his eyelid and stuck out his tongue. “Yama-kun’s a bad boyfriend. I’m gonna tell the whole world, so no one will steal you from me.”

               Yamato laughed. He put an arm around Suzuki’s waist and brought him in for a kiss. “No one could steal me from you,” he said when they separated. “I love you.”

               Suzuki put his head on Yamato’s shoulder. Life was good. The world might as well be limited to this small kitchen. To him and Yamato, and no one else. “Love you, too.”

[erincrnk-ad300w]

project 2 - research

Option 1: per my last email 1 - Corporations Devouring The Art by unknown (Link) Okay, this one is definitely more a meme than an actual piece of high art, but I think it’s both funny and relevant to the topic at hand. This meme is a parody of Fransisco Goya’s painting Saturn Devouring His Son, redone in the stereotypical “corporate art style” that’s become popular in recent years. Many, myself included, have criticized and made fun of this art style for coming to symbolize lazy, soulless design that feels like a shell of something that is trying to convince the viewer it has humanity and purpose, much like corporate America itself. This idea of “corporate art” and how ugly it is is very similar to the buzzword-filled business jargon nonsense my artwork idea is making fun of.

2 - A Load of Jargon by Isabel+Helen (Link) These five installations came from a series that premiered during the 2016 London Design Festival. The installations feature a series of visual puns making fun of some of the most common business buzzwords-- “thinking cap” baseball hats, a massive spherical sculpture labelled the “big idea”, and more. The visual puns invite viewers to consider just how ridiculous some of these phrases are. The entire installation is simple yet effective, and it uses humor in a very similar way to what I’m envisioning for my own project.

3 - McJesus by Jani Leinonen (Link) This sculpture shows Ronald McDonald crucified on the cross like Jesus Christ. Unsurprisingly, it was quite controversial when it first premiered and was actually pulled from the Haifa Museum of Art where it first premiered. This piece is more of a general critique of capitalism and consumerist culture than the specific aspect of “corporate speak” I’m going to be focusing on, but it still shares the theme of making fun of corporate America. Granted, a lot of this piece’s impact comes from the shock value of juxtaposing a religious symbol with the clown mascot of a fast food restaurant, but there’s no denying it makes its point known.

option 2: THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF HONOR 1 - The Golden Record (Link) One of NASA’s most famous and fondly remembered projects to date, two copies of The Golden Disc were launched aboard Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 in 1977. The Golden Disc is a copper-plated record inscribed with instructions on how to play it using the Voyager’s built-in record player. Contained on the record are the sounds of Earth-- people saying hello in various languages, music from dozens of cultures and time periods, even natural sounds like animals and falling rain. The hope was that some intelligent life out in the universe would come across one of the discs and be able to learn about our planet. I’ve always loved the Golden Record, it really speaks to humanity’s neverending curiosity and hope for connection-- I really do think that people are inherently good-natured and curious and want to learn more by connecting with others.

2 - Longplayer by Jem Finer (Link) Longplayer is an installation of Tibetan singing bowls located in London that is designed to be an entirely self-playing, self-maintaining instrument playing a composition that is one thousand years long. It began playing at midnight on December 31, 1999, and will conclude at 11:59pm on December 31, 2999. Using a mathematical algorithm to compose new movements of the piece as it plays, no sequence will repeat for the thousand-year duration until the song begins again. Longplayer is a testament to humanity’s desire to be remembered and communicate with people beyond the current scope of our perception.

3 - Dropping A Han Dynasty Urn by Ai Weiwei (Link) This one is a bit of a juxtaposition against the other two artworks I’ve taken inspiration from, and really kind of the opposite of what I plan for this piece to be about. But I think it’s sometimes important to take inspiration from what your art won’t or isn’t. As the name suggests, this is a series of three photographs of artist Ai Weiwei dropping and breaking a priceless historical relic. It has a sense of finality to it, of erasing the relics of the past and cutting off that communication across time. It also notably has no language or words attached to it aside from the title, but as they say, a picture says a thousand words.

option 3: google story 1 - What Football Will Look Like In The Future (17776) by Jon Bois (Link) This whole thing is so wonderfully weird and surreal, but I absolutely adore it. What starts off as a normal article from a normal sports news website quickly unravels into a wonderfully strange, ARG-esque story about space satellites in the distant future watching space football. Yes, really. It’s fantastic. I’m most inspired by this project’s unique medium of storytelling and the way it makes the most of its digital format to effectively tell a story. This is obviously much more ambitious than what I would be doing, but it’s a great inspiration for anyone telling a story in a unique digital format that goes beyond standard prose.

2 - “Parisian Love” commercial by Google (Link) I suppose it’s no surprise that Google would use this exact idea for their own marketing, but is pretty much what I’m going for. It’s a very simple story of an American exchange student who falls for a local and searches for everything from how to impress her to where to go on a first date. I like the idea, but this also showed me that having all Google searches probably wouldn’t hold up for a video much longer than a minute-- I think for my own project, I’d like to also include screenshots from other social media, maybe even DMs between characters, to add more dimension to the story and create a more immersive narrative.

3 - Black Mirror: Bandersnatch directed by David Slade (Link) Unfortunately, this is only available on Netflix, so the link only leads to the trailer. This is a little more interactive than I’m planning for my project to be, but I like it because it’s another example of taking full advantage of a non-conventional digital platform to tell a story that wouldn’t work in another medium. Bandersnatch is a choose your own adventure movie-- just like the classic books, at certain points while watching the movie will pause and prompt you to choose what the protagonist does next. The movie is set in the late 80s/early 90s, so technology and things like social media aren’t as prevalent as they are today, but it still incorporates some very interesting and relevant commentary on language, how we communicate, and interconnectedness.

[gutterballgt]

12 for the chaleigh ask meme if you're still taking these/if inspiration strikes from this prompt? :DD

From the ask meme: writer and editor AU. I LIKE IT. This one was so fun to write!

Chuck stared at the screen with its multitude of commentindicators and tracked changes and let his irritation grow. Next page, morechanges. Next page, more changes.

Who the fuck did this wanker think he fucking was?

A published author several times over, Chuck Hansen wasfairly confident about his writing skills. Every writer had their doubts, ofcourse, and their periods of “why do I even fucking bother because I CAN’TWORD DAMMIT??”, but overall, his stories about mecha pilots and Lovecraftianleviathans from alternate dimensions sold well enough and got rave enoughreviews that he could usually mute that annoying, nay-saying voice and carry onwriting.

But this fucking guy.

His new editor was a wanker. No other word for it. Tendo hadnever nitpicked every single word choice. Tendo had never suggested he questionhis characters’ motivations and try to find something deeper. And Tendo hadnever, ever accused him of misusing verb tense.

Apparently, “R. Becket” had never read a goddamnbook in his entire life besides Simon & Schuster. Why, oh why did Tendohave to move up to senior editor and leave his entire roster to some fuckingnoob?

Fuck this guy. Fuck this whole situation.

Standing away from his desk, he snatched up his keys,growled at his old man’s questioning grunt, and strode out of the house on agoddamn mission. He was done trying to communicate via email with the uselessfuck. This shit needed handling in person.

Thus, a ten minute cab ride later, he found himself on the lifton the way up to the Shatterdome Publishing offices, wondering whether or notpunching an editor would get him blacklisted from the publishing world. Mightbe worth it. He could self-publish. He was pretty damn prolific.

He exited the lift like a summer thunderstorm looking for aplace to loose his bag of winds and fistfuls of lightnings. The receptionisttook one look at him and picked up the phone, talking nervously and earnestlyinto it, then hanging up just as Chuck reached her desk.

“Mr. Becket will be happy to see you in his office, Mr.Hansen. Just down that hallway, second office on the right.”

Without slowing down, he marched in the indicated direction,gearing up for what his old man would likely call a tantrum but Chuck knew wasa much-needed lecture on exactly what an editor’s place was in thewriter/editor relationship. It was notrewriting an entire goddamn story from scratch and calling it“revision”.

He started talking even before he got to the doorway.“Oi, listen up, fuckface. You got a lot of–”

He came to an abrupt halt just inside the door, eyes wideand rant dissipating like a fart in the wind. He didn’t know what he’d expectedto see, but it definitely wasn’t this.

R. Becket, wanker extraordinaire, was fucking hot.

Like… stupidhot.

And smiling faintly while his pretty blue eyes snapped withannoyance and at least as much piss and vinegar as Chuck had entered the roomwith.

“Mr. Hansen, I presume.”

Oh, fuck, he even soundedhot. This was not at all what he’d wanted. Speechless, he could only nod likean idiot.

“Please. Have a seat. I think we ought to get betteracquainted.”

Struck stupid, he meekly did as suggested, eyes wide andbrain sending out distress signals he was too gobsmacked to attend to.

“I imagine it was something of a shock to get yourmanuscript back with so many edits.”

Right. Edits. The word rang a dim bell somewhere far away. Thewanker had a tiny, faint mole just at the crease where cheek met mouth. It wasfascinating.

“When Mr. Choi was reassigning his authors, I requestedyou specifically. You’re an amazing author, Mr. Hansen.”

He blinked. It appeared the wanker’s mouth was good for morethan staring at and wishing for.

“But you’re undisciplined. It’s in a way that readswell, thankfully, but I think you could be better. With a little focus, I thinkyou can be one of the best authors currently writing.”

The irritation slowly trickled back, and he remembered hewas here for a reason. And not just to stare at the pretty bloke in hisexpensive, sharp suit who unfortunately had veto power over whether or notChuck ever got published at this house again.

Because couched in the compliments was an implicit insult:Chuck wasn’t good enough.

The trickle became a rush, and he was angry all over again.“Oi, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Instead of answering, the irritatingly beautiful blokereached down, opened one of his desk drawers, and pulled out an old paperbacknovel. Still smiling faintly – but with less of that snapping hostility that,okay, had maybe been earned by Chuck’s unfortunate entrance – he dropped thenovel and scooted it across the desk to Chuck’s side.

The Fall, byRaleigh Becket. The cover was a swirling maelstrom of eye-gouging color leadingdown to the dimension into which the main character fell, screaming andhelpless.

Gaping, Chuck looked up from the book, stared at the R.Becket that had shat all over his masterpiece, and let the pieces connect. “R”for Raleigh. This wanker with the over-eager red pen was the best goddamnscience fiction author he’d ever read.

But five years ago, Raleigh Becket – who had faithfullypublished every year of his brief but glorious four year career – suddenlydropped out of sight. No more books. No more press tours. No more signings.

Half his fans assumed he was dead.

Chuck was one of them.

And yet, here he was. In a swank suit and understated tie ina sober but inviting office in Chuck’s publishing house.

“If you’re wondering, a traumatic brain injury fiveyears ago impaired my ability to write. Car wreck. Bad one.” The prettybloke wasn’t smiling now. “But I still wanted to be in the publishingindustry, so Mr. Pentecost gave me a trial with editing.” The broadshoulders shrugged. “Tendo said I had a natural talent at it, and I’vebeen an editor here ever since.”

Well. That fucking sucked.

Clearing his throat and hoping he could maybe clear the airbetween them, because he very much wanted to hear more about what had happenedto his favorite author who had been such an inspiration for his own writing,Chuck shifted in his seat. He needed to backtrack his terrible firstimpression, and fast.

“Uh.”

Well. That was a promising start.

“Can I get your autograph?”

Jesus. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Luckily, the bloke just chuckled and leaned back in hisexpensive office chair. “If you still want it, you can have it. But fromthe look on your face before you got an eyeful, you might not.”

Blushing miserably, he squirmed again and tried to think ofsome way to salvage the situation. Unfortunately, eating crow was not hisspecialty.

“Right. About that.”

Another chuckle, and the urge to deck the wanker came back,if only for a moment.

“Look, mate, you gotta know that seeing all thosechanges was….” Overwhelming? Upsetting? Frustrating? Daunting? “Abit much, yeah?”

Surprisingly, the bloke just nodded. “I understand. Ifelt the same way when my first manuscript came back from Stacker with all thered ink he could find.”

It earned a wry grin that Chuck couldn’t help. While he wasstill raw about the nasty shock of all those edits, he was grateful his editorwasn’t the holy terror known as Stacker Pentecost, who had started this companyback when Herc was still writing and had made celebrities and politicians alikecry with brutal, non-negotiable edits to their vanity pieces.

“But I promise you, Mr. Hansen, if you look at them oneat a time, they aren’t so overwhelming. And while you can veto any change youwant to, I want you to keep an open mind. I really think that if you tighten upyour narrative and really focus on what your pilot wants, you’ll make her amuch stronger character in a clearer story.”

Slowly, grudgingly, he nodded. Raleigh Becket had writtensuch brutally tight stories that universities almost immediately added them to theircurriculum for study. His style was likened to the brevity and clarity ofspeech of Hemingway with the imagery and thematic style of Poe or Lovecraft.There was a sparse poetry in his tales of aliens and drones and the resilienceof the human spirit that readers and scholars alike latched onto and couldn’tget enough of.

If the bloke felt Chuck could come anywhere near thatnarrative brilliance, he’d be a fool to ignore his guidance.

So: “Yeah, alright.” He nodded again with lessreluctance. “I… uh… sorry. About the attitude.”

The pretty sod grinned. “Don’t worry. I waswarned.”

“Oi!”

Waving the protest – more embarrassed than offended –away, Mr. Becket stood from behind his desk and buttoned his suit jacket.Jesus, but the bloke was pretty. Filled out the suit like a hand in a glove.Broad shoulders, narrow waist, handsome face, low and pleasant voice. Perfect,really.

“If you want, we can meet up after you’ve given the editsa look and talk them over. Maybe… dinner?”

He’d started to stand up, as well, but paused because… wasthat…?

Sure enough, the pretty sod smirked. “Do you likeItalian? I can get us a table at Galliano’s.” The smirk sobered. “Butfeel free to say no. I really want to keep you as a client, and I don’t wantanything to distract from that.”

Narrowly avoiding the urge to gape, he snortedincredulously. “Are you taking the piss? Fancy dinner with my favoriteauthor who turned out to be gorgeous as fuck?”

Oh, shit, now the wanker grinned sunnily, and it was just asattractive as the smirk from before. “Your favorite author?”

Blushing again, he grunted and kicked at the plush carpet.“Shut up. It’s a yes, yeah?”

“Good.” Reaching across the desk, his gorgeouseditor offered a hand to shake. “Galliano’s at seven, then. We’ll eatbefore we talk about edits.”

In a weirdly delighted fog, he shook hands, nodded, and leftthe office with the stupidest grin on his face. The ride down on the lift feltlike descending on a cloud, and he exited the huge multi-office building intothe near-noon sunshine feeling like he’d just stepped out of a dream.

His new editor was tough but fair. His new editor believedin him and wanted to help him be a better writer.

And his new editor was fucking hot as hell and had asked himto dinner.

Life… was a fucking dream.

Eschewing a taxi when he felt too goddamn great to sitpassively while the world passed him by, Chuck Hansen walked home toward thedreaded edits with a huge, ridiculous smile. He couldn’t wait to get started.

THE END

[artificialqueens]

tinder's a shit show (trixya) (1/?) - ornacia

(A/N: hey all. this little thing is the product of exam stress, boredom, and my inevitable relapse into full-on rpdr fanfiction addiction. i’ve never written anything for this fandom before so apologies if it’s not the best. i might continue it if the response is good but if not, it was a lot of fun either way!)

“Galentines Day,” Trixie repeated incredulously. She’d been sitting in the library for almost three hours and had relocated six times either out of boredom or because someone nearby was giving her evil-eyes for taking up desk-space she didn’t actually need. As of now she’d found herself a table at the back of the cafe with a patchy signal and a couple of suspicious looking stains on the seat.

“Yeah, it’s from that one episode of Parks and Recreation.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow, taking a long sip of strawberry milkshake.

“Remember? It’s the one where –”

“I remember,” she said, pushing her drink aside and adjusting the screen of her laptop in the hopes of seeing her friend a little better. “Are you gonna make me a mosaic out of crushed up bottles of my favourite diet soda?”

“No.”

“Am I getting a personalised 5,000 word essay on why I’m the most awesome friend you’ve ever had? A needlepoint cushion with my face on it?”

Kim fixed her with a look, and after a beat of silence Trixie gave in and pushed her milkshake to the side of the screen. “Okay, okay. What are we doing?”

“Having a sleepover. You, me, Naomi, and Max. They’re staying the night and we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You and ordering a take-out.”

Trixie raised a brow. “Eating your feelings isn’t supposed to be a group activity.”

“But it can be,” Kim argued. “So are you in? You know, you kind of have to say ‘yes’ unless you want to lock yourself in your room all night while we throw the Galentine’s day party without you.”

“Will there be wine?”

Kim smiled triumphantly at the camera, holding up one finger and clumsily shuffling upwards and backwards out of her seat. She disappeared for all of thirty seconds before reappearing in the frame with several bottles clutched against her chest, none of which looked particularly stable. “Lots,” she confirmed, lifting her arms a little so as to give a better view.

“You got me,” Trixie said, shaking her head and grinning at her roommate. “Now go put those back before you cause an accident.”

—

She was two glasses deep into the bottle of Grenache Rosé when someone said the word ‘Tinder’. Her ass was numb from having been forcefully relocated to the arm of the couch by unanimous vote and her attention was only half on the T.V, the other half being reserved for the last few slices of pepperoni pizza.

“Yeah,” Naomi said, legs splayed out across the other girls’ laps and a wine glass dangling between her fingers. “I know someone who met their boyfriend on Tinder. Like, an actual boyfriend – not some guy who takes you to the cinema one time and tries to bundle you into the backseat of his jeep. ”

Max, ever the sensible one, considered this information with a small frown creasing her brow. “Really? Isn’t that a little… you know, dangerous?”

“Not if you meet them somewhere public,” Trixie pointed out sliding down from her perch and onto the floor that she could crawl towards the pizza boxes and re-load her plate.

“Second wind already?”

“Fuck you,” she said, jabbing a mozzarella stick in the offender’s direction and licking the salt from her fingertips. “It’s been at least twenty minutes.”

“Sure,” Kim snorted. “Seriously though, what’s the guy like?”

“Not that weird. She could do better, but like if she’s happy I’m not going to say anything.”

“Does he have Instagram?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Everyone has Instagram,” Trixie said. “It’s like Facebook. If you don’t have Instagram you’re probably not a real person.”

“Unless you’re forty years old, in which case you’ve probably got better things to do.”

“Yeah, right. Like bake a tuna casserole for the neighbours and spam inspirational minion memes on your fourteen-year-old daughter’s Facebook page.”

“Don’t come for my mother, Miss Mattel. You don’t know her like that.”

Trixie laughed and threw a ball of kitchen towel at the other girl’s face before scooting backwards to sit on the floor between the other girls legs. Max, to her credit, caught the hint immediately and picked a couple of blonde curls to start playing with.

“Why don’t you get it, Trixie?”

“Get what?” She half-turned her head to look up at Kim and Naomi on the sofa behind her.

“Tinder,” Naomi said, holding up her hands in mock-surrender in response to the flash of indignation that flashed across the blonde’s face. “Woah, hey, that wasn’t supposed to be shady. I just thought maybe you could do with getting some.”

“You are always complaining about how long it’s been since you got laid.” Kim chimed in.

As true as that was, her complaining was more for show than anything else. Trixie hadn’t ever been much of a dater, and the one time she’d been fingered at a house party in the eleventh grade was hardly memorable.

“You just said Tinder was full of creeps.”

“No,” Naomi said slowly. “Max said Tinder was full of creeps. Come on, it’ll be fun. We can toot or boot your potential hook-ups. It’s not like you’re actually gonna meet any of them in person.”

“Ooh,” Kim clapped her hands together lightly. “Sounds interesting.”

Trixie grimaced, shaking her head and pushing her phone protectively beneath her knees. “No, no way,” she said. “What if I run into someone from college or a neighbour or something?”

“Your neighbour is rather attractive,” Max mused, looking a little taken aback when three curious sets of eyes swivelled her way. “What? I’m allowed to find someone visually appealing. I don’t mean anything inappropriate by it.”

“Calm down, Maria,” Trixie snorted. “Nobody thinks you’re that kind of girl.”

“Nobody thinks you’re that kind of girl either.”

“So why am I being made to download it? Why not Max?”

“Because Max would never actually do it, and you’ve had way more to drink.”

Trixie made an affronted noise, placing her hand on her chest and and opening her mouth in a caricature of shock. For all her theatrics, she knew they weren’t wrong. All it took was ten more minutes of relentless pestering before she threw her hands in the air and gave into the pressure. It wasn’t as though she’d ever use it or talk to any of her potential matches. Besides that, a little ego boost never hurt anybody.

“Use that picture,” Naomi said, reaching forward to tap a perfectly manicured nail against the screen. “You’re giving beach-babe Barbie realness.”

“That’s so not a thing,” Trixie said, smacking her hand away. “And I can’t put that up, I’m in a Bikini!”

“What’s your point?”

She rolled her eyes, looking over her profile one last time before hitting ‘done’. It wasn’t as though she was trying to impress anybody. If a scantily clad photo with a margarita in her hand was what it took to keep her friends entertained then what was the harm?

“Set your preferences to ‘both’.”

“What? Why?” Trixie frowned.

“Because I want to see if the girls on Tinder are as weird as the guys,” Kim shrugged.

Apparently the answer was yes. There were a few cute guys here and there and a couple of girls that Trixie couldn’t help but linger on before passing, but the majority of people were pretty unsettling. There was a guy named Daryl with one too many innuendos in his bio and a selection of identical photos all taken from the exact same angle on his laptop. Then there was Jesus, Jesus in a nappy, and Jesus who’d dragged a random baby goat into his profile picture for the sake of looking ‘sensitive’.

“This guy just made a power-point on the pros and cons of swiping right,” she said, raising her eyebrows and turning the phone screen so everyone could see it better.

“Next.”

“I like her makeup,” Kim said, leaning in closer to examine the next potential match. “And her shoes are cute too.”

“Toot.”

They carried on like that well into the evening. When eventually it did get old, they resorted to watching an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras before calling it a night.

It wasn’t until the other girls had gone to bed and Trixie found herself sitting up alone on twitter that she opened it up again out of curiosity. The first profile didn’t disappoint. In fact, she found herself squinting to try and figure out exactly what it was she was looking at.

The girl in the photo was blonde and rail-thin with hollow cheeks that struck an odd contrast against the brightness of her eyes. There was a spot of red lipstick in her teeth and a slightly flushed and breathless look about her and, strangest of all, she was wearing a dress printed with screen-caps of Amanda Bynes in ‘What a Girl Wants’.

“What the…” she shifted her gaze to the bio section and snorted with laughter.

‘I’m the closeted High School make-out session that’s still got you sweating when grandma comes to visit, Katya.’

Curiosity piqued, Trixie flicked her way through the remaining photos. There was one of her hanging upside down from a goal-post with her underwear on full display and another of her photobombing a cute, ginger girl’s mirror selfie. She was grinning like an idiot in both of them and against all odds, Trixie found herself gravitating towards the green heart.

‘We probably won’t even match,’ she told herself, continuing on through the profiles out of sheer boredom. ‘And even if we did, it’s not like I’m not into girls.’

There had only been one openly gay student at her High School in Milwaukee. It wasn’t something anyone ever talked about, but she’d spied him getting roughed up behind that school canteen a couple of times and that was more than enough evidence for her to deduce that it wasn’t something you went around telling people.

And maybe it was naive of her.  She that it was different in places like California where people were open to new ideas and methods of self-expression, but she’d gotten more than enough flack for her sense of style over the years. Since moving away from home, Trixie had been able to start presenting herself the way she’d always wanted to; big hair, pink clothes, and a lot of makeup. That was enough. She didn’t need to embark on some journey of self-exploration or live out the ‘everyone experiments in college’ fantasy.

She didn’t.

Her train of thought was interrupted when a notification cropped up in the corner of her screen. Her heart stuttered a little in her chest a moment, but it wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as she’d first hoped. It was a message from some guy they’d swiped right on a couple of hours earlier - not that she was disappointed or hoping for anything else.

She didn’t bother reading it before locking her phone and struggling up off the sofa to grab herself a glass of water and follow the other girls to bed.

—

(04.33AM) i hear you’re looking for a stud. well, I got the STD and all I need is u ;))

Trixie blinked, reaching to rub the sleep from her eyes with her free hand. She could hear chatter from the kitchen, a sure sign that everyone else had been awake for a little while already, and the smell of pancakes was just starting to waft in through her bedroom door.

“Who the hell,” she murmured, keying in her passcode and scrolling through her apps until she found the little fire icon.

Of course.

The message was from Katya. A second glance at her profile confirmed that she was every bit as gorgeous as Trixie remembered and just weird enough for the pick-up to be funny instead of creepy or uncomfortable.

(10.53AM) No offence but that really isn’t how to sell yourself.

(10.54AM) Also why were you still awake at 4AM?

It wasn’t as though she was committing to anything by writing back. At least, that was what she told herself. If Katya turned out to be some sort of insatiable horn-dog or a sixty-five year old man with a thirst for women way outside the socially acceptable dating pool, she could always delete the app or block her.

The thought had only just crossed her mind when her bedroom door flew open to reveal a fresh-faced Kim sporting frilly, turquoise apron and some sushi-print pyjamas. “We’re making pancakes,” She announced. “Nutella and strawberries or peanut butter and banana?”

“Nutella and strawberries. Do we have any whipped cream?”

“Yeah.”

“That too.” Trixie said, flinching when her phone buzzed in her hand. It was from Tinder. She’d been a little on the fence about whether she’d be receiving a response at all, let alone so quickly. What kind of person stayed up till just before dawn and managed to resurrect before lunch-time?

“Who’s that?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing. No-one,” Trixie put her phone in her lap and played it off with a shrug. “I’ll be through in five, can you keep a couple warm for me?”

“Sure.”

She waited until Kim had left the room before re-launching the app to see what Katya had sent her. Vaguely, she wondered if Tinder notified the other person when she’d read their messages. That was something to figure out later.

(10.55AM) no, totally - the best way to sell yourself is to up the quality and put down the price :D

(10.55AM) Sounds like you’re talking from experience.

(10.55AM) i’m a wealth of wordly experience, mother.

(10.55AM) Mother?

(10.56AM) wrong number. it’s the russian supermodel you swiped right on last night ;DD

She rolled her eyes.

(10.56AM) Doesn’t ring a bell.

(10.56AM) :((

(10.56AM) how about a crazy flashing her granny-panties in the playpark?

(10.56AM) So this is my mother.

(10.56AM) ha ha

(10.57AM) for real though, you’re super cute!

(10.57AM) Thanks, you have a really pretty smile.

(10.57AM) twenty-one years of refined sugar and legal highs and i’ve never had a cavity

(10.57AM) Get out, I had braces for two and a half years!

(10.57AM) and didn’t put one of those pictures on your profile???

(10.57AM) I literally looked like Sharon Spitz.

(10.57AM) braceface!

(10.58AM) You got that reference?

(10.58AM) no, i googled it.

(10.58AM) why did the deer need braces?

(10.58AM) Oh no…

(10.58AM) he had buck teeth!

(10.58AM) That was awful.

(10.59AM) wanna hear another one?

(10.59AM) Hold on, let me… brace myself.

(10.59AM) ahhh!!!

(10.59AM) marry me. right here, right now

Trixie was fully aware of the fact that she was smiling like an idiot. She couldn’t help it. For someone she’d been speaking to for a little over five minutes, Katya was ridiculously charming and super easy to talk to.

(10.59AM) I usually don’t accept marriage proposals until after the second date.

(11.00AM) two dates for marriage?? who do you think u are

(11.00AM) A lady of class and sophistication.

(11.00AM) no way, me too

(11.00AM) I can tell.

(11.00AM) it’s an energy

(11.00AM) Oh, totally.

(11.00AM) cosmic, almost

(11.00AM) Cosmic?

(11.01AM) absolutely. the stars have aligned to tell you i’m one high-end, high-class piece

(11.01AM) That wasn’t what I was getting.

(11.01AM) you need to open your mind

(11.01AM) listen with your heart

(11.01AM) Paint with all the colours of the wind?

(11.01AM) yes!! thank you, pocahontas

“Trixie!”

"Coming! I’m coming,” she called, peeling the duvet covers off herself and feeling around the floor for her slippers.  

(11.02AM) I gotta go, breakfast is ready.

(11.02AM) aw :((

(11.02AM) ttyl?

(11.02AM) Sure.

(11.02AM) :D

Trixie huffed out a laugh, glancing at Katya’s smiling profile picture one last time before setting her phone face-down on the bed-side table and shuffling on through to the kitchen. Kim, Naomi and Max were all gathered around the counter in various states of wakefulness. Naomi looked as though she’d slept in her mascara, no surprise there, while Max had was sitting with a cup of tea clutched in both hands. All three of them turned when she entered.

“Someone looks cheerful,” Max commented, raising a brow. “What’s that about?”

"Oh, nothing.” Trixie said idly, swiping a plate from her cupboard and stacking it high with a smile still lingering on her lips. ”Nothing at all.”