#we sang washing machine heart together <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[littlevandalist]

What is the worst thing your heard part of the crew l listening too (rp)

Well the most unexpected thing is Tim listening to Mitski, and the worst thing I heard is when people fuck in the broom closet next to the Toy Soldier's room.

[juminsmysticmc]

Pregnancy Series - Part 3

Telling them 

Hey! So a lot of you have been waiting and I am honestly happy that you guys seem to like my pregnancy series! Please feel free to tell me your opinion with a comment or through a reblog ( I read every single # ) or just send me a message in my inbox! Hope you enjoy! 

Pregnancy Series: Part 1 // Part 2 

Jumin

You nervously rubbed your hands together as the weekend finally came.

Ever since Jumin married you, he decided to have his birthday parties only with you instead of throwing big parties with people he didn’t even like just because of his status.

But this time you prepared something special for him.

You decided to invite your father-in-law as well as the RFA, even Zen, at your place on the 4th of October to stay until Jumin’s birthday at midnight the 5th october.

For Zen, you even prepared your party room since your beloved cat wasn’t in every room of the big penthouse your husband owned.

And so you prepared everything without your husband’s knowing. To say it clearly, you made someone else prepare it because you were scared of hurting the baby, being overprotective since it took you so long to get pregnant.

Maybe you were too scared, but you knew that Jumin wouldn’t have wanted you to overwork yourself.

The room was decorated in gold and black colors and you also baked a big cake on your own, deciding to hide a long note into the cake, saying that you were pregnant. At the end of the note, a copy of your first picture of the baby was attached, showing Jumin that whatever was happening was real.

You knew that he would be more than happy to see this, to know about the baby you were carrying.

,,Finally ready,’’ you said and sighed, looking at your clock, knowing that at 8 PM everyone would come home to stay into the room before Jumin would come home with Jaehee from the office.

The first guest to arrive was your father in law. To your surprise, he didn’t take his girlfriend along, but since Jumin always had to prepare a second party for his status, your in-law promised you to bring her along the next day. Well, you knew that this wasn’t going to last for a long time, but to make the elder happy, you nodded and smiled, telling him that you were more than happy to be able to get to know her.

Lastly, Seven, Zen, and Yoosung arrived. Zen and Seven were arguing whether or not the red haired boy should kidnap his Elly.

,,I need to go home with you. You can’t take that fur ball with you!’’ he hissed.

You left the men alone for a second before you waited for the final guest - your husband, of course followed by Jaehee who just sent you a message about her arrival.

Jumin was puzzled at first when you invited Jaehee inside and led the way to another part of the penthouse, but since it was you who asked, it was okay, you were his wife after all.

The surprise party, however, made him emotional and you knew that Jumin was touched just by his mimicry and how he stood there, you knew your husband.

,,I have a present for you, but you will only be allowed to have it at midnight!’’ you teased him after he gave you a long, lovely kiss.

Staying awake almost four hours more was hard for you. Since you knew that you were pregnant, you were even sleepier, but for Jumin you could manage to stay awake. You had to.

,,IT’S MIDNIGHT! BRING THE CAKE!’’ Seven screamed in excitement, making you a bit nervous.

Yoosung carried the cake into the room after you kindly asked him to, as you all sang ,,Happy Birthday’’ to him.

,,Thank you, my love,’’ he whispered and kissed you again, ready to blow his candles.

,,Before you cut the cake, Jumin,’’ you said as he stood there with a knife already ,,here’s something you have to pull out. Read it out loud,’’ you said.

You pressed your lips together as you waited for him to pull out the long white note until finally the first words appeared. ,,I…..’’ he said, he smirked, thinking that the note was ,,I love you’’

,,A….M…..P...R...E...G…-’’ he looked at you in shock before he pulled the note even quicker out of the cake, seeing the last picture of an ultrasound.

For the first time, all members of the RFA saw Jumin Han cry real tears by the man they always called ,,cold hearted’’ as he hugged his wife and kissed her with a lot of love, thanking her over and over again.

,,This is the best present ever,’’ he hiccuped and kneeled down to kiss your flat belly.

Zen

,,You will surely be a good mother!’’ the chocolate lady praised you as she gave you the white chocolate with the baby sonogram of your baby.

You quickly went back in and prepared a few more things. The chocolate was ready, you thought you would now take a little package and put balloons around the chocolate so that it would float up as soon as Zen would open the box.

Since the chocolate was in a cute packaging too, you put a note on it saying to open it immediately to see the surprise.

You guessed that this would be the perfect Valentine’s Day gift.

Then you also decided to bake a few muffins, not just for Zen, but also because you wanted to slowly get used to the idea of baking cakes for your future child.

That evening, you tried your best to act normal because you were overloading with happiness and excitement.

The next day, you woke up pretty quickly. One of the reasons was because you had the urge to throw up and the other reason was because you wanted to drop the news as soon as possible.

,,Mc, did you get checked up? Like-’’

,,Hyun, it’s just a virus. That’s why I had to cancel our reservation at the hospital,’’ you groaned as you again had to empty your stomach.

,,Of course, baby,’’ he whispered, holding your hair as he kept rubbing your back.

At times like these, he wished you could be like him, healing and getting better quickly.

But he also knew that you were a strong woman and didn’t have any problems.

,,Okay, I’m better,’’ you gasped as you went to wash your mouth. The taste you had in your mouth wasn’t really yummy and so you brushed your teeth before you decided to give him his present.

,,Here, for you,’’ you whispered as you laid back in bed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

Zen’s eyes went soft as he saw the big box, placing it on the floor and sitting next to it to open the present.

Just like you wanted, the balloons flew up, pulling the chokolate up.

Zen quickly grabbed the present and read the note out loud.

,,I’m excited. I never thought that Valentine’s Day could become so special one day,’’ he laughed.

You slowly teared up as you thought about how much better and special this day would become.

Zen opened the chocolate and inspected the picture.

He stayed silent for a second before he looked up at you again.

,,Really?’’ he asked you, whispering as his tears found a way out.

,,Really, Hyun, really.’’

Yoosung

You hurried home after the appointment, thinking about the best way to tell your husband that you were pregnant.

After you decided to take a look at some Pinterest boards, you decided to sew a little baby out of his clothes.

You once saw it in a drama and it was, in your opinion, the cutest idea.

And so, you took an old shirt of his and went down to the city, buying some stuff to fill your baby.

It took you the whole day to sew that baby, to first cut the material, put it together in a little cute baby outfit, and patch it together.

You were really happy back then; your teacher taught you how to sew at the machine and your mother bought you one back then.

Right when Yoosung entered, you just finished the little baby.

You were proud of yourself and were more than happy that you could hide the present before he came home.

,,Hello, my wife,“ he smiled and kissed you, seeing that you were in a better mood than in the morning.

,,You haven't cooked yet? Wanna do it together?“ he asked you, seeing that nothing was prepared.

,,Oh, I need to be honest. I took a good rest today and I forgot that it was already so late,“ you lied.

,,It’s okay! I can also order some sushi or-”

,,No sushi!“ you called, looking away.

,,Can we eat pizza?“ you asked him, trying to hide the fact that you preferred to not eat raw fish.

And so you both did, although Yoosung was kind of puzzled when you didn’t take the wine you both usually drank while eating pizza.

The day went by and the next morning finally arrived. You were happy to wake up just in time to set the table, prepare the breakfast, and put his bag with the baby doll on his seat.

,,Happy eighth anniversary,“ he whispered and kissed you, hugging your body from behind, nuzzling his head in your neck.

,,Eight years already,“ you sighed happily and turned around, ready to give him a deep, lovely kiss on his lips.

Yoosung quickly sat down, giving you his hand over the table as he put some sugar in his coffee.

,,That’s for you,“ he told you, giving you an envelope.

You smiled.

,,The bag in front of you is from me for you,“ you told him, as if someone else could have made him a present.

The both of you decided to open your present at the same time.

And once again, you surprised each other.

,,You want to adopt a child?“ you asked him as he almost screamed ,,YOU’RE PREGNANT?“

You both laughed at the same time. Yoosung quickly got up from his chair, getting on his knees as he kissed your belly with tears in his eyes.

,,I knew it! No sushi, no wine! I knew it!“ he sobbed, stroking the place where his baby was supposed to be.

,,Such a little human being will grow up here. Can you believe it?“ Yoosung asked you.

You were also now sobbing, shaking his head as you stroked his fluffy hair ,,Finally, Yoosung, finally,“

Jaehee

Your girlfriend couldn’t wait to hug you, hold you in her arms and so, as soon as she caught a glimpse of you at the train station, she hugged you, sobbing into your shoulder.

It was cold outside and you luckily came back right in time before the holy days of Christmas.

Jaehee still hugged you when suddenly, something soft and cold touched your nose, making you look up into the sky.

,,The first snow,’’ you whispered, making Jaehee loosen up her hug and look up too.

She chuckled as she knew that you loved the snow.

A few seconds later, the both of you walked hand in hand towards your shop. Jaehee was happy as you seemed to be in a happy mood.

Your fingers felt hot as hers were entangled in yours, stroking the skin of your finger with her thumb.

,,Go and take a warm shower. I will make us some food,’’ she mumbled and quickly left you alone.

And so, while the warm water of your shower hit your body, warming you up and relaxing your muscles, you thought of a way to tell Jaehee that you two finally did it.

Suddenly, you got a very good idea. Lately, you were into sublime stitching and found it hard to find new things to stitch, but now that you had your first ultrasound, you finally had a new challenge to take!

You copied your first ultrasound and sent it to your favorite artist, who was more than happy to make your ultrasound into a pattern with ink.

Just like always, you ironed the picture with the hot iron on your fabric, but this time you didn’t buy the pattern and indeed used your own.

You smiled as you saw how good it worked out. You were really proud of yourself that the first step was already so well done! 

But you couldn’t keep going as Jaehee called you to open the shop with her.

And so the weeks went by. You luckily didn’t have any symptoms that could have ruined the surprise for Jaehee.

You wanted to give it to her as a Christmas present after all.

You kept stitching along the line, slowly and accurately so that everything would look nice and neat.

When you finally finished, you felt yourself becoming emotional. This was now real, this present and this baby was really happening to you and Jaehee, who waited for so long for this.

The last step was to wash the fabric so that the blue ink would disappear, making it look once again much more beautiful.

,,I can’t wait for Christmas,’’ you chuckled to yourself and put the present into a little box.

,,You really didn’t have to,’’ Jaehee whispered the morning of Christmas Eve.

The both of you sat on your couch in front of your Christmas tree.

It was warm and cozy in your living room as you both were wearing the same Christmas hoodies.

You excitedly looked over to Jaehee as she opened the box.

Her fingers followed every stitched line, her lips began to tremble and it seemed as if she couldn’t breathe calmly.

You were getting worried, but soon enough Jaehee looked at you.

,,Is that yours?’’ she asked her, her voice was cracking.

,,Yes. I didn’t have the flu or covid, I’m pregnant,’’ you laughed.

Jaehee hugged you, not too strong, stroking the back of your hair as she enjoyed the warmth of your body.

,,I don’t have such a great present,’’ she laughed and kissed your cheek.

Saeyoung

The birthday of the twins was slowly approaching. By now you were eight weeks pregnant.

You still had symptoms and felt sick. Sometimes you couldn’t even cook, making Saeyoung worry for you, but you knew that this was worth it.

You chuckled as you thought about your self made toy you prepared as a present for Saeyoung. It was a toy he had to play first before the news of your pregnancy would be announced.

It took you a while to construct everything.

It was a game where he had to put cards together. To put them together, he had to form different sentences in different languages.

Matching cards would give him a letter and afterwards those letters would give him the sentence ,,You will be soon a daddy!’’ but of course, he had to also form this sentence.

Since it was kind of difficult to perform this all in Hangul, you decided to make it an english game.

For Saeran, you prepared a little teddy bear which would say ,,Hello Uncle’’ but of course, he wasn’t allowed to open his present until Saeyoung played with his present.

The 11th of June quickly approached you guys as you woke up one morning. Luckily, you still didn’t feel sick.

You hugged Saeyoung as you woke him up with a sweet kiss ,,Good morning,’’ you whispered, making him groan, but not open his eyes.

,,Hello, how did you sleep?’’ you asked him when he turned his body to you and hugged you back.

,,Good, but being awake next to you is better,’’ he whimpered and almost fell asleep again.

,,Ya! Your birthday breakfast is waiting for you!’’ you hissed and laughed.

He immediately jumped up, yelling for his brother. ,,SAERAN, YOU ARE TURNING A YEAR OLDER!’’ he laughed, making you shake your head.

But you were happy that Saeyoung finally found his brother. You could just imagine how it must have been for him to miss his second half for all those years.

And even though Saeran didn’t admit it, he probably missed his brother too.

The three of you were sitting around the table as they ate their soup. It was a special soup for their birthday.

,,I will give you your birthday present later when the other’s are here too,’’ you told them both, making your husband especially sad. ,,You always want your present at midnight and now I have to wait?’’ he asked you, whining as you laughed at him.

,,It’s special, that’s why,’’ you told him, making him sulk.

,,My presents are always special,’’ he whined but didn’t say anything anymore as he enjoyed his food.

You were nervous as the RFA came one by one. By now, you guys were always together. You saw yourselves as a family.

,,Okay guys, because of you I couldn’t open my present!’’ he whined and finally unpacked the box. At first he looked a bit… puzzled, which made you chuckle.

You explained to him how to play and even persuaded him to play on his own.

,,Boring that everyone is watching me,’’ he mumbled as Saeran kept patting his present, you told him he wasn’t allowed to open it yet.

,,Is that german? ,,Wir müssen…’’ what?’’ he laughed.

But one by one he did it and finally had the single letters that would give the hidden message.

,,I am pregnant, I don’t even have to think about it, that’s the message, right?’’ he said and immediately looked up at you, already in tears.

By now, Saeran too, unpacked his bear and in a big family embrace, Saeyoung cried into your shoulder.

Saeran

After you were brought to the maternity ward and they did some more tests, it seemed that it was official that you were pregnant!

Saeran got up as soon as he saw you walking out of the big doors.

,,Is it something serious? It took you so long and no one wanted to say anything,’’ he whined and took your hand between his, massaging your palm as he slowly walked out with you.

,,I just had to wait a long time,’’ you lied and smiled at him, trying to convince him that you just had a mere virus.

And so the days passed again and you worked on a present for Saeran who was a soon to be father.

You put a lot of thought into it and decided that doing something handmade would be much better than just telling him.

That’s why you decided to give him something your baby would get - a handmade baby blanket with his favorite flower patched on it.

You put a lot of hard work into it, using the best material and the most beautiful colors.

And since the gender was still unknown, you decided to go for a light beige color with some red details.

In the end, the blanket looked just too cute and it hit you - you were pregnant.

The day was nothing special when you told Saeran that you would like to go and eat an ice cream with him, something he agreed to immediately.

He took a few hours free and hand in hand with you, he went to buy ice cream for the both of you, enjoying the sun on your skin and the nature around you.

,,What do you have in that bag?’’ he asked you after a while, still licking his ice cream as he pointed at the little bag in your hand.

,,Nothing,’’ you began, ,,just something little I want to give you,’’ you told him, making him excited to know what you would like to give him.

To prevent the blanket from getting dirty, you decided to wait until the both of you were finished with the ice cream, giving you the chance to talk to Saeran a bit more about his day and your day.

,,Okay, now I’m ready,’’ he nodded and looked at the bag. He couldn’t wait to see what you had prepared for him in there.

He opened the bag and pulled out the self made blanket, observing every little detail.

He tilted his head as he looked at the length of it.

,,It’s a bit too little for you, right?’’ you laughed, making him laugh too.

Suddenly, Saeran saw a little note in there.

,,It’s not for you, it’s for your baby, Dad. Congratulations…’’ he whispered and put the note back into the bag, looking at the tiny blanket again.

You knew that he was happy, but probably overwhelmed with this news and so you decided to wait a few moments.

But as soon as the news arrived in his head, Saeran couldn’t prevent himself from hugging and thanking you a thousand times.

,,You...you always make me so happy…!’’ he whined.

,,I will give my best to become a good father,’’ he said with a trembling voice.

,,I won’t become like my parents. I will be a good one and I will protect you and our unborn child,’’ he whispered, his hand on your belly by now.

,,I promise,’’ he nodded.

,,I trust you, Saeran.’’

Jihyun

As soon as Saeyoung heard those words, he began to tear up and hugged you, patting your back. He was just so happy for you and Jihyun as he knew that the both of you had a hard time lately.

,,Let’s get back and prepare something!’’ he said in his mischievous smile and helped you to get into the car.

Of course, to keep it fair, Saeyoung wasn’t allowed to tell anybody. Instead, the both of you planned on how to tell Jihyun who would soon come back home.

,,How about I make a computer print of your future family and he has to paint it in little colors? We will just make it with so many details that he won’t notice from the beginning that it’s a family picture of four!’’ Saeyoung chuckled. You loved the idea and were more than happy to go with it.

You and Saeyoung worked on the details while the rest of the RFA weren’t at your home as they too had their personal lives.

Saeyoung and Saeran, however, stayed with you partly because Saeyoung prepared the surprise with you, but also because they both were worried.

When you finally finished with the layout and Saeyoung helped you to print it out, you wouldn’t be able to tell that this was a picture of a family.

,,I wonder how he will react,’’ you laughed and thanked him for his hard work.

,,Those were the longest six weeks I’ve ever experienced,’’ you whimpered when Jihyun finally arrived at home, Lucy on your hand, also more than happy to see her father.

Hugging the both of you, he nodded in agreement.

,,I also missed the both of you,’’ he said honestly.

Quickly letting him step in, you took his stuff and helped him to unpack before you told him that dinner would be soon ready.

,,I have a little challenge for you,’’ you laughed as you went back to your room to take the picture you prepared for him.

,,Oh, I saw that on Instagram,’’ he nodded, as he remembered the logic of the painting.

,,Yes, but I did this myself,’’ you said proudly, handling it over to him.

He laughed happily ,,I’m excited to work on it, thank you!’’ he laughed.

,,Yes, but there’s a hidden message in it so you need to hurry with it!’’ you told him, not knowing that you encouraged him to work on it the whole night after you fell asleep that night.

In the morning, when you just opened your eyes and saw his black bags below his eyes, paint all over his hands, you knew that he overworked himself.

,,Will we be able to adopt a child?’’ he asked you, his voice was raspy as he asked you, tears in his eyes, excited to know the answer.

You slowly shook his head, making him wonder if his sleepy eyes made him see something he just wanted to see.

But you didn’t want to tease him anymore so you finally told him. ,,I’m pregnant, Jihyun. I wasn’t sick back then, I was just… pregnant! I was having symptomes. We will have a child together soon!’’ you told him, slowly getting up from the bed.

,,I’m so happy,’’ he sighed and kissed your belly.

,,I will never go away for such a long time, I swear,’’ he whispered and then, with his knees on the floor and head on your lap, slowly fell asleep….

Vanderwood

You observed Vanderwood, noticing that the mood was being off for a few days.

To be honest, it was happening ever since you told him that you wanted to stop trying to have children for the time being.

Your eyes followed Vanderwood as he walked out and took out a cigarette, sluggishly smoking and looking around.

You began to chew on your lips as you thought back, maybe beginning the topic with ,,Yo’’ wasn’t the best way to start.

But there was no way back now and it didn’t matter anymore since you finally got pregnant.

You hoped that a day later, Vanderwood’s birthday, this silence between the both of you would be over finally as you wanted to surprise him with a self made cake which said, ,,Hello Daddy!’’

Of course, you firmly told him to not look at it, something he would never do since he knew how much you liked to surprise him.

,,Vandy,’’ you called him softly.

,,Don’t call me like that,’’ he groaned, a bit annoyed as he closed the door.

,,Are you angry at me?’’ you asked him, scared for his answer.

Vanderwood turned his body to you.

He didn’t look happy and you just noticed.

,,I’m not angry, I’m just… I have the feeling that you don’t really care about having a family with me while I work my ass of and-’’

,,Woah, what gives you that idea?’’ you asked him, slowly getting off the couch and looking at him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, but his comment… hurt you deeply.

,,Last time, sorry, but you approached the topic totally wrong!’’ he hissed, on his way to the kitchen.

You followed him there. He was partly right, you thought.

,,But, I was just… I didn’t know how to tell you, but this doesn’t mean that I don’t care,’’ you told him, your trembling voice making him look back at you.

,,I know. It still hurts though,’’ he whispered and opened the fridge to take out a cold drink.

,,You know what,’’ you told him, holding onto the door of the fridge and pulling out the cake you made for him which was covered with something so that he couldn’t see what was written on it with the chocolate.

,,What-’’ before Vanderwood could even say anything, you showed him the cake you prepared for him with the note written on it that you were pregnant.

,,It’s true. I was mean and I should have approached you differently, but I was so down, I didn’t think I could get pregnant anytime soon and- just don’t say anymore that I don’t care,’’ you finished your sentence and looked up, your tears were rolling down your cheeks as you were unsure of what to do now.

But Vanderwood knew what he had to do and softly took you in his arms, laying you down in the other room and kissing your neck.

,,You destroyed my surprise,’’ he whispered, giving you a kiss again.

,,Sorry for being selfish. I was mean while you’ve been carrying my baby,’’ he honestly apologized, stroking your flat womb as you sobbed into his shoulder.  

Part 4.1 of my pregnancy series here 

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

🤰🏻ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs🤰🏻Masterlist here

16.05.2021// 00:12 MEST

[notdonesimpin]

Point Of View ~k.b.~

katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

warnings: fluff

synopsis: no one believes that katsuki is a good boyfriend until they see if for themselves AKA the three times people how sweet bakugou can be.

a/n: ah so i’ve neglected bnha quite a bit.. debated keeping this to myself but everyone needs a bit of soft and respectful bakugou. hope you enjoy :)

You weren’t oblivious to the worry and concern in people’s eyes when you told them that Bakugou was your boyfriend. The two most infamous things said in response were: “You’re joking, right?” and “Are you okay? Does he get violent with you?”

It was quite frustrating to reassure people that being with him was okay. You know he's a good guy. Why does everyone assume that he’d be a shitty boyfriend? Why doesn’t Bakugou want other people to see the more tame side of him that he’d developed the past two years you’d been together?

Everyone learned to just take your word for it, though they’d never really seen him be affectionate with you. That’s why it was so shocking once they actually saw the true nature of your relationship with him.

1: Your Parents

“Bakugo!” your little sister yelled, running up to hold onto his leg.

His eyes widened as he looked down at her, confused as to where she came from. “Hey, Rugrat. What are you doing running around by yourself?”

“Mom and Dad are over there!” she points to a store in the distance and continues talking, “Are you here with my sibling?”

She stepped back, grabbing onto his extended hand as they walked towards your parents.

“Not right now. They’re here somewhere with their friends.”

“I thought you were their friend,” she pouted, “Are you guys not friends anymore?”

Bakugou sighed, “I’m a different kind of friend, Rugrat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tenshi! There you are!” your mom says, rushing over to the two of them.

“She saw me and ran over. Sorry about that,” Bakugou awkwardly scratched the back of his head, feeling uncomfortable with the apology passing through his lips.

“She must really like you, then. She never does this with anyone,” you mom notes, slightly impressed that he won your sister over within a few short months.

He softly smiles, looking down at her, “I think we just understand each other.”

“You still haven’t told me what’s so different about you being friends with Y/N!” she points at him.

He squats down to chat with her, “It’s the kind of friend that gets to hang out with a cool kid like you in their free time.”

“That’s the best!” she exclaims.

Bakugou’s phone buzzes, and he pulls it out to see a text from you that asked where he was. “I have to go, but I’ll see you at your birthday party.”

“Promise?” She sticks out her pinky.

“Promise.” 

He clasps his pinky who hers quickly before getting up and saying a quick goodbye to your mother and rushing off.

Tenshi grabbed your mother’s hand as they watched him. 

You came into view with a few bags on your arms and he immediately took them from you despite your apparent protest and gave you a quick kiss before walking in the opposite direction.

Your mother realized that she may have had the wrong idea about Bakugo this entire time.

2: Class 1-A

“How are you not sore from weight training yesterday?” you whine as you both walk towards the classroom.

“I train all the time. You just aren’t used to it,” he smirks, nudging you slightly with his arm.

“Whatever. You didn’t even go easy on me, a beginner.”

“I’ve never gone easy on you. Why would I start now?”

“Fair point,” you shrug as you walk through the classroom door and all eyes immediately fall on the two of you.

“There’s the cutest couple in school!” Mina exclaims.

You both look at her bewildered by her statement.

“I didn’t know Bakugou actually had a heart,” Iida muttered, looking at something on Kirishima’s desk.

“What did you do?” Bakugou whispers with a hint of agitation in his voice. 

“I didn’t do anything. I have no clue what they’re talking about!”

“Kirishima saw you guys at the New Year’s Festival. He took a really cute picture of you guys!” Kaminari explained, walking over to show you both the picture on his phone.

You both looked at it to see your little sister, Tenshi, on his shoulders with a smile on her face as she pointed at one of the booths. Bakugo had one hand keeping her stable on his shoulder and the other was laced with yours. He had a large smile on his face as if he was laughing at something you said.

“What were you guys talking about?” Mina asks.

“None of your fucking business,” Bakugou grumbled, pushing past all of them to his seat with you in tow as he continued, “If you ask us another question, I will kill all of you.”

“Bakubro, they wouldn’t let you kill us even if you wanted to,” Kirishima laughed.

“You even gave them your jacket!” Sero exclaimed, “I remember when you tried to fight me for even trying to borrow a blanket when we were in your room!”

“He can’t let his precious girl get cold,” Kaminari sang.

Bakugou grumbled, crossing his arms as he sat down, knowing that anything he said would only fuel the fire.

3: His Parents

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed as your umbrella bent backwards, officially breaking after three long years of service.

The rain didn’t even have a chance to touch your body before Bakugo quietly handed his umbrella over to you, taking the broken one from you. “Don’t need you catching a cold.”

As soon as you took it from him, he took his jacket off and wrapped it around your backpack. He forced your broken one closed and held onto it to throw away later.

“Katsuki, you’re going to get soaked,” you tried to argue.

“I’ll be fine. My backpack is waterproof.”

“At least get under the umbrella. What if you catch a cold?”

“It isn’t big enough to even cover your backpack, dumbass. I’ll be fine. I haven’t gotten sick in years.”

“I’ll just put my hood on until we get to your house and then walk home from there with the umbrella.”

“Not happening, I’m taking you home. I can’t let you walk by yourself.”

Thirty minutes later, Bakugou walked through the door absolutely soaked from head to toe with two broken umbrellas in his hand and his jacket wrapped around his waist.. 

He let out a huge sigh as he dropped his backpack and took off his shoes.

“Katsuki, I need-” Mitsuki’s eyes widened as she looked at him.”Go get out of those clothes and take a shower! You’re going to catch a cold in those if you stay in them any longer!”

“You don’t have to yell, you old hag!” he snapped as he walked to the bathroom.

After he showered and put on some warmer clothes, he was met with the curious eyes of his mother and father as he took his towels and clothes to the washing machine.

“What?” he questioned, pausing on his way.

“You had two broken umbrellas and were absolutely soaked. What happened?”

“Y/N’s umbrella broke, so I gave them mine. It’s too small to do anything but cover their body, so I wrapped my jacket around their backpack so their stuff didn’t get wet. I was soaked by the time we got to their house, so there was no point in putting my jacket back on, but I promised them that I’d use the umbrella on the way back and it broke from the wind.”

Their jaws dropped.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled and justified himself, “I didn’t want them getting sick. They don't take good care of themself when they feel bad. Can I go to my room?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Masaru said.

Katsuki walks off without another word.

The next morning, Mitsuki was yelling at Katsuki to get up from the other side of the house, but she wasn’t getting the usual response back. 

She paused outside his door when he heard the low murmur of his voice as if he was on the phone and slowly cracked the door open.

“Do you want me to come over?” she heard you ask.

“No, I can’t take care of you and me. If you catch my cold, you won’t eat like you’re supposed to. I swear you’re like an annoying little child when you’re sick.”

“Always so mean,” you laugh, “I can take care of myself, Katsuki.”

“I know you can, but I want to take care of you, so shut up,” he coughed, “And don’t hang up on me until you are inside of the school safe!”

“I feel so bad. You got sick because of me.”

“Well, make it up to me by kicking ass in class today, okay?”

“Don’t I always?” you tease, causing him to softly laugh.

Mitsuki smiled to herself as she quietly closed the door, hoping that you’d be in her son’s life forever.

[chunhua-s]

congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3

anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕

writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕

NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER

genre: angst to fluff

au: soulmate

warnings: none

shinsuke kita is human.

and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.

it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.

it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?

the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.

and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.

it’s almost enough to drive him mad.

his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:

will you be happy?

shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.

there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.

and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.

that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.

he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.

it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.

a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.

“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”

for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.

he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.

shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.

today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.

davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue

send an ask to be added!

[pocket-luv101]

Heartstrings || Chapter 4

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side), Tetsono (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht, Tetsu, Misono

Summary: Kuro goes to take a nap in the staircase behind the school and sees Mahiru holding a broken guitar. After he helps him repair the guitar string, Mahiru asks him to teach him how to play. (Given AU/Band AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || (Ch.4) ||

Kuro’s finger hovered over the buttons on the vending machine as he tried to decide which of the drinks he should buy. In the corner of his eyes, he watched Mahiru’s back. He never expected Mahiru to be holding so much on his shoulders when he often wore a bright smile. He hoped that he had said the right things to him earlier.

After he finished singing the short melody, he went to buy something for Mahiru to drink. He chose a soda at random and then he walked to where Mahiru sat on a bike rack. He pressed the cold can against Mahiru’s cheek and the sensation caused him to jump in surprise. Kuro quickly placed his hand on the small of his back so he wouldn’t fall.

He pulled him closer. While his only intention was to keep Mahiru from falling, his closeness caused his heart to skip a few beats. The bell he wore rang as Mahiru grabbed Kuro’s uniform jacket. They held each other for a few moments. Mahiru tilted his head back to look up at him and his eyes reflected the moonlight. Brown was a simple colour but Kuro found his eyes beautiful.

Kuro let him go after Mahiru found his balance again. He sat in the spot next to him and held out the soda to him. “I didn’t know what you like but I got you an orange soda. I bought a cola so we can trade if you don’t like orange.”

“My house doesn’t buy fizzy drinks so I don’t usually have soda like this. It’s bad for your voice to drink before a performance. This could be my first soda. Orange juice is my favourite drink so I might like this too.” Mahiru opened the can and he took a slow sip. The drink was sweeter than he expected but he liked it. “You taught me how to play my first chord on the guitar and now this is my first soda. At this rate, you’ll have all my ‘first’s.”

Mahiru only realized the double meaning of his own words after he spoke them. They both blushed and Kuro tried to hide his reaction by pulling his hood over his face more. Beside him, Mahiru felt flustered as well. He hadn’t been in a relationship before and he never thought of it until now. He didn’t want the moment to become awkward and he searched for how to change the topic. “I like orange soda.”

“I never heard of a family who doesn’t allow their kid to drink soda.” He said and lightly tapped their soda cans together. Mahiru was glad that Kuro didn’t dwell on what he had said earlier. He was confused by the side of him that was disappointed Kuro didn’t respond to his unintentional flirting. “Will your uncle be angry that I bought it for you? I don’t want him to think I’m a bad influence.”

“Most parents will be more concerned with your dyed hair than the fact that you bought me a soda. Your hair is a unique colour.” Mahiru reached up and gently took a few strands of his hair into his fingers. His hair was softer than he expected for someone who dyed their hair. With the starry sky contrasting his light hair, Mahiru thought the colour was similar to the moon.

“I was born with this hair colour. I lived in London and my hair made me stand out when I moved here.” Kuro ran his hand through his hair and then he took off his hood. With others, he would feel selfconcious and wear his hood to hide. Mahiru’s presence made him comfortable though. “Of course my brother had to drag me into his band and make that worse.”

“People might stare at you when you’re playing your guitar but they’re mostly thinking of how well you play. That was my reaction at least. They’re not judging you.” Mahiru reassured him with a soft smile. “Thank you for what you said about my singing. I never gave you a proper response to joining your band. I want to try being your vocalist. Even though I don’t have much experience, I look forward to working with you and everyone.”

Kuro wondered if Mahiru would think he was strange if he told him that he understood him when he sang to him. Before he could respond to him, a car parked in front of them. Mahiru stood and said, “That’s my uncle. Do you want a ride to your home? It’s late.”

“Hyde is practising in the music shop and I already promised to walk him home. He has a talent for causing trouble so I need to make sure he doesn’t take a detour at night. Being the older brother is troublesome.” He said and nodded towards the store. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Be careful on your way home and make sure you watch out for cars. Goodnight, Kuro.” He said goodbye to him but he lingered in front of Kuro for a few minutes. Mahiru didn’t know what he was waiting for and he eventually pulled himself away from him.

He walked to his uncle’s car and he placed his guitar in the backseat. Mahiru sat in the passenger seat and his uncle pulled out of the curb. “I’m sorry that I ran off like that, Uncle. Were you waiting for a long time while Kuro and I were talking?”

“I didn’t mind. What do you want to order for dinner?” Toru kept his eyes on the road but he noticed Mahiru roll down the window. He waved to Kuro when they passed each other. Mahiru wore a small smile as he watched Kuro in the side mirror. Toru wanted to ask his nephew about his classmate and how he found them playing the guitar together. He decided it was best to let Mahiru tell him when he felt ready.

“We have food in the fridge and I can throw something together quickly. It’s been a while since we had a proper family dinner. There’s a lot we need to catch up on.” Mahiru leaned back in the chair and let the cool air wash over him. “That was my friend, Kuro. I asked him to teach me how to play the guitar. We’ve only had a few lessons so far. He invited me to play in his band and I accepted.”

“That’s great. If you need any tips, you can ask me.” Toru didn’t know what led Mahiru to the guitar again but he hoped the hobby could be good for him. He thought back to how he found Kuro and Mahiru sitting in the park. That was the first time in years where he saw Mahiru smile at anything related to music. He needed to ask, “Did you decide to learn the guitar to help you move on? I don’t think you should play if you’re still holding onto guilt.”

Mahiru couldn’t respond to him because he didn’t know the full depth of his reasons for learning the guitar. The best he could say was: “There’s a song I want to play for her.”

“Mahiru, what happened that day wasn’t your fault.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that.” Mahiru muttered and touched his chest where the guitar would usually rest. “I was the one who asked her to sing.”

“Hey, Nii-san, it’s time to wake up!” Hyde called up the stairs. He doubted Kuro would answer him since it was rare for his brother to be awake before eight. Since he was such a heavy sleeper, he would need to shove him off the bed to force him awake. As much he respected Kuro, he wished he would wake up with the alarm for once. “Pancakes are ready!”

He didn’t respond so he expected to find his brother buried underneath his blanket. Instead, Kuro sat at the foot of his bed with his guitar and blank music sheets. The electric guitar was completely silent because he had plugged his headphones into the amp. He didn’t hear him enter the room but Hyde recognized that it was because Kuro was immersed in the music and not the headphones.

Hyde became curious about the song Kuro was playing and he peaked over his shoulder to see the music sheets. He found that he was writing a new song and there were a few scribbled bars on the paper. The band had a few original songs yet Kuro had never shown interest in writing music before. He would leave the task of creating songs to Licht and Hyde while he simply matched the rhythm with his guitar.

A note written in the margin of the paper caught his attention. Mahiru’s lalala had a six bar progression. Could be the chorus. The name made Hyde think that his brother was writing a love song to Mahiru rather than something for their band. The mere possibility piqued Hyde’s interest since he had never seen his brother with a crush on someone before.

“Nii-san!” Hyde yelled to get his attention and he jumped onto the mattress next to him. His action caused the items on his bed to fly into the air slightly. He was careful not to sit on the papers but Kuro rushed to save them from being crushed. Kuro set them aside and then he took off his headphones. Others would be shocked by Hyde’s childish surprise but he only gave his brother an agitated sigh.

“There was a less troublesome way to get my attention, Hyde. Shouldn’t you be downstairs and helping Lily with breakfast? It’s your turn to cook.” Kuro checked the time on his phone and his eyes widened when he saw how much time had passed. He woke up earlier than usual because he couldn’t get Mahiru’s song out of his head. He thought he should write down a few bars but he had spent an hour on it.

“We already made a plate for you and I came up here to tell you.” When Kuro started to stand, Hyde stopped him by placing his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll bring breakfast up for you so we can eat and work on that song together. I have a lot more experience writing songs than you so I’ll help you with that. Just hum me the rhythm and I’ll write the notes.”

“You don’t need to—” Kuro was barely able to speak before his brother was out the door. He wanted to tell him that he hadn’t heard the full song so he wouldn’t be able to hum it for him. He looked down at the music sheets and the chorus he wrote for Mahiru. The song was important to him so he did his best not to change it while he wrote the notes. He wondered what Mahiru was trying to communicate through the song and who it was meant for.

Mahiru looked through the schedule for their class and he saw that Kuro and Ritsuki were assigned to clean up that day. He was excited to have another guitar lesson with him but it appeared he would have to wait. He turned to Kuro who was sitting at his desk. Throughout most of the class, he had slept and he seemed more tired than usual. He wondered if he was able to get enough sleep last night or if he returned home late due to their talk.

Ritsuki stood next to Kuro and she repeatedly poked at his shoulder. He knew that she was trying to wake him so they could start cleaning the classroom. However, Mahiru felt a little jealous. Kuro didn’t show any sign of waking up despite Ritsuki’s persistence. He snored softly and it almost sounded like a cat to Mahiru. He chuckled and then he walked to Kuro’s desk.

“Kuro, it’s time to wake up.” At the sound of his voice, Kuro sat up and rubbed his stiff neck. He was still tired but he didn’t lay his head on the table again. Kuro leaned back against his chair and he looked up at Mahiru. “The teacher didn’t wake you during class but he looked angry. He might give you detention or more homework if you keep sleeping in class.”

“I can barely keep my eyes open when he talks about those poets. Troublesome.” Kuro yawned. “Can I borrow your notes for what I missed today?”

“Sure.” Mahiru took out his notebook and he placed it on his desk. “Did you get enough sleep last night? You look exhausted and it’s not your usual lazy cat routine. You have cleanup duty today but I can take over for you while you catch up on your sleep. I enjoy cleaning and I can probably finish everything before you. I can probably clean faster than two people.”

“Thanks, Mahiru!” Ritsuki interrupted their conversation. He was confused about what she meant but then she added: “It’s nice of you to take over cleaning duty for us. I wanted to go to the mall with my friends today and I can catch up with them if I leave now. Bye, Mahiru. Good luck with Kuro!”

He didn’t know whether she misunderstood his offer or if she only wanted an excuse to leave early. She already ran out of the classroom before he could correct her. Mahiru thought it would be pointless to go after her when he could simply clean the classroom himself. He leaned against the desk next to Kuro’s and said, “Get some rest while I clean. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

Mahiru stood in front of the chalkboard to erase the writing first. He was careful not to make a lot of noise so Kuro could sleep. He didn’t mind cleaning the classroom by himself. His uncle was often away for work so he would do the house chores himself. He rose onto his toes so he could reach the top of the chalkboard. He considered standing on a chair so he would be able to erase the words easier.

“I never thought of this before but you’re always volunteering to do work, aren’t you?” Kuro’s voice brushed over his hair before he felt his fingers run over his wrist. He gently took the eraser from him and he wiped away the words he couldn’t reach. “During the last cultural festival, you volunteered to do four different jobs, from baking to making costumes. We were put on baking duty together but you did most of the work and I just put the trays in the oven.”

Mahiru thought back to the cultural festival they held last year. They weren’t friends at the time and he was too busy balancing four jobs to talk to him. He wished he had taken the time to speak with him so they would’ve been friends sooner. He was surprised that Kuro remembered the day. “Our class was wasting time arguing over who should be responsible for each job when we needed to focus on opening a great café for the festival. Thinking simply, it has to be me.”

“You know, you don’t have to do everything on your own.” Kuro placed the eraser on the short ledge. Their classmates would often push their work onto Mahiru because they knew he wouldn’t disagree. He assumed Kuro would be the same considering his personality. His words made Mahiru smile. He thought of how he had supported him learning the guitar and comforted him the night before.

“I hope you remember this conversation when I ask you to bake cookies with me again. I’ll make you roll out the dough as well as putting cookies in the oven.” Mahiru joked with a light laugh. “This year’s cultural festival is in a few weeks. What do you think we should do? Maybe a concert so we can invite your band to play. It’ll be good promotion.”

“Most of us are from different schools so the teacher won’t let them participate. Hyde and Licht go to this super fancy school and they always throw a grand event for their cultural festival. He sent me a few pictures. He looked like he was having fun but I don’t know if I could. Cats don’t like loud places.” Kuro took out his phone and showed him the picture he had saved.

“Then we should host a tea ceremony.” Mahiru suggested and he imagined Kuro in a traditional kimono. He came to know him because wanted to learn the guitar but he now looked forward to other things they could do together.

They were able to finish cleaning the classroom quickly but that didn’t leave them a lot of time to practise in the stairway. The band had a rehearsal scheduled after school. Usually, Mahiru would suggest they go directly to the music shop since they would only be practising for such a short time. That meeting would be Mahiru’s first as their official vocalist. He was a little nervous and he hoped the practise session with Kuro would help him relax.

“Before we start practising, there’s something I want to show you. You said you wanted to play a song. I wrote the parts you sang for me. I don’t know if it’s exactly what you were thinking of so I recorded it on my phone for you to listen to. Tell me if there’s anything that needs to be changed. I haven’t heard the full song so I just filled in the empty parts.” Kuro searched through his messy backpack for his notebook.

He sat next to Mahiru on the steps with his phone and the music sheets in his hands. He had planned to play the song on his phone’s speaker until Mahiru slid closer to him. Mahiru took one of the earphones from him and he placed it in each of their ears. They needed to sit close to share the headphone and Kuro thought Mahiru was so comfortable with him because they were friends.

“I’ve never had someone write a song for me before.” Their shoulders bumped together but Mahiru was too focused on the music sheets to notice how close they were. He had the song stuck in his head for a long time yet he felt excited to hear Kuro play it for him. “Thank you.”

“This is your song so I can’t take credit for it.” Kuro pressed play on the recording. While audio quality was far from a professional studio, the song resonated with Mahiru. He tapped his pen on each note drawn on the music sheet as he listened to the song. Mahiru closed his eyes and he hummed along. After the lost expression he had last night, Kuro was relieved to see him smile again. At the same time, he felt nervous as he asked, “What do you think?”

“This is great, Kuro! I can’t thank you enough for writing this for me.” Mahiru closed the already small space between them and he hugged Kuro. He embraced him so suddenly that he didn’t hold him back immediately. He leaned back to look up at Kuro but he didn’t let him so. “I can play this song for her. I hope she’ll be able to hear my feelings when I do. This means so much to me.”

He mentioned playing the song for a girl and Kuro felt conflicted. Did Mahiru plan to confess to her?

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x08)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 08: We Are Going Knowhere

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: oooof!!!

Word Count:I sound so bad for actually turning happy that there was a positive patient in our block because that would increase the chances of my neighbourhood undergo a strict lockdown and then I wouldn’t have to go to work. My fam doesn’t understand this but I need some time with myself to recharge for good and so they look at me like I am posessed.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The lens focused from its blurriness over to the kitchenette where Bucky stood making himself some coffee.

Scott: Are we rolling? *nods* Cool. *clears throat* So turns out that there is another unspoken romance waiting to bloom in our midst and as a hopeless romantic with an engineering degree I am utterly disappointed in myself for not figuring it out sooner. *looks at some invisible void in the distance* Well, I would have if I wasn't so obsessed with my other couple goal. I would have. *smiles at the void* *speaks softly* those two almost gave me a heart attack last night!

A sweat-drenched Steve walked in after a run around the facility. "Hey," he greeted Bucky before turning towards the dorms. "Hey," Bucky greeted back while pouring his coffee and looking at America's ass strut down the lounge in those grey track pants that were just the right amount of tight across those butt cheeks jiggling down the hall while the camera caught that steaming hot coffee colour the -otherwise spotless- white island brown as Bucky's eyes and heart skipped with that booty while his hands holding the coffee pot forgot what they were supposed to do. Scott entered the lounge to find that coffee dripping down everywhere while Bucky was lost. "Watch out, Buck," he called out, breaking the Captain's trance on this Seargent, "your gay is showing."

Scott: *contemplates* huh...I should get that on a t-shirt.

"I don't get it. He's your best friend. Why don't you just ask him out?" Scott bit into an apple and looked at Bucky mopping up the result of his gaze and one sexy booty. "I can't ask him out because he is my best friend, Scott," Bucky sighed. "It was kinda easy to do this charade back in our day. Now, everyone is out of the closet like-" "Like your everyday lounging shorts," Scott added, getting a nod agreement from Bucky. "And I'm not even sure if he looks at me the same way." Scott had to look at the camera after on real slow blink in Bucky's direction.

Scott: *inhales while keeping his palms together in front of his face* Boy, do I have news for you! *opens his hands and tries to stop the excitement from making him scream* That dude literally fought Nazis for you! TWICE! And then brought you back to f****ng life! *tries not to cry* *whispers* Dude! Why are my OTPs so f****ng dumb!

On Our Trip to Knowhere The camera showed Lulu trying to swim in the sea of berries in a crate while popping one in his mouth whenever Loki wasn't looking. "If the merchant asks for mixed berries I'm going to sell you off to him," Loki announced from the cockpit. Well, at least Lulu thought he wasn't looking. The distraught and drooping fluff looked at you for any sign that this wasn't true. "No, he won't," you mouthed and shook your head before turning back to co-pilot - well, whatever was remaining of- the spaceship Loki had bargained from the last station. Putting the coordinates in for his stop, he turned around and brought his hands together and did one loud clap. "Alright. Everyone listen up. There are some things you need to take care of when-" You moaned incredibly loud, dramatically your head in every possible direction. "Uuuggghhhahaaaarrgggghh!!" "What." "We have heard this befoooore!" "And you will hear it again! Because Knowhere is dangerous. It has all kinds of filth gathered here hiding in the dark wh-" You wanted to groan one more time but something in the vast emptiness before you caught your eyes and took your breath away. "What...is that?!" your voice barely got out while a smirk landed on Loki's lips with a shine in his eyes. The camera quickly came forward to record what seemed like a gigantic skull being the bed of inhabitants floating in the dark of the space. From where its eyes were supposed to be, was a cavern lit with life inside while sizeable pods came and left from the jaw and ears. "That, my dear, is Knowhere," Loki declared softly, quite mesmerised for a moment by this look of awe in your eyes, "land of the lawless created when the Dark God Knull used his All Black sword to decapitate a Celestial. Seeing as the rotting skull was worth quite something to someone in some part of the universe, a notorious group by the name Tivan decided to make this their base. And as opposed to their demeanour, they are quite a dangerous group of underworld criminals, mind you." Loki had to turn his head and look at you when he did not get anything in response and found you sit there a shade lighter, looking right at the skull where you were headed. "Surely we'll be safe if we avoid that group, right?" You looked at him for a seed of hope to get out of this alive. "Right, Loki?"

Loki: *presses his lips together* *snickers* *lets the chortle slip his mouth* *guffaws for the next minute with tears streaming down his eyes while holding onto his stomach* One minute later Loki: *clears his throat* *wipes the tears from his eyes* Ah! I love humans!

"Oh, sweetheart," Loki practically sang a soft note in your direction with a gentle head tilt, "we are going to meet their leader."

The Lounge Team "Hey, would...you...like...ss-coffee?" The camera shifted from a disconcerted Bucky barely standing by the kitchenette on his wobbly legs to an encouraging- though a little disappointed- Scott standing there while Wanda sat on one of the barstools by the wall and witnessed the whole practice unfold. "Bucky, sweety," Scott pressed ever so sweetly, placing his hand on the island in his direction, "Steve would always like a coffee for his rat-like heart. We have to get him to have that coffee with you! Make him know that you want to have that coffee alone with him. Want to hold hands with him. Want to let him know how much you care for him. Want t-" "Want to let him know how much you want to bang him," Wanda commented, taking Scott by surprise. "How long have you been sitting there?" The Ant-Man asked with a hand on his chest. "Long enough," she shrugged while popping roasted almonds in her mouth. "Bucky, all you need to do is declare you like him. Rest will be easy peasy, lemons in vodka squeezy." 

Natasha: *tsks*Совсем беда с парнями. Без нас ни один из них даже не узнал бы, что второй жив. Wanda: *giggles* Ты бы видела, как Баки сегодня себя вёл в общей комнате, весь такой смущённый. Даже в глаза Стиву не мог взглянуть, не краснея. В конце концов он просто взял, молча пододвинул Стиву кружку кофе и ушёл — а у самого из ушей так пар и валит. Natasha: *rolls her eyes* Мои зверята и то сообразительней, чем эти двое. Wanda: *gasps* У тебя есть питомцы?! Natasha: *no change in emotion* Как-нибудь познакомлю. Так вот, возвращаясь к теме парней: ты замечала, что как только Баки заходит в комнату, Стив прямо весь тает? Wanda: *wide eyes* Замечала, и не только! Он только взглянет на Баки, как у него в голове начинает играть музыка из фильма "История любви", а перед глазами волосы Баки развеваются, как в рекламе шампуня. *blushes* *clears throat*  Да, и еще он почему-то переставляет себе, что на Баки из одежды только красные стринги. Natasha: *a big, toothy laugh* АХАХАХАХА!

Knowhere There were smoke and liquor everywhere the cameras swerved. There were creatures young and old, weak and bold, gathered to gamble, fight, rave, smuggle, hide. Anything unordinary you could think was there. From genderless strippers to non-binary fighters- the far corner filled with one hollered at the other, whistling, catcalling, making signs that you did not want to know the meaning of. Loki, on the other hand, was enjoying all fifty expressions your face reflected at the scenic view of the inside of Knowhere. Lulu, though mesmerised by the lights everywhere and blown away by the flying pods, still hung to your shoulder. If he had eyes, you were sure they would be wide open with their focus just on those flying machines as he made crackling noises at them. Javi caught you flinch and jump away from a creature looking like a six-year old's version of Satan but in green. Satan growled at you before pretending to bite you and lick those yellow fangs of his while he chortled with his equally appalling buddies. "Kin sibe nom torra," Satan rolled his R's while gurgling through his throat at you- someone who had no idea what that guy was talking about while trying to fiddle through your bag to find those earpieces the Hardy boys had provided you. "Ugh, is this what Clint has to go through?" That Satan dude stepped closer to you, driving you two steps back. All the onlookers could feel the sudden rush as they watched you stand one step away from backing into a murky wall while Satan smirked his dirty smirk at you, taking one potential step before Loki stepped in to put a hand on his chest. "Ukt sast nom kore grata," the God practically sang before parting his fingers with that chest while his face screamed 'yucky'. Just as he uttered those words, that smug grin on Satan's face got washed away to show confusion and fear eroding in those beady eyes. "Sica rom ni froa," Loki gestured him to walk away with a kind smile before turning to look at you with your jaw unhinged just a little. "Wha-how...what was that?" "Oh, they were catcalling you in the most vulgar way possible," Loki replied, looking at the address in his navigation device. "....okay? And?" "And-" he clicked the device close and pointed at a distant pathway- ever so casually with the other hand in his pocket- "I told them to only ask you to go with them if they liked getting their heads eaten when you orgasm." And the Silvertongue walked away, leaving that jaw to unhinge a bit more.

You: *grunts* now I wish I could do that *crosses arms in disappointment* *camera pans out to show Loki standing by your side, looking at you like a lost cause* Loki: This is why you do not have a lover You: *huff* *repeat his lines to him louder* this is why you do not have a lover!

The Collector's Den There were no guards on doors, something you thought would be a default scene considering you were walking into the Space Illuminati Warlord's lair. The neon colours breathing around you from creatures and elements unknown were too much for the eyes to deal with in one go. But it all seemed to be toned down to normal when your entire body felt itself jerk to prevent a heart attack at the sight of the four feet high and three feet wide head preserved in a tank right next to the entrance. "That's...one way to greet people," you muttered, your eyes still on that creature while your legs followed Loki further into the appropriately-named Collector's business place.  "Marvelous!" A voice boomed in the house of Tivan and you had to pull yourself back to the front, stepping closer to Loki to witness a creature anatomically very similar to a human walk towards your group with a pep in his step. "Finally someone who knows the worth of the head of a dark celestial." The white hair on his head stood as straight as a distraught anime character along with his brows. His lips were what caught your attention with an apparent thin tattoed line running down the middle, ending right before the chin. If that wasn't enough to make anyone wonder what in hell was this creature, the sudden whip of his cape was the last straw to help you innocent ones realise this one was the mad kind. "Tell me, oh beautiful one-" he bowed in front of you his hands going back in the air like a ballerina- "what do you think of that head?" You looked at Loki for some help. He simply shrugged and put his pale fingers on his lips, leaving the floor to you. "...that it's...big?" "It's hideous," the Collector grumbled. "A beauty like you should not have to see something so indigestible. EVER!" He whipped his cape again, making you shoot your brows up and turn towards the camera.

You: Ooooohohoho *giggle* my God! This guy is more dramatic than any theatre majors I have EVER seen! *gasps* Oh- Loki: No! We are not taking him to earth to meet theatre nerds. You:  You: *slump back* *grumble*

"Welcome to the humble abode of this mere creature that goes by the name Taneleer Tivan. Address me as you wish your grace. Your husband has been our esteemed partner for quite the time in this space." There was nothing but a slow blink that escaped you at the thought of the mafia lord thinking you were Loki's wife. Then, a finger rose in question at the audacity of that white-haired baboon reaching to that conclusion just by seeing you two together. "Okay, excuuuuse me," you started off with bubbling rage, "first of all, you have amazing eyesight for noticing I'm beautiful. And second of all, your partner wishes!"

Taneleer: *narrows eyes at the camera, oblivious* I am confusion

Loki simply rolled his eyes before touching a windchime next to him. "I see you still have your spies on a decent payroll, Tivan. Was it the Kou-Gare that boarded with us on the shuttle from the last station? Or was it the Djinn you had your clan's symbol etched on his back?" Taneleer blinked quite fast before breaking into a chortle, his head thrown back and his hands flailing. "You are still the same shrewd Silvertongue! I told them you would find out sooner or later." The camera focused on your expression- a swirl of shock and thrill. "But I do have to ask," he sang before turning to you, circling you like a cat, "where did you find this one? And what was so special about her that she got to stand by the side of the God of Mischief." He practically purred inside your hair while taking a sniff as you stood there frozen, looking at Loki for some sort of escape. "She is a human, Tivan," Loki called out, still looking at the windchime that refracted light into a colourful rainbow all over Loki's skin. And like a good chameleon, Taneleer's colours changed while Loki looked smug for the camera, his back still turned to you and the Collector. "By your Gods and mine! If she is a human how is she more alluring than you?!"

You: *smug* If I had a mic? I'd drop it. *still acts out a mic drop*

The colours on Loki's face washed away as fast as they had come. His lips forming as many different-sized Os as they possibly could. "What? WHAT?!" Taneleer simply nodded, observing you like an art connoisseur from a respectable distance. "Say, my ever-enchanting one-" with a leg bent out, he bowed to take your hand in his- "would you bestow upon this meagre merchant the honour to honour you by studying your essence?" "Okay, that's it," Loki muttered before covering the distance in two strides and breaking away that unwanted hand-holding; smacking away Taneleer's hand while taking yours and holding it in his. "You," he pointed his finger at the collector while the camera focused on his hand holding your wrist, "you are going to help me-" Taneleer parted his lips to say something before being shut by Loki's words- "BECAUSE you owe me for saving your life!" And then the God turned to you, the distance between the two of you lesser than Lulu lying on the ground. He was in fact lying on the ground, trying to make angels in something clearly invisible to the human eyes. "And you," Loki announced softer than he wanted to, his eyes locked onto yours. For the moment there, that was all it was. His greens shining like a freshly washed forest from rain shining under the new sun. And your eyes were the treasure quarry of y/e/c stones buried under the water looking up at that forest hiding both the light and darkness inside it. Seconds passed. Both Taneleer and the camera looked at each other for answers before the former slowly dragged his wine glass from the table to the edge, letting it fall and clunk on the floor, loud enough to break the God out of a trance. "You will stay here with Lulu. Do not cause trouble till I get back." Authority in his voice, he inhaled a lungful before furrowing his brows- trying to understand what had just happened- and turning to walk away. "Who's Lulu?" Taneleer was curious. You seemed to pop right out of your own trance by the question, beaming at the collector before picking up Lulu in your arms to let him purr in your embrace. "My baby." Taneleer took the appearance of little hairy creature in. "So much hair...or fur?" before turning to Loki, waiting for a second and then following him. "I told you not to take those drugs during your sexual endeavours for information extraction, Silvertongue."

The Lounge The flatscreen was muted, showing you sleeping in the back of the spaceship Loki just bargained for cheap. Your lips were parted and you were drooling all over the blanket underneath you while Loki set the ship on autopilot to come to take a look in the back. Javi was asleep too, with Lulu in his arms, both of them sprawled on the seats bunched up together by the last owner. What Loki did not realise- or did not bother to validate- was that the cameras were still running; those electronic bugs with space technology still buzzing around the temporary gravity.  He stood next to the makeshift bed of crates bunched together for you to sleep over, snoring loud enough to make Lulu's head vibrate in the direction of the voice. The camera focused on the screen when the expression on Loki's face bore a look barely ever seen before- soft. He was on his knees, putting the blanket wrinkled in your arms over your shoulder, securing it on both sides before moving a stray strand of your hair away from your face. He said something, apparently to you, but the only thing the camera in the lounge caught was the moving lips before frantically shifting between the screen and Natasha, Wanda, Scott and flustered Bucky; neither of them catching the lens' drift to look at the screen. Natasha and Wanda watched from the sofa as Scott still tried to get Bucky to open up a little more. "I can't watch this anymore," Natasha grumbled to Wanda with an emotionless face towards the two men, "just tell me when he comes." "Oh, oh, oh, he's coming," Wanda whispered, poking Natasha before transforming her excitement back to a dull sober self.

Wanda: So, I can always tell where this man is in the house. He does this thing where he will pick up a theme from something he is into lately and his brain keeps playing it on repeat. Last night Natasha made him watch Phineas and Ferb and so *flails her hands* *smirks* it's going to be the title sequence all day. *turns her smile into a fine line of distaste* and thanks to her I no longer have to listen to Never Gonna Give You Up for another week.

"Hey, Bucky," Natasha called out the ex-winter soldier as loud as possible, "I'm proud that you came out of the closet buddy! You should be proud of being bi. We are here with you." She clicked her tongue and finger-gunned him. Confused but delighted at the gesture, Bucky shared a chuckle with an equally excited Scott. "Thanks, Nat. But I don't know how will be able to tell to-" he turned just enough to let his eyes catch Steve standing frozen by the lounge entrance-"...Steve."

Tivan's Den "This is crazy. And so cool?! I wish I had the means to collect all the weird things around the world." Lulu chirped at you while tapping at the glass that had a pink coloured female inside it while you- bright-eyed and enthralled by the extraordinary roamed about the place, looking at the gems and flora, bugs and skeletons around this place. One little piece of quartz caught your attention for it had waves inside it as if clear water was kissing the pale dull sand on a clear beach and making it come to life. Your hand went for that crystal when you felt your brain jerk you back. "Ooooh, we're not supposed to touch anything. I don't want to be stuck in a death game again," you muttered before pouting at the crystal and walking away. Away from that shelf to turn and find yourself facing a golden music box and shrieking as low as possible. Lulu raised himself where he stood before leaping towards the shelf you were fangirling about. "Lulu, look!" You whispered in heated excitement, your toes barely keeping you on the ground, "a music box with Loki's helmet on it! You think it belongs to him?"

Lulu cautiously moved closer to the box sniffing it like a curious cat, pausing for a bit before rubbing his head with the precious trinket. "Okay. So, you approve!" You clapped and picked the box up. "Aw! You think little Loki got this as a gift on one of his birthdays?" Winding the lever as far as it went, you refrained from squirming as you opened it. A sweet sound was followed by Lulu's camera catching a hairpin inside the box. The camera caught the expression of pure awe on your face that was looking at the intricate designs on that hairpin while also catching a cloud emerging behind you that was slowly morphing into a figure; something you were not aware of. Lulu, on the other hand, seemed to feel the presence as the camera jerked and a hiss came out of the little one in the direction of the figure that was out of focus but slowly walking towards your back. "It's beautiful!" You whispered. "Do you think it belongs to his...mom, Lulu?" Another hiss came out of Lulu and this time you turned your gaze up in confusion at him. "I sure hope it does," an echo of a voice called out from behind you, making you shriek, jump away from that direction, hit your head in the shelf in front of you so hard that you went limp and fell down with one loud thump.

Back Where the Boys Are The back room of the Collector's den was rather more sophisticatedly decorated than the marketed front; not to mention the equally more bizarre antiquities surrounding the room as the God and one human entered. "I need a tool to break me out of these," Loki declared while directed Taneleer's gaze towards his handcuffs. Taneleer raised his brows and tapped his fingers onto each other. "Looks like someone forgot the key during their playtime!" A snicker left Javi and Loki almost lost it. "Why does everyone keep thinking I would voluntarily shackle myself to these forsaken cuffs!" "How many people have pointed that out by now?" Taneleer asked while supporting his weight on the nearest shelf. Loki shoved off the question, paused, blinked and then huffed. "Five," he muttered. Javi tskd from where he stood, signing something with one hand. "That Terran says eleven," Taneleer pointed out, now judging the God with his narrowed eyes. "Do not jest me, Collector!" "Jest you! You, the God of riding SOLO with nothing but self-preservation in your blood, trodding in space all mighty with a beautiful Terran and you expect the fauna to not suggest something titillating going between the two of you?!" The eye-roll Loki felt, almost made the audience wonder if they would disappear in the back of his head. "There is nothing going on between me and her. She's just. A friend." The most dramatic gasp came out of the Collector, his hand going over to his trembling lips. "He used the f-word," the poor mafia lord whispered to himself. "What? I have had friends before," Loki shrugged through his shoulders, not making eye contact with his company before getting conscious of the camera. "Oh, name one friend besides me who hasn't exploited you for their own wishes!" "Can we please get back to busi-" "That's because you don't have any-" "Peter!" Loki blurted out of nowhere before realisation hit his face and made a split-second eye contact with the camera before composing himself. "His name is Peter and if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone and then myself. Remember that." The weight in his words seemed to shift the power in the room, impressing the Collector beyond what he asked for. "Yes, yes! Don't boil your blood over it," Taneleer sang rather sweetly, swinging his hips and humming something. "Well? Are you going to help me or not?!" Loki huffed. "Give me back whatever grace I left with you." Taneleer muttered something that was not audible to the God.  "You did what?!" Taneleer groaned. "How do you have such sharp ears?" "YOU SOLD MY GRACE!!!" "Well, not sold so much as bartered for a nice sample of a fae's DNA. So, I'd say it was a good deal." The collector was in the middle of turning to face the God when he felt himself being shoved into the wall behind him by Loki. "You are-" Loki hissed- "going to get me-" and grabbed his throat- "out of these shackles-" and tightened his grip on the OverLord- "or this is the last thing you will see before you die." The Collector winced and croaked for air, begging through his eyes when Loki let go just enough for him to speak. Wheezing for as much air as possible, the Collector looked at the God with eyes of a mercy-seeking peasant. "Now, now, my sweet God! If you kill me...who will save your precious friend out there?"

to be continued...

[meghan-huntergirl-winchester]

Safe and Sound (Sister!Reader X Winchester Brothers)

So, this is actually an older piece that I wrote way back in 2014. It was originally only 1600 words and the story was actually very different. I decided to re-write it and make it as accurate as I could with details from the timeline of the show. I was still very new to Supernatural back in 2014 (I had only made it through season 2 at that point. I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2501 (Damn I got carried away!)

Rolling over in my bed with a groan, I peeked a glance at my alarm clock sitting on my side table. 6:45am. I hated waking up early on a Saturday! With a small sigh, the covers were flung off and I stood up to stretch. The boys had been gone for about 5 days now. They had adamantly refused to let me tag along this time and as upset as I was, I understood why. They just wanted to keep me safe and if I was being honest, I was not 100% after our last hunt.

Slipping my feet into my bedroom slippers, I made my way out of my room and down the hall towards the boy’s rooms. I stopped at the first door on the right and pressed my ear against it for a moment. When I heard nothing from inside, I gently turned the knob and pushed the door open. Nothing. Pulling the door shut I made my way to Sam’s bedroom only to find nothing as well. The boys are still not home from their hunt. Now I was upset. It had been 5 days now and not once had Sam or Dean contacted me about the case. Was it going so well that they didn’t need any research done? I doubt that. Dean would do anything in the world to get out of the research.

Finally, I decided that it was way too early in the morning to be dealing with this and I made my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Then I would contact the boys myself.

As I filled up the machine with water and coffee grounds, my mind drifted back to when I first met Sam and Dean. We had met when I was only 10.

You see, hunting ran in my family as well. My mother and father were hunters. When my mom found out that she was pregnant with my sister, she quit hunting and eventually so did my father. My parents eventually were able to settle down into a normal life, and two years after my sister was born, my mom found out she was pregnant with me. Fast forward several years to the night of my 10th birthday, a monster broke into my house and killed my parents and my older sister. John Winchester and his friend Bobby had been tracking the monster and they saved me before the monster could hurt me. With the monster dead, John and Bobby tried to figure out what to do with me but since I had no other family members, there was no where for me to go. Bobby took me in and raised me, along with Sam and Dean, who spent more time at Bobby’s than with their dad.

At first it took Dean a while to warm up to me. We became a lot closer when he realized that he had someone his own age to help take care of Sam. Sam and I instantly bonded over our love of books and learning. It helped that I was not nearly as tough on him as Dean sometimes was. As we got older, the three of us grew even closer when John and Bobby would take us all on hunts together. I had finally started to heal after losing my own family, because I had a new family, one who would protect each other from everything.

One day, John came back to Bobby’s place only this time, Sam wasn’t with him. John had his version of what happened, and Dean had his. I had never seen Dean so upset and heartbroken in my life. Sam had gotten into Stanford and had tried to tell his dad about it. John had instantly gotten defensive and accused Sam of not wanting to find the demon that killed Mary. They had argued and John finally told Sam to leave and never come back. My heart broke for Dean. We lost something that day, a little piece of me died as another member of my family left me.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I frowned as the memory of Sam leaving came to mind. I don’t know why I had started to reminisce about the past, but sometimes it was nice to take a little trip down memory lane, even if some of the memories weren’t always happy ones.

I had some cleaning to do around the bunker before the boys came home. If they didn’t return tonight, I was going to have to go hunt them down myself. Finishing off my coffee, I set the cup in the sink to wash later and headed back towards my bedroom so that I could change out of my pajamas. I opened up my closet and happened to glance up at the top shelf. Sitting there was my old guitar. It was the only thing I had taken from my house after that horrible night. The guitar had been my fathers. He gave it to me that night as my birthday gift along with the promise of teaching me to play.

I popped open the latches and pulled the guitar out of its case and just looked at it. It had been so long since I had last played it. Placing the strap over my head, I positioned the guitar in my lap and placed my fingers on the fret board. With just a strum or two, memories flooded back to me of teaching myself how to play up in my room at Bobby’s house. With a quick tune and some more strumming, the guitar was finally ready to play again. My fingers fell into what fell like a natural place and I strummed the E minor scale. As I strummed, a song that my mother used to sing to me as a kid came to mind.

I remember tears streaming down your face

When I said, “I’ll never let you go”

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said, “Don’t leave me here alone”

But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight

As I sang, flashback to a rough hunt that Dean and I had been on together came to mind. It was one of our first cases without John or Bobby. We were probably about 18 years old and John was out chasing a clue towards finding the yellow eyed demon that killed Mary while Dean and I handed what was supposed to be just one or two vampires.

*flashback*

“DEAN!” I screamed as I took off in a run. John had sent us to Louisiana for a small vampire case. It was supposed to be 2 maybe 3 vamps but instead ,we found an entire nest of about 9. We had killed all but 3 vamps and as I swung my machete again, I saw Dean fighting off the leader. As I ran towards them, the third vampire came out of the shadows and sank his fangs into Dean’s neck before tearing away from him. I quickly swung my machete at the leader and beheaded him before turning and taking down the final vamp.

“You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on!” Tears ran down my cheeks as I started to panic. Thinking quickly, I pulled off my flannel and pressed it against his neck to put pressure on the wound. Blood was quickly soaking through the shirt and I was terrified. Dean was scared too; I could see it in his eyes and hear it in the way his words trembled.

“Please don’t leave me alone here.” He whispered to me. The bleeding was slowing but Dean was beginning to lose consciousness. The blood loss was taking its toll on him.

Tears kept falling as I looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’m not going to leave you here!”

“Why are you crying?” His eye lids were starting to droop, and I panicked. Shaking him I tried to keep him awake.

“Hey! Dean! You can’t fall asleep; We have to get you out of here. I’m never gonna let you go and I’m not gonna leave you here. Now get up!”

Dean grunted in pain as I helped him up off the ground. His movements were slow and sluggish, but it was only a few feet to the car. ‘Just get him in the car and then get him to the hospital’ I kept repeating it over and over until we finally arrived at the local medical center.

*end flashback*

Dean had gone into shock by the time we made it to the hospital. I could only watch as doctors rushed him away from me and into surgery. After he had been given a unit of blood, some IV fluids, and had been stitched up, I sat beside his bed that night and waited for him to wake up. I hummed this song to him in hopes that he could hear me and would wake up. When he finally did wake up, I cried in joy because I thought I had almost lost him. I couldn’t take the loss of another person.

Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You’ll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I’ll be safe and sound

I remember when Dean and Sam lost their father. Dean had been in the hospital after another hunt had gone wrong. The three of them had been in a car accident after the hunt. I’ll never forget that phone call or the fear that filled my body when I heard what had happened. Bobby tossed his keys to me and I rushed to the hospital as fast as I could but by the time I got there, John was dead. After the boys had been discharged, they told me what had happened. Dean had been trapped outside of his body and a reaper had been after him. John sold his soul and a gun called the Colt to the yellow eyed demon that he had been hunting for so long. His soul for Dean’s life.

There was a war going on outside and only we knew what it was. As hunters, we knew about the things that go bump in the night. There was a war brewing and we were the only soldiers that could fight it.

Don’t you dare look out your window, darling,

Everything’s on fire

The war outside our door keeps raging on

Hold on to this lullaby

Even when music’s gone

Gone

After their father died, Dean and Sam told me all about the demon that their father had been hunting. They told me about their mom and how the demon had killed her and had almost killed Sam. They told me about how their Dad had gotten obsessed with finding it and everything that he had done. Although John was strict with the boys and I, he was still like a father to me. With the loss of John weighing over me, that night I locked myself in my room and just cried. I cried for the loss of John, for the loss of my family, cried with relief that Dean was safe, I just cried.

I couldn’t lose another family member. I didn’t know how much more I could take. If only I had known what the future had held for me, maybe I would have gotten out of hunting because all that was awaiting me in the future was loss and grief.

Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You’ll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I’ll be safe and sound

I let the last chord echo thorough out the room as I trailed off on the last few words. I was started by the sound of clapping behind me and I spun around on my bed to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway with small smiled on their faces. I instantly threw my guitar off onto the bed and ran over to give them hugs.

“Careful!” Dean warned and I jumped back before I could touch him.

“It’s okay, just bruised a bit. Just don’t hug too tight.” He chuckled out.

Gently I wrapped my arms around him before moving over to Sam. With a frown ,I pulled back gently before I shot out and smacked both of them on the back of the heads.

“Hey! What the hell!?”

Taking a step back, I put my hands on my hips and glared at both of them.

“5 days?? You couldn’t call and tell me you were alright?”

Sam looked down sheepishly and Dean suddenly found the wall interesting.

“Well?” I said, tapping my foot on the ground

“We ran into a bit of trouble on our way back.” Sam mumbled out, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

Sighing I let my hands fall from my hips before I looked at their faces. Looking closely, I could see that both boys had cuts and bruises on their faces.

“Come on and sit down so I can clean you up. Then you can tell me what happened.”

As the boys moved into my room and sat down on my bed, I went into the bathroom only to come out with the first aid kit from under my sink.

“Start at the beginning Sam.” I poured a small amount of peroxide onto a cotton ball and began to dab at one of the cuts on Dean’s forehead. As soon as the cotton ball made contact Dean flinched away like I had stabbed him.

“Really?” I asked in a deadpan voice.

He just crossed his arms with a huff and pouted. Staring for a moment, I broke at his pushed-out lip and started giggling. Instantly he broke into a grin at his successful attempt at making me laugh.

“Alright, alright.” I giggled out. “Tell me what happened.” I began to gently push on dean’s ribs to make sure that nothing was broken before moving over to check Sam.

“We got caught by the police.” Sam mumbled out.

“What was that?”

“I said, we got caught by the cops!”

I just rolled my eyes and kept quiet while they shared their story of what happened. I finished up treating Sam and closed up my first aid kit.

“Well, at least you are home and safe. Why don’t you take showers and change, and I’ll go make us something to eat okay?”

Dean and Sam both cracked a smile before gingerly standing from the bed.

“Thanks, Y /n.” Dean wrapped me in a hug, and I felt him press his lips to the crown of my hair before letting go and heading down the hall. Sam too wrapped me up in a hug before he went towards the showers.

I could finally feel myself relax as my body and brain finally got the message that the boys were okay.

I was so happy they were home, safe and sound.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Beauty and the Beast AU! - Demon!Dean Winchester x fem!reader part 4

Read part 3 here!

This is my second time posting this because Tumblr hates me.

Summary: You are seen as the oddball around town, you're into books and other nerdy things that the small town you were raised in just don't get. You dream of going on the road and having adventures, but it's unlikely you can because you don't have a lot of money. Your father runs a house renovating business and goes to a job in the spooky abandoned house in the woods. You see where I'm going from here.

----

Later that night, I started reading. Looking into any book I could get my hands on that mentioned anything about a sacrifice of the heart. After Dean showed them the video, Sam and Castiel also searched. I was getting more and more frustrated.

"This is so stupid!" I shouted and slammed another book shut. I held my head in my hands, fresh tears filling my eyes.

"Did you find something?" Sam asked, looking up from his laptop.

"Barely. All that I found was one thing. But it's so damn vague that it's making my head hurt trying to understand it." My breathing got quicker, "All it says is that a sacrifice of the heart is made in dire need and is permanent. Nothing on how to perform it or how to undo it." I shook my head, getting more and more frustrated and confused. It hurt to breathe and it felt like my head was going to explode.

Dean, who had been standing in the corner and watched them all, moved to place a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"It's okay... We'll figure it out." He said. I took deep breaths, reaching up and holding onto his hand.

"I'm just trying to get over the fact that angels have been living in town." I sighed.

Sam looked at the us, then refocused, "Well that and we have to figure out why they wanted your mom in the first place. They wanted her to have a baby but what does that mean?"

Castiel looked at us from across the room, several scrolls under his arm, "She was chosen to bear the savior."

"The second coming? Really?" Crowley asked, clearly more interested now, "That would cause chaos. It would kick start the rapture when he came of age."

"Hold on." I said, rubbing my temples, "Are you telling me that my mother was chosen to give birth to Jesus?"

"Precisely." Castiel nodded, "Once he was born, it would only be a matter of time before the apocalypse would begin once more."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, "But since her mom isn't here it won't happen, right?"

Castiel looked at me solomly, "I'm afraid not. Like your vessels, it's passed down through generations. You said Michael was always trying to get you alone?" I nodded slowly, not prepared to hear what she had already feared.

"It's me? I'm... I'm supposed....?" I whispered. Castiel only nodded.

"Well, didn't realize we were in the presence of the new Virgin Mary." Crowley held up a glass to me, "Cheers, love."

"There is no way in hell that's happening." Dean said, "I'll kill every damn angel in that town before I let Michael lay a finger on her."

"We won't let it happen, Dean." Sam said, "We can't let it happen."

Dean was fuming mad, his eyes flickered black but only for a moment.

I stood up, "Guys, let's just calm down for right now. Castiel was talking about antiangel engravings on your ribs, I'll get them too. But just for tonight... Let's just relax. And have a beer because I really need something." I let out a small chuckle.

Sam smiled, "That's a great idea. I'll get dinner started."

"I will do more research." Castiel walked to the hallway, scrolls to be read.

"And I'll get in touch with a few associates. They could dig something up." Crowley made his way out of the room.

-

I was in my room, picking out something nice to where for dinner. It was supposed to be a relaxing night and I wanted to look my best with what was given. My only bra and undies had been washed so I put those one and opted for a large Metallica t-shirt, I tied it on the side so it appeared more form fitting. After rummaging through the closets of this place I had actually found a black bell shaped skirt that probably had not been worn since the 1950s, but it wasn't eaten by moths so there was that. It actually fit pretty well. My sneakers, who had been through it all, still decided to hold together. I took a deep breath and fixed my hair the best I could. Makeup just wasn't an option. But I had decent eyelashes and I seem to have been getting away with only wearing a tinted chapstick that was loose in my bag. I looked at my outfit, wringing my hands together. Why was I so nervous about looking good? Was it Dean? Just the thought of his name made my heart flutter. Who would have thought... That brute was kind of.... Growing on me. Like a fungus. But a handsome fungus. A dangerous fungus. I should stop calling him a fungus.

I took a deep breath and walked out the door. The guys were in the kitchen, clearly talking around the island. But the conversation halted as I entered. Sam patted Dean's shoulder lightly to get his attention. And when he looked at me I felt my cheeks go hot. Dean's eyes widened and his jaw clenched. He moved towards me, stopping a few inches in front of me. He lifted his hand, then lowered it.

"You look uh..." He stuttered.

"Yes?" I asked patiently.

"Uh...." Dean looked back at Sam who was giving him the thumbs up.

"Uh dinner's ready." He said. I heard Sam sigh loudly.

-

Dinner was great, Sam made spaghetti and it was pretty good. Not as good as Dean's cooking though. Dean had found an old radio in a back room and decided to turn it on. The old thing still worked.

He turned up the volume and grinned, "There we go!" He clapped his hands together. Dean was into classic rock and metal bands, so when AC/DC came on he seemed pretty excited.

"She was a fast machine. She kept her motor clean. She was the best damn woman I had ever seen." He sang along with the song, pointing at me. He could actually sing, he had a deep smooth voice. I laughed, getting into the rhythm of the song. He grabbed my hand and brought me to the middle of the room. He twirled me around and brought me close. One hand held mine while the other was on my waist. I grinned, following his lead. At the chorus he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up, swaying along with the beat. I giggled and held on to his shoulders.

"And we were making it and you! Shook me all night long!" He brought me back down, twisting and swaying and dipping me back until the song came to an end. I was out of breath but I was laughing. I looked up at him and watched him grin. He was having fun and he was happy. I wondered if that's what he was like before the mark.

"I think I need some air." I panted, going to the table and grabbing my glass of water.

"I'll go with ya." Dean said. I nodded and followed him up the stairs. I turned back, seeing Sam, Castiel and Crowley look away after they were very obviously staring.

We went out on the porch. As soon as the cool air hit me I shivered. I should have grabbed a jacket.

"Here." Dean said, shrugging off his green army jacket and helping me out it on. It was warm and comfy. It didn't have that sulfer smell but something different. Like pine and soft leather. We stood there for a moment, just looking out into the sky. There was a full moon, it's light made the snow sparkle.

"I haven't had that much fun in a while. Almost forgot..." He said after a long time. I looked up at him and smiled. He looked into my eyes, slowly moving closer. My breath hitched in my throat as he slide his hand against my cheek. It was warm and rough from callouses, but that didn't bother me. Then he blinked and pulled his hand away, shaking his head. The loss made my shoulders slump.

"It's crazy," he chuckled, "Thinking you could want anything to do with someone like me."

"I wouldn't say that..." I whispered. He looked down at me, almost shocked.

"Really? You would want to stay here?" He asked. I bit my lip and thought about it. If I would stay, it would still be as a prisoner really. I wouldn't be able to leave.

"Could anyone be happy if they weren't free?" I said, looking away.

"My dad used to take me to those daddy-daughter dances. I used to step on his toes a lot." I changed the subject.

"You must miss him." He said, he sounded so sad and disappointed.

"Yeah... A lot." I said.

"Would you want to see him?" He asked making me perk up.

-

Dean brought me to his room. It was messy but it was still his. In his nightstand there was a hand held mirror. The frame and handle were made of a dark polished wood. There were intricate vines and flowers carved into the surface. The mirror reflected my and Dean's image.

"Just say who you want to see and if they're by a reflective surface, you can see them." He said, handing it to me.

"I want to see my father." I said to the mirror. Amazingly the mirrors imaged clouded and wobbled. But soon it cleared, it looked like the glass window from the bar in town. There was a large group of people led by Michael. He had my father handcuffed, he had a black eye and his lip was bleeding.

"Give me your blessing, old man. I would prefer to have it before I take your daughter anyway."

My dad spit at Michael's feet. Michael glared and slapped him across the face, knocking him over. I gasped and touched the image.

"What are they doing to him?!" I shouted, anger rushing through me. Dean was silent, only for a moment.

"You have to go." He said.

I looked back at him, turning fully to face him, "What?"

"You got to go now. You don't have a lot of time." He pulled my car keys from his pocket and held them out to me. I took the keys and tried to give him the mirror back.

"Take it." He said, "Maybe look in on us every once in a while." He smirked but it didn't reach his eyes. I nodded, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you." I said and ran down the hall and up the stairs. I left the abandoned house, got into my car and sped down the road back to town.

Dean watched her leave, a thickness settling into his chest again. He growled and let out a roar, his eyes flickering black. He angerly knocked everything off the side table on the ground. The lamp shattered on impact with the concrete floor. A dark rage came over him as he left the room and down the hall. He went to the axe in the glass case on the wall. He punched the glass with his whole fist, the glass shattered beneath his knuckles. He yanked the axe free from it's holster and marched down the hall.

Sam ran to see the trouble, "What-" he stopped, backing away from Dean with his arms up. Dean shoved passed him with his shoulder, going back into his room and smashing everything insight.

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

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[hes-writer]

Lunar New Year

Summary: Harry celebrates Chinese New Year with Y/N’s family

Warnings: fluff?

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer: I am NOT Chinese though, I have researched and am quite familiar with the traditions. I’ve also consulted my friends who do celebrate it. If there’s any generalized info that I’ve used incorrectly, please message me about it! 

Harry was amazed at the culture. He and Y/N woke up early this morning in order to visit the city’s Chinatown to watch the traditional performances of the dragon and lion dances. The beat of the drum thrumming as the performer’s mallet hits it rhythmically while the two-person ensemble danced to it was unlike anything he had seen before. At one instance, the head of the dragon was headed straight for him and Harry cowered back in alarm but eventually relaxed once he realized that it was part of the routine. It was more intimidating since the fiery red and orange ‘tail’ swayed angrily, framing the head dauntingly. 

“You should’ve seen your face!” Y/N laughs, pointing at Harry and reenacting the emotion that plastered his face the moment the dragon faced their direction.

“Y/N,” He whines like a child. “I didn’t know okay,”

Y/N pinches his cheeks as he pouts cutely, keeping an eye on her mother who was currently leading them out of the square and in the busy streets.  

“Yeah, yeah it was your first time,”

Y/N is Chinese and Harry—having had not one Asian girlfriend before—was very new to the culture. Sure, he’s spent time in Japan in the past years, but he is educated enough to know that the cultures are observably different. Having met each other a year before, this was the first time when their relationship was concurrent with the annual Lunar New Year.

***

“It’s the year of the Pig, Harry!” Y/N was seated on the couch, computer on her lap with her reading glasses on.

“Year of the Pig? What’s that about?” He questioned having little knowledge of the topic and has only heard about it minutely.

“Yeah! Every year, there’s a different animal sign according to Chinese Zodiac,” She paused her actions, speaking to him in a factual tone. “Last year was the Dog and in a week’s time, it’s going to be the Pig,”

Harry appreciated the Y/N was willing to answer his question about her culture without demeaning his cluelessness about the topic.

***

And so, the day goes on with him exploring the booths of Chinatown. He voluntarily tries the rare snacks that are only appearing during the occasion. He tries the street food, the traditional dumplings and learns more and more about the meaning of each symbol and why it’s historically important for them.

He was warned not fill up too much on food while they were out as dinner tonight would be robust. Y/N’s extended family will be visiting for the New Year, essentially meaning that he will be fully immersed in an experience so totally new and educating for him. He is definitely excited.

Currently, his arms are slowly being accompanied by plastic bags, carrying decorations to slap on the walls of Y/N’s family’s house later in the afternoon. His eyes couldn’t get enough of the red color; symbolizing good luck. A red lantern hangs above his head, the walls of buildings being plastered in pictures to depict prosperity. The paintings are mostly pigs because of course; it is the year of the pig.

—-

The house is packed with relatives who have not seen each other since last New Years greet and check in on one another’s life. Walls were decorated in spring couplets, adding authenticity to the otherwise normal home. The floors were cleaned a couple days prior to ‘sweep away the dust’—hiding away the past, bidding farewell and paying close attention to the coming of new year.

Harry overhears that Y/N’s second cousin is pregnant and next year, there would be another addition to the family. He also hears not-so-positive things being passed around the house and he doesn’t know if he should laugh or not given that he is the ‘newest’ addition to the family. Well, not exactly. He hasn’t asked Y/N’s mother yet about his plans to propose—he knows it’s only been a year and sometime when he and Y/N got together, but he is absolute about his feelings for her.

The reunion dinner itself was delicious.  Countless options were placed on the large table ranging from fish, beef, pork and vegetables served as choices for the family. Large servings were either ordered or cooked to suffice the hungry stomachs of the guests. Hot pot was one of the big sellers, Harry discovers as watched Y/N’s mother make broth about three times and he himself had offered to wash the enoki mushrooms while Y/N cut the tofu in cubes.

Eventually, the mass of the crowd gathers in the living room. The television was hooked up to a karaoke machine where the passionate aunties sang to their hearts desires. However, it was paused to bring order to the next event happening. Most of the adults grasped red-colored envelopes in their hands and Harry wanted to know where they got it.

“Psst, Y/N! Can I get one of those too?” Harry pokes Y/N’s hip since she was standing beside him while he sat on a chair.

She nods, asking an elderly woman on her other side if she had any extras. She receives about four envelopes and gives them to Harry.

“What are these for?” He runs his fingertip over the gold characters.

“You put some money in it and give it to the kids. It’s for good luck,” She answers, smiling down at him while letting her forearm rest on his broad back.

Harry opens the envelopes, shifting a bit to grab his wallet in his pocket. He pulls out a couple hundred bills and stuffs them neatly in each red letter.

The time comes to hand over the envelopes. He gives one to Y/N’s little cousin who was only two years old.

“What do you say, Cindy?” Y/N asks.

“Fank you, Hawwy,” She answers shyly, eyelashes fluttering as she bats her eyes at him. His heart melts at the cuteness and he squeezes one of her cheeks gently.

“No problem, bubs”

Some of the adults head outside the house to light the fireworks just in time to welcome the Lunar New Year. It was a well-known tradition; with its confetti and sparklers igniting right before their eyes.

“We used to stay up all night,” Y/N speaks, laying on Harry’s chest while they watched her family laugh when her uncle fails to light up a cracker. “But they’re getting older now so they only stay up till midnight”

Harry chuckles, looking up in time to see the first successful firework explode into the starry night sky.

“3...2...1, Happy New Year!” The happy family cheers, hugging one another.

“You know we still have other relatives to visit tomorrow and we also have to video chat my grandparents. I'm sorry if this is troublesome to you,”

“It’s fine, lovie. I’m so glad to be spending this with you,”

---

Happy Lunar New Year to anyone who celebrates it.

Since it’s Chinese New Year is today (timezone) I thought it would be nice to write about Harry spending time with Y/N during this occasion.

Let me know if you like it! Requests are open :) 

[btskismet]

Kismet (Chapter 15): A BTS Jin imagines fanfic

First ever fanfic. Contains fluff and smut. Please read sequentially as it is a long story arc. Please provide feedback! My IG is btskismet.

She went straight to the bathroom when they got back to the hotel. She closed the door and washed her face. She then stared at herself in the mirror. She knew this would be hard - with just hours left, she would be saying goodbye to him. The time they spent together was so precious and short. It was a surprise but not as well that she fell in love with him. Him falling in love with her was nothing short of a miracle.

If he were an ordinary man, we'd plan to stay together, she thought. But he's not. I have to be prepared to accept that I might never see him again.

She heard a rap on the door. "Jagiya..", Seokjin said. "Are you ok? Can I come in?"

She said yes and he opened the door. He was slightly pink because he was still tipsy but he had a sad expression when he came inside the bathroom.

As soon as their eyes met, she started to cry. Seokjin reached out to pull her close and hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry", she said in between sobs. "I can't help it. I knew this day would come but..."

"Shhhh, shhhh...", Seokjin whispered. He was sniffing and trying to hold back his tears. "I'm sorry to make you feel this sad. I know I could've just said hi and had a photo with you that day but I couldn't help myself aa well. I just know I had to speak with you..."

She started to hug him tighter. Seokjin told her that his mind was racing that first day they met. He knew it would be harder to stay away from her once he spoke to her but he couldn't stop. He wanted to get to know her and have her close to him.

"What do we do now? Is this the end? This is all we have?", she asked sadly.

Seokjin let go of her and looked at her when he said No. "We will find a way. I know it'll be hard for us but we will find ways. I want to spend time with you again like this. Trust me that I need and want you with me. Please?"

She nodded as she was crying. "Ok, I trust you."

They stepped out of the bathroom and went to the couch. He made her some jasmine tea and had a cup as well as they sat facing the window. The snow was falling lightly and slowly. It was a beautiful night with half of the moon seen through the night sky.

"Did Taehyung talk to you?", Seokjin asked.

She nodded as she sipped her tea.

~~~~~

After she sang Final Distance, she asked to step out to go to the bathroom. Seokjin gave her a peck on her cheek before she left and she slowly walked to the bathroom. She composed herself in there as she didn't want him and the guys see her cry.

She went out of the karaoke joint to get a warm coffee in the vending machine. She was a little tipsy and she knew that if she drank more, she might end up crying. So, she wanted some coffee to get her head straight.

As she was cupping a warm Suntory Boss latte, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Taehyung standing at the entrance of the karaoke bar.

"Can we talk?", he asked her. She realized after a few seconds that he said it in Korean but she understood. He had the other earpiece and the fact he borrowed it from Seokjin meant he had a lot to say.

"Sure.", she said and walked back inside with him. At the lobby, he asked the attendant if there was an area there they could go to to talk, like a pantry. The attendant brought them to a waiting area in the back entrance which was small but quiet.

She sat down across Taehyung and felt nervous. As beautiful as he was, he had a serious expression that she only saw once - it was the same expression he had when he was fighting with Seokjin in the YouTube Red episode of Burn The Stage. He cried in that episode but he was quite frustrated with Seokjin at that time. Seeing his expression like that made her worry about what he was going to say to her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday.", he said. "I was upset and not myself and I should've been more accommodating to you. I was upset about... something and I should've been friendlier."

"I understand. I know why you were upset. If I were in your position, I'd feel the same way. Maybe even worse.", she said in response.

Taehyung's mouth was wide open when she looked at him. "You know?", he asked pointedly and she nodded in response.

He swayed his head and had a bit of a chuckle. "Ah, Seokjin didn't even keep a secret from you..."

She noticed he didn't use any honorifics when he said Seokjin's name. It made her wonder about the extent of their relationship.

"If he didn't keep it from you, then what he feels for you is true.", Taehyung said. He nodded his head and he looked like he was about to cry.

They sat across each other in silence. She wasn't sure what to say and didn't know where this conversation would lead. She saw Taehyung lost in thought, rubbing his palms together.

"Listen... Seokjin loves you and I lost. I love him but I want him to be happy. If you are able to make him happier than I can, then he should be with you. What he has... had... with me is... complicated.", Taehyung describes with difficulty, his voice breaking as he said the last sentence.

"What he has with me is also complicated. After tonight, who knows when I will see him again?", she said sadly, focusing on her hands that were on her knees.

Taehyung looked at her and smiled a sad smile. "I know that will break his heart... Not seeing you again."

She nodded and she laughed softly. "It's hard to love someone so wonderful and yet can be untouchable. The fame you all have makes it so."

Taehyung nodded and laughed softly as well. "Harder to love someone close to you but wants to be with someone who is far away."

They sat in silence, contemplating their situation. She knew this was difficult for him and he knew it was difficult for her too. Funny how they would both be in a situation that they would have a likeness of emotions. Kindred spirits.

"Please take care of him.", she said. "He says he will make it work but at the rate you guys are going, I'll never have a chance like this to be with him again. With you around him, I'm sure he will be fine."

"Fine but not happy. He will find a way. This is Kim Seokjin we are talking about. He's always determined.", Taehyung expressed.

She smiled. She said thank you to Taehyung and he told her they had to go back. As soon they stood up, JHope saw them and walked back with them to the karaoke room.

~~~~~

"He's right, you know.", Seokjin said. "I am very determined and I will find a way."

She reached out to him and he hugged her. "I will go back to you and I will meet with you wherever you are. When our tour is over, we will be together again."

She nodded silently but thoughts ran through her head as she tried to remember how long their tour was still going to be. Taiwan, Brazil, US and Canada. 4 more countries so almost 3 more months. She swallowed and pushed herself to accept the circumstances.

"I will call and message you every single day.", he promised.

"Seokjin, please don't make this any harder than it already is.", she said softly.

He stopped hugging her and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I am blessed to have been with you this way. This whole week was a blessing. Once you leave, I will accept the fact that this is where it stops. I have to or I might go insane."

Seokjin's face was a little angry with what she said. She could see his furrowed brow and his expression of disbelief to what she was saying.

"Jagiya, do you believe that I need you in my life?", he asked her point blank.

She nodded yes. "Then I promise to find a way to be with you. It does not stop here.", he confidently replied. She could see his eyes were very serious and that determination is shinning through.

He then kissed her passionately, as if to prove his point with it. She felt a surge of emotion and felt tears falling down as she kissed him back. He then carried her quickly to the bed which surprised her and made her feel warm at the same time.

She knew that this would be the last time they would have sex but it didn't feel rushed. He took his time with her, making her cum before he took her by doing everything that would arouse her. He kissed each part of her body and she knew he was savoring her. It was not sex but love in each time he kissed her, he touched her and thrusted into her until he came.

~~~~~

Seokjin sent her the picture they had that morning. He was wearing a pink hat and hoodie. He was very handsome in the photo and she thought she looked like crap. But he told her that she was beautiful, whether she just woke up or when she was out and even when she's asleep. "I'll count the days until I sleep beside you again.", he whispered.

Remembering what he said made her cry more. She was crying in the hotel room, looking at the photo and all of their photos in Japan.

She couldn't bear to see him off at the lobby and he wanted her to stay in the hotel until it was time for her to check out. His manager advised that they leave as soon as possible since their plane was only staying in the runway for a few minutes. BigHit sent their personal plane over since there were three members flying out of Sapporo so they left as early as they could.

He gave her a long kiss before he stepped out of the room. "I love you so much, Jagiya.", he said to her in English. "I will message you. Everyday. You see.", he said.

He hugged her one more time and shut the door.

~~~~~

2190. Her plane took off and it was a smooth takeoff from the tarmac. As soon as they reached the expected height, she turned on her phone and texted him that she was up in the air.

He texted her when he got on the jet and when he got back to SoKor. He constantly messaged her each hour to know where she was and this comforted her. He said he would video call her once she messages him that she's back home.

-----

The rain was heavily pouring down on them. He knew that the amount of rain wouldn't even wash away the blood that was on the ground. He was not keen on the need to kill too many of the villagers. Sure, they were not going to give up their land so easily but they needed it to have more tarmac for their base. Those coffee fields were perfect to build it on. But the locals were persistent, just like the ones at the capital. So, the fact they killed so many was supposed to be a lesson for the others.

There was another group of locals near the Commander. He was telling them in broken English that they had to give up the plantation and the farmers should clear it out so they can build the tarmac.

An old man was reasoning out that they were protected from this because their Mayor spoke to the General that their land would be safe. Their crops were all they had.

A young woman was pushing her way through the crowd of locals and went up to the commander. She started to plead to the Commander not to hurt the people and their land.

He couldn't understand everything she was saying because she was speaking in English but she didn't seem like the other men and women. She sounded like she went to school and came from a higher standing than the others. She looked familiar to him but he couldn't quite place where.

The Commander started laughing at her rudely. He knew he was not believing what she was saying.

He mentioned the sentence "kill them all" in Korean to the rest of the troops and they started firing at the people around her. She screamed and asked them to stop.

Each person fell beside her. The soldiers didn't discriminate between men, women and children and just killed them all. He saw her crying and screaming, her hands in her face.

A man from afar started running and calling out her name. She saw him going to her and she told him to stop. But he reached her to pull her away when suddenly he was struck by a sword. The Commander thrusted his sword into the man's chest.

The man fell to the ground like the rest of the other people. She was the only one left alive. She dropped to the ground and clutched the dying man in her arms, screaming his name as the rain fell hard on them. She looked at all of the soldiers in front of her and her eyes locked on his for a few seconds. He felt bad for her as she was hysterically crying, distraught and horrified by the death around her. He felt an immense amount of pity because he knew she was trying to save the others. The man tried to save her too and it got him killed.

The Commander came close to her and raised his sword, ready to strike her down. He was about to scream no to the Commander but the General shouted at the Commander to stop.

~~~~~

"Aniiiiiii!!!", Seokjin screamed and woke up violently from his sleep. It was dark and he couldn't see a thing.

Light came from an open door and Jimin peeked through. "Jinhyung? Gwenchana?", he asked worriedly.

Seokjin was shaking his head, wondering where he was and it didn't take long for him to realize that he was back home.

Jimin and then Yoongi came inside his room. They turned on the lights and saw that Seokjin was drenched in sweat and he was panting. He was staring out into space as if he was trying to figure out something.

They asked him what happened and if he had a nightmare. Seokjin then started sharing it to them, trying his best to recall every part of it and he kept talking so he wouldn't forget.

"I saw it clearer now. It's her. She's the woman in my dream. She was the one around all those dead people.", Seokjin said to them.

Yoongi was looking at him, perplexed by the story. Jimin gave Seokjin a towel so he could wipe his sweat.

"And this is the recurring dream you've had? The one you keep having but can't remember in its totality? How can you remember all of it now?", Yoongi interrogated him. He had a look of disbelief on his face.

"I don't know...", Seokjin murmured.

"Jinhyung, this is the first time you've given us all the details of this nightmare you've always had. Maybe this is a new one that's why you remember everything?"

Seokjin looked at Jimin point blank. "No, Jimin. This is the same one.", he said hastily.

They were silent for a minute, thinking about the situation. Seokjin got his phone and scanned it to look at her picture.

"What if I lived this life before and I met her then? Wouldn't I remember more of the past, now that we've met?"

--- to be continued ---

[namjoonchronicles]

his presence | sj

🌸 pairing: seokjin x you; taehyung 🌸 genre: medical, fluff, domestic 🌸 summary: a trip back to memory lane with your ill-stricken boyfriend, with a twist at the end

Taehyung looks really good in suits. "Lose the glasses Tae." You scoffed and he slide them glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered at you.

"Why aren't you dressed yet." It was a statement, disguised as a question. "I couldn't pick out a dress that would impress Seokjin." You are already disappearing through the hallway. Pictures of you and Seokjin on the round table next to the wall phone, stood proudly.

Taehyung waddles, following your lead. It wasn't his first time here, anyways. He spends way too much time here than his own place for no reason at all.

"...I honestly think it doesn't matter because he'll like it however you're dressed... but if you want to make a fashion statement, then you've come to the right person." A bag full of comics, on the floor by the hallway, spilling out and the dust that piles on it suggests that it had been there for awhile. Left there, abandoned and forgotten. Until you walked out and kicked it away, by accident. And it halted your haste. It halted you thought and it 'stopped' time.

May 30th, 2015.

A dream-like presence. A mirage of endless possibilities. A miracle of some kind. Seokjin is the only angel you know. The missing piece of you that you will never find a replacement for. You could feel it in your heart that Seokjin is one of a kind. We all have our defense mechanism, our coping mechanism, the way we deal with things that upsets us. For you, it was easily, Kim. Seok. Jin. What else do you need? Those luscious lips, incredible wit and glorious laughter.

You never believed in the existence of a perfect man, until Seokjin came along.

And that's your remedy. It comes in the presence of one man.

But Seokjin, his coping mechanism isn't a human. He makes jokes. Jokes are his way of coping. Odd, right?

You walked in with a bag of comics, you knew he'd enjoy. It was the only thing he asked for and he's not the kind that would request anything. So you knew that if he had said them out loud, he must have wanted them so much. "Oh thank goodness, it's here." He gasped upon your arrival, eyeing the back you brought with you. "...Hi, I love you too," you pull his head and kiss the top of his head as he lay on the hospital bed, hands already grabbing the straps and fishing out one of the book, being impatient. "You know, we could subscribe to Netflix and watch movies together..." You sat on his bed, running your fingers through his healthy lock of brownish hair, noticing that it has gotten a tad longer than it used to be.

"You need a haircut." You commented, but Seokjin didn't pay any attention so you grabbed him by the chin and forced his to face you but his eyes are comically still trying to read the first page of the comic he was holding in his hand. "Kim Seokjin." You stressed on each syllable and he looks up at you with doe eyes. "I'm going to use that coupon now." You gave him a thin smile and Jin blinks rapidly at you, slapping a smile on his beautiful face. "What coupon?" He frowned in a second. The coupon. The coupon he gave you on your birthday from last year. There are six altogether. "That's not valid anymore." He fidgets his eyes away, pouting his lips as he speaks. He tends to do that when he's unsure about something.

"What are you saying. My birthday is tomorrow, I still can use this." You sang cheerfully as you jumped out of the bed and to your purse where you kept them. You've used all four in the span of a year, so there's two left. The used coupons are as follow:

1. Have your hair washed by the Great Seokjin. 2. Have a wish granted by the Amazing Seokjin. 3. Free hot chocolate mug made by the Beautiful Seokjin. 4. Say 'Yes' to the question Seokjin asked.

Now you had to decide between the two.

Seokjin peeks over your shoulder from afar and take a binocular from his side table next to the ECG machine, trying to get a glimpse of the last two coupons you have. But when you turned behind you suddenly, he hid those binoculars under the sheet. You skipped next to his bed when someone came knocking on his door. "Mr. Seokjin, I've come to take your vitals." The nurse came with her own blood-pressure cuffs, blood sugar test, and some packs of needles and tools needed to perform simple medical procedures. "I have to remind you that we'll take his fasting blood-sugar test, so he'll start fasting at noon." The kind nurse informed you even though you remembered them from yesterday's visit.

You couldn't help feeling the prick as well when he hissed. The needles goes into his fair skin where the elbow folds, and the burgundy blood fills into the tube with ease. "We will run blood tests on some medication to see if he is compatible with it or not. We won't want him to develop allergies. That's why we're doing this." The nurse took out the needle and threw them into the sharp bin next to her and you pressing gently, a cotton ball on the area of puncture, folding Seokjin's hand as he knitted his brows together. "Take all you can, while I still have some..." Seokjin bitterly replied. He never liked needles. But his arms were filled with puncture scars, it was understandable why he might feel irritated by the procedures. Enamored, you followed after the nurse. She gave you a look that signals, "There's something I know that you don't."

To which you pursued, and she deliberately explains, with much difficulty that displayed all over her face as you stood just outside Seokjin's ward. With a few moment of silence, you helped her say the inevitable. "...The medications are not responding, are they?" The nurse wasn't surprise at your knowledge. You were a practicing pharmacist before you took a temporary leave that turned into a permanent leave, when you knew Seokjin was unwell. It was no surprise that you would have suspected this long before they declared them to you.

"They had stopped responding since last two weeks and the doctors don't know why. So we are collaborating with toxicologist and several experts to sought after a plausible alternative. Several alternatives." It made you glanced over your shoulder at Seokjin who was reading earnestly. He looks so angelic with the golden sun shining through the shades, refracting on his skin and his brown hair. It was difficult not to cry.

"...He is young, his body is capable to withstand damages. And he is in his prime, there shouldn't be any problem. We won't be expecting any setbacks." The nurse assured you but you snapped your head at her, "...And yet here we are. If I found out that my Seokjin is becoming your lab rat, I will sue each one of you. I expect to see his full medical records." And you knew very well you weren't supposed to review his health conditions, but you have friends who could. "I dislike making enemies out of people who treats you, but wow, they're getting on my nerves." You walked back in with a little shake of your head. "A guy asked me out on a date today.Should I go?" You lazily said.

He froze. He pretended he was reading so you repeated. "Should I go on a date with him?" Seokjin eyeballs shake and he flips the pages even though he isn't finished reading. He couldn't even answer. You and Seokjin had gone through several break ups before he got sick. He was doing all kinds of ridiculous thing to get you to hate him, and when you find out it was because he was afraid that you knew he was ill, you cling on him, suggesting that you both could stay as friends. And 'friends' was what you two were, with each other.. Seeing that he had no response what-so-ever, you took out your green card. The coupon. The handwritten by Seokjin-coupon. That coupon.

Seokjin set the book down. "Let's see which one you chose." He said, as he took them.

Grant a wish. In which, Seokjin has to grant you a wish. "What is your wish?" He monotonously asked and you sat at the end of his bed, scratching the strand coming out of the blanket he uses. Jutting your lower lips out, you blinked to your fingers playing with the strand, and mumbled, "...Tell me not to go on a date with anyone, ever." Seokjin blinks to his lap and the book he placed there. "You really want to waste your final last coupon on something as stupid as that?" Seokjin scoffed. "It's my wish, I can do whatever I want with it." He was not impressed. Or was he? You would use that last wish to have him say possessive things. Should he be proud or should he be offended?

"Why won't you date other people? Healthy...people." He asked, blinking slowly. He pressed his lips together, feeling rather ominous with the situation. Why would you? Why would you waste away your youth for this ill-fated man?

"Because I don't want to." Because healthy people didn't have Jin's heart.

August 30th, 2017.

A bag full of comics, on the floor by the hallway, spilling out and the dust that piles on it suggests that it had been there for awhile. Left there, abandoned and forgotten. Until you walked out and kicked it away, by accident. "Did you see my phone?" Taehyung shouted from outside and you snapped back into reality. "I think...I think I saw it on the couch." You took them for him. Inside the car, the radios were tuned to the most popular morning shows. "What do you call zebras that are friends?"

You smiled to your phone and answered, what the radio DJ asked, effortlessly, "...ZeBROs." Taehyung chuckled short. "What did the dog tell the wall..."

"Wall~wall."

"Do you know who would appreciate these shows?" You turned to Taehyung as he drives. "I think I have an idea on who." Taehyung proceeds to smile to the view ahead. "I'm glad that you choose that dotted dress. Seokjin would really love it. "We will play RM and V's 4 O'clock on this sorrowful rainy morning, hope all the listeners will enjoy the suburban feel this song has." They picked the right song.

Seokjin’s tombstone. Taehyung straightens up after laying a bouquet of daisies next to his name. “He would never leave us alone with those lame jokes. I used to joke around on how stupid it is, but now that he’s gone, I kinda missed it.”

Taehyung would have pretended to laugh if he were to hear them again, Seokjin’s dad jokes. And so would you. “His presence was everything. So his absence is devastating.”

[surveysonfleek]

415.

1. First of all, what do you prefer to be called? d.

2. What is your favorite form of creative expression? art. i love art galleries/museums.

3. How do you like your coffee OR if you don’t like it, why?: i hardly drink coffee coz it gives me jitters and stomach aches. i do love an iced coffee though.

4. What is the least desirable thing, in your opinion, to put on a pizza that you have heard of people actually eating?: tbh i’ve never had anchovies on a pizza. i wouldn’t mind trying it though.

5. Would you rather witness the beginning or the end of the universe?: beginning.

6. Describe your favourite pair of socks:  those invisible socks, doesn’t matter what colour since they can’t be seen.

7. What is the current or last song you are listening/listened to, and does it have any special significance to you?:  nah i just love the song.

8. Do you prefer rainbows or stars?: stars.

9. Describe the best day of your life NOT in terms of events, but in terms of your feelings: hmmm just being in love i guess.

10. Would you rather go to a planetarium or an aquarium?: aquarium.

11. Do you know the reason that 11:11 is considered to be auspicious?: no idea.

12. What decorations are hanging on your walls?: none in this room, just a corkboard pinned with random photos, ticket stubs etc.

13. What is your favourite planet in our solar system?: earth.

14. How do you express love?: being affectionate, doing nice things for them etc.

15. Do you consider yourself to be more spiritual or scientific?: in between tbh.

16. If you had a lava lamp, what color would you want it to be?: purple or pink.

17. Would you rather be able to revisit your past to simply re-experience a positive moment or revisit your past in order to change things and risk the consequences?: re-experience. i don’t wna change anything in case that changes things in the future.

18. Have you ever had a past-life regression or memory?: no.

19. What is your favourite holiday and why?: christmas. gifts, family and food + end of year.

20. Are you better with remembering dates or names?: ummm neither. faces i guess. with dates i’ll remember months and not actual dates lol.

21. What was your favourite book that you had to read for a class?: to kill a mockingbird.

22. What is your favourite number and why is it significant to you?: 7. it’s my boyfriend and i’s anniversary date.

23. Would you rather explore space or the ocean?:  neither haha. i’m a bit scared of the unknown.

24. What prompted you to call the last person you called?: i forgot who i called last.

25. Star Trek or Star Wars?: neither.

26. Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter?: harry potter.

27. What is your favourite band and why?: i don’t have one.

28. What colour best resonates with your best friend(s)?: yellow? idk lol.

29. Where do you work and why do you work there?: at the casino. i only work there coz it pays well, i hate it.

30. Have you ever gone to a public karaoke facility, and what did you sing?:  yep. it wasn’t really public, it was a karaoke bar with private rooms. i sang whatever.

31. What animal do you feel most connected with?: none haha.

32. Have you ever had “special brownies” or any other kind of “special” treat?: nope.

33. What book are you reading at the moment?: sometimes i lie.

34. What is the funniest thing that you have done at a fast food restaurant? umm at pizza hut the soft serve ice cream machine didn’t stop when i got my own ice cream lol. i was still a kid.

35. Do you enjoy listening to music that is sung in another language?: sometimes.

36. Quote the last movie you watched: idk lol.

37. Do you know more than just your sun sign (like your ascending sign or moon sign etc.)?: i have noooo idea.

38. Do you have any jewelery on you that holds significance, and if so, what is it and why is it significant?: my bracelet i guess. my boyfriend bought it for me after our eurotrip.

39. What is your favorite kind of cheesecake?: nutella.

40. Why did you last feel warm and fuzzy inside?: i was spending time with my boyfriend.

41. What band that no longer performs together do you wish would have a reunion tour?:  idk tbh.

42. What band that IS still together do you wish would perform in your area?: boyz ii men.

43. Have you ever been in a band, and what role did you play in it?: no.

44. What has been the single most frightening experience of your life?: idk tbh.

45. Who is/was your favourite Spice Girl?: posh.

46. Do you prefer free verse or poetry set in a form?: neither.

47. In a hotel, would you choose to go in the hot tub, the sauna, the workout room, or the pool?: pool.

48. Imagine that you are exploring space. Who would you want with you and what would you want to explore, assuming you are not limited in any way?: my boyfriend i guess. cool date lol.

49. Have you ever astral projected?: no.

50. What is your favourite song by the group t.A.T.u?: none.

51. Describe what you envision as “paradise”:  being in an all inclusive resort in a tropical place with my own private pool.

52. What element do you feel most connected to?: idk.

53. What is a cause that you feel very strongly about and why?: a lot. equality tbh.

54. What was your favourite class from the last year that you were in school?: omg no idea. i already forgot what subjects we did lmao.

55. What is a topic that you study independently for your own interest?: none.

56. Describe what you would want to wear if you were getting married, handfasted, or having some kind of “love celebration” or “commitment” ceremony between yourself and another? no idea. i’d need to plan this out properly.

57. What song do you want played at your funeral?: yesterday - leona lewis.

58. Would you rather alphabetize or put things in order according to numbers?: numbers.

59. What medication do you dislike the most?: anything with side effects.

60. Would you rather write a story or a poem?: story.

61. Do you believe in non-physical entities, and if so have you ever communicated with one?: no.

62. What invention or discovery do you think that the scientific community should focus on?: cure for cancer.

63. If you could go anywhere, where would you go and why?:  the bahamas.

64. What skill do people often compliment you on?: my photography or desserts.

65. What are three facets of your personality or thinking patterns that you want to improve?: my laziness, motivation and being too comfortable.

66. What is your favourite symbol?: heart.

67. Name an unusual shortcut or file that’s on your desktop: idk lol.

68. What do you smell like right now?: nail polis, just did my nails.

69. You get to have a theme party of your choice, just for fun. What theme do you choose?: hmm 90s? lol.

70. Have you ever been in the depths of a cave?: yes i have.

71. How do you deal with the dark side of yourself?: think before i speak.

72. Name something that you can’t help but save: restaurant business cards.

73. What is your addiction?: smoking.

74. If you could wish something for three people, but not for yourself, who would the wishes be for and what would they be?: happiness for my entire family, success for my boyfriend and friends.

75. Would you rather send a message in a bottle or on a balloon?: balloon.

76. What did you dream last night?: i forgot.

77. What is one of your most frequent daydreams?: vacationing.

78. What is your favourite stuffed animal?: i don’t have one.

79. If you could have a conversation with any well-known figure of the past or present, who would it be and what would you want to talk about?: no idea. i’d have to make a list lol.

80. If you could bring anyone back to life, who would it be?: any of my grandparents.

81. Are you affectionate?: yes. 82. Name one thing that each of your best friends is really good at: my boyfriend is hilarious.

83. What are you a perfectionist with?: washing my car lmao.

84. Could you see yourself being able to carry on a long distance relationship?: tbh probably not. it would depend if it were temporary.

85. If you could be anything but human, including anything mythical, what would you be?: a fairy. or genie.

86. Have you ever meditated? If so, what is your method, and if not, what do you do to relax?: i nap to relax lol.

87. What is something about yourself that you feel no one else understands?: idk. 

[littlenomo]

Gaga Over (S)Udaipur

I'm really at a loss to know how to tell you how amazing our time celebrating Suman and Gagan's wedding has been. We're both really in awe that we have been able to experience such an incredible event with such incredible people!! Having said all that though, our journey to get there was long, expensive and stressful!! After our 9 hour flight with a very fluey Alex, and first night crashing at Aman's flat Mumbai, we wanted to have a chilled day there. We succeeded for the first half of the day! A lie in and then Alex first taste of real Indian food for lunch - everyone's a winner. But then after we'd picked up our rented Indian wedding outfits from Suman's friend Devanshi's lobby, we realised that 3 of them were missing and we couldn't get through to customer service on the phone! So with less than 2 hours until we needed to be at the airport to fly to Udaipur for the wedding the next afternoon, we rushed to the company's store in Mumbai and tried to hurry along the staff as we paid again to replace our missing outfits, but with much more limited choices. However, (as seemed to be a theme throughout our stay), a sense of urgency is really hard to come by in India, so with the hectic traffic when we left, we arrived with only 5 minutes before check in closed so the machine didn't work, but a lady told us we weren't "very late" so it was fine just to join the queue - phew! Then the next drama. We were told at the check in desk that our flight had been moved to 12:15 (it was now about 18:30) and they'd tried to contact us several times with no success to let us know about the change. Our hearts sank as we realised we may have to fly at 05:00 the next morning, but then a miracle; two no shows on the new 19:15 flight meant we squeezed back in in the nick of time! The drama continued however, with a 2 hour delay in taking off (of course!); which meant that by the time we got to our hotel in Udaipur (45 minutes drive from the airport) and the porters took us to the wrong room and then spent 20 minutes trying to find the right one, we were just too exhausted to go and see Su at her hotel, which I was devastated about. Though when I heard the tales of 02:00 party crashing (the whole bridal party had been living off around 2-4 hours sleep a night on the run up to the wedding - I really don't know how they do it!) I was relieved we'd made the choice to get our beauty sleep. In the morning I began to remember what Indian living is really like, and that for a wedding everything is ten times more manic and unpredictable. By the end of the wedding we knew to add at least two hours to any expected timings and that "it isn't an Indian wedding without some chaos". However, when we arrived at the Radisson Blu I instantly knew all the pain had been worth it. It was quite literally a palace and the view out over the lakes was absolutely breathtaking. Also getting to see Su very briefly before the first event, I was so so glad we came. Day one was pre-wedding partying essentially and the first event is called Mehendi and is traditionally for the women, but everyone was there. It was on the rooftop of the hotel and as you arrived there was a bright pink archway (pink was definitely a theme!) with fluorescent coloured origami hanging from it. I GOT HENNA! It was so amazing to watch, the women work so quickly and intricately; I can't stop looking at the artwork on my hands and I'm trying to make it last as long as possible (even washed my hair with bags on my hands yesterday haha). I got our's and Su's hashtags in henna too, one on each arm. This event started proceedings as they meant to go on, consisting of chatting, eating, drinking, taking pictures, goggling at fabulous dresses - The colours! The glamour! - and being gobsmacked by the unbelievable view over the lake as the sun went down. I reconnected with some familiar faces, like Iza, Suman's friend from Hulme days and many many new ones. The second event is called Sangeet and is basically an engagement party and this one was set in the ballroom with huge chandeliers and loud booming Indian music. The white guys were always ready far too early; the rookies in this 2-hours-later-than-we-told-you malarkey. The Sangeet consisted of more of the above, but with the added excitement of some of the younger bridal party performing dances (we nipped up to see some of the rehearsals beforehand in Su's suite and again it was madness - shouting over each other and stopping and starting ha), which I loved! They were just having the best time and they all looked so beautiful and full of life and I particularly loved that the guys were just as passionate and involved as we girls. It also included, bizarrely, the proposal! Everyone crowded round the couple as they exchanged engagement rings and Gagan got down on one knee to the glee of the crowd. I can't believe this was the first time Su had been given, or even seen, the engagement ring! How did she know he was a man of good taste before she agreed to the wedding?! Having said that, the ring was chokka block full of diamonds so it worked out OK for her I guess, and lucky for Suman's dad that she didn't say no at this stage! Then we celebrated the engagement!! The morning of day two (the actual wedding day) was carnage. Everyone had had another really late and heavy night. I was told bridal group were being forced to go to bed around 5am and the first event of the day was due to start at 6am!! Needless to say, it did not, and the morning was a game of guess-when-things-are-happening-and-try-not-to-miss-it! It was frustrating as I could have made it to the first event of the day in the end (Haldi & Chura, where they put turmeric on the bride), but I had no idea what time it was happening. Just as I was going to head to the venue I heard that Suman was already at breakfast covered in turmeric! Anyway, I went down to the spa to have my saree wrapped (what a complicated ordeal!) and then we heard that Gagan was arriving so we raced down to the veranda outside reception. And what a show it was! Gagan was on a bejazzled white horse and wearing a veil made of pearls. His friends and family followed him down the hill accompanied by an amazing team of drummers and subsequent jubilant dancing! The older men in Gagan's family were having an absolute blast and throwing money in the air (a tradition of paying the drummers so they keep playing) and waving money over each other's heads which we saw a few times and must be a way of giving good luck or blessing. It was so vibrant and loud and fun! Then after another panic to get everyone into taxis to the temple (apparently Suman wasn't even 100% ready but her dad was kicking off as they were going to miss their appointment and not be able to actually get married!), we made it and Su's dress was absolutely breathtaking. Red, gold, sparkly and just perfect, she looked amazing. The ceremony was more informal than what we had imagined with people chatting and coming in late, but it was really beautifully done and all Su's girlfriends could come up and sit right next to her which felt like such a privilege. The whole thing was like that actually; Suman's family were so inclusive and wanted us to be up close and personal with everything. We obviously didn't know everything that was going on but the guy running the service sang everything he said (it was really impressive!) and Gagan had to lead Su around the alter 4 times which represented 4 promises they were making to each other. Afterwards Su seemed in a sleepy daze and couldn't believe she was actually married!! I also loved that all the men on Suman's side wore pink turbans (including Alex!). I couldn't help but see the symmetry between that and my dad wearing pink shoes... Same thing right? I saw loads more traditions that afternoon including the grand arrival of the new husband and wife (accompanied by deafening confetti canons!), the families giving each other garlands and gifts and hugging, Suman shaking her long wrist jewellery over all the single ladies and whoever it breaks on will get married next (though she made sure everyone got some ha!), and the super emotional ritual of saying goodbye to her family where she throws petals which her family all catch and then they hug her one by one with a lot of tears (obviously including from me). She is then welcomed in by the groom's family and all the men pretend to push them away together in the car. I think I was the only non-family member there, it was a really moving ceremony. Then a quick nap before the reception!! The reception was super classy, this time out on the veranda with fairy lights and ball gowns. The bride and groom entered between firework canons and again Suman looked like a real life princess. It then seemed like no time at all until we were at the after party in the pool side room complete with pool table and DJ! Lots of pictures, drinks and boy, did we dance! Alex was on fire and everyone was loving it! Top night with top people in an unbelievable location. And we didn't pay for one thing the whole time, madness. The next day we managed to squeeze in a little trip down to the lake with Iza and it was truly breathtaking and the little slice of peacefulness that we were very much in need of after all the madness. Thanks so much for having us Su, it was truly unforgettable and we will be forever grateful that we could be there and experience all that we did!! Now, where were we? Ah yes, Bali...

[peachhoneii]

Kenosis (BATIM)

Fandom:  Bendy and The Ink Machine Word Count: 17048 Summary: A soul must be emptied to receive the Lord’s will. No one knew this better than Susie Campbell. A/N: About my one and only Bendy story, and came as a surge to characterize Susie before Chapter 3 is released. 

[AO3]

Susie positioned the microphone close to her mouth.

Amazed anything was heard with the projection area’s constant ink droppings plopping about, she smiled a toothy grin. She didn’t think to complain.

Her throat and head were clear, and when her lips parted to vocalize, she felt the lovely tingle down her throat, the sharp vibrations that followed every silly voice her vocal chords managed to create.

Opening her mouth and keeping it so was an important key to her success, she believed. Her teeth protruded awkwardly whenever she barked or chirped or sang an unbearably on-key tune. This was how the job went, how it was supposed to be.

The mechanics were altered during the transition, but voice acting wasn’t that much different from on-screen, or on sage acting. She believed the greatest challenge was getting viewers to feel, as well as hear, the range of emotions present in the characters' voice. They had to feel through their actions, fluid and blotchy, and their voices needed to carry their thought process to the viewers, be it silly or diabolical or simply mischievous.

As expected, their range of emotions was exaggerated reality. Warped to suit comedic and surreal necessities, this outrageous range was vital for the art’s survival.

That was hardly the point. When Susie stepped in front of the microphone, she knew what to do, who to be, what tone and timbre worked, and what volume was necessary to get the job done. Her smiles dimmed during work, as the process was more of a strain than one would expect, and her hands constantly moved in accordance to the script's detail.

Time was a pin drop in the back of her mind. She knew it continued, and she knew they were on a strict time schedule. On the other side of the recording room window, the others sat in silence as she performed. Their eyes, all male, targeted on her, and she kept her eyes focused on the right light above the window. Red during recording, always blinking, she let her gaze focus on that, and she breathed through her nose, holding it for her dancing tree segments.

Soon, the script reached its end, and the red, blinking light above the window dwindled. The recording finished, and she gasped lightly, letting her shoulders slag from the strain of the work. Staring into the window, she smiled softly at her audience, the only audience she would ever see, and walked out of the room to meet them. The routine was second nature to her at this point, and she nodded to them, their applause casual but genuine.

"You're doing great, Susie," Norman chimed at the head of the band. His brown eyes were warm and cool at the same time, and he carried a large, black case with him. She imagined his guitar, something he always seemed to carry even though there was rarely a chance to play, carefully held in its case, surrounded by black velvet.

Norman smiled the same smile he did whenever a recording session reached its completion. Aware the chances of another incident were abnormally high, completing whatever work they could was an achievement in itself, "Look at you, starting at the bottom, and now you're here. You're really out there, you know?"

His raspy voice had a kind quality she never thought it would possess the moment she met him. He was a tall man with a slim figure and a gleaming smile. One tooth was capped in gold, and his black hair was smoothed back with moss, giving it an additional glow that couldn't be seen in the poor light.

"It's more than I thought I'd be getting!" She leaned on the tip of her toes. Her left hand clutched her right arm awkwardly, "you know…on my first day I was so nervous, but there was nothing I could about it! If I wanted to get paid, if I wanted to keep working, had to bring out my best! Just gotta do it day by day."

Norman's laughter was as raspy as his normal speaking voice, "Yeah, day by day, sugar pie. It's all we can do, but day by day gets darker every time I come in," the glimmer in his eye lessened, and she followed his gaze around the music room where their music and voice recordings occurred.

She didn't discuss this with the others. Norman, his band, and countless others spent more than two decades at the studio. She knew two of them, aside from Mr. Drew, were present when the original studio developed, and that wasn't something that happened over night.

But as they walked, she found it difficult to reconcile what was and what could be. Large splats of black ink were smeared on the walls, the floors, and the projectors. No surface was spared from the substance, and though her recording had gone splendidly, the drumming roar of the ink machine over their heads warned very little of what she had recorded would be of use. This nonverbal warning's consequence was another recording session would be due soon, and the final project pushed to a later date.

Susie chewed her bottom lip, and turned to Norman, "We're still making it okay, I suppose," and she smiled a little, not wanting to let him know she was worried. After all, she was new to crew, and she had no room for complaint, "And besides, all of this new material will make Disney jealous, I tell ya."

Norman looked as if he wanted to believe those very words. The dark lines around his eyes and mouth betrayed him, "I certainly hope so, song bird," he sighed, "it'll be a miracle if we're not shut down before then."

Her expression must have written her thoughts clearly to him as he back pedaled immediately, waving his empty hand at her, "Now, now, don't get all worried because of me. Just ol' Norman shit talking, but we gotta be careful of how things turn out. We gotta be smart." He tapped the side of his head two times with a wink.

"I think we're all very smart," she grabbed a hold of the door knob, "but I think we have to make sure we stay talented. No ink machine is going to keep Susie Campbell down."

Upon opening the door stood a small, little man with a crooked grin on his face. Beside him was a bucket with wheels filled with soapy water, and on his side dangled a ring of keys of various sizes. Norman and Susie blinked at the man, then smiled, and then their laughter waned for speech.

"I thought you'd be outta here by now," Wally creaked as he rolled his washing bin, mop included, into the music room, "everyone else is leaving for the night."

"And you aren't?"

He turned too quickly for comfort, and he gripped his neck in response, "I don't know about you, Norman, but I'm a janitor. It's what I do, and I don't clean this stuff up before Sammy comes in later on tonight, then I'm outta here."

It was something Susie had grown used to. Every little thing was an opportunity for Wally to get out of here, and while there were close times when dismissal was evident, as in losing the keys for the fifteenth time, he remained their ever-faithful janitor. He didn't seem faithful as he dipped the mop into the bucket and let it splatter on the floor. The movements were the same. He would dip the mop into the water, sweep across the floor where the ink was most prominent, and it return it to the bucket. But this short observation proved that this method was less than efficient.

The ink merged with the water, and by time Wally splashed the mop back on the floor, it was a mix of inky, black bubbles. It was more liquid than it was before, and Susie covered her mouth at the sight. Wally's tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, almost oblivious to the greater mess he was making. An idea came to mind, and she passed Norman, whose expression was twisted in similar sympathy and amusement.

"Wait, Susie," she heard behind him, but she didn't want to let this idea pass it up, "where are you going, wait, don't tell me?"

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, Norman!" By time she went up the stairs, he was gone, and she heard his heavy footsteps move towards the exit, that was helpfully free from flooding.

Sammy's office wasn't too far from the main music-recording room. She remembered it like she remembered the back of her hand. Not that she had been there often, many people were not given permission, but she recalled the day she was finally hired as clear as if it had happened only yesterday.

She had been nervous, and yet, oddly secure. She recognized her talent early on, and she needed them to recognize it too. And they had, in a resigned sort of way. They were short of staff, so many had quit due to the circumstances surrounding the studio, and others had retired, their wacky, light-hearted vocal chords had fallen to strain, weak and roasted. They needed new talent, and she was more than happy to supply.

Rounding the right corner, she practiced what she intended to say. Her thoughts were constantly a jumble of potential ideas, never closing in together, and connecting them would be delightful in throwing out her pitch. She would never go to Mr. Drew with this; she was lucky enough to be one of the few Sammy tolerated.

Standing in front of his office, closed for the night, Susie clutched the ends of her skirt in concern. Being in the back of the basement, the furthest side of the basement in her opinion, must have been a raw deal. Sammy didn't seem too troubled by it. From the open window she saw his hunched back hanging over his desk, eyes glued to a music sheet with a dull pencil in hand. At this angle she couldn't see his full face, but the motions of his grinding teeth told her she was nowhere near his present thinking process.

Pepper and salt stubble were speckled along his jawline. His eye sockets were sunken, dark crescents filling the space where skin existed, and Susie's stomach toppled. She could go in right now. He might not mind in the slightest. But common sense told her that when a man was doing his work, his profession, it was best to leave him be.

"After all," common sense reassured her, "it can wait until morning." Feeling more embarrassed than she could ever be had she gone in, she turned on her heels and started away. What a childish thing to do, she chided herself. An adult would have thought it through, and an adult she was, or she tried to portray herself as.

But as she started her way down the way she came from, a harsh tone called out to her, "If you're going to do all that to get to me, you should at least come talk to me."

Spinning around, she saw Sammy's face was no longer aligned with the music sheet, and he stared at her with the same impatience he afforded to all his subordinates. Upon looking at him, a bright smile chiseled on her face, and she nearly skipped into his office, not caring that he could see the full enthusiasm in every step.

"Joey, I'm sorry." She pulled a chair near him and patted her lap excitedly, "And really, this is something that can wait. You're doing a lot of work anyways, and I-,"

He raised a hand to stop her. He fished into his desk drawer and pulled out a lighter that was paired with the cigarette in his left hand, "Now, now, no need for that. I spend all my night here now, and I wanted to talk to you anyways."

"You did?"

He nodded, "It can wait," he nodded towards her, "what did you want to tell me?"

Susie flushed, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, "Well, I had a funny pitch that I thought of, but now that you've mentioned this, I think it takes precedence."

He shrugged casually, taking a strong whiff from his cigarette, "All depends on how you determine your worth, or the worth of what I have to tell you."

"Get on it with it, and tell me," she wanted to shout at him. She held onto her skirt like a lifesaver, and she felt her throat clog in anticipation. He smoked casually, closing his eyes in relief at every puff, and when he opened his eyes again, a short grin formed on his lips.

She would have thought it was handsome had she not been suddenly caught in a bundle of nerves, "Sammy," she teased tightly between her teeth, "what's the news?"

On his fifth puff, the cigarette was ready to ends its life. The bud was met, and Sammy stamped it roughly on the ashtray on his desk. He turned to her with a flaccid expression on his face, sunken so deeply in exhaustion that emotion as it was known couldn't possibly exist, "We've got a new character coming up, and I recommended you," he jabbed his finger at her, "to voice it."

"Okay."

"Okay?" His flaccid, blank look dragged into something more skeptical, "I've just gotten you a gig, and all you have to say is okay?"

"I voice a lot of characters, Sammy." She laughed softly, "It's just another one for me, but I can't say I'm not happy. I like the work."

Sammy, to his credit, didn't roll his eyes, but smacked his lips very loudly, "Yeah, whatever you say, but this isn't some background we're talking about."

"What do you mean?"

Going back to his desk, he opened one of the side drawers, and from there, retrieved a sheet of paper. Where she was seated she saw images scrawled messily on black ink, a name on the upper right corner.

"She's on the writing boards as we speak." He handed the paper to her, "Still modifying her look and character, but she's meant to work with Bendy. His Minnie Mouse, if you want to call it that."

Susie took hold of the paper carefully. The pictures drawn weren't completed. Six female figures were shown, all without faces, and of different body types. An hourglass figure, big feet and big hands were the direction they wanted to go with her, keeping it natural and consistent. In bold, sharp writing, a name was solidified, and Susie eyebrows perked.

"Alice Angel," the name rolled off her tongue delightfully, and the possibilities of what she would sound like floated in Susie's head, "the name's classy. Alliteration really fits too. Bendy is going to have a lot of fun with her."

"That's the plan." Sammy answered, "But we're trying to beyond Disney. She isn't going to be just a cute angel that Bendy's going to flirt with every now and then. She has to have star power, and seeing you've got the stuff, we're using you."

Susie stared at the concept art, and she returned her stare to Sammy. His smug expression told her more than she wanted to know, and her stomach flipped flopped. Alice was still a concept, not fully formed. She had no face, no voice, no character, an empty slate, and she stared at the scrawled pieces given to her. She felt the corners of her lips pull together, and a light bark of laughter slipped through, echoing on the office's creaky walls.

"Wow!" She gasped, and her arm to her waist, "I-I can't believe it, Sammy! Can you believe it? Mr. Drew really wants me to voice her. Wow, just, wow. Golly, wow!"

"I know." He admitted, "I didn't think he'd go with it at first. He hasn't been completely sane these past few months ever since," shaking his head dismissively, "either way, he approved it, so now that you know, you can prepare for whatever comes. I doubt he'll give you a warning when he wants to start recording."

"Thank you!" Returning the paper to him, he tucked it back into the drawer, and she saw the lines around his mouth grow dim, "Aw, shucks, Sammy, I can just hug you right about now!"

"Please, don't." But she had wrapped his arms around his back, pushing her face into his chest, and when she raised her head up to him, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her in return, "Congrats, kid, you deserve it."

"Sammy, you don't know how much this means to me."

"Trust me, I do." He stepped back, "I have to get back to work. These cartoony melodies don't write themselves you know."

Her heart was ready to burst. It could burst right in his office, and she would have died half-content. Leaving his office wasn't a problem, even with the ink machine roaring menacingly above them, and she pressed a hand to her chest, tears swelling at the corner of her eyes. This was more, more than she had ever dreamt of, and better yet, it was happening in real time. Her idea pitch fell through the void of discarded ideas. She would have more in the mean time, and she continued to the exit with her head held high, eyes filled with a new fire in them.

Mrs. Bornstein's Boarding House was a fifteen-minute car drive from LaughDrew Film Studios. Calling a taxi wasn't a pleasure her savings could indulge in, and besides, she told herself as she wrapped her sweater around her shoulders, the walk would give her time to process the news. Her thoughts stirred clearly whenever she walked, and trimming down her absurd surge of bouncing energy would give Mrs. Bornstein little reason to scold her.

Dinner started at eight and ended at eight forty-five. No excuses.

Summer nights were unusually cold. It was different from her youth, stuck in sticky heat at night, forced to throw her blankets on the floor. Tightening her sweater around her, she stuffed her hands deep into the pockets, and the sound of her light footsteps filled the darkened sky. In the distance, the boarding house came into view, and the upper and lower lights were on, signaling she hadn't returned too late. Dinner was already starting, she knew, but Mrs. Bornstein would have no reason to scold her aside from her poor timing.

Up the stairs she went, panting along the way, and she rolled her hand around the curved door handle. Through the glass portion of the door she saw quick movement coming down the stairs. Their skirts were laced in white and lavender, and their hair was curled, styled in the popular fashion. Susie patted down her clothes, straightened her sweater, and did what she could with her hair; aware the wind had done its work on it.

Her reflection was murky, rippled through the glass's design, and she breathed steadily, pulling the curved door handle towards her.

The women came down in swift formation. It wasn't mandatory for them to dress themselves as they did, casual formal, but they knew it would put their land lady in a good mood to see them tidied up. Seeing an opening, Susie fell in line behind a woman she knew as Martha, whose clothes and hair of lemon soap.

"I can't believe it," was whispered behind her, and her shoulders tensed, shooting straight up, "no, seriously, first of all you're late, and now, you're going to cut the line."

"You make it sound worse than it actually is," she whispered back, and made the turn at the doorway. The dining room was much larger than it looked from at a distance, and her stomach growled angrily at her, "Besides, I was at work, and work is important to me."

The woman behind her scowled, and she clucked her tongue to demonstrate her displeasure, "Well, yeah, work is all fine and dandy when they're not having scouts coming in and around."

"Scouts?" Fully turning her head, she grabbed a plate and took her seat, "Did they come for an inspection?"

Inspections were carried every other week. It was a method Mrs. Bornstein enforced to ensure the integrity of the boarding house. In other terms, she made it so that no young men were to be found on the premises. Many tenants had lost their room for those exact reasons, which meant their neighbors changed every other week.

Susie's back straightened as the servants entered from the kitchen, "I have no reason to be afraid. The last thing I would ever do was bring a boy back here," she sniffed quietly, "but someone did?"

"You sound like you didn't want to know."

"Nora!"

"Oh fine." Motioning to one of the waiters for the peas, she spooned them on her plate, "It was Cindy Marks. She had evidence of debauchery, or so they say. It's really hard to tell what's dirty and what isn't."

"Cindy?"

"Yes, I can show you her now empty room." Another wave for the hot rolls, and they smiled as they were placed carefully away from the mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak, "But enough about that, how about you?"

Susie tore a piece of her roll and squashed it into her mashed potatoes, "Nothing much really. It's all very busy, as you know, but I think they're starting to like me."

"I'd hope so. You've been working there for a month."

"It doesn't feel like a month." She went for the Salisbury steak next, slicing it in perfect squares, "With all the singing and dancing and so many other stuff. It just feels so heavy."

"It's show business for you." Nora smashed her peas with her spoon and scooped them into her mouth, "At least you don't have to be pretty to be a voice actress. All those makeup and dance lessons, honestly, I'd lose my mind."

Chewing her steak and bread, Susie chuckled, and quickly downed her food with water, "It isn't easy, even without the makeup and dance lessons, but I'm happy to be doing what I do. Besides, after dinner, I have big news to tell you."

Mrs. Bornsetin watched from her separate table. Her sharp eyes didn't miss a single thing, and she took note of every poor demonstration of table manners. Her sqwuaks, that they knew were the calls of displeasure, made the wince, but even she couldn't ignore her stomach pains. She ate quietly to the side as the rest of them chattered about their day, and what they intended to do for tomorrow.

Nora spoke with their neighbors, and Susie ate quietly, musing. It seemed surreal to think of it. Alice Angel, a leading character in her own shorts. That was the impression she got from Sammy, and she couldn't stop thinking of that impression, of what it entailed. The food was delicious, roasted and steamy, and the juices filled her mouth. But the more she ate, the less driven she felt to finish her meal. The sooner she went to bed, the sooner she would able to go to work the next morning.

"You don't think you can wait for me?" Nora cried to her as she went upstairs to their shared bedroom. Closing the door behind her she discarded her day clothes and found her fuzzy bathrobe and cleaning supplies, "Oh, this better be good, you know," Nora chirped when she spun out of the room a second time.

She returned promptly, taking a thirty minute shower wasn't easy when the shower was warm and comfortably, and Nora was propped in her bed with a magazine in her hands. The dressing table lamp was on, and seeing her in the door frame, she tipped her glasses down the bridge of her nose, waiting for a report.

"Well…"

"Well…"

"You were so excited to tell me the good news." She set her magazine aside and folded her hands on her lap, like a mother would at the end of the day, ready to hear her child's report.

Standing at the dressing table in front of the mirror, her reflection revealed what the shower's humidity had done to her hair. Her hair was naturally wavy, but it grew uncontrolled faster than she could brush it down. Using her best brush, she found a stool to sit on, and she parted her hair as she spoke in rushed, hushed tones.

"You know I've been doing a lot of background work, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I got a chance to speak to Sammy." In the mirror, Nora's confused shrug made her sigh dramatically, "You know, Sammy Lawrence, the guy who writes all the songs. Keep up."

"Oh, you mean your boyfriend." Nora grinned, "Oh, don't give me that look. He's very fond of you."

"Hush, now." Susie snapped without any bite, and she parted the other side of her hair, beginning to brush from that angle, "Sammy is my friend, but he spoke to Mr. Drew about a new character they're working on, y'know?"

"A new character? Don't tell me it's an angel character."

"It is!" Her milk white teeth showed, and she turned to her friend, hopping on her bed with her brush still in hand, "Can you believe it, Nora, they want me to voice her."

Arms grabbed a hold of Nora's neck, pulling her down, and Susie pressed her freshly washed face against hers, "Oh, Nora, I'm so happy. Got a job I love, and a new character! Alice Angel, he told me. She's probably gonna do some songs with Bendy."

"I can't say I'm not happy for you." Nora's arms were skinnier than hers but no less strong, and gripped her tightly as they lied in bed together, "This is a big shot for 'ya, especially if she turns out to have star power."

"I know." Rubbing against her chest, she felt her eyes growing heavy, "I just can't imagine they would've chosen me, especially after all those retirements. Golly, it feels like a dream."

"Good for you honey," Nora murmured, "this dream isn't playing by the book. It's real."

After hearing the click of the lamp, the room was spurned into entire darkness. Nora's breathing soothed her as she drifted far from the bed she slept on, and she trailed after blurry images waiting in front her. Her hands reached for them, grasping at their fitful tails, and she heard children's laughter. But when she went to chase after them, darkness had surrounded her. And she wasn't afraid.

Time was a component. It fluttered around her, teasing her with its potential, and she remained silent, quiet of what she had learned.

The mornings after when she arrived to work, she kept her silence. It would do her no good to confess what Sammy had told her. "Give it time," she calmed the worst case scenarios in her head, "if it all works out, they'll know."

The recording booth was readied in preparation for her. What did it matter that black spots decorated the podium spotted on the flimsy line sheet, now faded to a brownish yellow. Norman's band performed against the ink machine, blasting and fighting for control. The melody trembled, and the instruments dried in protest.

Time was all she ever needed. When her voice echoed in the recording booth, when the band finished their time and waited to listen, she thought of time, and how it would turn its hands towards her. She did not approach Sammy again about the subject. He had given her the needed information.

"Did you lose your keys again, Wally?" Having finished early for the day, Susie closed the door as the band started their beginning prep, "Or are you lost?"

Of the employees, Wally was the last of the original crew to surf top through bottom. His cleaning supplies were useless against the ink that seemed to overrun the place. Dressed in his overalls, he carried an oversized broom and dustpan in his hands. Surprise tightened his face, and the glazed gleam in his eyes wavered when she spoke.

"Susie? Ah, Susie, nope!" He swept the hallway eagerly, "Nah, nah, none of that. I don't think. I found my keys, told you I would, and now I'm coming down…sounds like Norman's picking up again."

"Yes, Sammy just finished a new sheet." Choosing to walk ahead, her long strides met with his crinkled pace, "Norman was upset for the suddenness, but he seems to have taken to the change well."

"And hasn't changed?" Wally barked, "First the ink machine, now donation, weird stuff."

Susie frowned, "I suppose it isn't exactly normal, but after everything that has happened," she scratched her wrist absent-mindedly, "we can only give him the benefit of the doubt."

Wally's hard gaze crystalized, and he jabbed a stubby finger towards his ear, "Benefit of the doubt, we've been giving him that! And look at us, got ink up to our ears!"

It was not an inaccurate observation. Susie had seen photographs of the studio in its prime. Shabby yet pristine, animators at their desk, hurriedly scrawling the finest of animation sheet after sheet. Now, the floorboards oozed black ink every other step. Pipes were recently installed to current the flow of ink the machine produced, but it caused more messes, choosing to squirt a kiss on any poor person happening to be near them at the time.

Unfortunately, the poor persons happened to be the animators, and Wally, from time to time.

"And the offerings," scratching the side of his head, Susie winced at the white flakes that showered off his hair, like dwindled, saggy snow, "or as Tommy likes to call them, donations."

"Offerings?"

They stopped in front of the music department hall where the banner was laid out for everyone to see. Wally stared at her with wide eyes, "Wait, don't tell me you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

He slapped his forehead and cursed, "Of course, you're not gonna know nothing being down here! Sammy may know, but he's keeping away from Joey at the moment. Still upset about the machine, y'know?"

"Yes, Sammy is not fond of the machine." Stretching, she sent Wally a straight stare through narrowed eyes, "But you haven't told me about these offerings, Wally, what are they?"

He knew more than anyone else on the crew, even though he scarcely realized it. It seemed to Susie Wally's inability to fully comprehend the happenings going on could be used to her advantage, and these offerings, as he put it, were known to everybody except her. She did not want to be out of the loop.

Her pleading stare drew Wally near, and he rolled his neck with a groan, "Now, don't you start the puppy dog eyes. You're as bad as Bendy himself!"

"It isn't like our little devil is going to pop out and scold us." She stomped her foot, "Come on, Wally, please."

"Quit your whining." He snapped, and scratching the back of his head, he sighed, "Look, if you wanna know so badly, help me clean some of this stuff up. It's in the janitor's closet down the way, you remember?"

Susie nodded, "I do. You need the mop, or another broom."

"Broom." He stared around the room and growled, "Makes no sense to even try anymore."

Going down the hall was no easy stitch. Her heels were slightly higher than they were before she moved to the city, and she was careful not to step through any loose holes in the floorboard. Ink swished through the pipes, a harsh swooshing sound rattled against the walls. The utility closet was on the right side of the hallway, and she did not have to walk very far.

"Everyone's been so nice to me," her heels skidded to a slippery stop in front of the utility closet, "can't say I can complain about this."

She opened the door and found the broom, but there was more to that. The room was larger than she expected it to be. Not as spacious as the music department hall, certainly not as large as the upper area. Stepping in, Susie grabbed the broom poll, and the door closed quietly behind her.

Unintentional, she reached for the door but pulled back at the last second. Shelves surrounded her, and although there was elbowroom, she felt confined. Gripping the broom, she grabbed onto one of the shelves to balance herself, and groaned when an oozy substance tied around her fingers.

"Oh goodness," grumbling as she straightened her posture, she pushed forward with the broom still in hand, and she reached for the ceiling light. A beaded string dangled in the darkness, swinging to and fro, and gaining her stance, she took hold of it.

"What the heck is that?" She hadn't realized she spoken until pressure formed around her hand, jerking her arm down, but it was a slight motion. A little bit of weight she would not have noticed if she had not been enclosed in the room.

Unsettled but refusing her nervousness to yield her, Susie pulled the dangling line down, and the light clicked on. The dull illumination filling the room did not settle her imagination, and she stared at the shelves, at the floor with wide, confused eyes. The broom bristled in the palm of her hand, and the splinters that dug through her skin. Her nerves throbbed at the pain.

Faded, black ink dressed her fingertips, and she closed it solidly, feeling the muscles tense stiffly, "I really need some reset," she whispered as she closed the door. Back pressed against the flat surface, her breath rattled in her lungs, and she let her heels click on top of the unsteady floorboards. They creaked underneath her.

Fearing Wally's thin patience, which usually resulted in unending complaints, Susie resumed her path back towards him when the pitter patter of nails scurried past her ears. Stopping short of another full step, she whipped her head to the other side of the hallway, feeling a rush of lightheadedness as she did so, and saw eerie light filling the empty passage. Almost identical to the utility closet's ceiling light, she felt familiarity rather than confusion, and assumed this to be the same with the majority of hallways in the building, upstairs and downstairs.

Watching the dust particles float listlessly within the illumination, a scene lacking in her earlier sightings made her pause, and she tilted her head. They were far more visible as they littered in the light, and they danced towards her, bouncing as close as the light would allow.

At the hallway's end, near the right corner, a light flickered against the wall. She could see its brightness at a distance. It dimmed then glowered then dimmed again, and without processing what she had chosen to do, she fell in line at its direction. The broom handle remained in her firm grip, and it dragged at her side, scrapping softly at the ink beneath it.

Susie did not know what she was intended to find there, and surely, there might have been reason for her to have this sudden fullness in the pit of her stomach. Enthralled by the sight, her senses did not detect the slight alternation in the lair's scent. It had transformed into a less ripe odor than what it was. It tickled the nerves her nostrils, and in response, her nose twitched in aggravation.

Tired of the broom, her fingers released its hold loosely, and the broom fell to the floor quietly. Around the corner, the strange glow brightened hotly, and the reason was laid out for her.

All walls in the building were now decrepit. A combination of materials meshed together to leave unknown stains and blotches on the wood, but what she viewed was an entirely different entity.

A Bendy cutout was propped upwards. Its back was not cut out, but not set openly so that it could stand on its own. She knew that was not the issue at hand. The Bendy cutout was one of many mass produced cutouts sent to theaters and rival studios. She had heard of them, a teasing jest to competitors, and she had seen more than enough down in the basement where a countless amount were stored. It wasn't the cutout itself but what stood behind it, or rather, what its body concealed.

She did not dare move the cutout, feeling an immeasurable pressure on her shoulders, and determined what image the cutout obscured. An encircled star, the recognizable triangle points stuck out beyond Bendy's body, was painted in black ink. Placed precariously on the floor below, the candle's melted wax sunk and stuck to the floor, and their dwindling flames glowed darkly.

The drawing and cutout were unusual together, and the candles, while neatly placed, were unnerving. But it was the objects spread across the span of the cutout, on the floor, that gave Susie pause. Little, tiny trinkets, a strand of hair, a discarded napkin, and an old, worn photograph that was wrinkled beyond recognition were lined in no particular order. It was neither unsightly but confusing, and Bendy's blank, disarming smile did no curb her confusion.

Stepping away, her eyes never strayed from the dancing devil, and she was ready to round the corner when she spun around where alarm stomped on her heart.

"Wally!" Her high pitched hiss echoed down the hall, "What are you doing!?"

His broom in hand, Wally blinked at her, then at the observance.

"Huh, ain't it weird." He said and went back the way he came from, "That's where our donations are going to."

Susie followed him eagerly, "What was that thing?"

Wally shrugged, "Joey's muttered some business about prayer circles, but I think it's all because of…you know," he huffed off his discomfort, and she said nothing more about the reasons.

"If it helps him," quietly said after a moment's time, "if it helps him feel better, then I can't complain."

"But it's weird."

"Yes, it is." She thought of an appropriate, tasteful word, but the words she thought of did not satisfy her, "I don't understand out of the ordinary, even with my voices."

"Out of the ordinary. You wanna call it that, go ahead," using air quotes, he smacked his lips, and stumbled back into the main hall, "I'm gonna call it weird, maybe crazy, and Sammy's getting on it too!"

"Now, you stop that," hearing Sammy's name spoke in such a way made her chest rise, and she frizzled at Wally, giving him her best, firm stare, "Sammy's always been nice to me, and if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have a job. Last I heard from him, he sounded perfectly fine."

Her reprimand did not warn Wally. He rolled his eyes and started back to sweeping, pointing to the other side of the hall where a pile of inky dust had collected.

"Go on and believe what you want," he said, eyes trained to the floor as he swept, "this place is going absolutely bonkers."

With a frown, she forced her snapping retort back. Wally was not a dumb man, and he was not a smart man. He spoke his mind freely, thoughts barfing as they came. These thoughts were not always spoken with the type of clarity others would have preferred, and it did not mean he always comprehended their meaning. And most importantly, hand gripping tightly around the broom handle, Sammy was nothing like Mr. Drew.

She hiked her skirt halfway up, and peeled away the stale cobwebs from the corners. Wally did not pay attention as her olive skinned thigh, dressed in beige pantyhose moved downwards, and she was mindful of its length, concerned if she moved the wrong way it would split.

"He's a very sad man, that Mr. Drew," she said to herself, and she plucked away an inky cobweb with her finger, "and there is nothing we can do about it. We've gotta make sure those cartoons are made in time."

"Yeah, but I don't think cleaning is going to help."

Gasping loudly, Susie glanced up, "Sammy, what-what are you doing here?"

She rose quickly off the floor. Acutely aware of the disarray of her hair and clothes, she flicked off random dust particles, and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. The broom lied forgotten in the corner.

"Was trying to find you?" A perfectly arched eyebrow quirked in vague interest, "What are you doing?"

"I uh…," she motioned at Wally on the other side, still sweeping, pretending his boss had not walked in front of him, "was helping Wally clean."

"Clean?" Sending Wally a hard stare, one the shorter man visibly flinched at, Sammy sighed and pinched his temples, "I came looking for you. Norman said you were around here somewhere, even after hours."

His hard stare reprimanded her for her refusal to go home, and the quirk of his lips told her otherwise. He was somehow relieved she had stayed. His slumped shoulders and dangling cigarette told her so.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." A faint flush accompanied her apology, "I wanted to help Wally, and now, I'm making more of a mess."

"Which is why you shouldn't sweep." He said nothing more, going off in the opposite direction that was not his office. Wally continued to sweep at a distance, and she stood helplessly, confused and embarrassed and a little bit excited.

He did not have to say anything to her. She knew it was her time, and she whispered a tender 'Sorry' as she hurried after him.

His feet dragged across the floor, mangling the boards underneath them, and his breath passed through his teeth as raspy, short clipped wheezes. The noises pounded on the thin membrane that made up her eardrum. She reminded herself that it could be worse. He could've started singing.

Quiet during their walk, he maintained a two stepped lead while she worked to keep pace. The hallways had grown cramped and fitting, losing its past magnificence. Her twiddling fingers refused to calm themselves, and she waited with a stuttering heart for any sign of speech. He preferred to initiate conversations as he initiated his songs, although he wasn't the conductor. As they deepened their path, further from Wally's casual sweeps, Susie predicted he wasn't in the mood for talk.

Sammy Lawrence refusal to speak made the silence bearable. Whatever crimes she had unknowingly committed had to have been minor. His guarded, sullen silence was tied to a draining exhaustion that made her heart ache for him. Its ache was similar, she recalled loosely, to the ache she once held for her father when she was a child. A tiresome, sluggish job was, and she watched on the outskirts, careful to maintain a clean house, a quiet house.

Joey Drew Studios wasn't a house, but it had become, in the past month, a home to her. Although the home was in disarray, there was no doubt in her mind of its positive influence. Watching Sammy from afar, his expression slack, dull even, and eyes grey, she felt no words come to mind. She knew whatever tricky voice she concocted would be useless on him, and having seen his rage, more of a dark fire that spurted in quick bursts, she was overtly cautious.

Ahead of her, his head bobbed up and down. His thumbs stuck out of his pockets, and his dragging feet did not go faster or slower.

"I've called you a cab."

Unable to make out the words the first time, she questioned his statement, and pulled back with a faint scowl, embarrassed by his generosity.

"You didn't have to do that."

"It's late. You're a woman, do the math." He kept forward, and smoke trailed from his head where his mouth was, "You're going home, and you're coming in for a test recording."

Her pale cheeks flushed crimson, and she forced her steps to match with his, "What do you mean test recording?"

They went down the stairs towards the exit. He did not look at her the entire walk, and the question appeared to irritate him as his flaccid lips suddenly curled in a crooked snarl. Her refusal to pull back in herself or to dismiss her question all together unnerved him. For him, the answer was obvious, but she stood there, waiting in pleading silence.

He said nothing to her. Opening the exit door, he pointed to the cab that waited for her at the curb. It's yellow body and head lights stood out in the late evening, holding onto its violet glow rather than its impending royal blue. Cool air rushed at him, and she straightened her sweater. Her wide, confused stare did not let him free, and she remained glued where she stood.

He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, stomping on it, "You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

"I'm stubborn about things I care about." And I care about you, she wanted to say, but she knew Sammy well enough the sentiment would not be appreciated, not in this moment.

He huffed. His dark eyes rolled to the side towards the drumming sound of the taxi cab's engine, "We're going to have a meeting in a few days. Short, Alice's final design has been approved."

"She has?" Her lips bloomed in an awed pout, "You mean, I get to voice her now?"

"It's a test." A recent rain left murky puddles on the concrete, and mist lingered in the cool, summer air, "Joey wants to hear you too."

"He does?" Her heart throbbed, clutched, and she could not tell whether fright or validation had struck her. For months she offered her voice, performed even for radio shows, and their compliments stroked her confidence. She purred for them, and when they released her, without reference, she shed no tears. Not a single drop.

Hearing those words, the touch of a man's strong hand tingled on her arms, and she stared down at the raised hairs on her forearms, goosebumps peddling underneath them.

"He likes the sound of the background characters." He opened the back door, "And thinks you've got the potential for a costar. Scripts are already underway for Alice Angel's debut."

Slipping onto the worn leather seats, she stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. His far away, sluggish stare told her an embrace would not be welcomed, and she shrunk away, forcing the door in her direction. Other sentences were uttered, sluggishly she believed, but she could not absorb them as she reclined on the seat. He stuffed a handful of bills into the driver's hand, pointing in the direction of where her home was.

"See you tomorrow." She heard in the distance, "And don't let the nerves get to you."

Forcing her head forward, her neck grew stiff from the effort. Sammy was not the type to wait at the curb, and she did not think he would have. As the car drifted ahead, the rearview mirror jumped, and its angle was pushed an inch to the right. There she saw him. Camouflaged in the night, another cigarette was lit between his lips, and he stood with a great crook in his back. His lanky form did not appear so out of place under the street lights, and his eyes, they came to her in vision, were locked on the taxi cab that drew further away from him.

What was it, Susie wanted to know, that caused her heart to leap, which caused her cheeks to flush? She folded her hands on her lap, and listened to the radio playing in the front.

"You work for Joey Drew don't ya?" The driver peered into the rearview mirror, "My kid loves Bendy. Can't get enough of 'im and Boris! Yeah, but as much as she loves the boys—she really wants a dame to look up to! Like Minnie and Betty!"

He smiled. His front teeth were missing, and the gap was immeasurable when he smiled. "My dad used to smile like that too," and her expression twisted into something similar to disgust but not quite. She could not reason why he had appeared in her thoughts, why of all moments, but as quickly as he appeared, just the thought of him, he receded back into her subconscious.

The cab pulled slowly to the sidewalk, and she left with ease. Her skirts blew against her knees, and she thanks the driver, cheerfully grinning at his gap-toothed smile.

"Don't worry, sir, I think your little girl is going to have a dame to look up to soon!"

The same gap-toothed appeared for a final time, and the window rolled up, obscuring it. But she saw it still, saw the lightness and sweetness, and she realized, standing on the curb as it sped off in the distance, that this was something she missed.

"I want to go places." Her chin ducked low, "What's so bad about that?"

Joey Drew was an eccentric, recluse of an artist.

Susie couldn't say how long this was, but she had accepted this as a part of her job. But by time the end of the month arrived, her reservations were teasing at the edge.

Her recording session started smoothly, as they often did, but they lacked the comfortable eyes of the band observing her. Even Sammy's usual lucidity appeared troubled in Mr. Drew's presence, and she understood why, even though she would never say it aloud.

For his eccentricities, there was nothing eccentric about him physically. Taller than Sammy, standing at about 6'5, his pepper-grayed hair was slick black neatly. His skin was swallow, with a tinge of yellow in it. His arms were crossed against his thin, broad chest. His weight loss was obvious, a combination of exhaustion and grief.

His thumb ran along the line of his bottom lip. In spite of his worrisome physical state, there was life to him. It was not larger than life, nothing excitable but anxious and unconstrained. It was a stark contrast to Sammy's annoyance and exhaustion. His glassy eyes stared from him to her.

Their inscrutable expressions followed her voice, and threatened to silence her vocal chords to their satisfaction. Delirium pounced on her nervousness.

Explaining how she succeeded in her performance, giving them what they wanted, was impossible for her. When the last line was spoken, when the red light fizzled down, she let out a weak little gasp, not realizing she had held her breath longer than she meant to.

Like statues they stood. Rain must have poured endlessly on them for she saw the creases and dark lines around their eyes and mouths. Wrinkles folded on their cheeks, and were pronounced on their furrowed brows. They did not share glances, mouthing sentences too quiet for Susie to hear, and her hands fell on the podium, the metal digging into her skin. Which face was harder to read? Which expression was crueler?

Susie tried to determine the expression she was intended to rely on. They did not want to be relied on just as they did not want to carry her on their shoulders. Something existed far beyond them, far beyond what their eyes showed, and she rolled on her heels, counting the seconds until Mr. Drew raised his hand for her to approach.

She walked quickly out of the recording booth. Standing in front of the two men, she laid her hands and arms flat at her sides, and pressed her lips in a needle like line.

Their gazes settled. They settled comfortably on her, and her pale cheeks grew hot under their combined stare.

"Miss Campbell," Mr. Drew said, "you have been working here for one month, haven't you?"

She sent a worried glance at Sammy, and saw absence in his face, "Yes, yes I have."

"And do you like it?"

"Yes, I do." She said with a nod, and her nails grazed her skirt's fabric, "Everyone is very nice."

"I'm glad."

"Me too." A scratchy cough burst through her lips, and she gasped hotly, forcing down the embarrassment with a creaky smile, "I'm sorry. I-you know how it is. Yes, I'm very happy everyone is so nice, and Mr. Lawrence is a great instructor with vocals."

A bushy though finely plucked eyebrow rose in disbelief, and Mr. Drew gave Sammy an incredulous stare. His dried lips parted gently in a smile, and that smile, Susie noticed, made him look twenty years younger.

"I see, Sammy. You're normally not so nice to up and starters." His returned to her, "He must really respect you then."

"I don't need you to speak for me, Joey," Sammy croaked.

"Ah." Smacking his lips, he dropped a hand on Susie's shoulder, "Of course not, I'd never speak for you, but your actions, yes, they are quite telling, aren't they?"

Susie refused to tense. Her sluggish shoulders were unmovable in his grip. While shivers danced down her spine, the faint sense of falling told her of the gesture's significance.

Was she dizzy? Yes, but she wasn't going to show it. The rest of her limbs felt like glue, heavy and sticky, and she hoped the heat didn't reveal too much on her blouse and forehead. Sweat beads dotted her forehead, and she felt the same on the dark curls under her arms.

"I…Mr. Lawrence is a great coach," she murmured softly.

"Sammy has always gone beyond perfection."

He was satisfied. His smooth, easy talk reassured her, but his gentle smile wasn't confirmation. It kept its innermost thoughts to itself. His eyes were salt fragments that tried to be gentle and kind, but couldn't match up. She tried to see the sincerity in his playfulness with Sammy. His strained, quiet voice led to a forcefulness of the same nature. Their banter might have been a regular occurrence in the past but had reached its peak some time ago.

For the sake of this interview, attempts needed to be made. They needed to united.

Sammy rolled his eyes, "We know she got the part. Let's show what else we've got to show her," and on a lower, aggravated note, "I can't afford anymore distractions, Joey. Deadlines are due, and people are talking."

"I see." He blinked at Sammy, "No, I do, but there's more important work to be done."

"I can get back to work." Feeling abandoned between the two men, she watched them carefully, waiting for any physical change her eyes could spot, "If it's what you want, there's no hurry for you."

"Why would we want that?" Mr. Drew asked, "You have to meet her first."

"Meet who?"

"I forgot how it is to be young and afraid," Mr. Drew chortled, and this sound truer to what he used to, or what she believed him to be.

"Alice." Sammy flatly confirmed, "We're going to give you a proper introduction."

Going upstairs crunched down her expectations. The Music Department Hall's recent relocation kept her confined to the basement for the past month and two days. This was not a problem to her, as the circumstances appeared to her to be a grand adventure compared to the other dull aspects of her life. As they moved upwards, the ink pipes trembled with exceeded vitality, and they traveled far longer than she originally thought. Her familiarity with the basement made her unsure of what was in store, and she maintained their quick strides, eager to see the world they belonged to.

"Make a right, kid," Sammy directed.

"A right?"

"We'll be taking the lift."

Her heart skipped a beat, "The lift?"

Rumors of the lift swarmed the lower floor, and most of them were ridiculous. Workers getting locked inside, stuck in there for hours, and returning different, drained of energy. The last part made sense when one took the time to think about it. Hearing she would be one of the person to enter the lift, her feelings were indescribable.

"I've been getting up in age, dear." Mr. Drew explained, "It makes it harder to go up and around like I used to."

Her embarrassment shown on her cheeks, and she coughed roughly, concealing her mouth with her hand, "I am so sorry, Mr. Drew. I didn't mean-,"

"No, no, growing old is a part of life we all must accept." He crossed his hand around his back, and she noticed the way his body bobbed left and right, not exactly balanced, "We grow old, we die, but memories remain. Our creations, Bendy, Boris, and now Alice, will live for us."

Breathing softly, she was at a lost of words, and when he looked back at her, she flinched at his stare. His deep gray eyes were not cruel, not nasty. A watery film threaded them as if his tears webbed around his heart.

An incredibly soft man, Susie observed, and one of the most distinguished animators in the world. His creations brought relief and laughter to countless of people, rising alongside Disney and Warner Bros. during the War, but when his eyes met hers, they were not kind. They were not cruel. A tenderness surrounded them, but their tenderness was not of the kind sort.

When he smiled, his face crumpled like paper, "That is a very wondrous thought, Mr. Drew," she lowered her gaze to the floor, "it's amazing how our actions and choices can affect others."

"And your actions will belong to them, Miss Campbell."

Hearing those words succeeded in stroking her ego in a way that even the most handsome man had failed to do, and she recalled the hours when slender, soft hands curved around her body, her neck and realized pleasure of that nature had never touched her until that moment. It was satisfaction, and her demure smile, afraid to rise too high, beamed.

"I'll be waiting in the lift whenever you're ready," Sammy called to them.

"I'm sorry," shaken, she scurried into the lift, pushing herself against the left side of the wall, "we should hurry. I don't want to keep you waiting."

Mr. Drew entered a slower pace. He stood in the middle of them, "Alright, lets do this. We can't keep Alice waiting."

The lift ride was short, as she expected it to be. It was larger than an average elevator, and Susie reasoned it was for the merchandise that was in constant production, or so she heard. The lights flickered on and off during the ride, and by time it came to its creaky stop, the knots in her stomach had reformed.

On their way to his office, Susie counted the amount of animator desks pushed into abandoned corners. Most of them did not raise their heads in question. She saw the familiar lines at the corner of their eyes and lips, and their unshaven jaws and cheeks sagged with exhaustion.

"Don't look at them, kid," Sammy warned, "we'll never hear the end of it."

"But they look so tired." She waved at one of them, whose face was still light enough to be considered young despite the greyness of his skin, "I can't not wave at them, Sammy. It'd be impolite."

"Now, now, Sammy, think as to why everyone doesn't like talking to you now."

"Sorry for being the person responsible for ensuring our deadlines get through!" He huffed beside him, "If it weren't for me, nothing would get done around here."

His mocking tone caused shivers to go down her back, and she looked to the animators, who must have heard Sammy's mild outburst.

They were aware of what was wrong with the place, but none of them had the gall to state it so bluntly, and to Mr. Drew no less.

Where she anticipated for Mr. Drew's demeanor to change dramatically, he merely shrugged his shoulders and chuckled dryly, "Now, Sammy, you know this is a process. You continue to do what you do best, and I will do my part."

As they neared the office, she noticed an unattended desk. Its differences did not vastly overwhelm the others, but the lack of body was noticeable. Separate from the others, it was tucked into another room they passed, pushed against a wall with a great whole forming next to it. The faded ceiling light revealed the dust stacked on its surface.

Spotting her intrigued expression, Mr. Drew grinned, "He retired some years ago. You may have heard of him at some point."

"If retired is the word you want to use," Sammy drawled.

"It is the word I want to use." Mr. Drew's voice was soft as a feather, and he stopped at the room's entrance, "And besides, it's where we're going to have our meeting."

Sammy frizzled, and his head shook in disappointment, "Really, why not go to the office? It's sensible, Joey."

"I don't mind." She walked behind them, eyes taking in every odd sight in the abandoned room, "It seems…rustic, as if we're traveling back in time. He was a friend of yours?"

"Yes, and when he quit-," a sharp look from Sammy to Mr. Drew told her there was more to the story than they wanted her to know, "he left behind a few sketches and concept art. Unfinished pieces."

"The others thought I should have thrown them away, but he was the best animator on staff." Picking up a yellow sheet off the desk, he stared at it with a fond smile on his thin lips, "It would have been a waste to discard them."

The room was cramped, comparatively larger than the animators' quarters. The office was left in disarray. The furniture was torn and ragged, the walls' paint started to chip, and a stale touch ruined the air, causing her nose to wrinkle in disgust. But it was fascinating to stand in there where the magic used to happen, and she took hold of the sheet he handed to her.

"Oh my." It was just a sketch. She had seen many sketches before, but the smooth lines, the vividness. It almost appeared to be a portrait rather than a cartoon, "Yes, she's absolutely lovely. Whoever designed this was very talented. It's such a shame he's no longer with the studio."

"That's our Alice," Mr. Drew grinned, and he picked several more sheets from the desk, "I had them sent upstairs when he originally departed, keeping them until the right time came. I've heard such great things about you, Susie."

"I don't think I'm that great." She moved to scratch the back of her head, then thought better of it, "I'm just so happy to belong to a great group of people."

"We are glad to have you, Miss Susie Campbell," there was the inexplicable ripple within his watery gaze. She could not describe it in normal terms, and knew there was nothing else to match it. In the decrepit office, pieced together only by thin threads, she felt a swell in the pit of her stomach.

She looked between the two men who held control over her career and future, "I will not let you down."

"I know you won't."

Sammy glared at Mr. Drew, "What do you want us to do now? Alice Angel's first short is due in a few months."

"That gives us enough time for the recording and music, Sammy," Mr. Drew replied, and he received the concept art from Susie, whose face hadn't lost its glow, "Susie can return to the recording booth. We left the scripts there."

Clapping her hands, she licked her lips, "Oh, this is so exciting," the fluttering sensation in her stomach tickled her, "I'm going to make sure I give Alice a really good voice!"

"Let her be sweet," Mr. Drew said.

"She can't be too sweet." Sammy reminded them, "She's part devil after all."

Seated in the booth, she brought the glass to her lips and slurped the beverage down. Not nearly enough to leave her with the wave of tipsiness she had adapted to, she smacked her lips bitterly, and swallowed the rest in one gulp.

"Impressive." Nora smirked and bit into a piece of bread, "I didn't think you had it in you, or anything else really. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." She ringed the glass' rim with her finger. Her eyes lacked their luster, the rich darkness that perfectly lined the rest of her face, "I'm tired, and there's no shame about it."

"I didn't say there was shame." Nora grabbed her apple cider and sipped it deceptively. Her lighter colored eyes searched for any clues, and were disappointed to find none, "I'm worried for you. You've been working longer hours than usual."

Her resting head rose in concern, "You've noticed?"

The olives at the bottom of the glass bounced excitedly. Her throat was dryer than she was comfortable with. Late nights were not unusual, and were an accepted method of winning the approval and respect of the staff. But this was the first time her late nights came with irritation, and this must have shown on her face for Nora's expression was sympathetic, concernedly so.

"It's hard not to tell, sweetie." Her milk white teeth matched her complexion, and she raised a glass to her lips, "Your eyes are dragging you down, and I don't think you've heard a single word I've said."

"I don't mean to."

"I know you don't." She reached for her hand, clasping it softly in the palm of her own, and Susie marveled at how sweetly soft it was. The nerves in her center giggled, and she grinned, laughing airily, "Just make sure you take care of yourself."

"It isn't like I'm not enjoying my job." This was the truth, and she said it freely, without remorse or bitterness, "They're still very sweet to me. Norman's always blows his horn when I come in, and…Wally always takes me around the basement. He's too kind."

"And Sammy?"

A twitch of her right eye disturbed the calm of her creamy skin, and her eyes fluttered to the dance floor. People danced to the band's music, swing to and for, and there was a rough gracefulness to their feet. Men flipped women, women jumped over men. It was no less a miracle that no one collided or fell as bodies steamed upon each other.

Her fingers tapped on the glass, and her lips brushed on top of the rim, "Sammy is doing well. He is. I can't say anything else about him, but Norman is tired. They all are."

Nora picked a cherry from her plate, "You have a choice, if it's too much for you. You can leave. You're pretty enough."

"It isn't too much for me."

"But what about that machine-,"

"I worked for this." Her eyebrows furrowed, "There wasn't anything for me on Sicily Island. My family was furious with me. I know they haven't forgiven me, and I know they never will. I can't get my Pops' eyes out of my memory, so angry, so stubborn."

"You came a long way," Nora said softly, ignoring the tightness in which Susie held the glass. Her veins' faded, blue tint peered through the creamy paleness of her skin, "You should be proud of yourself. You're working with one of the best studious out there."

Reassurance often soothed her. Her father's fury, the way he pounded on the walls and thrust a meaty finger at her, "You ain't going anywhere, lil' girl." His eyes were a watery, ruddy blue, and she sat at the sewing machine, abandoning him in mind with an equally watery gaze of her own.

He screamed, spat in her face as she sat at the sewing machine. Her mother was long dead. Her siblings were possibly alive out there, but they had been gone for so long it was like death had already taken them.

But her mind had been made up. She knew what she was going to do, and she knew when she was going to do. She let him scream until his voice cracked over its volume, and when he slept, having drunken himself into a euphoric dream where her mother lived and his other children remained, she crept from the small shack that she had called for sixteen years, home. There was not a lot to pack in her bag, and there was no question of returning.

She knew the distance would save her the trouble of having to explain herself to others. Her creamy pale complexion diverted dreadful questions that could have revealed her. Her dark hair and eyes, so brown they were regularly mistaken for black, led many to assume she carried Italian blood, and this was smarter, safer, than what the truth was.

Wanting to forget pushed her, and she grabbed Nora's hand, dragging the two of them to the dance floor. Lost in the songs and the body aligned with hers, her father's face and fists receded to the depths of her subconscious. They would return, she knew, and she waited for the flashing moments when they would. Their fellow dancers blinked no more than twice at them, the two, seemingly unmarried women dancing freely among them, and Susie doubted they would have cared had they been married at all.

Nora laughed as she spun around; fingers clamped around Susie's, "I don't want you to dry out!"

"You worrisome, little fay!" A flair of energy swept through her arms and legs, and she tossed her thick hair over her shoulders. Husky and thick, her normal voice giggled inconspicuously, and a defiant gleam masked over her murky brown eyes, "I can't dry out. I'm basically made of ink!"

"Damn you, Sammy Lawrence!"

"Aren't you afraid of him hearing you?"

"And you think he gives a damn?" The vein on his bald head throbbed. It pulsed right down the middle of his head as he lit his cigarette, inhaling it stiffly, "We'll wait until he's finished doing what he was doing."

Benny, one of the clarinet players, resigned himself to waiting, and sat with the others whose weary expressions matched his. Susie held a damp tissue, twisting it in and out, and chewed the side of her mouth. She was worried, but this worry was well known to her. It didn't ache, or burn, as this was routine. It was normal. The projector was turned on, and a tranquil voice was heard on the other side, whispering, weeping.

"Just give him a little time, Norman," she whispered, "just give him some time. He'll be okay."

Norman scoffed, "Okay if you wanna say it," he began to pace with smoke floating from the cigarette tip, "I have half a mind to tell Mr. Drew about this."

"And what he's gonna do," chortled Danny in the back. He lied on the floor with his long legs propped up in the air, "He's just as loony as Sammy."

"Don't say that, man." Benny groaned, "We need our jobs. They can always replace us."

"And you think they will?

"C'mon, he can hear us."

"And you think he cares?" Danny scoffed and looked away, "Deadlines aren't getting met, and the cartoons are barely pushing out. Johnny upstairs told me the animators are at their wits end, some of them have already signed their two week notices!"

Her stomach dropped at hearing it, "We shouldn't say these kinds of things aloud, not while Sammy's so near."

"What of it, Susie?"

"Leave her be, Dan," Norman warned. When the puff of smoke cleared, his stare was hard, icy even, and Danny's face reddened, turning away sharply with a huff.

"I didn't need you to do that."

"Can't let them take their frustrations out on you, kid." Norman leaned against the wall, listening to the projector and strange noises coming from it, "And you shouldn't either," his eyes rolled on each of them, the ones whose silence was often taken for agreement.

"Sent From Above did great though." Benny whispered. His stubby fingers plucked at loose strings near his belt, and when he looked at her, his thick eyelashes curled to hide his eyes, "My cousins love Alice Angel, and everyone's talking about it upstairs too, or that's what I've heard."

"Thank you, Benny."

The projector booth came to a sudden stop. Everyone sealed their lips, staring at the stairwell as boots as black as the ink that dripped on the floor came down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" He clear speech was slightly slurred by an echoing that recently appeared. It slurred his speech, making it difficult to hear, and their bodies stiffened at the slight approach as he descended the stairs.

His skin grew rough, acquiring a grayish pigmentation, and his eyes had sunken completely into his skull. Their looks of concern and frustration made his lips part in a toothy snarl, and she noticed his normally square shaped teeth were filed angularly, sharpened to the top. He would have no problem in biting into tough meat, and Susie stepped back, feeling his eyes on her, a cold, listless stare that made her heart skip three beats.

"Are you okay Sammy?"

"Do you pray?" He asked, and searched their faces for the answer, "Tell me, do any of you pray?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Benny, please," Susie whispered, never taking her eyes off of Sammy.

Sammy didn't seem to hear him, and if he had, it didn't incite anger, just frustration, "We need our savior, and he needs to know we appreciate them. It's time for prayer, for all of us, so this scourge…so we can be protected."

Their silence and worried stares infuriated him. His gray skin flushed a dim, weak red.

"Weak minded sheep." He hissed, but his volume remained neutral. It took a haunting tone, and he shook his head, unable to understand their confusion, "Non-believers cannot dream of salvation, if they don't try to reach Him. He knows our hearts. He knows our souls, and He will preserve those choose to give their hearts to Him."

No one said a word. They stared in deafening silence, and he stared back, blinking at them, seeing them, but seeing right through them. Susie's heart sank, and Norman stepped in front her. Taller, broader, his rich eyes glared at Sammy, and he nodded his head towards the direction of his office.

Sammy's bleak glare was weak but strong enough to match Norman's, and Susie's finger clenched into fists at her side. What was she going to do? What could she do? They wouldn't fight, not here, not ever. Norman was a smart man, a much smarter man than most, and she didn't want anyone to get to get into trouble.

He took one stepped back, leaning on the heel of his shoe, and his tongue slipped over his false teeth, "Fair enough, my apologies for taking up your time, but when He calls, I must answer."

Walking away, he watched them for a while, and when he exited into the darkness, his eyes lingered on them. A feeling of unsettling, of cracking, of breaking, but she did not realize its nature then. She couldn't grasp its meaning, and she watched him disappear, wanting to reach for him instead of Bendy. But she knew he wouldn't reach back.

"He said Alice would be as popular as Bendy someday." She sat on one of the chairs. Her fingers trailed podium's metal, and she stared at the yellow music sheets. She couldn't read the notes, but she read the lines, each happy little word popped at her.

She knew the words. She had sung them more times than she could count. Their melodies swirled around her, became one with her, and she sighed sadly, watching the men pack their belongings. Her nails scratched her skirt, and the light in her heart fluttered weakly.

Norman packed the saxophones, passing the cases to the others with ease, "She's getting there, you know," he handed one to Benny, then to Tony, "all the folks are talking about. She's as cute as Minnie, but as devilish as Betty. Can't get better than that."

"Do you think we can do anything?"

"Can't do squat," Norman said, and he picked up another case, smaller than the others, "Sammy's gonna do what he wants to do, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Shouldn't we try?"

Handing the last case to another, his sympathetic stare didn't go unnoticed. Lines cradled his smooth brown eyes, filled with warmth and hot foreboding. He was dressed in a loose fitting blouse and pants that were strung together by a tight, leather belt. He seemed older, less filled than he usually was, and Susie was surprised that this was the first time she had realized it.

He pressed his large hands onto her slim shoulders, forcing him to look at her, truly look, and she saw a mixture of sorrow, regret, and a third sensation that sent shivers down her spine, "Susie, you're a kind girl, a good girl. You can make it away from here, and no one would hold it against you."

"Norman, I know you're concerned, but I have to do this." She didn't want to admit what she had given up for this job, what she had offered for the sake of possibility, "I have worked hard for this opportunity, and I am not going to waste it just because the staff is getting a little silly down here."

"It's more than silliness, Susie." Norman released her shoulders and scowled, "Some dark stuff is going on here, and I am not taking any risks."

"What do you mean?" She watched him pick up the last of his cases, stepping out of the orchestra room, and a feeling of dread went down her throat, "Norman, you can't be serious."

"I am, and so should you." He pointed his finger at her. He stopped at the door, staring at the area that had been his place of work for over twenty years. He lived, breathed his music, and did his best to transcribe Joey's words and notes into live music, "This place is not going to be the death of me, Susie Q, and you shouldn't let it be yours."

His sweet face drew tighter, twitching, and he shook his head sadly. She opened her mouth to stop him, to convince him this was a mistake, but the words didn't reach her tongue. The harder she tried to speak, the quieter they grew until he disappeared beyond the door, down the hall, leaving her in the orchestra room, alone.

Sitting there, she knew there were options. She had options. She could change things if she tried. Sammy liked her, and Mr. Drew, she wasn't sure what he thought of her exactly. But she felt he tolerated her for what she brought to the table.

The opportunity, Susie thought in the dusty, ink stained room, was not the complete truth. He knew about her, of what she truly was, and he never said a thing aloud. It was easier for men like him to spot women like her. Their kind was indistinguishable from the rest, but it required an innate knowing rather than close inspection.

He never discussed this with her, and she refused to broach the subject. From that, a unique bond had formed, and if the others had guessed, had suspected, they were kind enough to keep their silence. It was easier, yes, easier for her to work this job. This was her golden egg, and she wasn't ready to let go of the goose. And it was easier to tell him this, that she liked her job with its steady pay and behind the scenes star status.

"But there's so much more." Alice's face appeared in her thoughts. Her doe black eyes, silky black hair was all she needed to see.

With the microphone to her face, the sounds came naturally, and so sweetly. It was never too sweet just as it was never too naughty, and the connection she possessed with Alice, she knew the term was accurate, was one she never had with any other character.

"Alice and I are going places," she whispered to herself, affirming a belief she didn't know she had, "and one day, one day, she'll be as popular as Bendy. Heck, her popularity might shoot above him."

Looking at the clock, 8:30, the time for dinner had passed some time ago. The pain of hunger did not tackle her stomach, and she sighed, picking up her purse and sweater. Walking down the hallway, she twisted the gold band on her left, middle finger, her thoughts were in disarray.

His office was not far from where she walked. He was an odd man, strange even, and his demeanor had changed during the last two months. But his kindness hadn't wavered. He hadn't grown cruel or distant, and she spoke freely, happily, around him. In his presence, she felt safe. Her concern was for him, not her person, and being certain of this, pushed her towards senselessness.

"He won't listen to me," the sound of her heels clicking on top of wood echoed down the halls, and she stared ahead, lips fixed into a thin line, "but he may listen to someone else."

She had visited the outskirts of Mr. Drew's office on the day she was hired. No one was allowed upstairs without his explicit permission, and although she feared what he may have to say about her unannounced appearance, his calmness steadied her. He was a smart man, an intelligent and diligent man, and Sammy, whose aggravations with him were well known, held immeasurable respect for the man.

Instead of heading to the exit where the thick summer air called to her, Susie carried on towards the animators' studio. Ink did not have an odor, but rotting wood did. The further she went, the stronger it became. Her nose twitched in disgust as she rebuilt the building in her mind, remembering which turns to make and which ones to avoid.

Soon she neared the abandoned animator's office, his name familiar as it passed through her mind, and she thought, if for a moment, that she had seen his face somewhere. Mr. Drew's office was past this point, and she saw the staircase ahead, yellowish light flooded the stairs.

"Mr. Drew?" Laying a hand on the wall, she was surprised to see there was a slight crack in the door at the top, "I apologize for coming unannounced."

On the first step a loud creak stretched in the still air, and she swallowed thickly, "I understand if you don't want to talk to me, but I'm…I'm worried about Sammy, I mean, Mr. Lawrence."

She took another step. Its creak was shorter, quieter, and she ventured for a third and a fourth. Losing count of how many steps she had taken, her fingers slid against the wooden wall, unafraid of the splinters that pricked her skin. The sounds on the other side had stopped abruptly, and she saw movement, quick and fleeting, like a shadow disappearing into light.

At the door, she pressed her ear against its cool surface, and the soft scratching, the low mumbles ceased. Heart palpitations made her knees weak, and she counted down from ten, gathering the courage she knocked on the door while holding the door knob with her other hand.

"Mr. Drew?" She said clearly with a light tremor in her voice, "Mr. Drew, may I come in?"

"Of course, Susie, you're always welcome."

Opening the door, she expected Mr. Drew to be seated his desk, arms folded neatly over a small stack of unfinished sketches. She hadn't prepared what she was going to say, and decided to rely on her natural instinct that came through during the heat of the moment.

He wasn't there. When she stepped through the threshold, she visualized his slim frame and thinning, pepper grey hair. He appeared to have been there earlier. An oily cinnamon scent filled her nose, different from the stronger odors she'd grown used to. Unfinished sketches were abandoned on his desk, spread on different parts, and a cinnamon oil scent was draped over them, sweet and spicy. Keeping a safe distance, the discarded papers were a cool gray color, and on them, she saw shapes drawn on them.

On closer inspection, she recognized the star inside the circle, and she tilted her head for a better angle. It held her attention for a minute before she saw the photograph that had fallen near it. She hadn't meant to touch the frame, and she didn't realize what she was doing until she was staring the photograph in its face.

The photograph had been taken some time ago, but at which time, Susie could not determine. The colors were pristine, highlighting the woman's hazel, almond shaped eyes, and through thick curls of strawberry blond, she smoothed her finger on top of silver strands. Her lips were painted a lovely shade of rogue, and were curled into a mischievous, inviting grin.

Age lines had aged her gracefully, and Susie stood transfixed on her face, as if she wanted to come through and show her something special.

"It was taken two weeks before she died."

Susie jumped, pressing the photograph against her breast, and spun around to see Mr. Drew leaning against the door frame. His hands were in his pockets.

"Oh my word!" Susie gasped, "I am," she looked at the photograph and flushed, "I am so sorry, Mr. Drew. I wanted to speak to you, and – please, don't fire me."

"Fire you?" He chuckled weakly and limped in the room. Without nosy eyes, he had not reservations, and he made his way to her, glancing at the photograph, "No, no, I would never do that, Miss Campbell, far too valuable."

"I'll just put that back."

"What did I tell you?" He sat in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes, "You're in trouble, ma'am." His sunken eyes crossed to the framed photograph, "What do you think of her?"

"You're wife?" At a loss of words, his patience silence weighed on her. Her purpose did not slip from away, "Well, it's my first time seeing her. I had heard only through the grapevine. I didn't think she was so -,"

"Robust?"

"Drawing." Glancing at the photograph upright on the desk, she nodded in affirmation to the woman's dark curls and piercing but mildly teasing gaze, "You can see, no hear, the characters," she looked back at him, "she reminds me of Alice."

"Well!" His hoarse laughter was muddled under a sheet of pain, "She should. She was the inspiration."

Susie stared at him blankly, and her confusion raised his laughter, "Henry, my dear. He didn't think I knew, but I did. All he had to do was ask her."

"Ask her what?"

"Ask her out." His eyes glazed over. She was quick to realize that although she stood right in front of him, she was no more than stained glass, "She would've said yes. Henry was a good man, not always a nice man, but a good man. But he was shy."

"Was he now?" Henry was spoken of here and there, and hearing him confide in her about him was unheard of now, "I never got that from the shorts."

"Good." He grinned softly, "He wouldn't want anyone to know. Besides, he was a great animator, and she nearly lost her mind when she saw his original sketches. She gave him a big, wet one on the lips." He pointed to his lips and chuckled, "He was ready to faint, I tell you."

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was." His stare fixated on Susie, clearing away the fog that had settled in them, "And her voice, its range was immeasurable."

"So I've heard." And she had heard, seated in the movie theater, watching the cartoons dizzy and dozy about, and she and her friends could never pinpoint exactly when one she had given life to, "Betty Drew was my inspiration."

"But that isn't why you've come here."

"No." It was strange. It was not so unlike talking to a father, if her father had been that cooperative. His smooth voice was calming, and where she expected reproach for entering his office without permission, he changed the course with talks of his deceased wife, "It was about Sammy, Mr. Drew. I don't think he's well."

"You don't think he's well?" Flipping through the pages on his desk, Mr. Drew cocked his head to the side, "I must admit we have been overworking ourselves lately, and Sammy's work ethic has always been a little bit strained."

"He's pushing everyone away." She whispered weakly, "I believe Norman and more than half of the band has quit."

Mr. Drew's dim smile flat line, and his expression turned grave, "Well, that is serious. Norman's music conduction has kept Bendy alive for years, and we can't have Sammy running him off," he pushed himself to the right, "Isn't that right, Sammy?"

Turning around, Sammy stood with an ashen color on his face. His hands were hidden behind his back, and his eyes were wide, sunken completely into his skill. He sputtered for words, then shook his head, and he stepped in with a slight hunch in his back.

"What are you doing here?" He looked to her to Mr. Drew, and said in a darker tone, "What is she doing here?"

"Miss Campbell approached me herself."

"Why?"

"She was worried for you, Sammy," he explained firmly, and the look he gave him, that crooked stare, was one of an admonishing father onto his wayward son, "and hearing this, I am as well. Norman has left."

A low groan came from Sammy, and he stumbled onto the wall, pressing a skeletal hand on it for balance, "No, no, no, Norman, I wanted him gone. He was no good for this," his body sunk to the floor and tears dribbled down his face, "why are you hear, Susie, tell me why?"

Forgetting Mr. Drew behind her, Susie ran to Sammy, kneeling in front him. She grasped his hands and was frightened by how small, how weak they were, "Sammy, sweetie, Sammy, you have to listen to me. We're all worried about you."

"She's right, Sammy." Mr. Dre said behind them, but strangely, his voice echoed when it shouldn't have, "And after all, we have to believe in Him. Think of what He wants."

"I have!" Sammy hissed, and his eyes carried the same faraway stare Mr. Drew's had, "I have, and I have, and you don't think I've given enough. But she's…she's…they're too, oh," he rolled his head to the side and whimpered.

"Sammy, baby." She pressed her lips to his knuckles, "Listen, I know you're scared, but we can help you. We just need you to get up."

"No." Half-lidded eyes fluttered against a weak light, "No, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. It's cruel. I'm sorry, please, forgive me."

"Sammy, what are you talking about?" He wasn't a heavy man, not as heavy as he used to be, but he refused to move. She refused to move without him.

His watery eyes opened, looked ahead, and they were clear, Susie swore, and frightened. He worded something, trying to get her away, but his body was too weak, and so was his mind.

"We must accept His will as our own." A whisper clutched at her ear, and she was jerked away from Sammy. An arm wrapped around her throat, and her hands flayed about, nails scratching at the unusually strong hands, "And you will learn this, Sammy, all of you will."

A napkin was pressed against her mouth and nose. She kicked at his legs, but her feet seemed to sink. When she saw her hands, there were black, a black blacker than night, and what she inhaled, chloroform her mind supplied, caused an almost drowsiness. Soon, her kicks and scratches started to weaken, and the office, with Sammy in it, started to darken.

With her senses numbed, Susie slipped into a slumber so sweet, so kind that she feared she would never awaken.

"It could have been anyone else!"

"There is no one left. We tried and failed with Alice before." A sad, weak little voice said, "We cannot fail again. We will not fail."

Susie rolled to her side. Hearing returned first, and the voices, while audible, were terribly misshapen. Someone was crying, she thought, and a second person tried to comfort them, to dismal success. Touch pursued, and she gasped loudly, slapping her hands around to get a feel of where she was.

Wood, the floor, she was on the floor. But wait. The floor was not clean, something was scrawled on it. The lights were weak, dim, almost shadowed in the room, and she strained to see. Pushing herself up, black marking decorated the floor, and again, yes, in its entirety she understood. The pentagram mocked her as she lied unconscious on top of it. On her knees, she rubbed the back of her head and whimpered.

Where was she? She didn't know. It was another part of the studio she wasn't acquainted with, but that didn't matter. Standing up, seeing her shoes were missing, she circled in her confinement, searching for some kind of sign. The voices were too far away. She couldn't tell which direction they came from.

"I would not do that if I were you." Said someone from behind, and she turned around slowly, eyes clear and lips pressed in a confused but angered frown, "You could get hurt."

"What is this?" Her voice was quiet, still, and she was secretly impressed at the distance, "Where am I, Mr. Drew?"

"You are safe." He explained softly, "I know it appears cruel, but trust me, it is the only way for us to survive."

"Survive?" She marched towards him, and on the edge of the circle, an invisible forced pushed her back. Stunned, it was not enough to knock her off her feet, but one that warned against any future attempts of escape, "What is this?"

She heard his voice, but she could not see him. Where was she? There were no booths or windows from what she could tell, and she breathed harshly, forcing tears back into her eyes. What had she gotten herself into?

"We must make sacrifices." The voice echoed solemnly, and within the voice, Susie heard another, weeping, "His will is our will, and we must accept his divinity in our hearts, into our souls."

The floor and walls began to tremble. It all began to tremble, and somewhere in the distance, growls emitted from the darkness. The circle chimed, a soft bell, and sparks spun to reveal violet flames. She took a step and crunched down. Susie removed her foot, and her heart sank when she saw the picture she had stepped on.

"Lord have mercy." Horror spilled over the ruined sketch, "Please, no."

A mangled scream clawed up her throat, slamming out her mouth as black ink pooled in the circle. Trapped, there was nowhere for her to go, and with little mobility she possessed, she tried to push against the force.

In retaliation a hand, a claw with pointed nails sprouted from the circle's center, and wrapped around her ankle. The sketch still clutched in her hand she tried to free her leg, jerking and fighting against the claw when another, as black as its twin, grabbed ahold of her left.

It called for help.

One after the other, hands formed in ink stained her clothes, snatching at her flailing arms. A larger one, she presumed to be larger in her panic, wrapped around her waist, and hot breath slithered down her neck. Its texture was warmer than the ink, wetter than ink, and she whimpered as the weight began to pull her down.

Legs and lower torso completely submerged, she saw a light ahead. Her weakened grip discarded of the picture, and the picture was swallowed by ink. Using the last of her strength, she forced her arms upwards, fingers stretching as far as they could. The pale cream of her skin was drenched, but she made out their shapes.

Her fingers wanted to blister under the light. Let it bleed and peel, let them be touched, but in that light came a voice, a voice so light and feather soft it sent chills down her spine. It was not a voice but many voices, two voices tied in one, and she saw his face gazing down back at her. His sneer was masked under a perpetual smile.

"You have to believe, Susie."

Her mouth opened for a fraction of a second, and ink poured through, pushing through her pearly white teeth, slipping down her throat, sloshing into her stomach. The ink went wild at her lungs, and the voices squealed in delight above her. She gasped, choked, and gurgled. She flailed, splashed, and started to weaken.

He watched her from where he stood. He titled his head to the side, unable to comprehend her distress, and she supposed he couldn't, with him being a devil and all.

He waved goodbye. It seemed so innocent, so childlike he was in his cartoons. It made seeing him as he now was almost sad. If she could have waved back in return, she would have, but she couldn't see her fingers anymore.

Her fingers, along with the rest of her body, seeped silently underneath the puddle of ink, leaving only a faint, drying stain in its wake.

Her name was Alice Angel.

In a past life, she might have met him. In another life, she could have met him. In this life, she did not meet him, not yet.

He was felt. The moment he opened the door, Alice felt him.

As all of them were, her body was not what it appeared to be. It was not what it was intended to be, but she, unlike so many others, could alter her appearance at will. Not even Bendy demonstrated this sort of ability. His lack of control infuriated him.

He was an envious little devil, Alice thought, and it was expected, for him to be envious.

Bendy wanted him.

He was a smart man, an old, a kind man.

"He's a good man, not always a kind one," a soft, mature voice mingled in her head. It was rich, full, and reminded her of something warm and good, a hot cup of tea although she had no way of knowing what tea tasted like, "We won't let harm come to him. We will try."

Alice agreed. In the heat of their united resolve, sounds were eradicated from her mouth. They were shredded, tattered, and she blushed, remembering why she normally maintained silence inside the building. It was best to be quiet. Bendy was watching, and so was she. She knew what he was planning, and she had to stop him.

At least, she was not alone. A semblance of another person, not complete and whole, mingled in her head, and its presence was comforting. This did not stop Alice from weeping. Always, always, she felt there was more inside, more than one, more than two.

What Alice would have said to the mingling voice that lingered in her head, "I know he isn't nice, and I don't want him to die. We have to try." She decided to try.

Bendy was faster. He made it to the ink machine before she did. Alice was smarter. She was, and they knew it. She boarded the ink machine before he had the chance to strike, and how angry he was! He was angry, and he searched for Alice. Searched and searched, and when he could not find her, he found another.

Sammy was desperate, and a fool. Alice felt him die. His fear was palpable. It was like having your heart ripped apart, crushed in the palm of the killer's hand. He found Henry first. He hadn't realized that Bendy wanted him.

Her anger with Sammy would never sway. Her forgiveness wasn't amendable, and wouldn't soothe her wounds. His dormancy condemned. But she mourned him nonetheless, as Bendy knew she would. Disobedient children needed to be taught a lesson, she supposed, and this lesson was one of many.

She rubbed furious, black tears off her haunted skin, now falsely papery, rubbery under a coat of ivory.

"We cannot save them all. We have to persevere," the voice rich tone tried to soothe, and Alice smudged her tears away, angry she had fallen pretty to emotional weakness. It appeared her humanity persisted through pain and betrayal, and she spat ink onto the floor.

He escaped Bendy, and Boris found him. She was not sure how she felt about that. Could he be trusted? He was not like Bendy, and did not seek to harm others. He called to her through thoughts, and Alice knew the time had come for her to appear.

"Give him instructions, guide him," she whispered through the vents, through the inky puddles Bendy could not claim, "and lead him to me."

In the depths where her tomb lied, decrepit and forgotten, he would find her there, and she would look upon his face. In another life, she had loved him. In another life, she had known him. In this life, she needed him.

"What will I say," Alice asked, and she waited for the response, knowing its directions would be unfair but just.

"Oh, my sweet Alice," the voice that mingled in her head moaned bereft, "we tell him the truth, your old song will teach him."

"What if he doesn't believe me?" She did not like to disagree, but this was a thought she had since he arrived. Her broken wings, dressed in black, fluttered achingly.

The mingling voice grew quiet, and she knew this was a moment the voice preferred to be left undisturbed. Seconds passed before it returned, in a simple but austerely forgiving tone, "If that is the case, Alice, then you will make him believe in you."

[aslightstep]

14 - Steve/Tony, post-CW or CW-compliant would be preferable, but an AU is fine.

(For clarity’s sake, Tony and Pepper were never together in this. Actually, just assume Iron Man 3 doesn’t happen for my peace of mind, or move it down the timeline after TWS. OK, and a little bit of a warning, even though it might be overzealous. This fic deals a bit with my personal headcanon that both Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have issues with obsession/fixation, and this isn’t exactly a positive spin on that. SO. Some of the ways they think might be a little eh?!?! if you weren’t prepared, but now you are!)

I Was A Fool

1. (Do you remember I searched you out? How I climbed your city walls.)

Tony watches him at the railing for a long time, one hand wrapped around the tumbler of whiskey and one hand half reaching for the panel that would open the sliding doors leading outside. “How long has he been out there, J?” he asks softly.

There’s something about the angle of Steve’s body as he leans over the railing. Something about the curve of his neck as he stares down at the street. Something about the arch of his feet, neither planted on the ground. Unsteady, the engineer in him thinks. Ready to fall-

“Two hours, sir,” JARVIS answers, and Tony thinks of the two hours he’s just spent in his bed, waking up from nightmare after nightmare, waking up and drifting off until they all became one big long terror.

He had given up and headed for the nearest source of alcohol when he saw Steve standing at the ledge of the balcony, leaning. The light of the moon and the city have washed him out, the gold of his hair gone silver and his pale skin gone white. He looks like a statue. Screw it, he thinks, and heads outside.

Steve must hear the door hiss, throwing a cursory glance over his shoulder and tensing when he sees Tony. They still haven’t quite managed to get along, even after the epic bonding experience that was an alien invasion. “Late night or early morning for you?” he asks gruffly.

“I like that you think I went to bed at all,” Tony quips, wondering at the strangely coaxing tone to his voice. “What about you, Cap? This isn’t cramping into your five AM wake up call?”

Steve shrugs. “Thought I might skip it.”

There’s another joke on the edge of his tongue, but instead Tony just wanders over until he’s right beside Cap. He sees blue eyes flicker down to his glass and then back up, but Steve says nothing, which leaves him oddly disappointed. Not like he had wanted someone to be here in the communal floor when there was a bottle of Jack in the workshop, not like he wanted someone to look at him and say oh, Tony, you don’t need that. It might have been nice though, just to hear. 

Leaving the talking to Tony, then. That’s okay. Tony can do talking.

“Lot has changed, I bet,” he says, gesturing out to the city. 

“Well,” Steve says, clearing his throat when the one word comes out choked. “I never much had the chance to see it from this view.”

“Still, doesn’t mean you don’t-” Tony says, because he is good at talking, but he is not good at knowing where and what not to talk about. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Like you said. A lot has changed.” It doesn’t sound agreeable, or even kind. It’s miserable, Steve’s voice, and angry. 

“I figure building’s are the least of your worries there, Cap,” Tony says.

Steve is quiet for a long moment. “You’re probably right. I just - remember things a lot differently. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it isn’t…like that anymore.”

“How well do you remember it?”

“Perfectly,” Steve whispers. Then, to Tony: “I always had a good memory, but after the serum-”

“Photographic,” Tony finishes. He takes a swallow of his drink and lets it burn all the way down, finds his lips curling up against his will. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“What?” Steve says, looking at him for the first time. 

Tony tries to smooth out his sneer into something normal, something not so bitter. Tries not to show Yinsen’s body going slack or the dark of space or the ripples of water as he drowned over and over in his face. “I mean. Useful, right? It’s useful. Plans, schematics, there at the back of your mind forever, but sometimes. Not so good.”

He thinks Steve sees it all in his face anyway, because his eyes go a little soft and more than a little pained. “Yeah,” he says. “Sometimes.” And Steve’s seen friends slip between his fingers, too. Steve’s seen death, too.

“Sometimes I have nightmares,” Tony says out to the sky. “But. They’re just memories.”

Steve shifts a little closer. “Yeah,” the soldier agrees again. Then, seemingly apropos of nothing: “I hate the cold.”

“I wish you had a glass so I could toast to that. Deserts are fucking freezing at night.” Not as cold as, oh, being frozen alive, but still. “Water. On my face.”

“The window broke first thing on the plane,” Steve agrees, and this conversation of half-filled fears is less gruesome than it has any right to be. Tony almost finds himself smiling in the brief seconds he isn’t wondering what the hell Fury was thinking, putting this team together. The Island of Misfit Toys was a part of fiction for a reason.

“You know,” he says. “It’s not all gone.” When Steve raises an eyebrow, he gestures out at the city. “New Yorkers are nostalgia-ridden fools, near as I can tell. Never tear anything down. They just built around it. Or on top, more likely, I guess, there’s not just excessive amounts of space here. But they make something new of out it. The old, I mean.”

Steve looks at him for a long time, then back out at the city. “You figure?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony says. “I mean, c’mon, you know better than me. The Chrysler Building. And that one over there-”

“It was there, back then-”

“Yeah, so, and it’s still there, but look at that line there, they added on, brand spanking new. Hey, come here, sit down with me, I’m getting creaky in my old age-”

“So dramatic,” Steve huffs, but he releases his death grip on the railing and they sit, legs through the slots as they look out at the city, still looking at building. “It was an insurance company in my day.”

“Cell phones now,” Tony corrects, and Steve looks at him dubiously, and they’re off, cataloging the differences, the similarities, and he never thought of using buildings as metaphors - left that up to architects who waxed philosophic about arches and singers who sang uncomfortably intimate songs about their hometowns - but it seems to be working now so he sticks with it.

Tony puts his drink down. When he and Steve are finally through talking, barely getting words through their yawns, he stands, leaving it out there, completely forgotten.

2. (Do you remember me as devout? How I prayed for your calls.)

Steve sometimes has this picture of Fury. The director is sitting at his desk, looming over a puzzle, working on fitting the pieces together. He does so, but the puzzle has no color. No picture. The pieces fit, shoved together, interlocking like they were made to, but the it’s still just a group of pieces. There’s no story. No whole.

Sometimes, that’s what the Avengers feel like to him. This group that he’s supposed to wrangle together and make into Earth’s mightiest heroes, that fights together like a well-oiled machine, like Fury’s perfect puzzle, and then goes home and separates. Broken, he thinks. Clarifies no, broken apart.

There’s something growing here, in Natasha’s miniscule smiles and the easy line of Clint’s shoulders and Thor’s embraces, just a smidgen hesitant; in Bruce’s shy offers of dinner. There’s something in the way Tony looks at him over the glow of his holographic work stations, something in the easy way that Tony fights at his back.

(Something in the way that Steve looks back. That Captain America is always at Iron Man’s side.)

It grows, slowly, over time. The picture forms of them, together, a team and a family, together. He wants them to stay, he realizes fiercely. He doesn’t want to be alone. He dreams about loses them, about waking up in a world without the ones he loves all over again. He’d do anything to stop that. Anything not to live through it again.

And he supposes, if he’s honest with himself, it’s why he takes it so hard when someone tries to take Tony away. Even if that someone is occasionally Tony himself.

“Oh, stop with the sad eyes,” Tony is telling him as Steve stares down at him from where he has slumped over Tony, boxing him in on the lab table Steve had laid him out on when he had to exchange the arc reactors. “You saved me. All better now.” He taps the new arc for good measure, and hands the old one - the one that he sacrificed to jumpstart the machine that would fry all the mechanical beasts that attacked New York City today - off to DUM-E to be incinerated.

“You nearly died,” Steve gasps. He can’t catch a breath, he can’t stop looking at Tony’s lips, the color coming back to them, such a relief after the way he had watched them turn gray as Tony died, Tony was dying, he nearly lost him-

“I did what I had to,” Tony says softly, because they have had this conversation more than once. Steve is not one to cast stones at Tony’s maverick tendencies in battle but there had been an adjustment period in the beginning, Tony not used to a team and Steve not used to hyper strong flying battle suits armed with missiles fighting with him. 

“In my arms,” Steve mumbles. “Through my fingers…”

And Tony has always been so good at picking up Steve’s dropped cues, filling in the blanks he leaves all over his life. “But you saved me. Just like I knew you would.”

“Tony, you can’t just-” Leave me, he doesn’t say. “If I wasn’t fast enough, or if your heart had given out sooner-”

“But it didn’t,” Tony insists. “It happened, we fixed it, it’s over. Steve,” and he sits up inside the circle of Steve’s arms and he’s so close and all Steve can think of is to drag him closer, so he does. Tony is so warm against, so soft. So breakable. “We all came home today.”

They did. The team is safe, the city is saved. Even Bucky, wherever he is, is most likely safe. It’s been a good day, he should be relieved. But all he can think about is how unfocused Tony’s eyes went, how Tony never looks like that. He wants to stay, he thinks to himself. And he wants Tony there with him.

“You with me?” Tony murmurs from where Steve has let him tuck his head into his shoulder. 

“Warning,” Steve finally manages. His fingers are on Tony’s neck, feeling his pulse and pulling him closer, never close enough. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, I want a warning.”

“Can do, boss man,” Tony says on a laugh. “Poor planning on my part, I’ll admit it.” He pulls away, looks up at Steve. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and at first Steve thinks he means for today, but then Tony’s lips are on his, pressing gently, and everything flies away.

He likes looking at Tony. He likes listening to Tony. He likes watching him work and scheme and laugh and he’s even fond of his irritating lack of filter and the fact that he is allergic to sleep. But he doesn’t love Tony, not like Peggy. 

But God, does this feel right, Tony alive under his hands, the faintest hint of a pulse in Tony’s lips where they meet Steve. It feels right when he kisses back. Together, he thinks, or not at all. “Don’t be,” he whispers back, and Tony’s lips curve against his.

Much later, the kissing grows more fervent, and they wind up on a couch, Tony in his lap making all kinds of delightful noises, and Steve is so happy and so scared.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers into Tony’s hair as the man trails kisses down his neck, lips trailing over the pulse beating double time in his neck over and over, a point of fascination for Tony. 

“I won’t, I won’t,” Tony promises against his skin. “I’m right here, champ. We’ll both - yes please that again - we’ll both agree to turn down the theatrics, alright? We’ll both come home every day. To - oh - to each other. And do this all over again.”

Tony’s hand are so tight around his arms. He tries to focus on that, on the feel of them, on Tony’s back muscles moving under his fingers. But he’s floating somewhere, or sinking down, to wherever Bucky hides now, wherever Peggy’s mind goes, wherever Dum Dum and Morita and Phillips went after they passed. Steve never keeps anything good. “Don’t leave me,” he repeats. “Don’t.”

He doesn’t love Tony, but here, underneath his hands, breathing and alive, is where Tony belongs. He’ll do anything to keep it that way, even something as terrifying as falling in love all over again. Tony promises again, and Steve believes him, dragging Tony back up again to lay kisses against the words spilling out of that mouth.

(And he would tell him. He would show Tony what Zola showed him. But he doesn’t know, not for sure. It’s just a suspicion. And if he tells Tony, he could lose him, and Tony could take Bucky with him. 

And maybe that makes him selfish, maybe he’s a coward, but this way nobody hurts. This way nobody’s left alone.)

3. (But stand still is all I ever did.)

Tony doesn’t love Steve when he finds him in the hospital after the destruction of the helicarriers, carrying his shield, recently rescued from the Potomac.

He admires that Steve’s hair is still golden even in the sickly hospital light, he treasures the steady beep of his heartbeat on the monitor, and he smiles when Steve wakes up and those big blue eyes find his. 

“Enjoy your Cap nap?” he asks, and Steve groans theatrically at the terrible joke. 

“Changed my mind. Throw me back into the river. Put me out of my misery.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think even your immune system can take another dip in there.” Steve does that funny little crooked grin he does that Tony used to run his fingers along just to straighten and now just wants to run his fingers along. He coughs, looks down. He doesn’t love Steve, but he loves him enough, if that will ever make sense. Enough to take his own dip in the Potomac. “I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to,” Steve says automatically, but his mouth clicks shut as Tony brings up the shield and places it over his lap. 

Tony watches Steve, watching the emotions flit across his face. Shock and happiness and unmistakable fear. “Just a present, Steve. No pressure,” he murmurs, and Steve frowns at them both, him and the shield. “I heard what happened. With Barnes.” 

There’s a question hanging at the end of that sentence, but Tony will never voice it, and Steve doesn’t hear it.

“If you need help looking-”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers. He reaches out, wraps a hand around the edge of the shield. “You didn’t have to.”

“Only if I didn’t want Howard to rise from his grave and strangle me,” Tony jokes, startled a bit when Steve suddenly goes tense, his grip white-knuckled around the shield.

“I didn’t feel right without it,” Steve says, and though the subject is the same the change in tone still seems abrupt. “Like part of me was missing, too. I - thank you for saving it, Tony, really.”

Tony inexplicably finds himself blushing. “It was nothing,” he mutters, then moves to stand. “Well. To your speedy recovery, then, Cap-”

“You’re leaving?”

“My presence is not usually conducive to speedy recoveries.”

“Bull,” Steve declares, settling back. “I feel better already.” And yeah, Steve could probably use some mindless chatter right now. A distraction, a past time, until the world starts moving again. Tony stays. He’s has got a million things to do back home, but he stays.

“So, I hear thanks are in order for saving my life, by the way…”

He doesn’t love Steve when he comes back, fresh and uninjured and taking up space on the floor below Tony’s in the Tower. He loves his companionship, loves his humor, loves the pranks he’s brave enough to play on Natasha, but he doesn’t love him.

He doesn’t love Steve while he’s away, on a mission or after Barnes. He misses him, designs fretfully on the offchance that whatever he’s sent Steve out there with fails, and even admits to himself the streak of jealousy that arises for Steve’s single-minded focus on Barnes.

He doesn’t even love him when they kiss for the first time. Part of that might be the fact that his chest is still on fire and Steve’s cheeks are still a little wet. Part of it might be the fact that he knows he and Steve are broken, that this might be the worst thing that will happen to either of them.

Why did you let yourself fall? he didn’t ask at the hospital, because he already knew the answer. Same reason he gave his address to a terrorist, probably, or the reason why he sometimes sees himself steering towards the ground when he’s flying the suit. You want it to stop, and it’s going to stop, and those two things aren’t always the same, so might as well end it on your own terms, right?

He doesn’t love him, but he could, God, he could. He could break him to smithereens, or he could love him, or he could do both and destroy everything, but Tony Stark is not afraid, or at least that’s what he tells the mirror every morning.

Steve kisses him back, and he thinks maybe he could tell Steve instead. Steve is more than enough to help him believe it. Because Steve is good, and brave, and so much better than Tony.

Still, he doesn’t love Steve right up until the moment that Steve finds him hiding in his Tower workshop a month after he left him at the new compound with the recruits. They’ve been chatting by phone, keeping each other updated while Tony tries to handle the fact that he built the very thing he was trying to prevent and Steve tries to deal with the fact that Tony didn’t tell him about it.

Tony barely gets out a hello when Steve hefts something up onto the lab table and almost reverently puts it down, stepping back and looking at Tony expectantly. It’s one of his old suitcase armors, the only armor left now. It must have gotten lost in Steve’s stuff ages ago, and it’s caked with dust and grease.

“What is this?” Tony asks suspiciously as Steve rounds the table to slide in behind him, arms wrapping around his waist.

“To your speedy recovery,” Steve says into his ear before dropping a kiss right above it, and Tony stares at the armor and does not cry.

Like part of me was missing, Steve had said a year ago. Tony knows the feeling. 

“I don’t know if I can-” Tony cuts himself off, and Steve’s arms move until big hands are cupping, wrapping around his own.

“No pressure,” is the reply. “But. I think you can. For what it’s worth.”

It’s worth everything, because Tony loves Steve, and Tony is a moron, and has loved him this entire time. He wants to tell him, but all that comes out when he turns and throws his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders is “Captain America, always saving the day.”

He will. Someday. Soon. They have time now; he figures they’ve beaten the odds, two broken souls fitting together just right. All those dreaded maybes slink off to the back of his mind to die a quiet death. Steve is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

[0. (I was a fool for love.)

The shield crunches through the fiberglass of the arc reactor as Steve twists it hard. Tony hands are above his face, still bracing for a blow, and Steve keeps catching glimpses of wide, terrified, furious brown eyes through the fingers of the gauntlet.

(‘Don’t leave me,’ he had asked, and Tony had promised, and Tony had kept it in the end.) 

The reactor goes out. Tony drops his hands. Everything is red and dark and cold and Steve is so tired. He waits for Tony to speak, because this is his half-dropped cue, the one that Tony always picks up. But Tony stares up at him, so indescribably hurt.

He wants to fill the silence for him; Tony and Steve, that’s what they do, they pick up the slack for the other. He’s going to open his mouth and say Tony, I love you, I’m sorry, Tony, I was wrong I never meant for it to get this far and I wanted to save you, I wanted to keep you safe, I wanted to keep you-

Bucky groans, somewhere to his left. Steve stays silent and Tony, who had tried to murder Bucky, now seems completely unconcerned with him. His eyes are fixed on Steve, big and bright. Last chance. Open your mouth, Rogers. Say it, for once in your life, say it before it’s too late.

But what would that do, he wonders, staring back at Tony, but hurt him even more? 

Steve has always lost things when he was a kid, always scrounged and scraped by for his next paycheck, next meal, next breath. He’d never gotten to keep much, even after the serum. He saves what he can, where he can, and he holds it close, because everything else slips away. 

So Steve stands and walks to Bucky. Pulls him up and shoulders the burden, begins the long walk out, when he hears scraping behind him, a sharp inhale. Tony, picking up the cue. He pauses.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony growls, and Steve’s heart breaks. “You don’t deserve it.” A part of me, he had once called that shield, and he had known Tony had understood him completely.

Later he sends a letter that goes unanswered and a phone that’s twin never rings and Steve wonders if Tony might hate him less if he hadn’t dropped it. Later, Bucky puts himself into stasis and all three of them are alone. He remembers how this used to be his worst nightmare. 

He’s glad he never told Tony he loved him and he’s glad he never heard Tony say it back. And that’s so cheap, that’s all surface, because Steve knows the truth and it is damn near time he stopped lying to himself. He loved Tony, and Tony loved him, and that’s how they broke each other.

Months later, almost a year, he’ll be caught with Sam and Clint in Western Europe and they’ll be brought before the United Nations to be tried for violations against the new Avengers’ Accords and several sovereign states. Tony arrives at some point before the trial, Rhodey at one shoulder and Vision at the other, and watches him with the same wide dark eyes Steve dreams about on the nights he can sleep. Steve hopes for one wild moment that Tony is here to help them like he once swore to do in a Berlin conference room.

(’I will,’ Tony had responded to Steve’s pleas, on an even earlier occasion. Tony had promised.)

Tony turns away.]

4. (If you’re worried that I might have changed, left behind all of my foolish ways…)

The trial is an open and shut case because it turns out it’s really hard to prosecute people for breaking laws that never actually went into effect anyway, and Steve and his buddies walk within the week. Someone delivers the new Accords to them; he doesn’t know who, maybe Natasha. Tony genuinely doesn’t give a fuck. To say that he has survived without Steve is true, to say he has lived is pushing it, to say he has thrived is a bald faced lie, but what no one can argue, is that Tony has persevered.

He always has, through the death of his parents, Obie’s betrayal, his own many brushes with death and his lingering issues over the nightmares those produced. He looks in the mirror every day and tells himself that he has lived through so much worse than Steve before. 

(The best lies are always half-truths, and Tony Stark has always been the best liar.)

He finds three signed copies of the Accords on his desk, as well as a transfer request for S. Wilson, C. Barton, and S. Rogers. He grants before he can think, and watches through the security cams three days later as the men move back into the compound. 

He stays ensconced in his lab, working on SI projects or updates to the armor or building up his secret armory in the basement for a threat that looms large in his mind and nowhere else. He sees Steve looking up at the cameras sometimes, mouthing words that Tony doesn’t puzzle out. He knows the man asks about him sometimes and FRIDAY has full permission to give him updates, because he remembers what killed him most during the fighting was the uncertainty, the not knowing if Steve was okay. He may be angry, but Tony Stark is capable of empathy sometimes.

He lives through this, too.

It doesn’t last, of course. Thor comes back with Bruce in tow, shouting ‘the aliens are coming!’ like Sci-Fi Paul Revere and in between sick vindication and abject panic Tony finds himself suddenly thrown at Steve, being expected to lead a team with a man he barely trusts.

Steve tries to talk to him, more than once, but sometimes his conversations start with “Bucky needed me-” or “Bucky had no one-” And all Tony can think, the thing that he eventually screams at Steve is: “Jesus Christ, do you think you’re the only one who’s ever loved somebody?”

Because it wasn’t about Bucky then, and it isn’t about Bucky now, and Tony understands how he might have given that impression what with trying to kill the man, and that’s on him, but he hates that after all this time, Bucky is still the only thing Steve can see. He hates that Bucky was the only thing Steve chose to hang onto. He hates that he was sacrificed on the altar of Bucky Barnes, but he gets it. If it was Rhodey he would have done the same thing, which is why psychiatric help for Barnes was the first thing he offered Steve when he could. Bucky isn’t the problem here.

They fight, more often than not, Steve vacillating wildly between apologetic  and defensive. He stands his ground, always, and it used to impress the hell out of Tony but now all he can see is curled fists and a jutting, clenched jaw and sparking eyes and he’s scared, of course he is, the bruises Steve left didn’t fade for months, but more than that: this is the little guy coming out in Steve, the one who stood up to bullies, the one who Steve himself had written a letter to Tony telling him that he had no one.

That’s the problem.

Because yes, he’s incredibly angry Steve lied to him about his dead parents, a fact that explains thoroughly to Steve-

(”Those were my parents,” Tony said, deadly quiet. “That was my family. My history. It had nothing to do with you but you took it anyway. Do you get that, do you understand? They were my parents. Mine. They belonged to me like I did them and you took them away from me!” 

It had sounded like everything the newspapers ever accused him of, narcissism and ego and vanity, but how else could Tony properly express how violated he felt sometimes, thinking of all those night he laid in Steve’s arms while all the while Steve knew?)

-but he knows that if he tried, he could get through that with Steve. Steve could even help him carry that burden, throw back a drink with him for Howard and listen to him talk about Maria for hours.

Tony already has the what. It’s the why that has slowly eaten everything away.

One day a fight is too much, or goes on too long, and they’re both exhausted and inches away from each other and Steve’s chin goes up and Tony slips. “Why were you so scared of me?” he asks, like he’s been dying to for months. Steve’s eyes widen.

“What?”

Tony panics, but there’s no way to take something like that back. “It’s not just my parents. You didn’t tell me about Zemo, either, until it was too late. You were scared of my reaction, weren’t you?” Steve says nothing, eyes still like saucers and Tony closes his eyes. “I just want to know why. What did I do to make you-”

There are arms around him the next moment, the first time they’ve touched in nearly two years, and Tony sags inside them. He just wants to know, honestly. Then maybe he can let this go. 

“Please stop talking,” Steve says, and Tony laughs because they’re both so shit at this. “It wasn’t - you didn’t do anything. It was all me.”

“You were afraid I would go after Bucky,” Tony says. “That’s why you stayed quiet.”

“I wanted.” Steve takes a shuddering breath that shivers down Tony’s own spine. “You. I can’t explain what that really means. I lost everything from before. But I suddenly had you. And I would have done anything to keep you. I was - I was the one that was scared, Tony.”

And Tony has always known that Steve was - is - not stitched up quite right. Botched jobs, half-finished ones still bleeding all over the place. Tony isn’t quite healed up either. And he remembers, painfully acute, not telling Steve about Ultron because he couldn’t even bear the thought of pushing him away.

Neither one of them had ever trusted the other to stay.

Now he knows the truth. And as he sees it, there are two options. He can keep being angry, and they can stay like this forever until Tony’s prophecy comes true and they destroy each other. Or he can let it go. Forgive Steve and forgive himself, and fight for the relationship he always wanted with the man he loves.

He knows what he’d choose, every time. He also knows he can’t do this without Steve.   

“We can’t be like this anymore,” he breathes into Steve’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get each other killed.”

“’M sorry,” Steve murmurs into his hair. Tony echoes him, finally wrapping his arms around Steve.

“You know we can’t go back,” Tony whispers. Steve stiffens in his arms, and then relaxes all at once like a great weight has been lifted off of him.

“I don’t think I want to,” he answers. “But I - I have to say it, okay? I did love you. I do, still. I always will.”

The words sink in, and they’re not the surprise Tony expected them to be. It was never love that was the problem between them, and love is not what needs fixing. “I love you, too.”

Love isn’t enough for people like them. Trust, openness, comfort, that’s what they need and never had. But love - love is more than enough to build on.

There is the beginning of a hesitant, cautious smile on Steve’s face that Tony feels himself returning. Like the old man said: Together.

5. (…you best be looking for somebody else without a foolish heart.)

It takes time, effort, and more than a few skirmishes with Thanos’ forward scouts, but he and Tony stop fighting each other and begin fighting side by side.

“Oh, I’ll always be right here,” Tony says, sarcastically cheerful when Steve turns to find him mowing down a line of Chitauri. “Right by your side. Even if it kills me.” The last bit is delivered in a grumble, because everything is still not fixed and some days are hard for both of them. But they are getting better. Steve stands at Tony’s back on the battlefield and knows he is right where he belongs. He’s determined to never forget it again.

There comes a fight where Tony lands in front of him, repulsors up, and Steve doesn’t think for a moment, just puts the shield up and redirects the blasts to the enemies around him like they did their very first battle. When the area is clear and he lowers the shield, Tony’s faceplate is up and the man inside the armor is staring at him with something akin to wonder. 

It doesn’t snap everything magically back into place, but then again they don’t want to go back. They don’t kiss; they are explicitly not a couple, although lately the word ‘yet’ has been thrown around an awful lot whenever they repeat the denials to their friends. The kind of forgiveness, love, and trust that they are cultivating takes time. 

Sam snorts a laugh at that. “And of course you choose to take this time in the middle of an alien invasion.”

“Gives us something to look forward to when we win,” Steve shoots back.

They’re not a couple, but they exchange ‘I love you’s often. And every time, Steve feels something strengthen within him. Figuring out how to love Tony without the oppressive need to keep him safe and keep him at his side, trimming back his emotions when they teeter on the edge of obsession is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but one of the most rewarding. Tony, too, no longer looks at him the way he always used to, that shining awe edged with self-loathing and trepidation. It’s replaced with something much softer, more real. 

(”I used to think I was going to destroy you,” Tony had whispered to him one night. “I’d tell myself that I couldn’t possibly.”

“You could now,” Steve confessed. “But I trust you not to.”

“Now that’s true love,” Tony joked, but they both knew how right he was.)

He used to be so scared of loving Tony, because loving meant leaving. It had always felt a little like a poison, slowly eating away at him. He’s still scared; he wakes up some days and can’t get out of bed for hours at just the idea that Tony won’t smile at him if they see each other at breakfast, just like there are times when Tony won’t see him because that day he’s angry all over again at Steve and he doesn’t want it spilling out, doesn’t think it’s fair when he’s given Steve his forgiveness.

But they’re getting better at pushing through. On those mornings, Steve will call Tony to come to him, and he always does. On those days, Tony will ask Steve to wait for him, and he always does. 

Tony may leave him, but he always comes back to him, too.

They move back into the Tower, where it’s easier to be on call for any major attacks. He finds Tony out on the balcony late one night, sitting against the railing, his legs poking through the slats. Steve joins him and they smile at each other, silently reminiscing.

Until Tony looks over, huffs, and says “fucking metaphors.” Steve frowns, puzzled until he follows Tony’s gaze to an old building - the insurance-cum-cellphone company. It was obviously damaged in the last attack; it’s covered in scaffolding and a large sign that says ‘UNDER CONSTRUCTION; REOPENING SOON.’

The image, combined with the old memory of Tony using the building as an example of the past being brought into the future, not being destroyed by it, makes Steve laugh at his words.

“Rebuilding,” he guesses, and Tony rolls fond eyes at him.

“On top of the old,” Tony grouses, and Steve slings an arm around him to drag him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Making it better,” Steve says, and the next time he leans in Tony turns his head, catching him in their new first kiss.

5 times Steve and Tony saved each other and 1 time they didn’t.

[sensitivefern]

An Excellent Cosmetic.

Pimpernel Water is so sovereign a beautifier of the complexion, that it ought always to have a place on a Lady's toilet.

To remove Freckles.

Take Houseleek, and Celandine, of each an equal quantity; distil in a sand heat, and wash with the distilled Water.

A Water for Pimples in the Face.

Boil together a handful of the herbs Patience, and Pimpernel in Water; and wash yourself every day with the decoction.

[The Toilet of Flora]

===

The most dangerous man, to any government, is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos. Almost inevitably he comes to the conclusion that the government he lives under is dishonest, insane and intolerable, and so, if he is romantic, he tries to change it. And even if he is not romantic personally he is very apt to spread discontent among those who are. Ludwig van Beethoven was certainly no politician. Nor was he a patriot. Nor had he any democratic illusions in him: he held the Viennese in even more contempt than he held the Hapsburgs. Nevertheless, I am convinced that the sharp criticism of the Hapsburg government that he used to loose in the cafés of Vienna had its effects – that some of his ideas of 1818, after a century of germination, got themselves translated into acts in 1918. Beethoven, like all other first-rate men, greatly disliked the government he lived under. I add the names of Goethe, Heine, Wagner and Nietzsche, to keep among Germans. That of Bismarck might follow: he admired the Hohenzollern idea, as Carlyle did, not the German people or the German administration. In his "Errinerungen," whenever he discusses the government that he was a part of, he has difficulty keeping his contempt within the bounds of decorum.

[H. L. Mencken, Book of Prejudices, Third Series]

===

By spring 1917... [it] was obvious that the Democratic party at that time was composed of three widely divergent elements: First, an ultraconservative Southern group whose actions were often dominated by the black specter of the Reconstruction period...; second, a set of plundering political machines in many of the large cities; third, in the North generally the party embraced the whole lunatic fringe of greenback, ‘free silver’ agrarian fanatics and near-Socialists. These latter elements had grown into a large voice in the party through Bryanesque demagoguery. In order to maintain ‘white ascendancy’ and political office, the Southern Democrats were prepared to cater to these Northern groups.

[Herbert Hoover]

===

Mrs. Boss, the practical nurse... always calls me ‘dear’... I am getting myself to say ‘O.K.’ and ‘There we are!’

Second printing of Upstate. The New Yorker has sent back Bomarzo and Teenage Caveman. Other articles have kept for about a year. I think that I am petering out with them. [...] At the Boston hospital, too, they ended every statement with ‘O.K?’ This got on my nerves, and they wouldn’t know how to take it when I said, ‘No, it’s not O.K.’ or ‘I don’t know whether it’s O.K. or not’.

They wanted me to have a ‘pacemaker’ for my heart, gave me a regular concerted sales campaign on the subject invoking Justice Douglas, who is supposed to be climbing mountains on the strength of it; but I resolutely refused. I don’t want electrodes attached to my heart, and I suspect that this is simply the latest medical fad. As usual, I got out as quickly as I could.

[Edmund Wilson]

===

Despite the fact that humans have no need for the milk of a cow, and would be far healthier if we were to eliminate cow’s milk from our diets completely, huge quantities of resources are consumed to enable cows to produce the milk demanded by Americans.

The average dairy cow today must consume approximately eighty pounds of food a day to keep producing so much milk. This includes grass, sorghum, hay, grain, corn, and more. To grow the sheer tonnage to meet the needs of these cows requires huge expanses of agricultural land – land that could be growing truly healthful food for the world’s population.

All this food for cows soaks up water, to the tune of 45 gallons a day per cow... The estimated one million dairy cows in California alone, a state that often faces serious droughts, use up 45 million gallons of water every single day of the year. The California Farm Bureau Federation reported that when all dairy farming and milk processing water needs are taken into consideration, 48.3 gallons of water are used to produce one eight-ounce glass of milk.

[Whitewash]

===

monkshood, wolfsbane | Aconitum Deadly poisonous... native North American aconitums are not available at your local garden centre, or at almost no other garden centre... all aconitums arise from tubers – the most poisonous part of the plant... trailing wolfsbane (Aconitum reclinatum) ‘needs to be grown through other plants in the garden. it looks great in the spring as the basal leaves emerge, but it can get a little wild as it loops its way here and there. In late spring or early summer, elongated white to cream-colored flowers are formed’... to propagate, cold-stratify seeds in moist sand or perlite for 3 months; germinate at 70°; terminal cuttings in late spring; small tubers can be dug up and planted elsewhere...

[Armitage’s Native Plants]

===

Red mulberries have ‘never achieved wide popularity in the American diet, mainly because they are easily damaged during shipment (though they freeze well)’... the unripe fruit, bark, and raw shoots should never be eaten on account of their tendency to give people ‘hallucinations’ and ‘nervous agitation’... the leafless shoots, on the other hand, make a tasty morsel when boiled... various parts of the tree were used by Native Americans to loosen up their backed-up bowels and cure their ringworm...

[Book of Forest and Thicket]

===

❚Community Mourns Death Of Beloved Drunk Driver

Harry Shearer Retweeted Kim Masters I don't see why he doesn't choose to be alive. ...BREAKING: Joseph Nicolosi, the modern father of the torture known as ex-gay therapy, has died.

In a move that would be almost unfathomable today, SNL let avant-jazz legend Sun Ra and his Arkestra close out Season Three; dressed like space-traveling pharaohs, they delivered a free-form mind warp.

Funky 4 + 1: February 14th, 1981 In a truly historic moment, Saturday Night Live presented the first performance of rap music in the history of national network television.

Prince: February 21st, 1981 A 22-year-old Prince exploded onto SNL with a high-octane performance of "Partyup," bouncing, spinning, sliding, playing a wild guitar solo and then slamming down the mic and storming offstage. "I was blown away," said producer Jean Doumanian. "He was just the most original act I had seen in a long time." Unfortunately, Prince would be overshadowed by cast member Charles Rocket, who uttered his infamous on-air "fuck" during this very episode.

The Replacements: January 18th, 1986 The Minneapolis punk misfits manufactured a legendary feat of career suicide. After boozing it up backstage with host Harry Dean Stanton, they stumbled through "Bastards of Young," then switched clothes before coming out to attempt "Kiss Me on the Bus," during which frontman Paul Westerberg yelled "Come on, fucker" at guitarist Bob Stinson, who obliged by mooning the audience. The chaos led to the band receiving a lifetime ban from Lorne Michaels. "We were trying to do whatever possible to make sure that was a memorable evening," Westerberg said.

David Bowie: December 15th, 1979 Bowie was in his Berlin phase when he made this iconically weird SNL appearance, blending pop, punk, fashion and gender roles. He took the stage alongside unknown performance artists Joey Arias and Klaus Nomi, sang "TVC15" while wearing a dress and heels and walking a stuffed pink poodle, then put on a freaky headless marionette get-up for a rendition of "Boys Keep Swinging."

Sinead O'Connor: October 3rd, 1992 "I was stunned," said Lorne Michaels of the single most controversial moment in SNL history, "but not as much as the guy from the audience who was trying to charge her." In a performance that garnered more than 4,000 phone calls to NBC, O'Connor delivered a chilling a cappella rendition of Bob Marley's "War," changing the line "fight racial injustice" to "fight sexual abuse," and then tore up a picture of Pope John Paul II.

Robert Blake To Give Marriage Another Shot

Robert James Waller, Author of ‘The Bridges of Madison County,’ Dies at 77

Two people have been hospitalised in San Francisco after drinking tea from the same Chinatown herbalist. The city’s public health department said on Friday that the tea leaves bought at Sun Wing Wo Trading Company contained the plant-based toxin aconite.