#will i put it aside for good someday? maybe. not anytime soon i think but it could happen.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Hellcheer + ''i don't want to force you into something you're not ready for.''

Look y'all I FINALLY did prompt-fic for these little bbys / hopefully this is the first of many (but that requires people to send me stuff AHEM). PG-ish and also on ao3.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

If anyone else found out, that would be a nightmare. Chrissy Cunningham, cheerleader and all-around good-girl sweetheart, internally admitting imperfection. Even after the Incident… oh, if anything spending a couple weeks in the hospital has made everyone think she’s more fragile and cute and all the things she’s starting to question, and-

Not much has changed. Everything has changed. If she’s lucky, she’ll make it work.

She’s spent more of this summer than almost anyone knows out here, in some undeveloped greenspace near the trailer park. Someone familiar with recent events might question her judgement, but… that’s exactly what she’s hiding from, hiding in the place she’s least likely to be found, hiding and-

Fine. There are a few other motivating factors here. More secrets to keep her warm.

Chrissy is currently on her back in overgrown grass, and Eddie Munson is currently tracing little patterns on a strip of skin where her shirt doesn’t quite cover her waist in this position. Ever since What Happened – always as many delicate euphemisms as possible, they are not discussing the fact that something attempted to possess her in his living room and then dropped her from the ceiling when it decided she wasn’t satisfying enough and that reaction was also a new experience for her – he’s been tactile whenever they’ve been in the same space, which is more and more often lately, and-

They’re both being so damn careful, and she’d hate it if it wasn’t so sweet.

She knows, in the silence, that they won’t do more than this if she doesn’t start it. She doesn’t quite understand the fairytale rules his brain operates on, but she knows in that world she’s some princess in a tower and-

“You could move your hand higher,” she says because she can, because it’s either speak up or wait forever.

“You sure about that?”

She turns her head for better eye contact, to glare at him a little. “Think I’d suggest it if I wasn’t?”

For this she gets… not pity, one thing she could fall in love with is he does not underestimate her even as he puts her on a pedestal, but some kind of concern all the same. “I… I don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for.”

Chrissy laughs, and she knows that’s probably not the right reaction but too late now, and-

“I’m asking you to put your hand up my shirt, not marry me!”

She’s done more, she wants to say, checked off most of her firsts in the back of a car with a boy who wasn’t even really thinking about her, and-

“Good,” Eddie says, awkwardness put aside and she does like how adaptable he is. “If you were going to propose, I’d hope it’d be a little more romantic. You don’t exactly seem like-”

“I would like to be proposed to, someday.”

Not anytime soon, she doesn’t quite say. Lucky her, got broken up with while she was still technically in a coma, avoided the big church wedding she thinks her mom might’ve put money on in the fall and-

“I’ll keep that in mind. Someday.”

Eddie’s fingertips slip just under the hem of her shirt, still inches from anywhere possibly inappropriate, like she’s fragile but not like everyone else thinks she’s fragile, like she’s some goddess or-

He’s got good hands, she thinks. Musician’s calluses. New to her, on this patch of skin getting closer and closer to her bra, and at the same time familiar and-

“Never thought you’d be patient.”

“No idea what I’m doing,” he replies, almost a laugh, always so playful with her. “No real-world experience to back it up.”

“Really? I would’ve thought-“

“A few kisses is not the same as-“

Chrissy leans in and changes that too, and something about getting her mouth on his feels right like very little in her life ever has, like maybe she’s been thinking about this far too long but-

“That one count for something?” she asks.

He looks at her like he’s just been struck by lightning. “Yeah. It does. We do.”

[fandom-space-princess]

Realizing today how much more peaceful my life has become since I taught myself to stop equating permanence with value. Allowing people and passions the space to pass into and out of my life naturally has honestly done wonders for my mental health.

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1​ @starbear019​​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“Do you really have to leave me?” you drag the words out as you chew your dinner, one you insisted on having inside Ayoung’s apartment on her last day. You even add a cute little pout afterwards, hoping that Ayoung might reconsider her moving last minute. 

“_________, that was literally the third time you asked me tonight. One more and I think I might change my mind.” 

You sit up straighter, an expectant look on your face. “Really?” 

“I’m afraid not, __________. I’m even surprised you kept asking when you literally helped me pack the last of my stuff. Shouldn’t you have been doing the opposite if you wanted me to stay?” 

You let out a rather unattractive burp and a pretty loud one at that, then you sigh again for the nth time tonight, knowing it’s going to be a while before you find another neighbor that is as unbothered by your poor table etiquette as Ayoung. 

Speaking of neighbors, a coworker’s face pops into your mind and you’re suddenly reminded of your embarrassing encounter with Jungkook just the other day in the very corridor just a door away from where you were seated. “By the way...that guy you brought over the other day…” 

“Oh him?” 

You brace yourself for the bad news, tilting your head towards Ayoung while you wait for her response. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be moving in anytime soon.” 

“Oh,” comes your reply, shockingly nonchalant enough to mask the joy of not having Jungkook as your neighbor. Giddy, you prod her on, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Shame though, he was such a hottie.” 

“How did you even meet him in the first place?” 

“Just last week I went to a cafe to study and partly cure a hangover from the previous night, I checked the post I uploaded for new possible tenants and Jungkook...that’s his name by the way...he was one of the first who sent a message about wanting to see the apartment in person, so we agreed to meet up on a later date.” Ayoung pauses for a moment, stacking a box on top of another. 

“But just a few moments later while I was reading, this boy came up to me and asked if I was...well me and he told me he was Jungkook. Eventually, he asked if I was free because he mentioned that he had nothing else to do that day and he would’ve appreciated it if he got to see the place and have a drink at the same time.” 

There’s a funny look on her face and you raise a brow questioningly. “Have you ever seen a man more attractive in just sweats?” Oh Christ. 

“I mean, most guys would look like a hobo in those, plus he’s probably dumb for just walking around in sweats with only 25 degrees outside but damn.... You know only truly hot men can pull off looks like that. And he surely was packing.” Shocked to the core, you stare at her with your mouth hanging open, not wanting to believe all of these were coming from your sweet sweet Ayoung. Especially not when they’re about Jungkook. 

“So I thought, why not right? I guess the hot chocolate I made wasn’t the only thing that was warm that night…” A suggestive smirk graces her lips and you scoot farther away from her, absolutely scandalized. 

Much to your chagrin, your mind betrays you with rather raunchy images. Goosebumps line the skin on your arms as the embarrassment comes back to you in waves. “Gosh Jungkook, that little fucker.” 

Ayoung creases her brows. “You know Jungkook?” 

Crap. Ayoung wasn’t supposed to end up knowing this. 

“Yeah I know him. Sort of.” 

“Oh, too bad. It would have been great if he moved in so you won’t have to deal with a total stranger for a neighbor. Where do you know Jungkook from?” 

You contemplate for a moment, wanting to weigh if it would be of any benefit having to tell the story of how you met Jungkook. Ultimately, you ended up sharing a brief background, missing out on a few vital points aka Jungkook being a total prick. 

You help Ayoung bring down the rest of her stuff to the lobby, wanting to see her off. “I wanted to bring you to your new apartment but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and being late won’t be a good record this early in my job.” 

“It’s alright, silly.” Ayoung leans in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?” 

“You’re making it sound like I’m moving overseas, stop it!” 

You wait until she gets inside the cab she booked, waving at the car’s rear until it fully disappears from your sight. 

The next day you wake up freezing your ass off, even with you wrapped in a duvet burrito. You take a peek outside your window, grunting as a blanket of snow envelops everything in sight. Everything is white, and the gray trails on the road are the only thing that distinguishes the street from the sidewalk. 

You do your morning routine fairly quickly, spending the rest of your spare time watching people outside your window while you finish your coffee. As a motorbike moves along the length of the street in front of your building, you silently wish the driver a safe trip, hoping he or she didn’t have to use such a vehicle in this weather. 

You take another sip and Jimin instantly enters your scrambled thoughts, remembering how he mentioned he uses a scooter to and from work. There’s a side of you that is assured the Jimin is responsible enough to know how risky it is to use a scooter during the winter. 

The other half of your brain, though, isn’t convinced. Quickly, you set your mug aside, replacing it with your phone and dialing Jimin’s number. He answers after three rings. “_________?” 

“Hey Jimin, I know it’s too early for me to be calling you but I was wondering if you were going to use your scooter on your way to work today?” 

“I was--” 

“Because if you were planning to, don’t. It’s snowing really hard outside and I’m worried you’ll be taking your friend’s scooter on the slippery road….Would you mind if I’ll offer you a ride?” 

You know you were risking a lot, with your own car - your very own Camry which you don’t even trust. It has aged gracefully, and was clearly nearing its end but you knew four wheels was better than two in this snow. 

“I don’t...but I also wouldn’t want you to come all the way here to pick me up when I can just take the subway? Or the bus maybe…” 

“Would you rather pick one that asks for a fare or a free ride?” 

“You’re not exactly giving me a choice here, _________.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m already on my way to pick you up.” 

“Thank you for the ride, sunbaenim.” Jungkook pulls on the handbrake before setting his hands on the Porsche’s steering wheel for the last time.

‘Someday’, he says to himself, someday he’ll get a car of his own. Someday. 

“Thank you for also letting me drive your car…” 

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” the younger doctor nods, wanting to rub his palms over the dashboard in fascination, but then he wouldn’t have wanted the senior resident to think he was some sort of lunatic. 

Jungkook decides to keep his hands on his lap instead. 

“You live around the area?” 

“Yeah, just a few blocks from the garage…” 

“Really? Which apartment do you live in? I’m quite familiar with the area.” 

Jungkook is hesitant to mention the name of the building knowing that the apartment complex he stays at most likely has a reputation because it’s the cheapest he could find around the area. 

Before the intern opens his mouth to reply, Seokjin’s phone rings just on time, the sound startling the latter. He opens the car door and alights from the vehicle to get more reception. Jungkook grabs his bag from the back and follows after shortly. Seokjin points to his phone, mouthing that Jungkook doesn’t need to wait for him, so the intern bows to his senior in gratitude, before heading off to the main building. 

As he passes a vending machine, he remembers he wasn’t able to bring his jug with him today so he approaches the machine, scanning other options he could take with his water. He comes across a small carton of banana milk and a thought crosses his mind, a smirk playing on his lips as he adds the beverage to his purchase. 

Jungkook hurries to the on-call room, hoping his tiny plan will fall into place. 

“Thanks for the ride, ________. I owe you so much already. You’re too kind.” 

You wave Jimin off, expressing your worry and how you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle your conscience if you didn’t ask about his mode of transportation to work today. Jimin gives you a warm smile in return. 

“You’re a good friend, _________.” Jimin leans over the center console and gives you an awkward side hug, catching you completely off guard. 

“Woops! Sorry! I didn’t… wasn’t…” Jimin has his hands waving around in the air as he tries to apologize for hugging you out of the blue. “It’s fine, Jimin,” you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tilting your head outside, you tell him that you both should get going and that you’ll be heading to the toilet first to get changed. While Jimin heads to the surgery department, you make your way to the parking lot’s toilets, bumping into the one and only banana-milk-thief Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi _________, good morning!” He chirps, the uncharacteristically wide smile on his face throwing you off for a moment. 

At least somebody woke up on the right side of the bed today. Jungkook chuckles, and you realize you weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but you’re somewhat proud that you did, making your sentiments towards the guy as clear as day. 

“Bit rich coming from you miss grumpypants.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, darling. See ya later....grumpy.” Before Jungkook leaves, he manages to give you a quick noogie, definitely messing up what’s left of the quick messy bun you made before leaving your apartment. 

Taking in a deep, long breath, you calm your nerves down, deciding today wasn’t going to be the day Jungkook was gonna get to you. 

After your brief encounter at the parking lot, Jungkook heads quickly to the on-call room and looks for a place inconspicuous but visible enough for you to see. He plucks a sticky note from a stack from the shelf just above the table and grabs his pen from his chest pocket. 

Jungkook folds the yellow square into half and writes your name on it, just in case nobody would dare take a carton of milk for someone named after a dwarf from Snow White.  He then sticks the note on the moist packaging, hopeful that the slight sheen of water will help stick the paper onto the carton.

Recognizing Jimin’s voice from the door, Jungkook quickly hides his peace offering behind the files on the table, and pretends he’s reading the patient’s charts before Jimin nears where he’s standing. You and Soomin enter the room shortly afterwards. 

“Just in time!” Namjoon says, adjusting the large frame of his glasses. “Right, as you may already know from the orientation, I’m Kim Namjoon, resident, and specializing in neuro. I’ll be guiding you all throughout admissions and reports this morning while I am waiting for my Chiari decompression scheduled in a few hours.” 

Namjoon gathers the rest of the surgical interns before proceeding to the wards to do rounds with the group. He partners with the head nurse and another doctor from the night shift, updating the patient’s condition before moving on to the others. 

As soon as his rounds are done, he leads the group back to the on-call room to brief the interns on using the EMR system to keep a patient’s chart updated at all times. To speed up the charting, he asks everyone to come up in pairs and update the patient records. 

True to the plan he’d come up with at the spur of the moment, Namjoon and the interns manage to get the job done quicker than expected. With the night shift’s updates already uploaded, the group disperses to carry out the orders and responsibilities.

Jimin, with his throat parched after having come up and down multiple flights of stairs, decides to return to the on-call room to get something to drink. He breathlessly pages Jungkook about it, telling him he’ll get back to his partner after drinking. 

He no longer waits for Jungkook’s okay, too thirsty to even think straight. As Jimin goes through his stuff, he realizes he must have forgotten his jug inside your car but having to call you about it would have been too bothersome for you and him both. 

There’s a water dispenser in the room but there are no cups or mugs free for him to use - and too unsanitary as well. Jimin searches the room in desperation and spots a carton of banana milk just behind some of the patient’s charts. 

He makes a grab for the small carton, checking if it’s got any owner. There’s none written on the carton and no note stuck to it to indicate that it belongs to someone. He spots Yoongi on his phone just by the other corner of the room and approaches the senior resident. 

“Excuse me, sunbaenim. Is this yours?” He points to the carton in his hands. Yoongi shakes his head no. “Any name written on it? Some note perhaps?” 

“I couldn't find any.” 

“Well, it’s yours then. All food on the table is communal unless it’s otherwise labeled.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders as he explains, giving Jimin a thumbs up afterwards. 

“Alright. Thanks sunbaenim.” 

Throat as dry as the Sahara, Jimin grabs the drink and punches the straw in as quickly as he could before finishing the drink in a few gulps. ‘Thank god for free banana milk.’ He thinks to himself before throwing the packaging away, now more energized than ever.

© joontier 2021

[the-himawari]

A3! Magazine Interview Translation - 2D☆STAR Vol. 11 (½) [Summer Troupe]

A roundtable discussion unveiling the addition of Summer Troupe’s newest member

Kumon-kun is an Undisputed BroCon!!

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

——Congratulations on your 4th performance, “First Crush Baseball”. Hyodo Kumon-kun, the newly added member, could you please introduce yourself to our readers who are meeting you for the first time?

Kumon: Hyodo Kumon! Currently a second-year in high school! My blood type is A, and my birthday is July 20! My hobbies are watching baseball and collecting jerseys! Umm, also…

Yuki: A brocon.

Kumon: Ah, right, right! I’m a brocon!

Tenma: Don’t say that so proudly…

Kumon: But “brocon” means “you love your big brother”, doesn’t it? I really, really looove my big bro! So I’m a genuine brocon!

Kazunari: Yep yep, that’s one of Kumopi’s charm points!

Misumi: It’s the same with my triangles~.

Muku: The same… I wonder if it is?

Yuki: Just so you know, the brother that he loves so much is the Autumn Troupe’s Classic Delinquent.

Tenma: Classic delinquent…

Kazunari: Yep, fyi, he’s Autumn Troupe’s Hyodle!

Tenma: Those add-ons aren’t helping! It’s Juza-san.

Kumon: My big bro is super, super, duper~ cool, right! I’m the happiest person in the world to be born as my big bro’s little brother…

Misumi: You’re lucky~. I’ll give Kumon a Triangle-kun, swimsuit ver.~

Muku: Uwahh, it’s a new one! His swim ring and straw hat are so cute!

Kazunari: I designed it!

Yuki: And I’m the one who made it.

Muku: Oh, it’s a collaboration between Kazu-kun and Yuki-kun!

Kumon: I-is it really ok for me to receive such an amazing thing?

Misumi: Yep, take it~.

Kumon: Sumi-san…!

Tenma: Err, that’s not something that you should be so moved by! In the first place, why are you suddenly giving him a Triangle-kun…

Misumi: It’s cause Kumon’s cute~.

Kazunari: Ah, did Tenten want one too?

Tenma: Haa!?

Yuki: The hack hasn’t gotten many Triangle-kuns, right? At any rate, it’s because you’re a hack.

Tenma: Don’t call me a “hack” twice! It’s not like I really wanted one or anything…

Kumon: For me as the newcomer to be so brash… I’m so sorry!

Misumi: Tenma, I’ll give you lots when we get home!

Muku: Fufu. That’s great, right, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: Like I said… Ahh, I don’t care anymore! Do whatever you want!

——Now that their talk has heated up, let’s move on to the next topic. What are your honest impressions now that your 4th performance has finished? Also, how was Kumon-kun’s acting?

Kumon: You’re asking about my acting too!? Asking that is scary… I’m nervous…

Muku: Kyu-chan, are you ok? Your face is getting pale…

Kumon: I think I improved from the time of my initial audition, but there was never a day where I could say all my lines smoothly…

Kazunari: Nobody minds that, ‘kay?

Kumon: I messed up my standing position too, and somehow managed to get everyone to follow through for me…

Misumi: That happens all the time~. We’re a team, so it’s natural to help each other!

Kumon: There was also a time I was too flustered during my quick-change and the button on my shirt came off…

Yuki: Seriously, you're lucky I was waiting in the wings at that time, right?

Kumon: There were countless times where I accidentally talked over Tenma-san’s lines too… I only caused trouble for everyone…

Muku: …

Misumi: *Stare*…

Kazunari: …

Yuki: …

Tenma: W-why are you guys looking at me like that?

Yuki: No reason. We’re just wondering if you’ll say something to this infamously negative guy.

Kazunari: Your speech here is important! Leader Tenten!

Misumi: Go Tenma~!

Muku: I’ll whisper too…! Umm… Tenma-kun! Please be kind to him!

Yuki: Muku, that definitely wasn’t a whisper.

Muku: Haa! I accidentally put power into it…

Kumon: Making everyone be so considerate of me… I… I…

Yuki: Seeee, say something already, you hack. Or else who knows how far these pessimistic cousins will sink together.

Tenma: You guys are just hyping it up as you like! …*Sigh*. It’s true, Kumon’s acting was clumsy and he had a lot of misses.

Kumon: Yeah…

Tenma: But, everyone’s like that in the beginning, and we were able to make it safely to the closing night. You picked up on the adlibs well and you’re the one who carried the baseball scenes for us. Good job. You did well.

Kumon: Tenma-san…

Muku: That’s so great, Kyu-chan…!

Kazunari: Ohoho~, Kumopi and Mukkun have been moved to tears. It makes me remember the curtain call on our closing night~.

Misumi: There, there~.

Tenma: You guys are overreacting…

Yuki: Well, your acting will improve as much as you want from now on.

Kazunari: Yep, yep! We’ll work hard together from now on, right, Kumopi!

Muku: I’ll accompany you if you want to practise on your own, so let me know anytime.

Misumi: I like Kumon’s earnest and straightforward acting~.

Tenma: …And there you have it. You can make proper use of your failures in our 4th performance for our 5th performance. But aside from the troubles and failures… Even though it was your anticipated debut stage, are those really your only impressions?

Kumon: Eh…

Tenma: Do you have nothing else to say after you stood on stage for all those days and did your best at acting comedy?

Kumon: …It was fun. The play we put on with everyone was super fun! So I thought I wanted to act more and more with everyone as the Summer Troupe!

Tenma: Geez, see, you do. That’s the most important thing, alright?

Kumon: Ehehe, yeah!

——It looks like Summer troupe’s bond has grown stronger. “First Crush Baseball” was a baseball-themed story, but if you all were to watch a game, would it be baseball? Or another sport?

Kumon: It’s definitely baseball for me! Of course I like playing it, but as expected, watching baseball is the most fun!

Muku: I guess it’s baseball for me too. I’ve been going to watch Kyu-chan’s games, and we’ve been watching baseball on TV together since a long time ago.

Kazunari: Samesies~. I really started liking it after performing it on stage! I’m especially attached to second base!

Tenma: You do get interested in the position you played yourself, huh? I can’t help but watch it when it’s broadcast, and my eyes always drift towards the catcher too.

Misumi: I get it, I get it~. I’m also into baseball! Since the shape of the home plate is like a triangle~.

Tenma: Is that why!

Kumon: Ohhh! The baseball lovers have increased! I’m super happy~!

Yuki: Hmm, I don’t particularly have a sport, but anything apart from soccer.

Muku: Eh? Yuki-kun hates soccer?

Yuki: I don't particuarly like nor dislike soccer itself, but when it’s on TV, those guys’ cheering gets so fired up that I can’t stand it. The temperature in the room rises.

Tenma: (Winter troupe’s) Tasuku-san and them, huh…

Kazunari: Eh! It’s rare for Tax and them to get so hyped-up, so it’s fun and I like watching it together with them.

——And so, your 5th show is currently underway, is that right? Since the play is about ninjas, there are all sorts of actions scenes, but did you undergo any special training?

Tenma: We watched videos of Autumn Troupe’s plays and used them as reference on how to utilize our movements and spacing in action scenes.

Kazunari: It’s hard when you try doing it though~. Four guys moving around on that narrow stage looks awkward if you don’t figure out a way to showcase it.

Tenma: We got Director and (Autumn Troupe’s) Sakyo-san to watch us countless times, and then finally solidified it.

Muku: At first, we were worried we wouldn’t be able to keep up with Misumi-san’s agile movements, but when we tried it, we were able to catch up and move with the tempo too so it actually went well.

Yuki: Saying the Triangle Alien’s movements are agile is putting it lightly.

Kumon: Sumi-san’s kunai handling was super cool too!

Misumi: Ehehe~ thanks~.

Tenma: I’m glad the Summer Troupe doesn’t have anyone who’s seriously bad at exercising.

Kazunari: Strictly speaking, the only one who’s unathletic in our Theatre Company is (Spring Troupe’s) Itarun, right~? (Winter Troupe’s) Azu and Arinrin both don’t like excercising either, but it’s not like they’re unathletic.

Yuki: More than a miracle, it was thanks to that gamer’s obsession that he was able to get through the Spring Troupe’s 5th play.

Muku: We have to do our best too so we don’t run out of stamina until our closing night!

Kumon: Alriiight, then let’s run home today! We’ll go on a run!

Tenma: Yeah, I’ll pass.

Kazunari: Good luck, Kumopi!

Yuki: Go ahead by yourself.

Kumon: EHH!? E-even Muku won't…?

Muku: U-ummm… If it’s just a little bit…

Misumi: I’ll run too~.

Tenma: Geez. Don’t let it affect tomorrow’s performance.

——Speaking of summer, it was Yuki-kun and Kumon-kun’s birthdays a little while ago, right? Did you all throw a birthday party together?

Kazunari: ‘Course, we held surprise parties for both of them 𝅘𝅥𝅮

Kumon: We sure spent a long time thinking together about what kinda design we should go with for Yuki’s birthday cake.

Tenma: Well, it’s because Yuki’s fussy about designs. It was a relief Kazunari did a good job of getting everything down into an illustration.

Yuki: The sugar candy torso was cute. Thanks.

Misumi: We struck out together on Kumon’s birthday~!

Muku: We went with a cushion that was modeled after Sakura High's uniform, and we were really glad Kyu-chan accepted it just like we hoped he would!

Kumon: I’m super happy with it already… and it’s a treasure of a lifetime for me! But since it’s a nice chance, I’d be so happy if we could all have matching ones together someday.

Tenma: That’s true. How about it, Yuki?

Yuki: …Well, I’ll make one for everyone if I feel like it. Personally, I like Sakura High’s uniform too.

Kumon: Yay—! Thanks, Yuki!

Yuki: The hack can make his own though. I’ll teach him how to make it.

Tenma: Haa!? Why am I the only one who has to make it myself!

Yuki: Because you’re Tenma.

Tenma: That’s not a reason!

Muku: U-ummm… It’ll be Kazu-kun’s birthday soon, right! Do you have any present that you want?

Kazunari: Hmmm, something I want, eh~. …What do to, maybe there’s nothing.

Kumon: So selfless!

Kazunari: That’s not what I meant by that~. Lemme think! How about Mukkun? Your birthday’s after mine, right?

Muku: Me? Hm~mmm…

Misumi: Could it be, Muku doesn’t have anything either?

Muku: Ahaha. I think I’ll have something, but when I’m asked like this, nothing jumps out at me.

Kazunari: Right~. Then let’s think about it together!

Muku: Yeah!

——Now then, please leave a message, including any announcements from MANKAI Company, to your fans.

Tenma: There were various troubles this time as well, but following Spring Troupe, Summer Troupe was able to safely raise the curtain on our 5th show as well. I want to create the very best play with these 6 members, without missing a single person, all the way until our closing day. Please continue to support Summer Troupe from now on as well.

---

| Spicy Cuisine Research Society

[wannawritefast]

Whiplash: Chapter 1- Playing Defense

A/N: Hey, y’all. I know the prologue didn’t get a whole lot of attention but I’ve written a substantial amount for this and I am VERY proud of how much I’ve written and what I’ve written. Also, huge shoutout to @andtheswordwentsnickersnack​ for beta reading this beast of a fic that I’ve been working on for WAYYYY too long LMAO...

Pairing: BoRhap!Brian May x fem!Reader

Prologue

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, awful men, sexism

You loved your family. Really, you did.

But there were times, and many times they were, that you would have been more comfortable ripping your own hair out strand-by-strand than having to sit through another session of verbal abuse.

You weren’t entirely certain what you had done, if anything, to deserve such discrimination from your grandfather, father, and brother amongst a few cousins and uncles. It was like 3 generations of men in your family had decided to use you as a verbal punching bag.

You still vividly remembered the time you had told them that you didn’t particularly appreciate how they talked to you. They laughed right in your face and told you to grow a thicker skin. That Y/l/n’s were a tougher breed than most and that if you couldn’t handle it then maybe you weren’t of their blood.

October break wasn’t any different. Your family had met up for your annual dinner together aside from Christmas.

“And what about you? When are you going to settle down, Y/n?” your grandfather quipped after shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “I want some great-grandbabies!”

Before you could even open your mouth in response your brother, James, chimed in. “I wouldn’t count on anyone banging her anytime soon.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “would you look at who’s talking?” James grumbled to himself and threw a pea at you which you successfully evaded. You turned your head to address your grandfather. “And I’m not your only grandchild. You have a grandson too, you know.”

You nodded toward your brother and your grandfather hardly even blinked at the last sentence. He either didn’t hear you or didn’t care. Proof that he used any and every opportunity to undermine you. Your grandfather scoffed and mumbled to himself gruffly.

You practically heard your father’s eye roll. “Your career is only so fulfilling.”

“Dad, I’m an astrophysicist and a damn good one, I’d like to think. If my career wasn’t fulfilling enough, I’d be seriously questioning all of the time and money I spent at university writing my thesis and graduating top 5 in my year.” You took a bite out of your roll. Why did you have to defend yourself every time you came home? It was exhausting!

“I’m just saying that you aren’t fully happy until you’ve settled down.”You rolled your eyes at your father. You didn’t have the time to focus on your love life. You barely had time to do your studies as it was. Furthermore, no man you had met seemed to like you after finding out you were an astrophysicist. Nobody seemed to click with you well.

“Why do I need more than my career to be fulfilled in life?” You asked seriously.The whole table laughed at your question. Even the kiddie table laughed but it was just hive mind reflex. You certainly did want to get married and have a family someday but you were making a point to your father. Who was he to dictate what made you happy?

“Please, Y/n,” James piped up again, “that’s what lonely people say to feel better about themselves.”

Ouch. That one stung more than you should have let it. You took a drink to keep yourself from letting a tear roll.

“Who ever said that she’s single?” Your sister spoke suddenly. You coughed and sputtered on your drink. Your neck turned to Donna so swiftly that you probably could have snapped it.

“Are you implying that my eldest daughter is dating a boy,” your mother raised her brows at you conspiratorially, “and didn’t tell me? Is it that smart, goofy boy you fancied at university for the longest time?” She couldn’t seem to keep a grin from spreading across her face.You flushed red at her question. Nobody needed to know that. Except now they did because you were, apparently, no longer single. Everybody at the table locked their eyes on you, muttering to each other. You looked at your sister in panic.

“Go on,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before bringing her cup to her lips. “Tell them about your boyfriend.”

Gee thanks… She had just started digging you into a hole.“Wait just a second! Let’s rewind a moment.” James questioned incredulously. “My sister, the stick in the mud astrophysicist, has a boyfriend? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

“It’s not relevant who I may or-” you looked at your sister pointedly; she fiddled with her fork “-may not be dating.” The fact that James wasn’t buying it was making you quite nervous. You were more offended though than anything. “Is it really so hard to believe that I’d be dating someone?”

“Yes!”

“Believe it, James” Donna insisted, pointing her fork at him. Put down your damn shovel!

“Have you banged him?” Your brother asked in the silence.

You picked up your drink and splashed him in the face. Your mother softly scolded you for your actions but you were completely unapologetic for what James more than deserved. How you shared the same DNA with such a tool was beyond you… 

“That is hardly your business,” you snipped. You turned and stared down Donna. You were going to have to tell them the truth…

“Ok, that’s quite enough,” your mother stopped everything. Oh, thank the Lord. “We’re here to talk about your sister not her boyfriend.” Thank you, mother. “She’ll just have to bring him over for Christmas!”

You stood up from your chair and it scraped along the floor. What had you done…“That’s ridiculous! What if he wants us to spend time with his family for Christmas?” Why were you even going along with this? Why were you defending your hypothetical boyfriend?

“Then you can split the time between the two!”

“What if he doesn’t want to meet you guys yet?” You suggested. This hole is getting awfully big, Y/n. “Meeting parents is a big deal!” The statement came out as more of a question than a defense. You were honestly hoping for one, just one, objection to stick. “I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Who wouldn’t want to meet us?” Your mother asked. You resisted the urge to answer the question.

“Well, what if we’re not even together anymore by that time?”

“Wow, you really can’t hold onto a man for that long, Y/n? It seems to me like you would have been making this whole thing up if you are ‘broken up’ by then.” James finished wiping his face with a napkin after his encounter with your drink. You locked eyes with him. He was onto you.

“I’m not making this up,” you lied. Apparently you hadn’t put down your shovel yet either.“Then bring him home for Christmas,” James challenged. “Otherwise we’ll know it's a lie.”

Your family was on the edge of their seats and, for the time being, the logistics of the challenge didn’t matter. You were fed up with your brother constantly tearing you down. You were tired of your father not being pleased with anything you did. And you were exhausted by your grandfather’s insistence that you were nothing more than a source for great-grandkids. You got no respect at work and you certainly didn’t get any damn respect at home.

And so you did it. You extended your arm toward your stupid brother’s stupid hand and grasped it firmly with a shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, brother dearest.”

[{...}]

Eventually the extended family left and you went to your sister’s bedroom since you were sharing the room and the bed for break.

“Why in the bloody hell would you do something like that?!” You lowered your voice so that your family, more specifically James, wouldn’t hear you. Your sister sat on the bed cross-legged, fiddling with the ends of her hair.

“I’m sorry!” Donna yelled. You shushed her as you brushed your hair. “I couldn’t just watch. James crossed a line with that comment. I just wanted to wipe that stupid smile off of his dumb face.”

“Watch your language, why don’t you?” You teased. She rolled her eyes at you. “But I was fine, honestly. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be!” You hissed at Donna to be quiet again. “It was nice for them to shut up for a few moments and see you as a normal human being.”

Your heart was warm but you were in a state of complete panic. “That’s such a sweet sentiment in such a terrible circumstance!” You dug your fingers into your temples and threw yourself onto the bed. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t just go up to a guy and say ‘I need you to be my fake boyfriend because my sister dug me into a bloody hole’! You know I can barely get guys to talk to me on a casual basis!” Your voice dropped in volume, no louder than a whisper. “What makes you think that I can get one to play my boyfriend?” You let out a frustrated sigh.

“I honestly did not foresee the consequences of my actions and I am very sorry.”

“Do you think?” You growled to yourself. “Bloody hell… what am I going to do?”

Your sister scratched the back of her neck. “I mean, you have time… It is only October…”

“But I’m going to have to find someone eventually… if I find one.” You gnawed on a fingernail.

“You’ll be fine!” Donna breathed. She curled herself into the blankets next to you. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Yeah…,” you inhaled deeply, “and I’ve got time…”

[fashournalist]

Just finished watching To All the Boys I've Loved Before: Always and Forever! Now I can't stop listening to Beginning Middle and End! Sigh, it's perfect for hopeful romantics like you and me.

Also it was my first time to attend a watch party via Scener, thank you for the invite, AJ sist!!! Am happy we got to hang out again even through a virtual movie date. Someday we'll attend film festivals when the pandemic is over, looking forward to the day cinemas open again!!

Time flies indeed. I just finished reading TATBILB book 3 on May 11, 2020 and I couldn't wait for the movie to come out and now it's here!! (Trivia: I shortlisted 30+ books during Big Bad Wolf 2020 but could only afford seven books. So I got six nonfiction (as a nonfic junkie) and only one novel—this was that novel.)

I'm glad it showed that love shouldn't hinder the pursuit of dreams; and they can grow together (both as individuals and as a couple) even when they're miles apart. I've seen people do that. One of my favourite power couples studied at Harvard and UPenn respectively, and their relationship made it. They're now happily married and I'm so happy for them. Relationships like these are goals :))

I can't help but compare the book with the film, but I enjoyed the movie in itself, too. 🥰

Some changes:

It rushed the proposal to Trina;

It totally simplified the promposal to Lara Jean;

It didn't show the initial conflict between Margot and Trina

It didn't show Stormy's passing (would have been a really sad scene huhu) and Lara Jean meeting John Ambrose again.

Lara Jean also gave the memory box instead of making a scrapbook.

Peter didn't give her the best tasting cookie in New York, but it's good she tried it herself.

The film also didn't show the conflict between Lara Jean and Peter's mom.

But if there's a change I liked, it's that Peter told Lara Jean their first ever meeting through the dedication he wrote on their yearbook. In the book, Peter wrote a really short dedication (and Peter gave Lara a hot photo of him so she could post it on her dorm room haha).

I also liked the little film surprise that Kitty had a happy crush on Dae!

Oh and of course, the major changes include the schools. And I actually liked it. Though the book has beautifully captured the campus of the University of Virginia, the plan B with William and Mary, and the plot twist of University of North Carolina, I think changing them to Stanford, Berkeley and NYU made it more relatable to a worldwide audience because they're more globally well-known.

Overall, it's a film that gives you all the feels while at the same time excites you to dream big. It tackles hard topics as well such as dealing with grief and growing up in a broken family.

I felt the bittersweet feeling when a trilogy or series that you love has ended.

I could relate with Lara Jean a lot, especially on the first movie when she never had a boyfriend yet and she was just writing letters. I love letters! And I never had a boyfriend, until today. Never been kissed, never had an MU or whatever haha. Though on the dreaming side, I could relate more with Margot. I'm a huge dreamer and I want to see the world. As for Kitty, I see the little me in her. Mataray, doesn't sugarcoat. But growing up, I've become more of Lara Jean with my quirks and very sentimental self. I'm also a daydreamer like her, and an idealist. Oh and, I'm a homebody! Give me books and movies and they'll be my date haha. Am a hopeful romantic. Although, I don't bake. But I make scrapbooks since I was a kid. I put art in everything I do. And I also wore literal gift ribbons on my ponytail in highschool haha. I hope, like Lara Jean, I find my Peter K someday (or actually, John Ambrose haha). But not anytime soon. Because unlike LJ, I think I want to pursue my master's degrees (yes, plural, that's the plan hahhah and yet here I am not even applying to any school so far) as a single woman haha. Well maybe unless I meet someone who can change how I feel, someone who will not hold me back from reaching my dreams, in as much as I will not hold him back from reaching his. But until then, it's best to be single haha! As a solo traveller, there are still so many countries to see on my own. Okay I'm daydreaming now hahaha!

Thank you, TATBILB and Jenny Han for giving us LJ and Peter K. Thank you for the feels and the pastel aesthetic and the great soundtrack. Thank you for introducing me to Leah Nobel's music!! (Am now in love with Coffee Sunday NYT and Talking to the Dog at the Party, aside from Beginning, Middle, and End!)

I wish I saw more of Josh Sanderson, though (I had a second-lead syndrome during the first film!! And I loved John Ambrose, too. Jordan Fisher is one of the best)

And thank you for making me want to go back to New York because clearly I have only seen less than 0.1% of it :(

I love how you captured a glimpse of NYC's splendor in just a few minutes! Of all the places you showed, it was only Times Square that I've seen in real life. But in time, will be back, experience the city, taste the same cookie Lara tasted—the best cookie in the world. And more. I'm daydreaming again haha! Here's a little selfie I had five years ago at Broadway 😄

For now, will take a break as my Dad and I are scheduled to watch Godfather II after dinner : ) Someday I will take him around the world!!! Amen in Jesus' Name <3

Omg I was just typing this and then Dad told me stories (right now) about his dreams to travel the world and we're going to places for lovers or astronomy. He's one big astronomy junkie, I tell you.

Who needs a date when I have the best date in the world, my Dad!!

Advance happy Valentine's Day, world changers!!

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico: Third Valentine’s

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~2.2k Rating: G Time Frame: February of Maki’s 3rd year of high school and Nico’s 2nd year of college. Story Arc: Stand Alone

----------

Author’s Note: Cutting things a bit close this year. I really thought I would get more written/finished during the Maki banner event in SIFAS. Obviously, that didn’t happen. Que zura, zura.

----------

“Mmm… something smells wonderful.” A voice came from the entryway.

“Welcome home, Nozomi.” Nico called from her position at the stove.

“It’s almost a shame Elicchi and I already have plans tonight. You’ll save some leftovers for us, right?”

“Maybe, we’ll see.”

Nozomi giggled in response. A moment later, she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. “Wow, that’ll be quite a spread.”

“Maki-chan is coming over.”

“I know.”

“Let me guess, the cards told you?”

Nozomi grinned. “I don’t need the cards to tell me when Maki-chan is coming over. Nicocchi does that well enough on her own.”

Nico rolled her eyes as she turned back to the stove.

“And is there a reason one such as Maki-chan is coming over to spend an evening such as this alone with Nicocchi?”

“You know why, Nozomi.” Nico couldn’t help a bit of bitterness in her tone.

“Yeah, I know.” Arms encircled Nico from behind. “And I believe she knows as well, even if she won’t admit it.”

“Yeah…” Nico sighed, relaxing into the embrace.

“But I have confidence that you two will figure things out soon.”

“I hope so.”

“You’ll be fine.” Nozomi assured. “These things can happen when dealing with someone so stubborn.”

“Well the fact that she’s spending time with me tonight of all nights has to at least mean something.”

“I wasn’t just talking about Maki-chan, you know.” Nozomi laughed as she let go. “Although, speaking of, I think she’s here.” The purple-haired girl scampered out of the room before Nico could reply. “Welcome, Maki-chan!” Nico could hear her announce at the front door.

“Hey, Nozomi.” Maki greeted in return. “Something smells wonderful in here.”

Nozomi laughed. “I said the same thing just a moment ago. Nicocchi is making something super special.”

“Hey, Nico-chan!” Maki greeted, far more cheerfully, Nico noted, as she entered the kitchen a moment later.

Nico turned toward the younger girl. “Welcome, Maki-chan.” She replied with a grin. “Do you mind setting the table? I’m almost done.”

Maki nodded and moved to the cupboards. “Uhm, two or four settings?” She asked.

“Just two.” Nozomi was the one to respond. “I’m headed to Elicchi’s once I change.”

“Alright.” Maki started gathering the needed items.

“So, we haven’t seen much of Maki-chan lately.” Nozomi commented as she leaned against the doorway.

“Yeah, I’ve been studying a lot for finals.”

“It is that time of year.” Nozomi agreed. “Are you anxious to join us in the college world?”

Maki chuckled. “Papa already found a dorm for me, though it’s a little farther from campus than I would have liked. This place is actually a couple stations closer.”

Nozomi laughed as well. “So, does that mean we’ll be seeing even more of Maki-chan in the coming months?”

“Maybe, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course not. As always, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Thank you.”

“Nicocchi always…”

“Don’t you have to get going soon?” Nico interrupted.

Nozomi laughed even more. “Right, right.”

“Oh, Nozomi,” Maki started, moving back toward the entryway where she had left her bag “take this with you tonight. It’s for you and Eli.” She held out a box of chocolates. “No caramels.”

“Thanks, Maki-chan.” Nozomi accepted the package. “They’ll make a good dessert later.” With that said, she turned and headed to her room.

As Nico gave a side glance toward Maki’s progress in setting the table, she noticed an extra bag next to the couch in the living room, besides her usual one for school. So, Maki intended to spend the night, again. It had become a common enough occurrence that she had all but stopped asking. Everyone was fairly open about their schedules, so it was no secret what nights would and wouldn’t work, not that there were many that didn’t work. Nozomi proudly and with good reason, boasted that their friends were welcome anytime and as far as Nico could remember, the majority of the issues in scheduling had been on Maki’s side of things.

However, tonight was different, at least from a social perspective. As Nico began the last phase of her meal preparations, she found herself wondering if Maki was aware of how some may interpret her behavior on a night like tonight.

Two individuals who shared a bond far closer than most friendships spending an evening alone together, enjoying a special, home cooked meal together, watching some cheesy romance movie together while cuddled on the… Well, no, they probably wouldn’t actually be cuddling, even if Nico knew she would be hard pressed to pass up the opportunity to at least lean against or put an arm around the girl on whom she had been crushing for years. If such an opportunity arose, of course.

In any case, after the movie, they could sit close enough to one another to share earbuds to listen to music together as they stu… Wait, no, that wasn’t right either. They didn’t actually have plans to study tonight, right? Surely even someone as socially oblivious as Maki wouldn’t insist on studying on a night like tonight, right?

And surely, even someone as romantically dense as Maki would realize the implications of everything going on tonight, right? Maybe?

Although, if Nico was being honest, she wasn’t entirely sure if she herself was ready for Maki to be ready. There was no question in her mind what she wanted, but as she had already excused and justified putting off doing anything about those desires for all this time, she couldn’t help continuing to do so. After all, there remained many complications for both of them.

Nico shook her head to clear it. Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Now was the time to enjoy a nice dinner and evening with her favoritest Maki-chan.

“Nico-chan?”

Oh, she must have seen me. “Nothing, Maki-chan.” Nico responded. “Nozomi was just teasing me earlier and I was just…” She made some exaggerated hand motions in lieu of having the proper words to describe the issue. While it wasn’t an outright lie, it wasn’t exactly the full truth either.

Thankfully, Maki’s light laughter seemed to indicate she understood what Nico was intending to convey. The future doctor was well aware of the spiritual girl’s antics, after all.

“I only tease you when you deserve it, Nicocchi.” Nozomi said, coming down the hallway. Nico was about to retort when she continued. “I’m out now. You two have a good night! Happy Valentine’s Day!” She slipped on her heels and was out the door before either of the remaining occupants could respond.

“Anyway…” Nico muttered, “where were we? How’s the table coming?”

“It’s ready.” Maki replied. “Anything else?”

“Nope, I’m done here too.” Nico slid the food out of the pan onto a serving dish. “You know, Nico has been eating a lot more tomatoes ever since she met Maki-chan.” She commented as she brought the food over to the table.

“Tomatoes are good though…” Maki’s tone bordered apologetic.

Nico laughed. “Yeah, Nico knows tomatoes are Maki-chan’s favorite. Maybe someday Nico will have to make an entire meal out of tomatoes…”

“An entire meal of tomatoes.” Maki was obviously intrigued by the idea.

“Yeah, like a full four course ordeal.” Nico thought aloud as she began serving, making sure to scoop up a few extra cherry tomato halves onto Maki’s plate. “Appetizer, salad, the easy part, a main course and dessert.”

“A tomato dessert?”

“Sure, why not?” Nico shrugged. “Tomatoes are technically a fruit, even if they aren’t always used as such. But some kinds are sweeter, and of course you can always add sugar. Surly, someone out there in the world has to have made something with them and posted the recipe online.”

“I’m sure whatever it is, it will be good if Nico-chan makes it.” Maki said with a smile.

“But of course!” Nico preened. “Nico is the No 1 Tomato Cook in the Universe!”

Maki rolled her eyes. “Idiot…” She said before chuckling.

“You like it.”

“Maybe… Probably…”

Well, that was a new addition to the tradition, though by no means an unwelcome one. Nico wondered for a moment if she were to just hack a tomato into wedges, splash it with olive oil and throw some salt on it if Maki would still drool over it simply because it was a tomato dish that Nico had made. Perhaps, to use her own words; maybe, probably.

Conversation remained lighthearted between the two girls as their meal progressed at a casual pace. Nico contented herself in watching Maki savor every bite, as had become one of her favorite pastimes over the last year or so. Still, despite their relaxed rate, the meal still seemed to reach its end far too soon as far as Nico was concerned. Then again, there was always dessert…

“Ne, Maki-chan.” Nico said, coming out of her bedroom as the redhead was busy settling down on the couch. The two had just finished cleaning up and were preparing for the rest of their evening together. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” She proclaimed proudly, presenting a pristine package.

Maki’s eyes lit up as she reached up to accept. “Thank you, Nico-chan. Can I open it now?”

“Of course.”

Maki immediately tore into the wrapping as though the present had been from a certain fanciful figure from a few months back.

“Nico-nii’s Super Special, Valentine’s Day Only Chocolates!” Nico announced as the box was revealed.

“With dried fruit?” Maki seemed to anticipate.

“But of course! It’s pretty much a tradition at this point.”

The cover was slid aside, a piece selected and bitten into. “Mmm…” Maki hummed her approval as she chewed. “I look forward to these every year.”

Nico grinned happily, though decided not to point out that this was only the third time she’d given Maki such chocolates. Apparently, that was all it took for the younger girl to be hooked. And that pleased Nico greatly.

“I’m glad you like them.”

Maki smiled as she snatched one more before closing the lid. “And in return…” She popped the second piece into her mouth before leaning over the arm of the couch to where she had set her bags earlier.

From her position, Nico couldn’t see, but she could hear the zipper being opened.

“Happy Valentine’s, Nico-chan.”

Nico had to blink to keep her eyes from bulging out of their sockets. By the gods, that was a massive package, easily half again the size as the one from last year. And it was also thicker, so probably a double layer, making it that much bigger. “T-thank you…” she had to put in conscious effort to avoid stuttering further.

“Everyone enjoyed them last time, right?” Maki asked, apparently sensing Nico’s hesitation.

“Everyone? Last time?”

“You shared them with your family last year, right?”

“Well, yeah, because there were so many…”

“So, now you can share even more?”

Something melted in Nico. This girl…

Nico set the partially opened package on the coffee table.

“Nico-chan?”

Without responding verbally, Nico knelt on the cushion beside Maki, turned, and wrapped her arms around her.

“Thank you.” Nico finally managed after a long moment of silence. “The kids will be thrilled.”

“You’re welcome.” Maki replied. “But, Nico-chan likes them too, right?”

Nico chuckled. “Of course, I like them. And getting them from Maki-chan is becoming a wonderful new tradition.”

“I’m glad.” Though she couldn’t see it, Nico could feel Maki’s smile as it moved her cheek against hers.

Nico took a deep breath and swallowed down what felt like tears that had started to bubble up. Slowly, she let go of the other girl and twisted down into a proper sitting position. Next, she leaned forward to retrieve the box and finish unwrapping it. Finally, following Maki’s behavior from moments ago, she slipped the cover open enough to grab two pieces. However, instead of eating both, she offered one to Maki.

“With this many, I can share with even more people.” Nico said with a smile.

Maki smiled in return as she took the offered chocolate.

“Now,” Nico grabbed the remote and turned on the television “let’s see what cheesy romance movies are playing.”

“Is that going to be our tradition now?” Maki’s tone was one of teasing.

“Sure, why not.” Nico shrugged. “And the cheesier the better, right?”

“I suppose.” Maki rolled her eyes but didn’t otherwise protest.

As Nico started browsing the menu on the screen, she realized she hadn’t taken her traditional, for lack of a better word, spot on the other end of the couch. However, Maki wasn’t pushing her away, nor was she leaning away, nor mentioning it any way. Perhaps she was fine with this arrangement? Certainly they sat close together when they shared headphones, but this was even closer.

Nico stole a quick glance at the girl beside her. There was no trace of red in the redhead’s cheeks, rather a simple, content smile as she read the titles on the scrolling list in front of them.

“Oh, how about that one?” Maki suddenly said, pointing. “With a title like that, it has to be cheesy.”

Nico looked back at the screen. “Yeah, it’s super cheesy, even by my standards.”

“The cheesier the better, right?”

“I suppose.” Nico followed Maki’s original response, earning laughter from the other girl. She then started the show and settled in for a cozy Valentine’s evening.

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Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[i-need-entertainment]

The Count Of Aoba Johsai: Chapter 4

Chapter 3-Chapter 5

Warnings: Mentions of torture (not graphic), minor-ish character death (sorry if it seems sudden, there’s just not much I could do with it y’know?), ending is kinda crack ngl

~Six Years Later~

It’s been six years since Kunimi was sent to Shiratorizawa. Six years since he’d been outside…six years since he’s seen his Y/n. Everyday was the same, wake up eventually, eat the terrible food they served, and sit and wait for the day to go by. He slumped against the wall, sighing as his eyes closed and his arms came to lay across his knees. He was barely recognizable by this point. He now had long, shaggy and tangled dark brown hair; which was down to his shoulders now. His dark gray brown eyes were lifeless, simply a void of the warmth they held before. His strong sharp jaw was now hidden by a scruffy short beard.

 He had just fallen back into self pity when the ground started to shake. Jolting upwards he watched as an old man with messy gray hair erupted from the stone floors. The man looked at Kunimi, and Kunimi looked at the man. Silence lay between the two before he spoke, “Whoops. Wrong way.” Kunimi raised a dark brow, “…Wrong way where…?” The old man pulled himself out of the hole, “Wrong way out of here. I have spent the last few years digging this escape passage, only for it to have been the wrong way.” Kunimi looked at him slightly perplexed. “How do you know it was the wrong way?” 

The old man looked at him, “Because if it had been the right way I would have been free by now.” Kunimi’s eyes widened. Freedom. That was a forgotten concept in this place. Aside from the brutish treatment of the prisoners and the sadistic tendencies of the warden, it was a well known fact that those sent to Shiratorizawa never got out. Kunimi scrambled in front of the man. “I was put in here on false charges, I’m innocent! Please, let me help you-“ The old man held a hand up. “What exactly were you put in here for young man.” 

Kunimi took in a shaky breath, “I was betrayed by my closest friend…I was a sailor, we had to stop on the island of Karasuno due to our sickly captain. There…Ushijima gave me a letter to deliver to someone…when I returned I was ripped from my home, charged with treason I didn’t commit and thrown in here…Handed to the police on a silver platter by one I considered a brother.” 

The old man nodded, “Son, did it ever occur to you to read said letter?” Kunimi looked down, “No…I can’t read…” The old man’s eyes widened, before he closed them, sighing. “Well, I see we have something in common.” Kunimi looked strangely at the man. “You can’t read either?” The man deadpanned, “I can read. I would hope I could, I was a priest after all…I meant being scorned by Ushijima. I was thrown in here by Ushijima himself. I refused to give him the map that led to the treasure of Nekoma, and he had me thrown in here.” 

Kunimi’s eyes widened, “The treasure of Nekoma…it’s real?” The old man nodded, “It is. Let us make a deal. In return for helping me dig a new tunnel out of here, I’ll teach you all I know. Be it scholarship, swordsmanship whatever it may be I will teach it to you.” Kunimi looked at the man before nodding, “I accept. Please teach me all you can. Uhm- I never got your name.” The old man smiled, “And I never got yours.” “…Akira Kunimi.” The old man smiled, sticking out a hand for Kunimi to shake. “Ikkei Ukai.” 

From that day forward the two spent hours upon hours everyday digging. While they dug Ikkei would test Kunimi on subjects such as economics, literature, mathematics, all subjects really. When they couldn’t dig, they practiced swordsman ship with wooden planks they ripped from the door frame. That was everyday for the next 7 years. This day had gone on like any other. They reviewed material, which was basically all they could do since Kunimi had practically learned it all, refined his swordsmanship and combat skills and continued digging. 

Over the years Ikkei had been more than a mentor, but he had also been a friend. A close, honest one which was something Kunimi was in dire need of. Ikkei was also an excellent role model. Despite being wrongfully locked in a prison for 18 years, the man held no resentment. That was not something Kunimi could relate to. If there was one thing that kept him going it was the cold, unrelenting feeling of revenge. Everyday he was pushed forward by the knowledge that someday, he would have his revenge, even if it killed him he would have his retribution. 

Currently, the two were digging their way to freedom when “IKKEI!!!” The tunnel ahead had collapsed, causing Ikkei to take the brunt of the blow. Dragging him out of the tunnel, Kunimi laid him on the floor, frantically searching for a way to help the old man. “Akira…” Kunimi continued to try and stop the bleeding, anything to keep the man alive. “AKIRA!” Kunimi, with tears in his eyes stopped to look at the man. Reaching into his shirt’s pocket he pulled out a paper. “..I’m not going to make it…we both know that,” “NO! You can’t die- You- You can’t! I-I’m not ready for you to go!” 

The old man’s features softened, “Akira, You are more than ready *cough* if you use what I have taught you, and you use it for good you will go far in life.” He shakily handed Kunimi the paper, “This is the map…the map that leads to the Treasure of Nekoma…use it…for good…Akira…I know…you’re a good…man…Farewell My friend…” With that, his eyes closed, releasing his last breath as Kunimi’s eyes flooded with tears. Shoving the paper into his shirt Kunimi dried his eyes. He was getting out of here. Maybe not through the tunnel. But he would not let Ikkei’s teachings and help go to waste. 

“GUARDS!! HE’S DEAD! A MAN IS DEAD COME QUICK!” The door busted open, two guards entering and one having been sent to retrieve the warden. Walking in Semi looked down at the old man, “Hm…I must ask, just exactly how has he ended up in here…when I know for a fact his cell is downstairs?” Kunimi glared at the man, Semi just shrugged. “Oh well, he’s dead now, nothing I can do about it. Guards, give him the bag I don’t care what happens from here, just have him out of here by noon. I don’t need the whole prison smelling like death.” Turning on his polished heel he walked back to his office, leaving a fuming Kunimi alone. 

Looking at the body bag, he got an idea….So, that brings us to now, Kunimi is currently being carried by a guard, the guard of course assuming the body in the bag was the old man’s, when in fact it was a limp Kunimi. You may be wondering why the guards hadn’t noticed, well for one the staff of Shiratorizawa was anything but attentive, so when they came in to retrieve the body they were oblivious to the fact the body in the corner was Ikkei’s- not Kunimi’s- and that the body in the bag was Kunimi’s- not Ikkei’s. 

Exiting the prison, the guards made their way to the edge of the cliff, Semi not too far behind them. “Well, go ahead, I’d much prefer to get back inside if it’s all the same to y-“ Just as Semi was about to leave Kunimi emerged from the bag, fighting off the guards as he landed a solid punch to Semi’s face. Not wanting to waste anytime Kunimi ran and jumped into the sea below, not hesitating for even a second as he did this. 

As soon as he hit the water he fought the waves to make it to the surface, which he did, as he started his journey to the shore. He didn’t know where he was headed, but at this point he didn’t even care. He was going to get back to Marseilles, no matter what it took. He swam. And he swam and he swam under one strong wave pushed him onto the grainy sand. He clawed at it as he dragged himself up the beach, he almost cried, laughed even. 

That is until he was blinded by the glint coming from the sword pointed at his head. “Now, now, now. What do we have here~” Rubbing his eyes and pushing his wet hair out of the way, Kunimi looked up to see chocolate brown eyes looking back at him. “Oi! Loserkawa, what is it?!” Kunimi past the brunette to see another man with spikey brown hair and a muscular build making his way to him. “For dramatic purposes I’m going to ignore the insult.” 

Rolling his eyes the spikey haired man walked over to Kunimi. “I believe I’ve found a solution to our rather annoying problem.” Kunimi raised his eyebrow, a silent question for the brown haired man. Kneeling down, Oikawa looked at Kunimi with an intense expression. “You see, we’re pirates. We steal, we kill you know the story. Our problem is this fellow,” The man turned to point at another man, a much younger frightened man who couldn’t have been older than Kunimi himself. 

“Yuutarou, took more than he was supposed to. Hence, we had no choice but to kill him.” Another pirate came forwards, this one having pinkish brown hair, “I mean, there were plenty of other choices, but you insisted on ‘take him out here and now’-“ The captain scowled, “I don’t need your sass Makki! Anyways~ As much as I would love to spare the young lads life, It would make me look weak as a captain. And seeing as we are pirates we really can’t have that. But now you’re here! And that makes things much more interesting.” 

The spikey brunette cocked an eyebrow, crossing his toned arms over his chest. “Do you have a point to your incessant rambling or can I go take a nap?” Oikawa huffed, “Yes, Iwa, there is a point. As I was saying, I think we should have a good old fashioned fight to the death, between our beloved Yuutarou,” Oikawa waved a hand towards the poor shaking man, “And…Uhm…You are…?” Kunimi looked at him, “Akira….Akira Kunimi..” 

Oikawa clapped his hands together as he stood up. “Excellent! Well than if Yuutarou wins he can return to the crew. If Akira wins, he can replace him.” Kunimi stood, “What if I don’t want to be a pirate…?” Oikawa shrugged, walking a ways away before he turned, giving Kunimi a stare that shook him to his core, “Then you both die and we’re short a member.” The unique man turned once again and sat down on a sideways log, gesturing for the two men to be brought to the make shift ring. “May the best man win”

[apharine]

👀 Hey saw that Rose headcanons/drabbles are open...(could be headcanons or drabble that's up for you) Rose being a dad loving on his kid when they're a baby :3

Thank you so much for the request Fizzy!!  I had so many thoughts about this and it just melted my heart, so I ended up turning it into a drabble haha.  I hope you enjoy <3

---

Rose is a powerful man.  As the top businessman and philanthropist in all of Galar - not to mention, one of its best Trainers - Rose is well-renowned for having a sharp, appraising mind, capable of enormous insight and rapid-fire decision-making.  He’s talented in front of a camera and a crowd, silver-tongued with speeches, and capable of putting on a trustworthy, inspiring, affable public persona in virtually all circumstances.

And yet, for all his capability and genius, he still turns into an absolute pile of mush and goofy, whole-hearted love every time he comes home from work and sees his daughter.

“Oh, yes, tummy time with Daddy,” he’s saying, smoothing out a blanket on the floor and laying your daughter on her belly on it.  She’s just become strong enough to prop herself up and look around in the past couple weeks, and Rose is enamored with this new ability.  You sit on the couch, watching the two loves of your life and eating a glorious meal without any needs or demands of your little one impinging on you.  Parenthood has been tiring, but Rose has always made sure to give you time to yourself; ever since your daughter’s birth, he’s swept her into his arms as soon as he gets home from work, as if spending any longer amount of time away from her would be overwhelming.  “Look - here comes Mr. Skwovet,” Rose hums, laying down on the floor beside your daughter and wiggling a little plushie past her.  For some reason, she consistently finds this toy absolutely hilarious.  Today is no excuse, and she dissolves into giggles, struggling to reach for it.  She hasn’t quite mastered the skill of balancing propped on one arm instead of two, though, so Rose has to humor her and bring Mr. Skwovet closer to her.  “Hello, how are you today?”  He says, putting on a high-pitched, goofy voice and wiggling Mr. Skwovet’s head.  Your daughter laughs all the harder, hiccuping with the force of it, and Rose lets out a deep belly laugh just watching her.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get tired of seeing him with her.  Seeing how much he loves her is so amazing.  He’d been so worried he would be an absent father, with his work demands eclipsing any ability he would have to establish a relationship with his firstborn - but from what you can see so far, there’s very little concern of that happening.

“Oh, look!”  Rose continues.  “It’s our good friend, the Pokeball!  Here it comes to catch Mr. Skwovet!”  Rose raises a little fabric Pokeball, stuffed full with a crackly material that seems to always catch your daughter’s attention.  He squeezes it and makes the material crinkle as the Pokeball slowly descends above Mr. Skwovet.  Then, he hides Mr. Skwovet behind his back and leaves only the Pokeball.  The laughter bubbling forth from your daughter stops for a moment - this maneuver never fails to elicit a moment of surprise and anticipation - and then resumes immediately as Mr. Skwovet reappears, as if popping out of his Pokeball.  “Ta-da!”  Rose says, and when your daughter collapses in giggles, her arms literally giving out under her, Rose mimics her, letting his head rest on the floor.  She turns to look at him, and his green eyes regard her so kindly, so lovingly, as she keeps on giggling away.  The giggles are infectious, and soon Rose is laughing along with her.  This, in turn, triggers her to only laugh harder.  Even with a mouthful of delicious food, you can’t help but also laugh a little at the scene unfolding before you.  Their laughter together is irresistable, and there’s something so precious about seeing Rose - your Rose, your brilliant man, possibly the greatest genius of his entire generation - in this absolutely vulnerable state with a tiny human he loves so dearly.

Rose’s phone rings abruptly, and he frowns at it, pulling it out of his pocket.  Your daughter reaches for the phone with interest, but doesn’t get far, her arms much too short.  Rose gives her Mr. Skwovet instead and turns onto his back, scooping her up with one arm and pulling her, still on her belly, onto his chest.  She promptly stuffs part of Mr. Skwovet into her mouth, gumming at the toy.  “Oh, a video chat from Aunt Ollie!”  He chirps to your daughter as he answers the call.  “Hello, Oleana.  Darling, say hi to Oleana,” he calls, turning the chat to you.  You smile and wave.

“Hi, Oleana,” you chime happily.  On the screen, Oleana waves back at you, her expression stoic as ever.

“Sweetheart, let’s say hi to Aunt Ollie,” he coos, turning the phone to face your daughter.  She looks at the screen with big brown eyes, unwilling to let go of her fierce hold on Mr. Skwovet to bother reaching for the device.

“We’re really going with Aunt Ollie?”  Oleana asks.

“Ollie is a couple syllables less than Oleana,” Rose observes.  “But if you object -”

“It’s fine,” Oleana huffs, though you note she doesn’t really sound put out.

“Now, Oleana, I know that you know that I have about 25 minutes of uninterrupted family time left, and you can call me anytime after that,” Rose says gently, but with an underlying tone of sternness to his voice.

“Yes, but -” she begins.

“Twenty five minutes,” Rose reiterates.  A long pause stretches between the two of them.

”I’ll call you then, sir,” she finally agrees, and Rose waves goodbye and hangs up the call, putting the phone away.  You can’t help but feel pride and relief at Rose’s decision - he had handled himself kindly but firmly, making sure his boundaries were respected.  You can only imagine how easy it would be for work to slowly impinge on family life - just one call here, a quick email there - but he’s been certain to keep things consistent for all people, even his second in command.

“I’m proud of you,” you offer, finishing your dinner and setting it aside.  “It’s not easy to keep boundaries that clear-cut.”  Rose turns to you, giving you a grateful smile, his green eyes sparkling.

“It’s easy when I have the two most wonderful people I could ever have imagined in my life,” he answers, and you feel your heart flutter.  You’re not sure how, but Rose somehow has never lost the ability to give you butterflies.  “Care to join us?”  He asks, opening one arm to you.  You smile and cross the floor to your husband and your daughter, laying down by Rose’s side.  He sits up a little and shifts your daughter to make room for your head on his chest.  As he moves, the long strand of hair shifts a little, and your daughter reaches for it, giving it a little tug before returning to Mr. Skwovet.  “Do you think she’ll have my hair?"  Rose asks, curling one arm around you.

”I’d like it if she did,” you admit.  Rose hums, the sound echoing deep in his broad, soft chest.

“Do you think I could bring her to work someday?  Not just to show her off to coworkers, or anything.  I’d…just like to spend more time with her,” he explains.

“Maybe for a couple hours,” you agree.  “She has to nap a few times a day still, though.”

“She loves falling asleep in that baby-wearing thing you bought,” Rose notes, stroking one big hand over her head.  She looks so small compared to him.  “She fell asleep when I was wearing her a couple days ago, remember?  She might fall asleep if I put her in that at Macro Cosmos.”

“True,” you nod.  Rose’s other hand comes up your head, mimicking the hand on his daughter as he strokes your hair lovingly.  “But don’t forget, she’ll also have to eat, and be changed, and she might cry.  You have an awful lot of meetings most days, and that might make things difficult for you,” you note hesitantly.

“Oleana can always run them if something comes up,” Rose says brightly.  You snort in laughter.  You’re not convinced this is his most brilliant idea, but you’re also beginning to suspect you won’t be able to dissuade him, either.  Rose leans in to blow a raspberry on your daughter’s forehead, which breaks her down into laughter once again, her adoring eyes staring up at her daddy.

No, there will be no dissuading him from this idea, you think.  He’s far too much in love with this baby of his.  And, you admit to yourself, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[atths--twice]

Okay, we are onto chapter 13! Maggie has been helping Mulder and being there for Scully when she has needed her. It is time for her to take a break and spend time with a friend, catching up and relaxing. 

Chapter Thirteen 

Staying the Course

June 2015

Water lapped at the dock to Maggie’s right and the sound of it caused her to sigh in contentment. It was quiet and incredibly peaceful where she was presently and she could not have been happier.

Louise McGillan, a retired Navy nurse, was one of her oldest friends. She invited her to her lake house for a week, just the two of them. Maggie told her about Dana and Fox, and how she was helping Fox out. Louise said they both needed a girls’ week and insisted they leave as soon as possible.

Louise’s husband passed away a couple of months previously, after a very long illness. Since his death, she was dealing with a lot-bank accounts to close, her house to go through and get ready to sell, her husband’s will and items to be set aside for the recipients. It was a very stressful time for her and her two children. Maggie helped her whenever she could, offering advice, dropping off a meal, or simply lending a listening ear.

Tonight was the second night they were there and Louise went inside to get some wine. Maggie closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the water and the crickets beginning to chirp. She took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the peace brought by this place.

“I hope red is good, apparently it’s all we had here,” Louise said, causing Maggie to open her eyes and look at her. She smiled as she handed her a glass and sat in the adirondack chair next to her. “Phew, it sure is beautiful here. The quiet is nice, but only for a while. Give me the bustle of the city any day.” They both laughed and sat looking at the lake.

They drank their wine in silence, as only good friends can, knowing that words are not always needed. It soon began to get chilly and they moved inside, pouring another glass of wine as they turned on the fireplace. Covering up with the cozy blankets in the room, they started getting caught up with each other.

Louise’s daughter was coming to visit next week, to help pack up the house and consolidate items before the big move. Louise found a townhouse close to her son and he and his wife recently had a new baby. Louise moving closer would be beneficial to both parties. She would be there to help care for her grandson, and her son would be close if she herself needed assistance.

“It will be nice to help with the baby, play with him, get the snuggles, then hand him back at the end of the day and get a good night’s sleep,” Louise said with a laugh. Maggie smiled, but then she thought of how she used to care for William and the way he smelled as she held him close, and she sighed.

She knew in her head that Dana’s decision to put William up for adoption had been the right one, but her heart broke for Dana. For all of them, really. The pain she saw in everyone close to Dana made her physically ill, and mentally as well. She had gone on medication for a while after William was gone, anxiety and sleeping pills, her heart broken.

Then Dana was gone. Her boys both had their own wives and lives, and Maggie was struggling through depression with no family to care for her. A knock at her door one day led to Louise coming in and cooking her a meal as Maggie sat at the kitchen table and cried. Cried for the sons she missed, the baby she would never see again, and for the safety of her daughter and the man she loved and followed, becoming a fugitive along with him.

Louise made sure she was fed, brought her to doctor’s appointments, and sat while she cried and worried. She never told Maggie to cheer up, move on, or to stop crying. No, she held her hand and wiped her eyes, keeping her sane and among the living.

“Maggie? You still with me?” Maggie heard Louise ask softly. Unbeknownst to her, Maggie had been crying. She shook her head and apologized to Louise.

“I had no idea I was crying. I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Louise, I’m truly sorry.”

“Maggie, we don’t apologize for our tears, remember?” Louise asked her, reaching for her hand and holding it tight. Maggie laughed breathily and nodded, squeezing Louise’s hand.

“Was it the mention of the baby?” Louise asked kindly and Maggie nodded. Louise nodded too and then was silent.

“He would be fourteen now,” Maggie said, exhaling and shaking her head. “The boys at his age ... they had been awful at times. I can’t imagine with technology and access to so much information, how William would be.” Louise nodded again and squeezed Maggie’s hand.

“Louise ... I’m sorry. This is not why we’re here ...”

“Maggie, this is precisely why we’re here. To mourn and take time for us. We have both been helping others ... god, most of our lives, and we need some time for ourselves,” Louise said vehemently. “I don’t expect this week to be sunshine and rainbows, not by a long shot. I’m mourning and so are you because time matters not when it comes to mourning and loss. Although it was the decision that was needed, you had a massive hole ripped into your soul. It’s been fourteen years, true, but it still hurts like it was yesterday at times. I know it does and I don’t expect you to hold back while you’re here. Not to be too cliche, but what happens at this lake house, goddamn stays at this lake house.”

Maggie laughed and leaned her head against Louise’s shoulder, her head then resting on Maggie’s. They both laughed until they could not breathe and then wiped their eyes. Silence fell in the room and then Louise spoke softly.

“I’m scared, Maggie,” she said, and Maggie could hear it in her voice. “I’m scared of what comes next. I’ve been busy and doing for so long, I’m afraid of what happens when I stop.”

“I know what you mean, Louise,” Maggie said, putting her other hand on top of Louise’s. “It’s tough at first, I’m not going to tell you it’s not, but it will get easier. Time, it’s the only thing that helps. Well, that and good friends.” They both laughed and again sat quietly.

“Selling the house, Maggie ...” she sighed. “I don’t really want to, but what will I do with it on my own? It’s too big and all I think of is John when I’m in there. How happy we were and then him passing as we stood around him, watching him leave this earth. Most of the memories right now are sad and I avoid certain rooms if I can. The new place is nice, but it doesn’t have the same feel as home.” She said with another sigh.

“That can be said of any place that’s different and new to us. I know that leaving the old house will be hard, but for your circumstances, it will be beneficial to all of you,” Maggie said.

“I know,” Louise said quietly.

They sat in silence until Louise sat up and shook her head, before standing to her feet and reaching for Maggie’s hands. She pulled her up from the couch and into a tight hug before pulling back and smiling at her. Maggie smiled back and held onto Louise’s hand for an extra second.

“Let’s go to bed, get up and have a glass of wine by the water as we watch the sun rise,” Louise said, picking up their wine glasses. Maggie laughed and said that sounded fabulous.

A few minutes later she was in the guest room bed trying to stop her racing mind. She was worried about what came next,too. What came next for all of them. She did not worry about Bill Junior as much, he was happy with the life and career he chose.

She worried for Dana and when she would go back to that little unremarkable house. Like Louise, she was in a new place but wanted to be back in her old one, Maggie was sure. Her apartment was so sterile and not like other places she had lived, which were always cozy and inviting. There was the alien cat pillow that Dana had laughingly shown her, but Maggie had seen her eyes fall on it many times when she visited. Dana had taken the time to purchase it, it was definitely something she had wanted. Maybe she hoped Fox would see it someday, or it would one day be back on the couch where Fox had spent so many nights.

She worried for Fox, although he seemed to be doing well with his therapist. He had nothing but good things to say about her, although he admitted she kicked his ass emotionally every week. He turned his cell phone back on and to Maggie, that was huge. She could get a hold of him anytime, and it helped her breathe easier. He was still sleeping upstairs and not falling back into old patterns. She could see he was progressing, it was simply slow going.

And Charlie. Maggie felt her heart ache at the pain left there by him. A fight, a misunderstanding, and the stubborn nature to not listen or hear what truly happened, led to years of not speaking. Maggie tried but to no avail. Charlie wanted nothing to do with any of them. Nothing could be repaired if one side of the party refused to listen to reason.

Maggie rolled over and thought of them when the kids were little. The loud dinners, laughter, and Bill’s booming voice when they got too silly. So many redheads sat around that little table and it made her smile. Her mother had red hair and Maggie loved Anne Shirley and her Green Gable adventures so much, she wanted red hair too. To have four children with the hair color she loved, she felt very blessed.

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and prayed. She prayed for peace, happiness, and understanding. She prayed for Louise and her family and the new life they were beginning. She prayed for herself, to be the help that was needed, in the way it was desired, and soon she had fallen asleep.

The next few days at the lake seemed to fly by. She and Louise slept in, stayed up late, cooked wonderful meals, drank a lot of wine, laughed, cried, and sat by the lake, finding peace in the quiet around them. The last day there, as the sun was setting, Maggie walked around alone and looked once again at the view and the beauty of the area.

She found a log that was not far from the house and just sat quietly, closing her eyes. Hearing the wind blowing through the trees, the water quietly hitting the rocks at the shore, she made a decision. When she died, she wanted her ashes scattered here, in this exact spot. She found peace here, spent time with a cherished friend, and let go of the negativity that was weighing her down.

Opening her eyes, she looked around again and nodded. Yes, this was the spot. She stood up and looked down at the rocks at her feet. She saw a few flat ones and attempted to skip them on the lake. A couple of them were good, but mostly they were duds. She laughed and then shrugged, throwing the last rock as far as she could.

She bent down as she saw rocks that struck her fancy, putting them in her pockets to take home. She would give a few to Dana for a type of decoration or paperweight. Maybe Fox would like a couple.

Weighted down, this time by choice, she put her hands in her pockets feeling the smoothness of the rocks inside, and walked back to the house, ready to head back home. Recharged and happy, she was ready for what was coming next for her, or rather continuing really.

Her path was clear and she would stay the course. She would help to reunite the two soulmates who had lost their way. Their path may lead them on separate trails, but she would be their marker in the woods, directing them where they needed to go, where their paths have always been destined to meet- in the middle.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 63: Land of Enchantment

Chapters: 63/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: none Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), What Beautiful Music They Make, Even When Diner Food Is Bad It’s Still Pretty Good, Not Very Healthy Though, Get Thee To A Waffle House

Summary:   Loki visits Townsvill, USA

Loki had to admit a grudging respect for the human invention known as the internet. Such lawlessness. Such chaos. Such memes! And the fact that anything, anything at all, could be found there. Including information on the-to Loki's surprise-thousands of species of cicadas. It was one of the great mysteries of Midgard; this grand proliferation of living things. When just one version of something would have been fine, there somehow had to be dozens to thousands of kinds of that thing. Especially among the insect world. Why so many beetles? Why?

In your vast Iowa, there seemed to be almost twenty species, though, aside from size and color, there didn't seem to be much difference between them. They were all shaped like fat teardrops, with lacy, gossamer wings covering, but not hiding, their chubby, pointed abdomens. He did learn some interesting insect facts-there were some that only appeared every decade or so, some even went a full seventeen years without showing up, but when they did...

The word 'swarm' seemed to put it lightly.

Horrifying.

He learned about the singing frogs, and their whimsical names; the Bullfrog, the Chorus Frog, the Spring Peeper.

He researched the crickets, locusts, and grasshoppers.

He found recordings of all of these and more-coyotes, owls, the soft squeaking of bats. The loud, crepuscular Swifts, the equally loud, nocturnal Whip-Poor-Will, a well camouflaged bird named after its signature cry.

He could do something with all of this.

In the times in between doing his princely duties, he had things prepared. Some silk needed to be woven, some wooden frameworks made. It would take a little bit of time, but everyone worked faster when it was at the prince's request.

Once he had the blank 'canvas' on its series of wooden 'frames' he sent it to his favorite painters, with an image he wished for them to reproduce.

All the while he waited, he also dove into the study of your homeland.

Midgard was so very large, and he had spent so little time actually being there, and learning his surroundings. The sizes of countries baffled him sometimes. The United States was one of those countries that seemed to contradict its own existence. While not the largest of countries, it was still so large that its central government could not govern its entirety. Instead, it was broken up into 'states'; great chunks of land, many being so large as to be countries all their own. Each of these states governed themselves, reporting back to the central government. It was an odd arrangement, that struck Loki as woefully inefficient and ripe for rebellion.

In fact, his studies taught him that several such rebellions had occurred in the past, and had the possibility of rising again in the future.

He tried to listen to some of the music common to your nation-sized state, but could not stand it for more than a few songs. Modern Midgardian music was mostly terrible, in his opinion, lacking in melodiousness and refinement. The lyrics tended to be simplistic at best, examples of beginner's poetry.

He found some grudging enjoyment in the unusual instrumental achievements of what the radio stations called “Eighties Hits”, whatever that meant, but he would not be admitting that anytime soon.

The pictures and recordings didn't seem like enough. The music wasn't enough.

He needed to be there.

Loki could not take you to Old Asgard exactly, but he could make illusions to immerse you in the world in which he grew up. But you couldn't do that, you couldn't bring your homeland to him. If he was to understand you better, he would have to go there himself. Surround himself in your land, eat the food, breathe in the air.

And so he began planning a little vacation.

Or was it an espionage mission? No one other than Heimdall could know he was there: He was still very much a persona non grata in the United States. He could not take you with him. He would have to go in disguise. He would have to go at night, while you slept, so that you would not suffer for his distance from you.

Maybe someday he would be allowed back; to take you back to see all your friends and neighbors. Until then, he would just have to bring some of it back to you.

One evening, he kissed your forehead gently, telling you that he had an errand to run, and might not be back until morning. You were tired; it was clear to him. You didn't even question what he would be doing.

As he left the city limits, he let his outline shimmer and fade away, replacing himself with features that would be less likely to draw suspicion. Soon there was nothing but a grizzled old man in worn jeans and a stretched out black tee shirt. Boring. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

All the things he was sure he was not.

Heimdall met him with a sarcastic stare.

“What have we here?” He said in a flat voice. “A lost, Midgardian peasant? I suppose I shall have to send you home.”

In a time past, Loki might have felt bashful, but that was before he had realized that the gatekeeper had a sense of humor drier than the center of a star. Now he only felt grateful about how willing Heimdall was to break the rules.

“I wish to learn some things.” Loki said. “It's for the good of my subjects.”

“Plural?” Heimdall questioned. Loki pursed his lips and looked away. Heimdall twisted the sword.

The light gathered Loki up, and flung him across the sea.

                                                                          *****

The fields were vast in the dying light, stretching so far on every side, that it was impossible to see their end. The only break in the tall rows was the equally endless road Loki walked. He could smell the green plants as the sun disappeared beneath the corn, and the dust, and the mud in the roadside ditches.

Heat distorted the distance, assaulting his senses, but not as much as the noise.

Everywhere, every cubic inch of the world was the sawing scream of cicadas. It filled his skull, filled his bones, inescapable and omnipresent. How did you sleep in this? How could anyone sleep here?

But as he walked, as the day faded and the night awoke, Loki began to hear the song. The insects cries had a rhythm that rose and fell in rounds, constantly changing as a frog in a ditch puddle sang along, as crickets among the corn roots added their harmonies. The interruptions as something, perhaps himself, disturbed the nearest singers, causing them to fall silent, and change the melody entirely.

The whole world around him was alive, and reveling.

A dome of light on the horizon indicated your town. He would be there soon, an hour's walk at most.

The closer he got, the less he could see the emerging stars, a problem even the smallest of Midgardian settlements seemed to have. There were more vehicles too, several of them stopping to ask if he needed help. These he waved away with a friendly declaration that he was just out for a nice evening walk.

Eventually, there came a break in the cornfields, a wide verge between farmland and civilization. A sea of grass and barely visible wildflowers, closed up against the darkening night. He leaped over the ditch and strode a few feet into it, focusing on the last vestiges of wildflower scent, of the insects that rose into the air, the evening choir all around him.

The flashlight shining in his face, the stern questioning of an officer. The warning to move along. He wasn't even bothering anybody, and still, he was somehow in trouble.

The officer also offered him a ride, but Loki didn't trust it. A ride to the local prison maybe. The fellow was a bit too canny; he didn't seem to believe a thing Loki said.

He finally passed a city limit sign, that boasted of its two thousand residents. Smaller, even than Asgard, yet you'd spent your whole life here. Hemmed in by cornfields, like great, green walls. Lulled by the song of nature. Sick, and starving, and scared, without him.

And for a year of it, nearly alone, surrounded by dead fields, like even greater walls, no word from the outside world. Isolated, endangered, without even a single member of your family to draw comfort from. All because of Thanos. Just like Thor had been, in the aftermath. Just like he had been, after he fell.

But never again. None of you had to be alone now.

For a town, the place was surprisingly empty. There were large spaces between buildings, overgrown lawns and poorly manicured houses. There were churches; though in this country, there seemed to be churches on every corner. There was the grocery store he had taken you from. The memory had grown soft and treasured in his mind. The way you had fallen so dramatically in front of him, like a swooning maiden faced with raw power. The way life had flowed back into your limbs when he touched you, the way strength seized your soul, and you had so adorably tried to break his nose.

All he had felt then was your warmth. The blow might have felled a human man, but he was so much more. And he had since proven that to you. Mostly.

You still weren't ready for further steps into this relationship. That was okay. You had a busy life now, lots to think about. Your days were full of so much more than just deciding what icing to put on the cupcakes.

Speaking of...

Loki wandered the isles of the grocery store, imagining that you had done the same. Day in, day out, up and down these cramped, harshly lit shelves, until it was memorized. He stood outside the bakery section-closed by this time of night-knowing that you had spent years in that very spot. How the work of your hands had been appreciated by everyone who had bought any of the wide variety of baked goods on display, but had never been attributed to you. Every worker in this place wore the same uniform, the same hat, the same color. They were forced into facelessness.

You had worn that same uniform when he first found you. You'd lost your hat in the mire outside New Asgard, and he'd had the ugly, ill-fitted uniform thrown out. Only the apron remained, decorated, bettered, made more worthy of you and what you were becoming.

Loki adored the style of clothing you wore now; a mix of traditional Midgardian forms and Asgardian details-as unique in its position as you were. And you had taken to it so naturally! It would be nice to see you in some purely Asgardian pieces though. Specifically, Asgardian lingerie...

Loki tore his wandering mind away from that alluring subject, lingering instead on the array of presumably delicious baked goods before him. There were confetti cupcakes with galaxy-colored icing, covered in glitter, labeled 'Sayd-cupkakes', and a little photoshopped picture of you with rainbows and sparkles fountaining from your hands. He was sorely tempted to filch it, but he had already stolen something from this place.

On a table next to the cupcakes, there were green iced croissants, slightly unfurled before baking, in order to make them look less like a swirl, and more like bulls horns. These were labeled 'Lossants', and Loki struggled with amusement at the awful puns, and awareness about how inappropriate this probably was, considering all he had done. This would never have gone over in New York. The store would have been shut down immediately.

But your old workplace honored you. And seemed to at least acknowledge the reality of himself. If this tiny town could do that, perhaps there was hope yet.

Loki headed down the street, where it seemed a majority of the local eateries were located, and chose the most rustic looking. This would be the place where the local poor would eat, when they could afford to.

The décor was odd to him-it seemed there was little thematic cohesion, with everything from old signs, to movie posters, to farm animals made of wood or tin affixed to the walls. The false leather of the booth seating was red and cracked, and the yellowish lighting threw a grungy pall over everything.

Even in the guise of a rough old man, Loki managed to charm the waitress, ordering a combo plate of breakfast foods, which he was pleased to find were served all day. These were delicious, but he could see how they would be unhealthy for a human, who burned calories at a slower rate than Asgardians did. But Loki knew that peasants of both species needed hearty fare, to do the work that they did.

Personally, Loki found these 'waffles' to be delightful in taste and texture. Did you like these? Had you sat in this seat, smiled at this waitress, eaten waffles off these plates? Did you like this sublime sweetness known as maple syrup?

Or did you eschew these things in favor of the protein? These heavy scrambled eggs, the crunchy bacon, the sausage that was uncomfortably greasy. Asgardian food had been refined over millennia to provide for the needs of mighty warriors: it would be much healthier for you than this.

But maybe he could have some greasy sausage brought for you sometimes. He knew how you loved strong flavors.

He could feed you little tidbits. You could lick his fingers.

Again, Loki had to drag his thoughts away from such subjects, and concentrate on satisfying his other hungers. He had to pay with Icelandic money, bespelled to look like American dollars, but he would likely not be back this way again, so it wouldn't matter when the spell wore off.

Besides, they could just exchange it, couldn't they? It was the correct amount.

He wandered out into the night, allowing himself to get lost in the streets of your town. It was mostly quiet, but the sounds of music and television sets could be heard inside the houses, and cars ran back and forth infrequently on the hot streets. There was smoke in the air, the sounds of gatherings in backyards, and even here, the cry of cicadas.  Loki located your 'High School', and what must have also been your 'Middle School', and 'Elementary School', though he still didn't understand the distinction. But there was only one of each in this little town, so you must have attended at least one. Perhaps you had been selected for the 'High school' due to your intellectual acuity? But then why were you still a peasant among humans?

You were exalted in Asgard now, paramour to a prince. He wanted to believe that it didn't matter, but it was your upbringing. It was what had shaped your personality, and informed your outlook on life. This town, with its run down buildings and overgrown lots, fenced in by walls of corn, it had created you. This was your true maker; it moulded you, and was still a part of you, like the Shining Realm would always be a part of him, no matter what was going by the name of Asgard now.

Loki was not so sure that he really liked this place. For being so flat and open, it still felt hemmed in and constricting. But he liked you, so he liked something of this place.

He walked all the way to the other side of town, and out towards the corn. There was a verge here as well; grass and wild plants between the town and fields, and he lay down there, watching the stars go by.

He must gave dozed off, because next he knew, he was waking to a different song. Birds made up the chorus this time, and he sat up to the rising scent of clover, their little pink and white flowers heated by the light of the morning sun. They mingled with the honeysuckle vine winding along the fence behind him, and-yes those were the flowers you had shown him in the Akureyri botanical garden.

Eager to be gone before anybody noticed, he gathered a bouquet of the cheerful, purple blooms. These he pressed into your hands when you greeted him on his return, as well as a quick kiss on the top of your sleepy head

If you wondered how he had gotten them, you were too drowsy to ask, and he bid you go back to sleep. You could both be late today.

[tiaragqueen]

Hello there! Could you write an obsessive yandere jungkook (who has an oppa kink) stalking his mechanic crush (that’s younger than him) and wondering what she keeps her so busy whenever he asks to hang out with her and come to find out, she turns out to be a yandere too after placing tracking devices in the majority of his posessions? This doesn’t make any sense tbh T^T

Hidden Blessing

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Jeon Jeongguk x Yandere! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,7k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Obsessiveness, toxic relationship, stalking, reader being a yandere for the first time

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Donot re-upload my writing to another website or use it without mypermission.

[Edited]

***

Yandere reader, huh? I’ve certainly never tried this before, but I do think about it once in a while. And also, I don’t know much about mechanical stuffs. So, pardon me if this came out strange and Jungkook wasn’t obsessive enough. I feel a bit tired recently.

If you like mywriting, please support me on ko-fi!

“I want you to want me. I need you to need me. I’d love you to love me. I’m beggin’ you to beg me.” – I Want You To Want Me [Cheap Trick]

[11.25 am] Jungkook: Hi, wanna hang out today? :)

Seen.

[12.10 pm] You: Hey~! Sorry, oppa. I’m busy today. Maybe tomorrow??

Seen.

[12.11 pm] Jungkook: Oh, okay then. Don’t forget to text me, kay? ;)

Seen.

Declined. Again.

Jungkook sucked a breath through his gritted teeth and threw the device in frustration. On to the bed, of course, because he couldn’t afford to break his precious phone. It was the only way he could contact you outside the campus, being a broke college student he was.

It was a hassle, having to text you first just to hang out together. Sometimes he wished he was more than a senior to you – more than someone you occasionally met in a passing – so he could freely visit you anytime he wanted.

But you never thought of him that way, did you?

Sighing, Jungkook plopped on the edge of the bed and rested his forehead against his palms. The urge to ‘claim’ you had never been this strong ever since you started declining his invitations. Jungkook didn’t understand what went on in your life until you couldn’t possibly spare an hour or so to hang out together. Yeah, everyone had their own businesses to deal with, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to spend a bit more time for him? He never asked much besides your company, and now you were too ‘busy’ to do that.

Or maybe he could come to your apartment and pretended to help you with whatever you were working on…?

No, he shook his head. That would be rude of him to show up in your doorstep unannounced. He should’ve waited a little longer. Didn’t you tell him that you would text him again tomorrow? Well, you didn’t since you only saw his message, but that counted as one right?

God, how did a simple hangout could be this complicated? Why couldn’t you just agree to his fucking invitation? Didn’t you know that he couldn’t be away from you for too long?

Jungkook simpered bitterly. Of course, you didn’t. You were too busy to notice that, anyway.

Well, there was no need to stress himself even more. You already promised him that you would hang out tomorrow, and Jungkook planned on keeping that promise.

Tomorrow…

In less than twenty-four hours, he would be able to be with you. Laughing, chatting, eating, touching. All the affectionate things that only lovers could do.

Lovers, not friends.

Boyfriend, not senior.

Jungkook grinned giddily and rested his head on the pillow. Staring up the plain ceiling, he imagined you laying on top of him with that angelic smile of yours. Your hand stroked his cheek tenderly, [e/c] eyes admiring the dark constellation that scattered around his face as he did yours. Then, after you finished marveling at each other, you would slowly lean down. Jungkook closed his eyes, pressing himself further into the bed.

However, instead of the kiss that would take his breath away or make him see the stars, only cold air greeted his lonely lips.

Fluttering his eyes open, Jungkook sighed in disappointment.

When would the day come until those imaginations materialize right in front of his sight like he always dreamed of?

***

You didn’t text.

Jungkook had waited and waited, since this morning, for the anticipated message. Permission from you. However, even after the hours fleeted to noon, his phone still showed your selfie that he secretly saved as his lock screen a few days ago.

Did you forget about your promise? Did you forget about him already? No, you didn’t. You must be doing something and you probably were waiting for the right time to text him.

No, he refused to believe that you forgot about your promise or him. You weren’t that cruel, right?

Then, why did you still haven’t send him a single message? It didn’t matter if it was a curt ‘yes’, Jungkook would still be happy. But apparently, you opted to ignore him instead.

Maybe you didn’t care about him as much as he liked to believe. Maybe it was all just his imagination, yet again. Maybe he had tricked himself into thinking that you cared about him.

Maybe you had been leading him on all along, and he was just too stupid to realize it now.

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook thrashed his room like a madman on the loose. After all the things he had done to gain your attention, after all the money he had spent for you to the point of near poverty, you had the guts to lead him on? What kind of a man did you take him for?!

You were a brave one, he admitted. No, not brave. Bold would be a perfect word to describe your attitude. Jungkook might have fallen head over heels to you, but it didn’t mean he would let himself be made a fool. Especially to some weak, lovely woman.

A glint in the upper corner of his closet caught his attention. It was tiny enough that he would have missed it, but somehow, his senses increased during his mini rampage. Perhaps, it was a sign from the above that his current situation wasn’t a predicament at all. Either way, Jungkook was glad that he noticed that alien thing.

Because he soon discovered that it was, in fact, a camera. And the flickering light indicated that it was on and recording.

Jungkook inspected its shiny appearance, face stony. It seemed brand new, from the looks of it. He was entirely clueless about that fact, but he knew that he should do the thing he had been procrastinating until now.

Cleaning.

Grabbing the cleaning equipment, Jungkook began to clear up the mess that littered around his room whilst searching for other hidden cameras. He found many tracking devices concealed in his bags, hoodies, the back pockets of his pants, and snapbacks. Dark was certainly Jungkook’s favorite color, thus camouflaging those devices that were also dark in color. They were active, as seen from the red lights that flickered intermittently. Aside from that, the stalker must have known that he tended to be careless.

But the question was, who would stalk him? There was nothing remarkable from him. Sure, he had a handsome, boyish face and bunny-like teeth that many people found a charm in. However, he wasn’t the only person who possessed such features. His grades weren’t high enough to attract attention, too. Average enough to pass the tests, yet not enough to be the top-third.

All in all, Jungkook was a normal college student that liked to procrastinate and played video games until late at night. Oh, and a normal guy that had a seemingly unrequited ‘crush’ on his junior.

“I want to be an artisan someday. I just like creating things, you know? Especially electronics devices, such as cameras and the like…”

You. You were his stalker. Oh God, how did this happen? Since when have you been stalking him? He thought you weren’t interested in him. And how did you manage to slip those–

“Glad to know that I’m not the only messy one here, Oppa. Don’t worry, I won’t judge!”

Jungkook’s tensed shoulders slowly slackened as the epiphany dawned on him.

“[Name], I’m gonna go to the bathroom for a bit.”

“Sure! I’ll look around in the meantime. Don’t pee on the floor, ‘kay?”

Happiness erupted within his swelling chest and manifested itself with a smile that became wider in each second. Jungkook didn’t know why he felt this way when he was supposed to be creeped out at the fact that you had stalked him for a month now. But one thing for sure was that his feelings and efforts weren’t waste in vain. In fact, you had been secretly reciprocating them by ‘keeping an eye’ on him.

You had been appointing yourself as his bodyguard, and Jungkook couldn’t be any happier.

What did he do to deserve such an attentive woman like you? He felt like the luckiest guy in the world, even though you both had yet to get married.

But there was no need to rush, now that he knew about your love for him. Jungkook always noticed that despite your playful attitude, you had a difficulty in expressing true feelings. And while he was a little disappointed that he only realized them just a few seconds ago, he understood and appreciated your efforts. Little things were what he cherished the most, although he certainly wouldn’t mind if you showed more forthright and grand gestures.

Whatever suited you better; Jungkook already accepted you as a whole, anyway.

The screen of his phone suddenly lit up, displaying the very name he had been waiting to see. Swiping the green button upwards, he put the phone near his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Oppa! Oh, God. I’m so sorry I forgot to text you!” Your frantic, yet heavenly voice filled his hearing. “I was so busy watching and–”

“I know,” Jungkook beamed, gazing out of the window. The sky was cloudy, and there were already several drops of water against the windowpane. Yet, an inexplicable warmth filled his heart as he listened to your sputtering across the call. “You were watching me, weren’t you?”

“W-what? Of course not! What are you talking about, Oppa?” you tittered and tried to cover up the truth, but Jungkook knew better. Besides, you weren’t very good at lying, anyway.

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge.” He used your own words to see if you were able to catch the hint. “Glad to know that I’m not the only one who works hard here. Thank you, by the way. I was surprised to see that camera inside my closet.”

“Oppa, can we go out?”

You sounded weary, and Jungkook didn’t like it. Not one bit. So, to cheer you up, he decided to say the sentence that you probably wanted him to say.

The three words that he had been yearning to say.

The three words that would change your lives drastically, either for the best or the worst.

For other people, it would certainly be the worst. But for him, it would be best. Because life with you was heaven in itself.

“I love you.”

There was a momentary silence before you replied in a soft voice. The kind of voice whose speaker had already surrendered to their fate, yet couldn’t have it any other way.

Because this was for the better.

“I love you too, Oppa.”

Satisfaction colored the happiness in his smile as he realized that hidden blessings existed in every kind of predicament. He just needed to look deeper and be patient.

For he would reap what he sow.

[ashfountainfanfics]

It’s July 18th.

It’s been two weeks since the Mind Flayer was defeated and the gate was sealed. Everyone is trying to get back to their old lives the best they can. It’s weird how every time everyone seems to go back to normal even though they all know things are different. They all have something familiar to lean on everyone except...

“HARRINGTON!”

Steve heads upstairs to heed the call, cursing under his breath. He nearly trips over the middle step but catches himself. He’s gotten so graceless in the last year or so. Sometimes he wonders if every time Hawkins is under attack he loses cool factor. He’s never really returned to his old self not since the beginning. With every new, terrifying event Steve takes on a new role.

Steve opens the door to his family’s guest bedroom.

“Radio!” Steve shouts back upon entry, “What is so hard about using it?!”

“Bite me,” a gruff voice responds. 

It’s late evening in Hawkins and given the seclusion of the Harrington residence and the drawn curtains of the guest room; it feels as if the voice belongs to the dark itself. The smell of the room is unsettling too; two week’s worth of unwashed everything sealed into four walls. Steve holds his nose.

“Y’know there’s a shower right through that door,” he says as he tries to breathe as little as possible, “and the light switch-”

“Turn on that light and you’re dead.”

Steve ambles toward the low light lamp he knows is on the bedside nightstand. It clicks on and gives the room a dull, warm light. That lights hits a bedridden Billy softer than the switch would have. Still he winces and groans at the change and Steve sighs.

“I’m not much help if I can’t see.”

“Bucket’s full,” Billy replies through grit teeth.

“Of course.”

Steve comes around to the other side of the bed and looks at the large paint bucket filled with vomit. It’d be nice if he had help to care for his unwanted house guest but he wouldn’t dare put anyone else through this. As far as Steve’s skills as a nurse go; he somewhere between shitty boyfriend and a good babysitter.

“Chair,” Billy says right as Steve is about to pick up the puke bucket.

Billy’s wheelchair is on it’s side and out of reach for him. Which means he threw it again. Steve doesn’t mention it. Instead he rights it and brings it bedside for Billy.

“Do you, uh-” Steve tries to phrase it differently as he locks the chair in place.

“If I want your fucking help, I’ll ask.”

Steve returns to the bucket and sets about dumping it into the toilet in the adjacent bathroom. He has to do it in small bits and he prays silently that he doesn’t spill any. The last time that happened he had to toss his jeans out.

As he flushes, Steve can hear Billy grunting and struggling to get into the wheelchair. It’s hard to manage even with help given that he’s covered in stitches and has a broken foot. He can’t do crutches because the stitches on his sides might split from the pressure. They’re huge, oddly shaped patch jobs that the doctor insists require bed rest. Oh, and the nurse essentially guarantees scarring. Steve doubts that Billy will be playing any shirts vs skin games anytime soon.

“Fuck!”

There’s a loud thud that follows right after. Steve drops the bucket and hurries back to the bed to find Billy crumpled on the ground. The chair is flipped and Billy is on his stomach holding a hand to his bandaged side.

Steve moves the wheelchair aside quickly and starts going about picking Billy up. Billy pushes him away and screams not to touch him. Steve keeps trying and manages to flip him onto his back. This makes Billy more furious and he starts throwing punches to the best of his ability. This isn’t the first time that Billy is fighting help. He’s been doing it since he was discharged from the hospital.

“Stop. Hitting. Me!” Steve grabs his dirty patient by the wrists.

Billy screams into Steve’s face so hard that the veins in his neck stand out. Steve holds steady though and the scream seems to be the last of the fight left. He takes stock of him as he keeps him pinned; the red eyes and the tear stained cheeks. Billy is hissing from the pain and, one could argue, whimpering, if there was ever a guttural version of whimpering.

“Okay,” Steve collects his thoughts, “I can’t keep doing this. I have dealt with some shit, man but this? Trying to take care of you is the hardest bull shit I’ve ever been through-”

Billy manages a weak growl and the slightest push back against Steve’s hands.

“No, no no, I’m not done! You have two choices; either you start letting me help you or I dump your ass on your parent’s front porch.”

The violence in Billy’s gaze disappears in a single blink. It’s replaced by something else, something that feels familiar to Steve. He can’t dwell on it though. He needs to seize the opportunity while he can.

“I’m not asking for any thank you’s or even a please, okay?” Steve softens, “Let me help you. That’s it. Just let me help you.”

Billy nods but can’t bring himself to make any eye contact. Steve sighs in relief before putting one arm under Billy’s good knee and the other under his arm. He remembers to lift with his legs but the transition isn’t painless for Billy. The wounded of the pair seems to be trying to meet the other halfway though as his groans and hisses are absent of anger.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Steve says, knowing full well that’s why Billy wanted the chair in the first place, “just mind the bucket and when you’re ready-”

Steve grabs the radio he already knows is stashed under one of the pillows. He puts it in Billy’s lap.

“Radio me and I’ll take a look at your stitches.”

---

Billy absolutely pulled a stitch during his last tantrum. Thankfully, it doesn’t warrant a trip back to the hospital but it does require a little cleaning and a fresh bandage. It’s unbearably quiet as Steve mentally walks through the steps Max left him. Babysitting even in upside down level circumstances takes less effort than playing nurse.

The instructions for all this isn’t too difficult but Steve has to sift through all of Max’s details and what if scenario information. That kid is like an encyclopedia for wounds. She’d make a great nurse. Someday. And not for her formerly possessed brother who tried to kill her and her friends. Even the most seasoned nurse might have a little trouble with that.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks over an unintentional sneer from the disinfectant.

“Huh?”

This seems to wake Steve up from his intense thought process.

“Your mouth,” Billy gestures gently, “you’re moving it like you’re saying something but you’re not saying shit.”

“Uh...I’m thinking, I guess.”

“You need to do that to think?”

Steve takes a bit of his frustration out on the roll of tape for the bandages and forcefully pulls a strip.

“Guess so,” he replies curtly.

No one’s ever pointed out that quirk before but then maybe no one ever noticed? Or maybe it’s a new development? Some neurotic shift resulting from the trauma of being tortured by Russians or purposefully crashing a car or seeing a building sized rotting flesh monster? The world is full of possibilities.

Steve places the strip of tape on the headboard to keep it ready and within reach. He moves in to adjust Billy but thinks better of it.

“Can you hold yourself up a little more?” he asks.

Billy obliges. Awkwardly, Steve sits on the free space of the bed and moves in close. Billy lifts his arms enough to allow Steve to start winding the gauze around his torso and over a shoulder. In the past couple weeks this was just as difficult as anything else was but now that the boys have an agreement the physicality of it goes smoother.

“Why is this taking so long?” Billy grunts.

“Uh, maybe because you’re not screaming and trying to punch me?”

Steve has time to do this right, no rogue limbs and noise pollution to make it hurried. However, that lack of sound and movement does make things quiet and kind of weird. It seems as though if they’re not fighting then they’ve got nothing to talk about.

Steve gets to the final round and places the big strip of duct tape across the uninjured part of Billy’s chest. Then he carefully places his hands on his work and checks for loose gauze. 

Billy’s body is so warm under the bandage and despite the damage on his torso he still looks like he could bench press Steve. Maybe Billy would be playing shirtless basketball again after all.

“If you don’t explain what this is I’m going to have to punch you,” Billy says flatly.

Steve pulls his hands back quickly and holds them up in pseudo surrender.

“I’ve never been able to check if I did it right before. Feels right,” Steve stumbles over his words, “Firm. And-and good. How do you feel?”

Billy narrows his eyes and the air shifts dangerously.

“You queer?” he asks in disgust.

Steve feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Queer? Nobody’s ever asked if Steve’s a queer. Steve’s the one who asks that. An instinctive rage tears at the question but then Steve remembers...

‘But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.’

Steve used to ask shit like that. Not anymore.

“What if I am?” Steve asks heatedly.

“The fuck did you just say?”

The anger starts to flicker back into Billy’s eyes.

“What if I am?” Steve repeats, “It wouldn’t change anything. Being queer, or uh, different doesn’t make someone not a person and in case you forgot right now I’m the person stuck taking care of your ass.”

Of all the times that both Steve and Billy have ever accused someone of being gay neither of them have ever heard that kind of response. It’s twice as shocking for Steve for no other reason than it’s his response. The room feels a little smaller now and Steve tries to keep in mind the kind of insecure asshole Billy is, the kind of asshole Steve used to be. The longer Steve sits there on the bed with his statement in the air the smaller the room gets.

“But no,” Steve stands up, “I’m not queer.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

“Calling people pretty boy, honestly? That sounds kinda queer, so-”

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that!” Billy shouts, his fists pounding into the mattress.

He backs off his anger right away though his body unable to handle it.

“Okay,” Steve relents.

“I’m not a fag.”

“I got it.”

“I’m no-”

Billy’s face goes pale and his mouth begins to quiver. Steve knows what this face preludes and makes a run for the bucket left in the bathroom. He manages to get a hold of it as Billy starts dry heaving. He runs back into the room but trips over his feet. He slides desperately trying to get the bucket back in time. He misses by an inch and Billy vomits hard all over himself and the bed.

---

“No,” Billy gurgles quietly as Steve does his God given best to place him into his parents’ large, squared bath tub.

The tub squeaks as Billy’s body settles into a decent position. Steve breathes out heavily and tells himself not to think about the effort that’s going to come from getting this dead weight out of the tub. Instead he has to focus on the quickest and least weird way to bathe another person’s entire body. Like all of it. Because the thing Steve was dreading the most is here; Billy absolutely needs a bath.

Billy also seems as though he was dreading this but luckily Steve had the foresight to convince him into taking his pain medicine first. Then it was just a matter of letting it kick in as Steve threw out the sheets and set the mattress on the curb for garbage to collect.

His parents can afford a new mattress and Steve honestly feels it’ll be less effort to be bitched out than trying to clean up.

“Give me… my clothes,” Billy slurs.

“Listen, you’d be in your underwear right now if I had a choice but as it turns out you don’t wear underwear.”

It’s practically comical, the unfortunate luck Steve has. He manages to avoid the fight but gets stuck with nudity. He’s technically seen Billy naked before, back in high school in the gym showers, but other than a douchey tap on the shoulder from Billy there was no contact. It was a circus trying to load Billy into the tub naked and desperately trying to avoid everything around and attached to his pelvis.

Steve turns the water on.

“Cold,” Billy groans as he tries to pull a face at the faucet.

“It’ll get warm, relax.”

The water adjusts and Billy seems to forget the circumstances of this bath as he relaxes. He’s practically serene against the cream colored tile despite the seran wrapped cast propped on the edge of the tub. His eyes are heavy like he might just fall asleep after all. Steve realizes that in time he’s known Billy he’s never once seen him calm like this or any other variation of calm. In many ways, Billy reminds Steve of some big wild animal. He always looks… predatory.

Steve takes a large cup and pours water slowly across the front of Billy’s chest, allowing it to pool down to places where Steve’s not looking to make direct contact given his previous acrobatics around them. The water clears the faded trail the puke had left behind.

Billy hums a little as Steve tries not be repulsed by pressing a bar of soap to his skin.

“Don’t do that,” Steve practically begs.

“I haven’t had a bath,” Billy muses, “in a tub. A bathtub bath. Since I was a kid. My mom...”

Steve makes a face and tries to move a little faster. He was hoping that the painkillers would tire him out too much for any talk. Although given that Steve has also been high and babbled inconveniently before he shouldn’t judge.

“My mom was the only one...who gave me baths...and then she was... gone.”

Steve stops mid pour on the second cup of water.

Gone, he has the good sense to wonder and not ask, like left? Or gone like dead? Or both? Wait how would he know if it was both if she left? Unless someone called. That would really suck.

Steve sticks with his better judgement and lets Billy’s comment go without further acknowledgement. He finishes up the second rinse.

“Can you wash my hair?” Billy opens his heavy eyes just long enough to make eye contact, “Please?”

“Sure...”

Steve finds himself coming around to the other side of the tub to sit down. The shampoo he uses has an orange color and smells sweet like honey. It may be his mom’s or his dad’s or both. Steve wouldn’t know. He hadn’t been in close enough proximity of either to know something like that. He can’t even recall what products, if any, they ever smelled like. They always keep at least a foot between them and him even when they’re angry.

Steve digs his fingers into Billy’s hair and does gentle circular motions. He starts at the crown and works down to the base of the neck. Billy’s hair has isn’t too bad and the movement breaks up the any matting. Eventually, Billy’s hair is soft again.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks despite wishing he hadn’t. The silence was probably better.

“Where’d you learn to do...that?”

Steve looks around as if somehow someone might be spying on him. He takes his hair secrets very seriously.

“I don’t think you’ll remember this but if you do you better not tell anyone. You better swear.”

“I swear,” Billy vows with a goofy smile.

“I’ve got a cousin who’s a hairdresser in the city and she says this is the best way to wash hair. Helps it to grow and stuff. It’s the way I wash mine so yeah. I guess it’s a technique.”

Steve is working his way back to the top again, his fingers massaging Billy’s scalp under honey scented bubbles and warm water.

“It’s like getting a blow job but for your hair,” Billy laughs sleepily.

“And we’re done now.”

Steve pulls his hands out of Billy’s locks. His cheeks go flush and without thinking he wipes the suds off on his shirt. He retreats back to the other side of the tub to get the cup and get this over with.

“No..no no,” Billy continues to giggle to himself, “I like it. Head for your head haha.”

“Very funny,” Steve deflects as he tilts back Billy’s head to rinse his hair out.

“No... no, you’re not listening.”

Billy places a lazy grip onto the collar of Steve’s shirt while Steve still has a hand on the back of Billy’s neck. The atmosphere shifts into unfamiliar territory. Steve feels like maybe all this isn’t just awkward, it’s inappropriate.

“I like it,” Billy mutters before pulling Steve closer and very gently kissing him on the mouth.

Steve panics, drops the cup and tries to pull back but Billy holds his grip and kisses him again, this time using tongue. Steve’s ears feel hot with embarrassment because he can taste Billy’s tongue. It’s a cool mint from brushing his teeth earlier. It tingles the roof of Steve’s mouth.

Billy lets go of Steve’s shirt to let his hand migrate to Steve’s neck. He tangles his fingers into Steve’s dark strands.

It’s a primal kiss and the energy shocks Steve into staying completely still. He’s the proverbial deer in the head lights.

Billy breaks the kiss by seizing his fingers into Steve’s hair and pulling him back.

“Whatsa matter, gorgeous?” Billy smirks, “Can’t keep up?”

He’s an animal, Steve panics, all he knows is fucking and punching and now that he’s not punching- oh God.

“You never kiss like this?” Billy taunts him, “I can give you romance if you want. Treat you soft-“

His pouty lips start to trail kisses on Steve’s jawline.

“You can be my pillow princess if you want, pretty boy. I can be gentle.”

Something snaps in Steve. Something competitive and furious. Angrily he brings his lips to Billy’s and starts to kiss him wanting to prove that he’s no princess. He’s a man. 

Billy moans into it before biting Steve’s lip baiting him to give him more. Steve is overcome with the need to devour him. He wants to taste everything Billy has to offer. He grabs Billy’s wrists and goes to pin them at his sides.

Billy winces and lets out a pained groan which stops them both. Steve had grabbed a little too roughly and with that pulled stitch on one side Billy can’t be handled like that.

Billy is staring at Steve. He’s wide eyed and shocked and Steve stares back.

Things feel awkward again but this time Steve is a reason for it. It now seems inconceivable that Steve had kissed him back let alone with that vigor. He wipes the water and shared saliva from his lip with the back of his hand. He can still Billy’s eyes on him as he spits into the sink.

That was gross...I’m gross.. Steve thinks as he looks at his reflection in the mirror.

“We should, uh,” he desperately tries to change the subject, “we should get you to bed.”

Billy, still high as a kite, snorts and gestures to nothing in particular.

“What bed?”

—-

“Oh my God.”

Steve is expecting something a little more succinct from Robin but maybe taking the Lord’s name in vain is the best way to sum it up.

“I know.”

“Oh my God!”

“I know, Robin!” Steve responds in equal parts shame and exasperation.

“No,” Robin glares at Steve, “I mean ‘oh my God’ as in; Oh my God I’ve been gay like my whole life and you get to have a same sex kiss before me?! Jesus Christ you get everything!”

Steve, dumbfounded, sits quietly as he lets Robin process things. It felt dangerous to breathe a word of last night’s events to anyone but Robin isn’t just anyone. She gets the gravity of keeping this kind of secret.

It’s hot again today as they sit out by the pool. Steve’s radio is within ear shot, sitting on a lawn chair in the shade, should Billy call but given that he’s been out cold since last night Steve doubts it. 

It was Robin’s idea to have daily pool time. They were both out of job and the second she saw that Steve’s place had a pool she knew she needed at least an hour a day in the water. Steve’s thankful for it now. It feels therapeutic to see Robin show up everyday in her black one piece and her short hair clipped back at the sides. She always reeks of sunscreen though.

Steve kicks his feet a little in the water.

“So… what do I do?”

“How should I know?! You’re more advanced than me.”

“No. No, no, I am not advanced. I’m not even in this class!”

“Billy kissed you,” she laughs, “you’re not even gay and you get action. Is it something that only I don’t get? I mean I like women, so of course I don’t get it but I thought Billy was straight.”

“He is!” Steve backtracks, “I think.”

“You think?”

Billy didn’t actually date in high school. Every girl, with the exception of the usual groups, wanted Billy. Bad. The guy could sneeze and panties would drop. They were obsessed.

But he never dated them. Any of them. He didn’t even fool around. He acted like they weren’t good enough and that made him even more appealing to them. He was hot and completely unattainable and he didn’t seem at all interested in that advantage.

“Well being gay would explain that,” Robin remarks after Steve shares his thoughts, “cover it up by telling yourself you’re better than them. I can relate, yknow, minus the popularity stuff.”

Unbeknownst to either Steve or Robin, Billy had actually spoken at times about his hookups with women. These were women though not high school girls. Some of those women being the mothers of the very guys who supported his social status by the way. He gave enough details to keep from being questioned but never enough to out the cohorts of his sexual escapades. Older women prefer that kind of discretion and Billy didn’t mind.

 But, since Robin and Steve aren’t in the know, there’s only one logical conclusion.

“He likes boys,” Robin shrugs before slipping the rest of her body over the edge and into the pool.

She starts making a lap leaving Steve to stew in this deduction. How is this whole Nurse Steve thing going to work now? How does he avoid any interaction when he has to take care of him? It’s not like Billy can go anywhere else, El made that clear over the radio this morning. Under no circumstances is Billy to be handed over to his father. El’s tone ensured there’d be no room for argument and Steve isn’t exactly itching to argue with her either. She’s a scary kid.

Robin and Nancy have nowhere to hide him. Johnathan has enough to take care of with his mom grieving for the chief of police. Not that the Buyers have much room either. There’s no one else with time and room to get Billy back on his feet. It’s not like Steve can claim that his parents are coming home any time soon either: they’re both camped out in the city in order to wait out their ties with the former mayor. The soonest they’d be back is Thanksgiving if they come back at all.

“Hey dingus!”

Robin had made half a lap and is now pulling herself out of the water. She shakes her hair, almost like a dog, and Steve feels an overwhelming affection for her. That’s his best friend there, drying off like a Labrador.

“Shall I point out the obvious?” She calls out as her bare feet leave a trail of wet footprints behind her.

“The obvious?” Steve asks more to himself than to Robin.

Robin stands behind Steve and plants a foot firmly onto his back.

“You never said that you didn’t kiss him back.”

Steve can’t respond to that though as Robin gives a kick sending Steve into the water.

[fanfictionized]

The Hating Game - Mockingbird (2)

Characters: Lance Tucker x Latina!OFC

Chapter Summary: The Reader learns that Lance’s advances are not entirely for his own amusement. That perhaps she means something more to him than just a flirt...

Warnings: flirting, inner turmoil if that’s a warning

Words: 1.9k

The Hating Game - Masterlist // Previous Chapter

“See you later!” Ana yelled as she stood in the doorway, waving to her sister who was washing dishes in the kitchen.

Lucy turned her head towards her.

“Be careful, okay? I’m going to pick you up at six-thirty!” She said and Ana just replied a “Sure” before the door shut behind her.

Lucy watched her walking down the street from the kitchen window.

She’d drive her to practice every day if it were possible for her. She didn’t like her little sibling walking through their neighborhood to get to the gym.

Their neighborhood wasn’t a necessarily good place to walk through on your own. Especially if you were a girl.

But she especially wouldn’t let her walk through it after practice, once the sun was down and the streets were cast in long shadows.

That much she could do.

She threw the dish towel aside, running a hand through her long, curly hair.

She still needed so much stuff to be done before she’d pick her up and the guilt of leaving her to roam the streets alone plagued her already. She sighed deeply.

One day Lucy, she thought to herself, one day she’s gonna be big enough. It’ll get easier someday. Easier to let her go, do stuff on her own.

But she knew exactly that she’d always worry. She was everything she had. And the other way around.

Even though their house was small and yes, fragile, it was all their parents had left them.

And she couldn’t be more glad for what they still had. She had no idea what she’d do if she still had to pay extra rent.

People say you can either be a warrior or you can be a worrier.

She’d like to think of herself as both.

And even though she neither had a sword or shining armor, nor the mental stability and self-confidence of, let’s say, a Bob Ross, she needed that thought to be true more than anything else.

Because if she wasn’t gonna fight (and yes, worry) for her little sister, then who else was?

She sunk down at the kitchen table, facing the dunning letter that was placed on a pile of other bills on top of there. She ran a hand over her face in distress, pouring herself another cup of coffee and groaning at the thought of still having to deal with Lance later as well.

Like one (pre-)pubescent child to look after wasn’t enough?

This was going to be a long night.

.

.

.

The old car rattled and stuttered as she drove into the reserved parking spot, crashing down to a halt in front of the gym.

Her hands were clenching the steering wheel tightly, fingers thrumming on top of it nervously.

“Just stay in the car, Lucy.”

She told herself.

“You won’t ever have to deal with this asshole again.”

But did she never want to deal with him again? Her brain told her yes, but her heart told her no, or rather her pussy ‘cause it was clenching just at the simple thought of him in his tight-fitting white shirt and the long legs wrapped in those sweat pants…

God, what the hell is wrong with you?

She shook her head, angry with herself as she opened the door with force and slamming it close behind her with even more.

Fucking weak, the voice resonated inside her head.

“Carajo.” She hissed and ran a hand through her tousled hair.

She was late. Later than usual, so maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with him. Or at least wouldn’t have the time to deal with him.

She ripped the doors open, storming inside. She could feel her tits bouncing with the rapid approach, looking around even though her sister was nowhere to be seen.

“Ana?” She shouted a little insecure, crossing her arms and walking further inside. It was awfully quiet, the silent echo of the wind in the big hall making a shudder run through her body.

That was until a head emerged from behind the office door, opening at hearing her call.

“Lucy!” His deep voice called for her, making her head turn and look back at him and the ease she had been feeling up until that point vanished all at once because he was not wearing his usual smirk like a fucking accessory, but instead a concerned look on his face that made the blood in her veins run cold.

She had approached him more quickly than he had anticipated.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, seemingly alarmed, looking all the way up at him with those big, brown doe eyes. He gulped down those thoughts.

“’S nothing. She just whirled herself against the bar the wrong way- bruised her arm pretty badly, but Nicole over here’s taking a look at it.” He explained.

She looked past him and into the room where there she found Ana sitting on one of those office chairs while ‘Nicole’ was wrapping a bandage around her sister’s upper right arm.

“Who are you?” Lucy walked past him, the fruity smell of her not going past him as it lingered wherever she walked, raising an eyebrow at the woman.

“Hi, I’m Nicole, I-I work here three days a week. We’ve seen each other at the reception last week?” She asked, hands still working on the bandage while her kind eyes were looking back at her. It was like she could do this in her sleep.

“Yes… right, hi.” Lucy replied, thinking back to that.

“Well, anyway, I also work as a nurse part time and I can tell you that everything’s fine with Ana.” Her smile was friendly when she stood up to formally greet her, extending her arm for her to shake her hand. She returned the favor.

“No sprain or anything, but I’m sure it’s gonna leave a nasty bruise so… I wouldn’t let her strain her right arm too much. For a few days at least.” She explained. Lucy nodded, listening closely as she ran a hand over her sister’s wavy hair.

“Well” She said, shaking her head “Thank you, Nicole. I’m very grateful for that.” She smiled back at her finally- after her nerves had managed to calm down a little.

“No problem. Oh, and if you have any questions you can ask me anytime. Well… I’m here Monday through Wednesday.” She laughed and sent her a wink, Lucy managing to break a smile as well.

“Thanks.” She replied.

“I’ll see you around.” She said before her gaze wandered over to Lance, lingering there for more than just a second as she slid past him, through the door and outside towards the reception again.

Lucy noticed her staring, but didn’t bring herself to care in that moment, instead turning the chair Ana sat on to take a look at her arm herself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked with a gentle tone in her voice, kneeling down to run her fingers over her arm gently.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bruise, you heard her. No big deal.” She muttered.

Lucy knew she was trying to act tough even though she was probably okay for real.

“Such a brave girl.” She mumbled, smiling down at her and taking her head between her hands before leaning down to kiss her forehead but before her lips could even reach her face, she’d pulled away and stumbled out of that chair, eyes wide in shock and embarrassment.

“Ay, Lucia!” She said angrily, cheeks turning pink before she stormed out of the room and towards the exit.

She forgot that showing any kind of affection could only ever be embarrassing for her. She had finally reached that age. Sadly.

She sighed, pouting when she saw her stomp away like that.

Lance could only chuckle at that.

“Kids, am I right?” He asked and she could only scoff at his remark, rolling her eyes before she decided to go past him as well.

“As if you’d know anything about them.” She shook her head in playful disbelief.

“Oh, I know ’em. Spend all goddamn day surrounded by them. Probably even spend more time with some of them than their actual parents.” He spoke up, jogging next to her as she walked through the hall, hands resting in his pockets comfortably as he looked down at her. She wouldn’t even bless him with her attention. He knew she put extra effort into that.

“You know ‘em ’cause you are one.” She snapped back and he drew in a sharp breath before he reached out to grab her wrist. Gently. Not to hurt her. But enough to make her stop dead in her tracks.

He saw her gulp as she looked down at where his fingers were wrapped around her arm and he let go as soon as her gaze began to linger, making him clear his throat uncomfortably before taking his other hand out of his pockets.

“Go out with me.”

“Excuse me?” She almost choked on her own spit, eyes almost popping straight out of her skull.

“Yeah.” His usual drawl and the smirk that came with it appeared once again on his face.

He licked his lips before continuing.

“I mean it. Go out for a drink with me.”

Her mouth hung open in shock.

She had expected another meaningless flirt, some dirty comments that had her think about them every time she was in a dirty mood, but… Not this. Never this, so… official. And somewhat adult.

“I… I don’t drink.” She managed to stammer, which was of cause a whole-ass lie. She sometimes drank like her life depended on it even though that made the irony so hilarious.

She tried not to though. Not anymore. For Ana.

“Then I’ll take you out to dinner.” He continued.

There was a lot you could say about Lance Tucker, but that son of a bitch was persistent as hell. And she was only yet to find out.

“I don’t - “

“Eat?” He finished her sentence, laughing at seeing her perplexed face and the pout on it.

“Now, who’s the one acting like a child?” He asked cockily, making him cross his arms in front of his bulky chest. She didn’t like the way he was always so fucking smug around her.

She wanted to wipe that right off his face, perhaps fix his attitude a little since he seemed to have quite a lot of it.

“That’s still gonna be you.” She raised her eyebrows to send him a bitchy look.

“And I’m sorry, Tucker…” She leaned in closer, holding his gaze, a smirk appearing on her face before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’m not into boys. I’m into real men.” She whispered and she watched his eyes darken into a deep dark blue, the fluorescent light bringing out the last strip of silver in them.

She took a step back before he could even think of a sassy reply, this time swaying her hips on purpose as she went outside but before the doors had closed on her completely she heard the distant, laughter-filled yell directed at her;

“I won’t stop trying, you know?”

And she could only suppress a grin in front of her sister before she got into the car.

[happilyneverafters]

December, 2019

This is my suicide note; killing off the idea of you, burying the memory of us and sending my love for you back to the Heavens. I’ve poisoned myself with the misery that you’ve left. I don’t mean to make this poetic, with comparisons to describe my devastation, but that is all I know how to do. And maybe if I combine all of my poems that I’ve wrote about you, it would be a lot easier than writing this letter, but instead I’ll write to you one last time. I will hand-write this letter, because no one ever does anymore, then I will set fire to it, physically burning away my words that I leave you with. Tonight is the end of 2019... and the end of you, to me.

I’m surprised I’m conjuring up enough words to write this final letter, seeing that I’ve expressed each and every feeling I’ve had towards you multiple times a day for months on months; wasting my time, energy, breath and free time constantly overflowing words from my lips. Beautiful in a sense yet damning overall. I don’t want to accuse you of breaking my heart on purpose, you’re too pure for that, but nevertheless you completely broke me and it didn’t phase you. How cruel can one be? As close as we had been for years and aside from the love I thought we shared, our friendship was undeniable... how could you, as a “best friend”, stab me in the heart and walk away acting as if you’re blood free? Acting as if you did nothing wrong? Acting as if what you did, was all on me. You’re pathetic. The love, the unconditional, overwhelming, gut wrenching love that I have for you... has turned into a complete disrespect for your name. A name that I so badly wanted to be pinned next to mine is now a name that twists in my stomach anytime I hear it, in a way that makes me cringe at the sound. Don’t think it was you that had the power to break me. Because at first I crowned that upon you, allowing you to... but in reality it was me, it was always me. I had gotten myself drunk on the idea of having you back in my life, getting a second chance to call you forever mine... what I had been envious of for so long. I wanted it to be me that you got down on one knee for, because that’s what I had dreamed of for years knowing that I wouldn’t hurt you the way she did. I wanted to whisk you away, giving you everything that had been lacking from your life, proving to you that I could be what I always wanted to be for that special someone and what I thought you needed. So when you left, shutting the car door and driving away, I was selfish enough to think you would miss me as soon as you got home. Or when you woke up in a week. Or left town. But you didn’t, because I assumed. I assumed the love, the unconditional, overwhelming, gut wrenching love, was mutual. That’s how you made it seem. But were you drunk in the sense that you don’t remember the words you said? The actions that you performed? Was it more of a show, rather than reality? Take a bow, because you are the greatest actor of our generation. For so many months after you left, I put the blame on me. That I rushed you. That I was too aggressive. That I was too excited. That I did too much. Or not enough. That it was my fault for saying those three words, that I repeated in five. But all in all, I did nothing wrong. You came back to me and I wasn’t going to let you go again. I’m not sorry for saying those words, because I meant them, but I’m sorry that you didn’t mean them when you repeated it back to me, because you felt you had to. You needed to hear them, to know someone truly did love you during your pain and your hurt and your trauma but I’m sorry that you didn’t find them strong enough to save you from the evil that now lives inside of you. I should be happy for you, for finding love and happiness inside someone else, the same that I found in you, but instead I want to warn her. Prepare her to guard her heart with the strongest of stone, because the so-called man that she is falling in love with, doesn’t have a heart at all and is too self absorbed to care for anyone but himself. Too harsh? Maybe. But I’m able to say this because I have experienced it first hand. Tell me I’m lying? You can try. But you’ve been blind to the person you’ve become rather than the person that I know you to be. I fought for the person I knew. I tried so hard to crack the armor that you wore. I tried, with everything in me, to wait for you to snap. But the weight of your memory and the misery of your absence has gotten too heavy for me to carry. I became numb. (cont.)

(cont.) A feeling of having absolutely zero feelings. I became the greatest actress, faking a smile and laughing away the hurt. The depression I thought I locked away began to seep under the cracks like lava, taking over everything I am. The ghost of you made a joke out of me by making the life I lived, a nightmare. 20 out of the 24 hours a day... five out of my seven day week, I lost myself... something I promised I would never do again. And I did, on behalf of you. You made me question me. Who I was. What I was doing wrong in life. Why nothing ever worked before. And why, the one time, I fell in love... true love, it burned me alive with rage rather than light. The love, the overwhelming, gut wrenching love that I have for you, now feels more like an illness. And seeing that I’m not impacting you the way you have impacted me, tells me it’s time to let you go. I should have let you close the car door and drive away for good, so now I will. My love for you will never die, it will always be the love, the unconditional, overwhelming, gut wrenching love for you and you only, but rather than packing the rest of my heart that I gave to you in a box and placing it on the shelf, I must completely rip it to shreds and start over, without your name engraved on it. You may not have loved me at all and someday I will accept that, I was selfish enough to think the growth I gained was desirable to someone like you. I’m sorry that I held you to such a standard and I hope one day you will look back and remember me, remember us. But until that day comes, I hope every time you hear my name or see my face, that it tears you up inside knowing that you had someone who would have given you the life you deserved and shared the experiences that you could paint portraits of, and you ruined her view of love because you chose lust rather than her love. And I hope you forgive yourself for your past but I hope it haunts you every single day like your memory has done to me.

[strange-destinations]

could you do the fic commentary thing for 'time & twinford' and 'something else that makes this tune complete'? :D

I’m going to do ‘something else’ here, and maybe if I have the mental energy I’ll do ‘time and twinford’ a bit later (since that one’s a long one whoo boy). Is there any particular scene for that fic that you maybe want me to do...? it might be a bit easier that way.

something else that makes this tune complete commentary and rambling under the cut!

It hadn’t even been intentional.They had been sitting around in Irving’s office in the White Rabbit, talkingabout everything and nothing – just two not-so-normal friends on a dangerousplanet spending time together over a not-too-great bottle of wine – and at somepoint, Benny had mentioned old Earth music and Irving had got up to open up oneof the cabinets to reveal the genuine-looking ancient antique record playerthat he had apparently been keeping for this exact moment.

I really, reallylove the idea of them just sitting around some nights and chilling – trying toget to know each other properly, since there’s a lot about each other that theydon’t know yet.

Brax is just pretentious enough to have an ancient record player hidden in his office, just waiting for the right moment to use it. Change my mind.

“Atmosphere,” he explained,picking out a record from a smaller shelf below it, and positioning itcarefully on the device.

Benny leaned back in her chair.“Or maybe you’re just finding an excuse to show off again.”

“Or maybe it’s that, yes,” heallowed, and brought the needle down. The faint static of the turning recordscratched cheerfully for a second or two, and then the sweet strains of jazzpiano echoed through the room, quickly followed by the crooning of a woman’slow, smooth voice.

I love Ella Fitzgerald. Like, a lot. So this is probably just me projecting onto characters (again)but I really feel like she’d be a singer that both Brax and Benny would enjoyand listen to. I toyed briefly with the idea of using the Isley Brothersinstead (because Benny canonically loves them a lot) but ultimately I decidedthat the Isley Brothers was more of a her-and-Seven thing, and that herrelationship with Brax needed to be somewhat removed from anything she sharedwith his brother. If that makes sense?

The song in question is Paper Moon, of course – my favorite version.

“Ah, dear old Ella,” Benny saidfondly, smiling. She took a sip of wine. “You know, the Doctor took me to seeher once?”

And despite what I said in the previous note, the Doctormanages to make an appearance anyway. Damn that guy.

For once, Irving didn’t seemannoyed at the mention of his brother. He just checked the needle on the recordplayer to make sure it was in place, and then came around the desk to sit nextto her again. “As did I. A remarkable woman. 1967, I believe. Her and DukeEllington, live at –”

“– live at Jazz àJuan ,” said Benny, eyebrows raising.

Okay, so my favorite jazz recording of all time is this one – which wasrecorded at the event I reference. I love the song anyway, mainly because it’sa wonderfully catchy jazz standard that isn’tabout love for once, but – this recording in particular? It’s so good, guys. It’s just pure,unadulterated joy and wonderfullyskilful improv, and Ella and Duke areclearly having so much fun doing it – you can hear them laughing and occasionallymissing notes and all the rest, and that somehow makes it so much better. I can’timagine what it would have been like to witness live.

There was silence for a second,broken only by the sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s sweet, clear voice.

“You were there?” Irving asked,genuinely surprised by this revelation.

“We must have both been,” Bennysaid. “Huh – that must have been before I even knew you existed. Smalluniverse.”

“Indeed.” Irving leaned on onearm of the chair. “I’m sorry I missed you, then.”

Someday I will write the fic of them accidentally bumping intoeach other in the dark at a jazz concert, and having a delightful littleconversation then that neither of them remember later for various reasons. Thisday is not today, or probably anytime soon. And even if that didn’t happen – I reallyjust like the idea of them both being at the same concert without realizing? It’sa nice sort of symmetry.

“It would’ve been a different sortof first meeting,” Benny agreed. They listened to the music in comfortablesilence for a while, and then she placed the glass on the desk, and stood,extending a hand to her friend. “C’mon.”

Benny is slightly drunk. Justkind of tipsy. She wouldn’t be suggesting this otherwise.

He looked up at her, unimpressed.“Bernice –”

“I can’t dance alone.” Shewiggled her fingers in his direction. “You put on the music. You should’ve seenthis coming.”

Reluctantly, he stood, settinghis drink aside. “I suppose I must have.”

Benny took his arm, and he loopedhis fingers around her other hand, and together they fumbled their way into aslow, clumsy pseudo-swing in which she stepped on his feet twice before finallygetting the hang of it. It wasn’t anything very complicated, but it felt right.

I – aaaaah I wantto comment on this, but I really can’t think of anything to say.

“Have we danced before?” Irvingasked, maybe sensing the familiarity about the way she was holding herself.

“With you? No,” Benny said,although she knew that wasn’t really what he was asking. He frowned slightly ather, a faint downwards curl of the lips, and she sighed and relented, steppingsideways to avoid colliding with a chair. “Once or twice. Mainly at some ofyour – at some of his parties. Never for very long,” sheadded, thoughtfully. “I’m clumsy as all hell on the dance floor.”

I’m nearly certain that they’ve danced in canon – maybe inone of the anthologies set on the Collection? It feels like the sort of thingthat they would end up doing at one of Collection!Brax’s charity balls or whatever.It was almost certainly a lot more formal and rigid than this – a lot lessrelaxed on so many levels.

Come to think of it, I would have loved do some sort ofjuxtaposition here between Collection Brax & Bernice – immaculate fancydress, prestigious ballroom, lots of important people from across the galaxythere for the Collection, and a strict dancing style set to rigid music – vs LegionIrving and Benny – weekend clothes, back room of the pub they own, just themand their family, bopping around to jazz music while laughing like nerds. Butas it turned out, I only ended up writing that second bit.

The first bit only exists in my imagination, I guess.

“We’re the same person,” hereminded her, although he didn’t sound too happy about it.

She stopped dancing for a second– bringing them swirling to a stop in the middle of the room – and looked up athim; looked at him properly. He was nearly an entire foot taller than her –always had been. His face was familiar. It was the face of the man who hadensnared her, stood by her, killed her husband, betrayed her; died right beforeher eyes. And yet he was none of those things. He was different, here and now –it was sometimes hard to remember, but it was important. He cared. Not justabout her – about all of them, and that was really more than she could say forthat other version of him.

“No,” she said. “You aren’t.”

This pretty much speaks for itself, to be honest.

There was definitely some affection between Collection Braxand Benny, but it took an entirely different form than what it is here. Like Isaid before – it was far more strained, and there was always thatemployer-employee relationship over the top of it – not to mention all the shitthat Brax got up to behind and not-so-behind the scenes.

She clasped her hand properly inhis, and he smiled, tentatively but genuinely, and put a hand on her back, andas the last strains of Paper Moon faded out, they danced likeit had been choreographed – like they had done it a million times before. Asthey twirled to a halt again, Benny squeezed Irving’s hand, and he squeezedback, and she grinned and leaned in to hug him. Incredibly, he hugged back -long fingers spreading out evenly over her back, leaning down to meet her. Sheopened her mouth, about to say something, but then –

Have I mentioned lately that Benny is so much shorter than Brax, in my head? I feel like I haven’t,actually. And that’s a tragedy. Massive height differences make friendships so much better, guys.  

Flash. The most brilliant, warmlight, filling her up inside so absolutely that she couldn’t imagine how shehad ever lived without it –

– and then something changed.

They are both completely, absolutely at ease with each otherhere – although neither of them is probably prepared to admit it. That’s theonly way that this fusion could have ever happened in the first place.

Tall – ridiculously tall, infact. Excellent. Dark hair still – only makes sense, really; a bit messier thanthey would have liked, but can’t be helped. One single hoop earring – well,that’s new! ( For you, maybe. ) ( I never said I objected. )( Well, good, because – )

Okay, so, two things. Two - the appearance of their fusion isa bit shaky in my head, and that’s why I haven’t described it all that muchhere, and also haven’t drawn them yet. And two – the thing about fusions (atleast, in my head) is that if the two-or-more people involved in them arein-tune enough, they will end up being perfectlyfused – so much so that you really can’t tell where one ends and the otherbegins. (Resist the urge to make a Scherzojoke, etc, etc.)

The only reason that they have a brief little internal backand forth here is (I seem to recall?) because the fusion is still kind of ‘settling’,so to speak – things are falling into place. When they fuse again later, there’sno internal conversation because they’ve fallen completely into sync and there’sno need for any dialogue between them – they’ve become one person.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait –

They looked down at their clothes– a curious mix of Irving’s carefully curated, immaculately tailored suit; andBenny’s somewhat less-than-immaculate casual clothes.

I can’t wait until I figure out what this actually lookslike.

“Oh, Goddess,” they said, eyeswidening, and then, “dear Rassilon – we didn’t. But – we did.What? How? I – how!? ”

In retrospect, this particular line of dialogue doesn’t makesense – at this point in her timeline, Benny no longer swears by the Goddess(whiiiich I forgot whoops) and with Time War in mind – although I’m still nottoo sure where Legion falls with Brax? Nobody really does, though – it’sunlikely he swears by Rassilon either. I don’t know, guys.  

The record was still playing.Ella was still singing – something different, more unfamiliar. They frowned,shook their head, and paced quickly across their – across Irving’s office andpaused, briefly delighted, when they noticed how long their stride had become,and then – “no, this is an emergency –” and they took theneedle off the record player, rendering the room silent, and resumed pacingagain.

Surprisingly – or maybe not-so-surprisingly – one of thisfusion’s quirks is a tendency to get randomly distracted by tiny things, andthen immediately kicking themselves into getting focused again. I like to thinkof this as Benny going off on a tangent and Irving going “Benny. Rambling.” – orsometimes the inverse. But it’s all internal, of course.

“We’re all right with this?” theyasked themselves aloud, because talking to themselves felt like a very them thingto do, and then they answered it with a, “yes, I think so,” and a, “good,excellent,” in response to that, and then they swivelled on their heel so theycould press their hands against their - Irving’s - no, their desk.

Another quirk of theirs: both Benny and Brax talk aloud tothemselves on occasion – which is just one of those things that comes withexisting in an audio-only medium, really! It’s only right that their fusionshould take that to the next level – holding elaborate conversations andarguments with themselves near-constantly.

“All right,” they said, “I’m herenow - this is me, so - I need a name. Right? Yes.”

They froze in place, becoming asstill as a statue in less than an instant, and thought for a moment.

I had this really good mental image of the fusion being ableto just straight-up freeze in  place whennecessary – and being able to do that uncannilywell. This is a combination of Brax’s ‘stands so still you think he’s astatue’ thing and Benny’s well-honed ability to freeze at the slightest soundof something extremely dangerous and growly in the tunnel/hallway/forest/etcbehind her.

I also feel like I introduced these three things a bit tooquickly? The pacing of this story is honestly Majorly Off.

“The Art-chaeologist,” they saidsuddenly, and then grinned, and then scowled, and almost immediately unfused –Benny and Irving being both practically thrown across the room in oppositedirections – Irving ending up in an undignified pile somewhere near his desk,and Benny hurtling the other way – knocking a chair askew enough that itactually broke into two, and landing face-down in the carpet.

“ No ,” said Irvinginstantly, picking himself up off the ground. He was still scowling.

The first concept for this fic that I had was this exact scene.It’s not quite as funny as it was inmy head when I first thought it up, but it comes pretty close, I hope.

Benny just laughed, turning overso she was facing him. “Come on – it’s perfect. You know it is.”

“No, no, no. Fusionis a unique and remarkable ability of my people that has been developed andperfected over our many centuries of existence. It is more-or-less sacred. Iabsolutely point-blank refuse to be the title of our –” and here he paused,like he was almost unsure of himself, before continuing right on, “ – our fusion besomething as commonplace and undignified as…” His face twisted unpleasantly.“…a pun .”

Brax, your Time Lord is showing!

But he’s right. ‘The Art-caheologist’ is a bit too undignifiedto suit them, unfortunately. If it were any other characters, I would have justrolled with it, but Brax – Brax isn’t standing for this nonsense.

“All right, all right,” Bennysaid, leaning back and rolling her eyes. “Killjoy.”

A moment passed.

“If we wanted to be extremelypedantic about naming conventions and so on,” said Irving slowly, and a tinysmile found its way onto his face, “…an acceptable name for us – them – wouldbe ‘Irverfield’.”

Now it was Benny’s turn to scowl.“If you do that, we’re never fusing again.”

About naming – these were the only two names I could come upwith for the fusion. And, regrettably, neither of them really seem to fit properly– hence, them both instantly shutting the other down. I’m still really unsureabout what to call the fusion – if anybody has any ideas at all please contact me.

He lost the smile, too. “Yes.About that.”

She was about to make anotherjoke, but then she caught the stricken look on his face. “I’m guessing youweren’t expecting that.”

“No. You were?”

“I – “ She made a so-so motionwith a hand. “I mean, I knew that it could happen – the Doctorand all, you know – but like I said – we’ve danced a few times, and it neverhappened before, so it didn’t really cross my mind until it happened, and thenI went, oh, right .”  It wasn’t like she hadn’t done itbefore. Travelling with the Doctor tended to expand your horizons in very unexpectedways.

I left it intentionally vague here because I wasn’t entirelysure if Benny would have fused with the Doctor at any point. (It’s implied shedid, but I didn’t want to outright say it just in case Rae (or me) wanted to dosomething different with the AU.)

“I see,” he said, and didn’telaborate.

She looped her arms around herknees, peering over at him. It didn’t look like either of them were planning ongetting up yet, and she was content to just sit on one side of the office forthe moment – he looked like he needed the space. “Everything okay?”

“I didn’t even think humans andTime Lords could fuse,” he said quietly.

She blinked. For once, she was inthe relatively unique position of knowing something about Gallifreyans thatIrving didn’t, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. “Huh. Really?” The Doctorhad never mentioned anything like this – fusion prejudice, or whatever. But itsounded about right. “One of those things that Time Lords frowned upon, huh?”

He just nodded.

I.. feel like I should say something here, but I’m not sosure how to put it? In essence, I took the whole xenophobia thing that the TimeLords have in canon and tried to recontextualize it in this universe – and whatI ended up coming with

“That must have been prettyshocking for you, then,” she realized, and then leaned forward. “I... haveabsolutely no idea if this is a personal question for you lot or not, but –when was the last time?”

I feel like it would bekind of a personal question, but Brax doesn’t really mind. It’s kind of alongthe lines of asking when you last had sex, or went to the dentist, or touched aplant.

“That I fused?” A kind of twistedsmile. “Nearly a century, I’d say.”

Benny puffed out her cheeks,surprised but trying not to show it outwardly. “Ouch. Been a while, then.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Hepicked at the carpeted floor absently with his fingers. “And before you ask, itwas no-one of consequence. Rather an impersonal affair, really. Not worthspeaking about – certainly not enjoyable.”

it was narvin

Benny winced. “I’m sorry aboutthat.”

Irving glanced up, surprised.“Don’t be. It was, like I said, quite a while ago.”

“Still.” She pressed her lipstogether, and then said, “hopefully this was a bit better, than.”

“Oh, it was ,”Irving replied without even pausing to think about it. He didn’t exactly smile,but his expression became lighter and his eyes crinkled up around the edges.“You’re a remarkable woman, Bernice Summerfield.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” shereturned, mouth quirking upwards, and for a second or two there was justcomfortable silence between then.

I love them I love them I love them

And then Irving stood up.

“One more time?” he offered, witha sort of half-smile, stretching out a hand to her. “Only if you want to, ofcourse, but –” he hesitated, and then admitted, “it’s been a very long timesince I’ve had the chance to do this with anyone at all –”

Benny accepted the hand withouthesitation, cutting him off.

He took a breath, and then setoff into a direction in a pattern that turned out to be a waltz. The first fewsteps were more than a little awkward – this time, it was Irving’s turn to stepon her feet – but then they settled into the rhythm of things.

“No music?” she asked.

Irving smiled properly, and thenhummed, briefly, and sang, in a surprisingly clear, strong voice, “ itdon’t mean a thing – ”

I often wonder if Brax can sing – canonically, I mean. Myheart says yes, absolutely, but thething is, I don’t know if he would.He’s a bit of a showoff – but I don’t really know if he’s quite that brand of showoff, you know?

She got it instantly. “– ifyou ain’t got that swing, ” she joined in, voice not quite as clear ashis, but still in-tune; and they twirled in a tight but neat spiral, movingaround the tiny space of the office. The waltz turned into a quick two-stepkind of rhythmic jive,

“ Doo-wah, doo-wah,doo-wah, doo-wah, doo-wah – ”

There is something that’s just really delightful aboutsinging with a friend unaccompanied, especially if the singing in question was completelyunplanned. Ditto goes for dancing.

This song is the same one I referenced earlier – the Duke& Ella version that I linked above, that they both saw without realizing theother was there.

They started off singingtogether, but then Benny started laughing at the delightful absurdity of thesituation, and Irving chuckled, and although they were both still trying tokeep going, they didn’t end up getting much further than that. And as it turnedout, it didn’t really matter – because as Irving, still chuckling, pulled Bennyinto a loose twirl, the room flared with light again, and when it cleared –

– well, they had either bothvanished entirely, or were both still remarkably pleasant, depending on whichtheories of being you subscribed to, personally. But either way, the personthat was left alone in the room was hugging themselves and still laughing.

UGH Freudian slip – I meant to say ‘present’, not ‘pleasant’.Oh well.

Semi-deliberate reference to the Steven Universe Stevonnie fusionepisodes here. I always loved that image of the camera panning up as they twirlaround, hugging themselves, looking just superhappy.

“Aha!” they said, straighteningup with a wide smile on their face. “I’m back – excellent. ”

And then there was a considerablepause as they realized that neither they nor the two people that made up theirwhole had any idea what to do next. They hadn’t thought that far ahead.

This is mainly because I didn’t think this far ahead either.

“Well, then,” they said, slowly.“I suppose I should... hm.”

There was a knock at the door,and then it opened almost immediately, revealing Peter, who apparently hadn’tbothered to wait for a response before entering. He was looking at a clipboard,and so hadn’t actually noticed the fact that Benny and Irving no longertechnically as separate entities. “Irving, Jack needs you to sign for that newshipment of shot glasses.”

I have no idea how bars are supposed to function. Is that obvious?I thought for like five minutes about what sort of thing Peter would need Brax tosign for and the best I could come up with was shot glasses which is kind of pathetic tbh.

“I’ll get right onto it,” theysaid automatically, reaching for the clipboard. “Here, let me –”

Peter frowned. “You sound weird.Are you-?”

And then he looked up at them,and he dropped the clipboard, and let out a brief, very un-Peter-like shriek.

They backed away from himimmediately, raising their hands defensively. “Peter, listen – we – I –”

“Dear god whatdid the two of you do, ” Peter panicked, backing up againstthe wall. “Is this some time travel thing? Did you both try to travel to thesame spot at the same time and get horribly meshed together, or –”

“Hey – I hardly think I’m ‘horrible’ –”

“– is thispermanent?” Peter pretty much screamed at them. “I can’t handle thisif it is! I already have terrible family issues already, what the hell amI supposed to call you if you’re two people at once –”

Peter is freaking out because he can’t take having anotherweird pseudo-parental figure in his life – he’s had too many of those anyway,and the only thing that could get weirder than his mum and his…… uncle???? fusingat this point is the Doctor turning upsuddenly to get in on the fucked up family issue fun.

“ Don’t worry this wasintentional,” they yelled back. “Kind of! Absolutely! Definitely! Andit’s not permanent, we can probably unfuse if we just – um– ”

“That does not inspireconfidence!”

“Peter?!” Ruth hollered from downthe hallway, and there was the sound of running footsteps for a few seconds,before she burst into the room. “I heard a scream – oh my god! ”she added, staring. “How - just. How? ”

They were beginning to come tothe fascinating conclusion that, based on the surge of immense affection thatthey felt whenever a new person entered the room, both of of the people theywere made of cared a lot more about the residents of the White Rabbit than theytended to show outwardly. Which, in the case of Benny, who pretty much wore herheart on her sleeve; was more than a little impressive.

I need to write more Legion!fic – and actually while I’m here talking about this, let me just mentionthis real quick – a particular duo I want to see interacting more is Irving andRuth, because as far as I can remember they get literally no substantialinteractions in canon at all. Andhonestly I think there could be something really soft and adorable there? Ijust don’t quite know what it is yet.

“Hello. Yes.” They cleared theirthroat. “Let’s see – I am the fusion of your two friends; this was absolutelymeant to happen, maybe; they are both perfectly fine and rather enjoyingthemselves, and I prefer to go by ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than any explicitlygendered pronouns. Is there anything else?”

A note on the fusion’s speech/etc – I had a super difficulttime trying to figure out how to mesh Benny and Brax’s particular ways ofspeaking. I think I ended up writing them a bit too much Brax-wise than I wouldhave liked. I ended up going for ‘Brax’s diction/phrasing, with Benny’s slangand terms/occasional phrasing thrown in’.

Ruth stared, and then blinked,and then stared again. “Okay. Wow. Um, I’m gonna need amoment.”

They nodded, and then lookedaround the room, taking stock of what was going on. They were taller thanusual. One chair was broken. Peter was now standing in the corner, face pressedto the wall. He appeared to be having a small breakdown. Ruth had her eyesclosed, and was apparently thinking hard.

All in all, it wasn’t the worst waythis particular situation could have gone down.

“Hi, Irving,” said Jack, walkinginto the disaster and immediately making things a million times worse. “Hi,Benny.”

I love Jack, a lot. I feel like he’s that one person in yourPhilosophy & Ethics class who always chimes in with the statement orwhatever that makes the professor just stare at them blankly for a full tenseconds before their brain manages to reboot.

“Hello, Jack,” they said, with atiny, awkward wave in his direction. “Although, I suppose – technicallyspeaking – I’m not either of them anymore? It’s complicated. And, speaking ofthat, I’m now accepting suggestions for potential names for myself. So pleasefeel free to submit them now, at your convenience.”

Jack nodded, thought for half asecond, and then said, “the Art-chaeologist.”

They smiled pleasantly, and thensaid, “Jack, you’re fired.”

“Worth it,” he said, nodding.

Benny cares more about siding against Jack than she does arguingfor that (amazing, wonderful) pun, apparently!

..I don’t actually have any further notes for the rest ofthe fic (or maybe I’m just tired), but I should mention before I sign off fornow that the Legion family is very important to me.

Sorry for taking so long with this :D