#wondering if anyone else was just raised with a 'I dunno its whatever' thing instead of a culturally religious thing

[defiant-firefly]

(I've had my chatty medicines so you get a post about this)

There is something distinctly and uniquely alienating and bizarre about hearing people say 'Easter Sunday is the most religious day of the year'. Like, when was this?? If it's so religious and so so so important, how come no one thought to tell me it was religious until like four or five years ago?

Yeah it's kinda funny but I'm also sat there every time like "what the fuck are you talking about". The assumption I was raised Christian and am Christian via culture is really funny though cause like. Bro I have no fucking clue what any of this stuff is about.

My parents never taught me the majority of this shit. Anyone else assumed I already knew about it. This Easter talk I've been hearing about a weird amount more than normal is all new to me and making me think of all this shit lmao

[nerves-nebula]

TW: VRISKCOURSE IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2023

Feel free to ignore

Ding ding the witch is dead (the witch being vriska)

But honestly while I do agree that vriska represents Tumblr better I'm glad she lost because since I read homestuck for the first time 5 years ago I always found her kinda boring?

Like she only becomes interesting when interacting with other characters, like Terezi's whole thing with her, John/June's complicated feelings towards her, the many times she assaulted tavros and how that affected him, her relationship with Meenah (honestly I'd argue that Meenah is more interesting and spend less time with her than vriska, and she's still a dick so trust me the issue here is not unlikeability)

People act like she's the peak of unlikable female characters but she's just a popular girl that bullies others because her mom sucks, I already dealt with plenty of those IRL (especially during the time I first read HS), the machinations of her mind really aren't that complex, the only thing interesting about her is her powers.

Otherwise she's just a plot device

Basically what I'm saying is that there are unlikable female protagonists out there that are more interesting

Then again maybe her making me respond in this way is the point, maybe the point of a Tumblr woman is to make you wonder why anyone finds her interesting but I dunno I only been here for 6 years what do I know?

i mean i think that the way shes mean is why people hated her so much, cause she was mean in a way they found Too Close to real life. she wasn't unlikable the way a fictional character is SUPPOSED to be, she's unlikable the way your worst friend who ruined your life for years was, hah.

i dont really have a horse in this race as far as the Tumblr Culture goes, cause idc that much. but I do have an interesting relationship with her character so I might as well share it here.

I have particular affection towards Vriska because she reminds me A LOT of my older sister. which you might think is a bad thing and it sort of is, but its more complicated than that.

SEE my oldest sister basically had to raise all of us, on top of dealing with some weird emotional incest stuff with our mom (our mom would call her her "little husband" so it wasn't great) and worst of all she had to protect us from our oldest brother who was and still is an incredibly violent and volatile person. so she'd basically get beaten up all the time protecting us, and if my oldest brother was picking on one of us she'd antagonize him to get him to beat her up instead cause she could take it or something.

ANYWAY she's gone through a lot of trauma processing now and I love her and everything she stands for, but she was kind of a cruel kid/teenager. which makes sense, our childhood was a never ending hellscape of fighting and injuries and abuse, especially for her. So she did what she thought it would take to keep us (relatively) safe, including some rather abusive tactics to try to stop us from appearing weak, and she also lashed out cause she was like 13 raising 4 kids and constantly fighting 1 bigger kid

Anddd the thing about Vriska is that she's also a teenager and she's also been abused and she basically doesnt trust anyone else to NOT screw up (which is very much like my oldest sister too, but you cant really fault the controlling nature when everything was so high stakes hah)

soooo fsdfdsfsdfsadfds like,, my oldest sister wasn't a very good person until a bit into her later teens. So I can't really hold Vriska to like a Worst Person Ever standard because to me she doesnt represent a person who was awful to me and who I stopped being friends with or whatever. She's like a child version of my oldest sister, and that child deserved to be cared for instead of thrown into the hell that she was. I would wrap her in a blanket if I didn't think she'd stab me for it or something.

ANYWAY that's what I feel about this fictional character.

plus i love abused characters, what can I say. she was never my favorite but i did always wish the best for her hah.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 3

A/N: seablings headcanon? seablings headcanon. (i adore jimmy and lizzie's dynamic, they're siblings ur honor. and joel makes a pretty great in-law tbh)

Warnings: arguing, flirting, teasing/banter

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost 

-

Katherine was extremely serious about the “no weapons” thing. Not a single tool was allowed, not even shovels or hoes. She had everyone place their weapons and tools in specifically marked chests, assuring each of them that they could get them back after the meeting, and that her iron golems would protect them from any threats if they were to arise. Besides, the chests were just at the entrance of her castle, visible from the meeting table. They could easily rush to their weapons if need be. It didn’t mean anyone was less jumpy about it, though. And Jimmy was particularly antsy- Fwhip was practically glowering at the table, and while Sausage looked outwardly cheerful, there was an edge to every word he spoke. Jimmy couldn’t fight the paranoia that one or both of them had snuck weapons to the meeting, and was just waiting for the right moment to strike.

And then there was Scott. There wasn’t anything outwardly shifty about the winged elf, but… there was definitely… something. Jimmy wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Scott. He was perfectly poised, as always, every hair in place and wings mantled. There was something elegant and serene about Scott as he listened to Katherine speak with a gentle smile. His gaze was focused on her, and Jimmy tried to search those icy blue eyes for any hint of malice. He found nothing but kindness, and that was what worried him. Surely Scott should be up to something… right? He had seemed so hostile the other day, but then they both apologized to each other… maybe he had nothing to worry about. But then there was that strange, soft yet calculating look he had given Jimmy, like he could finally start seeing the complete picture a puzzle would make. Was that something bad?

Jimmy’s thoughts were interrupted by Scott’s eyes suddenly meeting his, one eyebrow raised. Jimmy tried his best not to jump as he quickly looked away, focusing on Katherine. He could still feel Scott’s eyes on him, and absurdly, Jimmy felt like he was melting. Figures that Scott would have secret laser eyes or something. He wouldn’t even need a weapon, that was his plan all along. Surely that’s why Jimmy felt like he was going to implode, he definitely wasn’t embarrassed. Definitely. Thankfully, Scott’s eyes shifted away as Katherine spoke again.

“Now, there is one very important thing I wanted to discuss at this meeting. I don’t know if any of you have heard, but there are some new empires rising up. I think we should do our best to welcome the new rulers,” Katherine said. For the first time in the whole meeting, Fwhip looked interested. Somehow that scared Jimmy more than when he was grumpy and despondent.

“What would you suggest?” Fwhip asked, voice smooth and suspiciously charming. Jimmy didn’t like his tone one bit, but Katherine seemed to fall for it, beaming at Fwhip’s sudden interest.

“I would like to hold the first ever House Blossom Ball. All rulers will be invited, and it will be held in honor of the two new empires in our lands,” she explained.

“Oh that sounds wonderful!” Gem exclaimed, and excited murmurs of agreement circled through the room. But Jimmy felt uneasy. He did like the idea of a ball, dancing and dressing up fancy with friends sounded fun! But Fwhip’s excitement didn’t sit quite right with him, and there was the other issue of the two new empires. How did they know they could really trust them? Establishing a good relationship was important, yes, but was inviting them in so openly the best idea? Jimmy had tried being so open before, but look where that got him. A war over a disc, and a ravine on the outskirts of his empire. And now whatever was happening between him and Scott. Then suddenly, as if just thinking of him prompted him to speak, Scott brought up one of the very things that Jimmy was worried about.

“What do we know about these empires? Do you think we can trust them?” he asked. The excited murmurs stopped, something uneasy settling in the air instead. Katherine faltered for a moment, but kept her head high.

“The House Blossom Ball will hold the same rule as our meetings now do: no weapons. So unwarranted attacks will not be an issue. And not a lot is known about the other empires… they are just starting out, after all. One of them is in the jungle, and his empire can only be found if you are lost. The other empire seems to have sprouted up from nowhere, but its ruler has come a long way to settle here. In a way, both are lost. As the ten ruling powers in this land, I think it is our duty to welcome them so that they won’t have to be lost anymore,” Katherine said firmly.

“Poetic,” Fwhip said, voice a little overly saccharine for Jimmy’s liking. Katherine seemed a little put off by his tone as well, but didn’t comment on it. A determined frown came to Jimmy’s face. His skepticism be damned, he was going to support Katherine. He turned to her and smiled, reaching out to gently clasp Katherine’s hand, not unlike how she had after the last meeting.

“I agree with you, Katherine. Let’s help them be found,” Jimmy said softly, giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go. Katherine smiled at the touch, seeming grateful that Jimmy backed her up.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Jimmy,” Scott said dryly. Jimmy looked to Scott in surprise, expecting more of a fight, some clever retort or thought-out reason for why the ball couldn’t happen.

“Thank you, Scott,” Jimmy said, unable to keep a small smile off of his face. Scott’s nose scrunched up in irritation- and yup, there was the Scott he knew. Always looking at Jimmy with disdain or irritation.

“I was more supporting Katherine here than anything else,” Scott pointed out with a huff.

“But you specifically mentioned me…” Jimmy trailed off with a teasing grin. Scott’s cheeks tinted pink, just ever so slightly- but he still glared at Jimmy in frustration.

“Shut up,” he muttered. Jimmy grinned wider.

“Make me,” he teased, parroting Scott’s words from the last meeting. Sausage gasped, excitedly tapping Pearl’s arm as she shushed him and muttered something about how we had talked about this, Sausage.

“Well… we definitely have two supporters of the ball, any other thoughts?” Katherine asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

“I am absolutely in support, it sounds fun!” Gem replied, elbowing Fwhip. He jumped, and nodded in agreement.

“If Scott and Jimmy are going to be there, I definitely want to see what goes down,” Sausage chimed in with a grin. Scott and Jimmy both made an offended sound, but Pearl spoke up before either of them could say anything.

“And it’s a good diplomatic foot forward with the two new empires, Sausage. I think the ball is a lovely idea, Katherine,” Pearl said, offering an apologetic smile to both Scott and Jimmy for Sausage’s comment.

“I’m in too! I’d love a chance to dress all fancy and dance with Joel,” Lizzie added, linking arms with Joel and gazing up at him with a charming smile. Joel blushed a bit, and nodded his agreement as well.

“Well, since it seems like everyone else is going to this dance, guess I’d better show up too,” Pixl said with a nonchalant shrug and a grin. Katherine clapped her hands in excitement.

“Oh wonderful! I think I’ll cut this meeting short then, I have a lot of preparations to take care of, and I will send out the invitations soon!” Katherine said, rising from the table. The other rulers followed her lead, each of them bidding her goodbye before they went to their respective chests to retrieve their weapons and tools.

“I look forward to the ball, Katherine. I’m sure it’ll be a blast,” Fwhip said with a bow of his head and a cocky grin. Katherine beamed in response.

“Thank you! I’m glad to see you’re excited!” she replied, bowing her head to Fwhip as well. Jimmy still wasn’t sure how he felt about Fwhip’s sudden interest at the meeting… but then again Fwhip was only really Jimmy’s enemy. He and Katherine were on good terms, after all. He should trust Katherine’s judgement, even if he didn’t like Fwhip. He did, however, wait until Fwhip left to walk up to Katherine and bid her goodbye.

“See you later, Katherine! I’m excited for the ball, I’m sure with you in charge it will go great!” he said with a grin. Katherine laughed, blushing slightly.

“Aw, thanks Jimmy! And who knows, maybe the ball will not only forge new alliances with the new empires, but will strengthen or fix the bonds of the current ones,” Katherine said, glancing pointedly at Scott, whose back was to them as he looked over his weapons, before she looked back at Jimmy. She smiled not-so-innocently, and Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“I- well, I dunno about that. But… maybe. Today’s meeting didn’t go too bad, right?” Jimmy asked with a hopeful smile. Katherine giggled.

“Right! You guys are really turning a corner here, I can feel it!” she chirped. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, Katherine. I’ll be off now,” Jimmy said, bowing his head.

“Bye!” Katherine replied, bowing her head too and offering a little wave as Jimmy left. He waved back, and was still smiling to himself as he met Joel and Lizzie outside. The two of them had their elytra on, and there was a smug grin on Lizzie’s face that Jimmy didn’t like one bit.

“What’s that smile for?” Jimmy asked with a laugh as he equipped his elytra.

“Oh, I was just thinking about how you couldn’t contribute anything to the first half of the meeting because you were making eyes at a certain elf,” Lizzie said with a teasing lilt.

“I wasn’t ‘making eyes,’ I was making sure that he wasn’t up to anything!” Jimmy spluttered.

“Sure you were,” Lizzie crooned, taking off before Jimmy got a chance to respond. Joel sighed, smiling sympathetically at him before following after Lizzie. Jimmy took off too, the conversation far from over, in his opinion.

-

Jimmy wasn’t quite fast enough to keep up with Lizzie, but she and Joel waited for him on the dock outside of his house. The three of them had often hung out and chatted on the dock, long before Joel and Lizzie had gotten married or even began courting. Their empires had been much smaller then, but the bond between the three of them hadn’t changed. Which was why Jimmy was (affectionately) furious with Lizzie for implying something about himself and Scott. He sat down beside her, feet dangling over the water.

“Explain yourself, right now,” Jimmy huffed, trying to put on an angry act but couldn’t really keep it up with Lizzie. She smiled far too innocently at him, and okay. Maybe he could manage a frustrated expression pointed at her.

“I mean, she’s got a point. Plus I heard about that uh- scuffle, you two had,” Joel said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned forward to look past Lizzie at Jimmy.

“Ooh yeah, Katherine did tell us about that. You’d better watch out for those land boys, Jimmy. They’re trouble,” Lizzie said with a mock-concerned tone, but her playful grin gave her away. Joel shifted to look at Lizzie with an offended noise.

“Babe, I’m right here,” he said, near pouting.

“I know what I said. You’re trouble, King of Mezalea,” Lizzie teased.

“Like you’re any better, Ocean Queen,” Joel replied with a laugh. Lizzie giggled, playfully swatting at Joel's arm.

"You may be right, but this is about Jimmy’s troublesome land boy," Lizzie pointed out as she turned back to Jimmy.

"He's not my land boy!" he protested, face heating up slightly.

"Aww, that blush says otherwise!" Lizzie teased.

“He could be your land boy if you weren’t so busy trying to kill each other,” Joel chimed in.

“That’s exactly why he’s never gonna be ‘mine,’ he hates me, and I hate him! There’s nothing else going on!” Jimmy protested.

“Are you sure you two hate each other? You seemed pretty friendly at the meeting today,” Joel pointed out, voice a bit more gentle than the teasing tone it had been before. Jimmy sighed.

“That’s only cause Katherine insisted on us apologizing to each other when we uh. Fought. We’re only playing nice for Katherine’s sake,” Jimmy said sheepishly.

“Uh huh. Or you’re playing nice because you think Scott is pretty,” Lizzie teased, elbowing Jimmy playfully.

“I don’t think he’s pretty! I- I mean objectively he looks nice I guess but it’s more irritating than anything! How can a guy be so perfectly poised and elegant all the time, it’s annoying!” Jimmy spluttered. Joel and Lizzie exchanged amused, bewildered looks before looking back at Jimmy.

“Wow, you really do have it bad for him, huh,” Joel commented with a disbelieving laugh. Jimmy made an offended sound, opening his mouth to retort but was halted by Lizzie patting his arm comfortingly.

“It’s okay Jimmy, I’m sure Scott will come around and see what a sweet swamp boy you are,” she crooned, Jimmy flushing at the childhood nickname Lizzie always used for him.

“You two are impossible, nothing’s going to happen between us! And I’d prefer it that way!” Jimmy shot back with a frown.

“Methinks the cod boy protests too much,” Joel said dryly.

“I’m the Codfather, thank you very much,” Jimmy huffed.

“Hey, maybe if things work out really well, you’ll be a Codhusband,” Lizzie replied with a sly grin. Jimmy buried his face in his hands, trying to hide how bright red he was.

“Stop iiiit,” he whined. Lizzie only laughed, but threw an arm around his shoulders to give a small hug in apology. Joel reached around Lizzie to pat Jimmy’s back, and despite the teasing he had endured from them, Jimmy felt pleasantly warm and comforted all the same. Although to be fair, Joel and Lizzie always playfully teased him. But it would often end like this, the three of them nestled close together on the edge of the dock, watching the sun set over the water.

-

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[kaeyastopmakingicepuns]

Hey, I suck at writing fics that have a plot, so here's a little Diluc x Reader prompt, for anyone who wants it.

It occurred to me that Diluc's character had been MADE for a fake!married trope, and this scene popped into my head, but I didn't know how to go further with it, so if anyone wants to continue it, or use it for inspiration, please be my guest! :)

Diluc x Reader Fake!Married AU

"There you are," you said, paying no mind to your fancy clothes as you plopped yourself down on the dusty floor to lean against the cold, stone wall of the wine cellar. You had found Diluc right where you had expected to whenever the winery held these public festivals.

Diluc, seated on the ground next to you, merely grunted in response, taking a swig from the glass bottle he held before he nestled it back into its place in the crook of his arm.

"People are looking for you, ya know," you commented idly.

Another grunt. Honestly, having a conversation with this man could be like pulling teeth at times. It was a good thing that you had known him long enough to have learned that once you did get him talking, Mondstadt’s grumpiest bartender was actually a huge softie with a droll sense of humor that never failed to have you clutching your sides with laughter at least once or twice before he inevitably clammed up again.

“There’s a new bard in town.” You tried again. “Goes by the name ‘Dandelion.’ Wants to woo you with a special poem he wrote just for you.”

And yet another grunt punctuated by a long swig from the bottle. Time for drastic measures.

“Hey!” Diluc cried, uttering the first word you’d heard from him all evening as you snatched the bottle from his hand and helped yourself to its contents. You lowered the bottle as soon as the drink hit your tongue and spat the sip you had taken to the side.

“This is just stale grape juice,” you said in disgust. Honestly, you should have known, but the way he was nursing the drink had you convinced it was something stronger.

Diluc rolled his eyes as a plucked the bottle out of your grip. “Wait ‘til you find out what wine is,” he remarked drily.

You laughed. There was the Diluc whose company you had sought out. “Connor would cry in shame if he ever heard you say that.”

Diluc winced. “Please don’t tell him,” he pleaded.

“Of course not,” you agreed. “No way I could break his heart like that.” You grabbed the bottle again and took a proper drink this time. Now that you were expecting the sweeter beverage, it was actually quite good. Dawn winery didn’t get its reputation for nothing, its grape juice was just as good as its wine.

“How much longer do you suppose I have?” Diluc asked with a grimace as you passed the bottle back to him.

“What, before they come bursting down here trying to marry you off to their sons or daughters? Oh, not long at all,” you teased, accepting the bottle as he passed it back to you.

Diluc groaned. “Archons, I hate this. I wish they’d just leave me alone.”

You gesture in his direction, using the neck of the bottle to point at him, ignoring the way the juice sloshed around dangerously inside, threatening to spill on Diluc, who leaned away from your waving arms with a frown. “You know what you need to do?” you asked playfully. “You need to get fake married.”

Instead of laughing at your joke, Diluc’s brow scrunched up in puzzlement. “I need to get what?”

You sighed. Leave it to Diluc to not be aware of classic story clichés. “You know, disappear for a week or two, then return with some pretty thing on your arm and just tell everybody that you’ve eloped.”

Diluc scowled. “But I don’t want to get eloped.”

Archons, but he was lucky he was pretty. Diluc was generally an incredibly smart guy, but sometimes the way he failed to employ common sense baffled you. Like when he had used slime bait near his own vineyard and had to fight off a few curious slimes every few hours for a week.  Still, being (secretly) big of heart and dumb of ass was what made Diluc, well, Diluc, and you wouldn't have him any other way.

“You wouldn’t actually get eloped,” you explained slowly. “You would just pretend to. You and whatever idiot you persuaded to be your fake spouse would know, but no one else would. That way, you get to be free from all the hassle of being a bachelor, and some lucky sucker gets to, I dunno, live in the manor rent free, or something. I’m not really sure what you would offer them to make it equitable, but I’m sure you can think of something, you’re rich, after all.”

It seemed Diluc still wasn’t getting the joke as, judging from the contemplative look on his face, he was actually giving the idea some serious thought. “That... might actually work,” he said thoughtfully.

Of course he would think this was a good plan, this was the same guy who thought it would be better if the city of Mondstadt was attacked from two fronts at the same time, rather than him revealing himself as the city’s so-called ‘Dark Knight Hero.’

“There is something you do have to be very careful of, though,” you said gravely, schooling your expression into something serious.

Diluc looked at you with concern. “What?”

“You have to make sure you pick someone whom you will absolutely not fall in love with, and will not fall in love with you under any circumstances,” You said. finally passing the grape juice back to him as you realized you were still holding it. Diluc took it and set it on the floor between you. “That’s how these things always go, someone falls in love with the other one and suddenly bam!” You punched your hand into your fist for emphasis, pleased to see that Diluc had been listening to you intently enough that he started a little. “The whole scheme goes up in smoke,” you said dramatically.

Diluc rolled his eyes. “Someone I won’t fall in love with?” he repeated. “How about you?”

“Ouch!” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense. That was clearly payback for making him jump.

Something flickered behind Diluc’s eyes and you hurried to make a teasing remark, knowing that if Diluc thought he had actually hurt your feelings his social awkwardness would instantly turn him back into Mr. Tall, Dark, Silent, and Brooding.

“And you call yourself a gentleman,” you said, lightly shoving his arm.

Diluc smirked back at you, visibly relaxing as soon as he was reassured you weren’t actually insulted. “I can be a gentleman,” he said, “when the situation calls for it.”

“I’ve never seen it,” you scoffed.

“Do you want to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You did, weirdly enough. At least a little. But rather than say that you snorted and said, “Archons, no.”

“I thought as much,” Diluc said confidently. He picked up the bottle again and finished it off, before giving you a sidelong glance. “You didn’t say ‘no.’“

“I didn’t,” you admitted. But that didn’t mean you were saying yes. After all, there had to be a reason this stuff only happened in stories, right? It’s not like this kind of game could work if attempted in real life.

“How would it even work?” you asked. “I mean, this kind of thing can only stay a secret for so long. It just takes one person learning the truth, and suddenly everyone knows. And it’s not like you can just explain away the fact that we have separate bedrooms to your staff, so that right there is where it all starts to fall apart.”

“No, it’s not.,” Diluc insisted. “It’s not at all uncommon for a husband and wife to have separate rooms. Royals do it all the time.”

You barked out a laugh. “Oh, so you’re royalty now? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you took that ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ thing so seriously. And all this time I’ve been calling you by your first name. Is ‘your majesty’ too informal when we’re alone? Is it to be ‘His Esteemed Royal Highness, Diluc Ragnvindr of the Grape-Growing-Greats’ at all times?”

Diluc sighed. “Stop that, I just meant it’s not without precedent. My parents had separate rooms here when I was a kid, it’s not unthinkable.”

You blinked. You hadn’t known that. “They did?”

“Yeah,” he said. “They rarely made use of both of them, but they did. It’s expected of nobility, somewhat.”

Huh. There might be something to this plan, after all.

“And you still haven’t said ‘no,’“ Diluc said.

You hadn’t. Were you actually considering this?

“If you lived at the winery, you wouldn’t have to walk down here from Mondstadt every day,” he pointed out casually. Damn him for knowing your one weak point-- your hatred for your daily commute.

You were saved from having to answer by the torch on the wall going out with a pop, plunging the two of you into darkness. You squeaked and instinctively grabbed onto Diluc’s arm.

“Sorry,” Diluc said. “It must be a faulty torch. That’s the third time it’s gone out this week. I’ll get it.”

You felt Diluc wave his hand, and the torch flared back to life, illuminating the small corner of the cellar once again.

“Thanks,” you said, letting go of Diluc’s arm, wondering at the way Diluc’s face seemed to flare blight red in the glow of the firelight.

Suddenly, your eyes widened. “Archons, Diluc, you’re on fire again!” Was there a single pyro vision wielder in all of Teyvat that had mastered the art of not setting themselves on fire whenever they used their vision?

Diluc swore under his breath and began frantically patting his arm in an attempt to smother the flames. You helped, and, between the two of you, managed to get the small flame put out in a matter of seconds. Just another day at Dawn Winery.

Diluc stood, making sure there were no other embers lying around that could burn the whole manor down. “I should get back to the party,” he grumbled, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

You followed him up the stairs, your earlier conversation seemingly forgotten. You were confidant that once the pressure from the party was gone the next morning, Diluc would never bring up the thought again, and you would both carry on with your lives.

But, still, neither of you had said ‘no.’

[ahgasecaratfromn-city]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader ft. Haechan, Johnny and mention of Jeno

Words: 7.7k

Genre: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, college au

Warning: Tiniest bit of cursing, kissing, family issues, anxiety attack

Summary: You never had the luxury of selecting who you were going to tutor, so when you paired with the only person you disliked, Lee Mark, you couldn’t help but formulate a list of the ten things you hated about him.

A/N: Okay so, I will admit this is longer than I anticipated, my bad. Mark has been stuck in my head and this was my way of getting him out. Basically, each part is a snip bit/ scene from the day named in bold.  *This is very very very minimally edited 

“Who the hell is that?” was not the most flattering thing someone could say when being given a free tutor. Hell, it wasn’t a flattering thing to say under any circumstance. Yet, there you were, walking slowly towards your literature class’s resident idiot, Mark.

“Me, I’m Y/N,” he looked you up and down, frowning slightly before looking back at the professor. The boy seemed to always believe that his opinions mattered to anyone but himself. He was always screaming his misconstrued thoughts during class or more likely not showing up at all, and everything about him seemed to piss you off.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to people, always assuming he was in the right. Or, maybe it was the fact that he spoke period, always rambling about absolutely nothing while the class was engaged in relevant and important conversation. More likely, it was the permanent grin etched on his face, as if nothing could touch him, not even the failing grade he was receiving in this class.

“Mark, this is quite literally your last shot because there is seriously nothing else I can do for you,” you tuned out the rest of the conversation, only raising an eyebrow once you heard that Mark wouldn’t be able to pass without a certain score on the final.

“And you really should thank Y/N, there are other students she could be helping,” your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, blushing lightly as the men looked at you.

It wasn’t as if you had volunteered to tutor Mark specifically. You had been tutoring since high school and figured it was the perfect work-study job to take up. Except you didn’t choose who to tutor, only which subjects. Unfortunately, literature happened to be one of them, and Mark happened to suck at it.

“Now, both of you get out of here,” he pointed to the doorway with a slight smirk on his face as Mark trudged away clearly annoyed.

“We can work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the test. We can meet up at the library,” you offered, following after the boy who seemed to only quicken his pace. Jerk.

“Not Friday, that’s a busy day,” he shrugged, looking at everything but you. 

“The test is three weeks from today and judging by your, uhm previous scores, you need all the time you can get,” the boy whipped around at that statement, raising his brow at you. You didn’t understand why he seemed so shocked, you were only telling the truth.

“Fine, catch you later,” His eyes were looking behind you, focused on something else before he finally walked away from you. 

That was another thing that bothered you, he never made eye contact. It was like no one was worth the time of day to him. 

“What are you looking at,” A familiar arm snaked its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you prepared to go home. You smelled the familiar scent of aftershave and light cologne that immediately brought a smile to your face.

“You’ll never guess who I have to tutor,” you looked up at your best friend, Haechan, grinning at his confused face. Haechan had been your best friend since you were kids in the sandbox and since then, wherever he was you were likely right beside him.

“Let’s go eat, and you can tell me all about it,” He spun you around, walking you towards the exit.

-

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him,” the boy suggested, playing with his food before taking a bite. That was his habit whenever you ate together, he would mull over his food as if building a masterpiece before devouring an entire plate in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at the statement. 

“I mean, I dunno, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover and stuff,” A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he realized how cringey what he had said was. His eyes met yours for a split second before you both let out a few synchronized chuckles.

“That was so bad, Chan,” you reached over to poke his cheek, laughing even harder as his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.

“I mean seriously, can you even name ten things you don’t like about him?” He asked, suddenly raising his brows in a challenging manner.

“Honestly, I could name ten things I hate about him,” you admitted, taking a bite of your food to punctuate your point. He only shook his head in disapproval as a response before continuing.

“Get back to me in a few weeks, I bet you’ll even end up friends. He seems nice from what I’ve heard” he sent a knowing wink your way before calling the waitress over.

As he began talking to the waitress, his question was still lingering in your mind. Ten things you hated about Mark. You already had certain attributes running around in your head, but you wondered how many more you were going to add to your list. 

          1. I hate that he is inconsiderate

           [Monday]

It was only the first day of your study sessions with Mark, and of course he was late. You were sitting at your usual table in the corner of the library, checking your phone for the nth time. He was almost an hour late and you were anything but surprised. The boy didn’t strike you as the type to keep his word.

“Hey, tutor girl,” The voice struck you from your thoughts, coming from someone you didn’t think you’d see today.

“Mark,” You nodded towards the seat across from you, opening the textbook you had sat in front of you. The boy sat silently, a smug grin painted across his face as he looked at you, eyes focused above your head. 

“I had something pop up, sorry about that man,” even his apologies were insincere and annoying. You almost wanted to toss the coffee drink in his hands into the trash, but you found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Whatever, let's just get started,” He nodded in response, glancing down at your textbook with a look of uncertainty, “Did you bring your textbook?” It was then that you realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him, not even a pencil. Of course he was unprepared.

“It’s fine, use mine,” You turned yours around towards him before pointing towards a specific chapter. He nodded in response before flicking his eyes back up in your general direction.

“Today, we’ll start with the basics of analyzing a text. We’ll do ethos, pathos, and logos. It’s pretty simple but it’s gonna help with the essay portion,” You rambled on for a few minutes about the basis of arguments and speeches. His eyes were in the book but you couldn't tell if he was understanding or not. Throughout your explanation, you could see his leg shaking and his fingers tapping on the table. 

“Is there anything you want me to go over?” his eyes were still glued to the book as he looked back up at you. He was smiling, as usual, but something about the look in his eye told you that he was utterly confused. 

“No, Uh, I think I understand,” His taps became a bit more intense until he realized you were watching him and stopped. 

“It’s okay if you don't,” you said mindlessly, “I’m here to help,” as much as you weren’t a fan of Mark, you wanted him to do well. It was a part of the reason you liked tutoring. Seeing someone work hard for something, and helping them get there was one of the best feelings in the world.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, smiling wider. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he needed help since it was literally your job, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Let’s go over it one more time, for my sake,” you went over the material again, using more examples, even some from popular music to explain the definitions he didn’t understand.

“I mean, I already understood, but I get it, more,” He said sheepishly, rubbing his face in his hand. You smiled a bit at the light pink color growing on his cheeks as you switched subjects.

“Okay, I believe you. We have some more material to cover though. Since you’re picking it up so quickly,” you smirked at the last statement, flipping the textbook in front of him to the correct page. You ignored his groan of despair, instead continuing the lesson you had planned.

You had believed after the first lesson, he might be easy to work with, but eventually, you were proved wrong. Mark was an absolute menace. His incessant taps on the table, glances around the room, random babbling, and absolute lack of interest in what you said, was pissing you off. Even the librarian had walked over to tell him to be quiet.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mark,” you rolled your eyes, pointing back at the sheet in front of you. He seemed to lose focus often, so you decided making him take notes might help.

“I know, but honestly my brain is full,” he whined, sending puppy dog eyes your way. Usually, you would have been able to say no, but his puckered lip and innocent eyes were beginning to sway you. 

“Fine, ten minutes,” you gave in to a smiling mark, who shot his fist up in excitement. He leaned back in his chair, looking into space with a look you couldn’t decipher. He was visibly deep in thought and you were beginning to feel very awkward as time went on.

“Tutor girl, yeah she’s tutoring me

 I wanna go home cause that’s the place to be,

Wherever I am, the vibe is nice,

Cause I’m cool like ice,” he went on and on rambling random rhymes with the biggest smile on his face. Nothing would have made you happier than saying that it sounded terrible, and while the rhymes themselves were ridiculous, his voice had a certain addictive vibe that made you want to keep listening.

He suddenly stopped, grinning at your lack of words “Shocked into silence, they say I have that effect on people,” he smirked nonchalantly eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but your ten minutes are up,” 

“What! It’s been like three at most,” he complained, dropping his head in annoyance.

“Well, at least stop being so loud,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, who lit up once again. 

You sat in silence for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Why are you so uptight, tutor girl?” The nickname was really beginning to bug you and so was the boy sitting across from you.

“I have a name you know,” you finally comment, ignoring his question. You were fiddling with your fingers under the table, doing anything to keep your mind off of the uncomfortable question he had asked.

“I know, Y/N,” Your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, almost giving you whiplash. 

“So, why do you call me that?” 

“It’s just a nickname,” he shrugged lightly before beginning to beatbox. He was like a child with the shortest attention span you had seen on anyone above the age of fifteen.

“It’s definitely been ten minutes now,” you pushed his paper towards him before beginning the next lesson.

            2. I hate that he really is a mystery

                 [thursday]

“I’ve never been here,” You commented, looking up at your very tall friend, Johnny opening the door for you. He was a few years older than you but you ended up bonding through the tutoring center you both worked at.

The building was a typical cafe with a warm mocha toned interior. It had bookcases lining one wall with two big grandpa chairs watching over the small tables littered around the room. The place was relatively empty, with only a few people taking up two tables near the bookshelves. It was super cozy and inviting which made you question why you hadn’t been there sooner.

“Really? A lot of people from school come here,” you only nodded in response, following the boy towards the register. 

Once inside, you immediately walked to the baked goods section, eyeing the various desserts.  

You were glad Johnny called. You had been stressed out, from your mom riding you about job applications, classes reaching finals time, tutoring Mark, etc etc. It felt like as you got older the weight on your shoulders got heavier and heavier. Everyone in your life needed you to decide on your future and you just weren’t there yet. You couldn't even decide on a pastry let alone where you wanted to be in ten years. 

“Are you ready to order?” Johnny tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Sure,” you nodded, masking the sadness the thoughts had brought on.

You watched as the older boy tapped the service bell before peering over the counter.  “Someone’s coming,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey Johnny, what can I get ya today,” the familiar voice caused your eyes to bulge as you looked up at the owner.

“Tutor girl?” 

“Mark,” you mumbled quietly, nodding in his direction. It seemed as if your problems followed you everywhere.

“You two know each other?”Johnny asked with a grin.

Mark answered quickly “We take lit together,” you frowned at the lack of mentioning the fact that you were his tutor. 

“Ah okay,”

“How do you two know each other?” you asked, only half caring.

“We’ve been friends since his freshman year,” The older boy explained.

“Anyway, what do you want bro?” Mark asked informally, smile bright as he got ready to punch the buttons on the screen in front of him.

“I’ll have an americano, give me like two extra shots,” Johnny looked at you, waiting for your order as Mark tapped on the screen.

“Can I get an americano and a chocolate croissant,” 

“Sure,” the younger boy said absentmindedly.

Johnny reached into his wallet before you could even say anything, looking down at you with a “don’t argue” look. You were used to him paying whenever you went out together or even with other friends, even though you always put up a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark said, pushing Johnny’s card back at him, “on the house,” he explained.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” you smiled sincerely, surprised by the gesture.

“He never pays for me,” Johnny said, chuckling as if it were an inside joke before he began looking for a seat.

He finally selected a table in the corner with two chairs beside it, right next to a window. You sat down in the chair, giving the place a once over again. Something had caught your eye this time. You watched as the dark-haired boy darted around behind the register, preparing your drinks expertly. 

“I didn’t know he worked here,” You mumbled absentmindedly, still watching the boy work.

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too,” Johnny commented, smiling knowingly in your direction. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at him. You didn’t know he had one job, let alone two. 

“Oh,” was all you said, leaving it at that. It seemed like Mark really was a mystery to you. You knew virtually nothing about him. Something about that fact gave you an unsettling feeling that you were too stubborn to think about any further.

             3. I hate that he asks too many questions

                  [Friday]

“I don’t want to gooo,” you whined, fighting against Haechan who was currently pushing you towards the library.

“It’s only the third day. You’re such a baby,” You could practically hear his eyes roll as he stopped in front of the door. He had given you a ride to the library, as he always would if he had time.

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,” Despite how childish it was, you literally stamped your foot, leading to a laughing fit from the two of you. 

“I can’t believe you,” he sighed, lightly shoving you.

“I’m very mature though, on a serious-,” you suddenly stopped speaking as you noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore, “what is it?” you turned on your heel only to be met with the infamous boy himself.

“Am I too early?” he looked down at his phone with furrowed brows before looking back at you. 

“No, you’re actually on time,” you didn’t mean to come off as passive-aggressive but judging from Mark’s raised brows, you did.

You watched as Haechan reached out to shake Mark’s hand with a friendly smile and a quick mutter of his name. Mark responded by smiling awkwardly before finally reciprocating the gesture. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself with his world-famous grin before flicking his gaze in your direction.

It was silent for a few moments before Haechan finally said something, “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he smiled one last time, sending you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you alone.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching up to grab the nape of his neck awkwardly. You quickly noticed the Jansport backpack he was sporting. It was a small thing but something about the fact that he came prepared made you feel weird.

“Uhh, yeah,” you opened the door to the library, walking quickly to the usual spot in the corner, Mark trudging quietly behind you.

“I made some flashcards for you,” You began, reaching into your bag and pulling out the index cards that you had put on a binder ring.

“Thanks,” he took the cards from your hand with a smile.

“So that guy’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually while shuffling through the cards.

You jaw all but dropped in shock as you fumbled to find the right words, “absolutely not,” you finally said, “he’s like a brother,” you clarified, waiting for his reaction.

The question made you feel uneasy coming from his mouth. It seemed random and very odd considering neither one of you had ever discussed anything personal.

“Oh, okay. You seem close,” he commented, continuing to look through the flashcards.

“We are, but uh, today lets just talk about your essay structure,” you changed the subject promptly, noticing the grin that was solidifying on his face.

Ten minutes later you could already tell he was distracted, judging by his taps on the table that were rapidly reaching a fever pitch.

He looked in your direction suddenly, “What do you want to do, tutor girl, like after graduation” 

Mark asked you the question like it was the most casual thing to say, like it was comparable to “how was your day” or “what kind of coffee do you like.” No one had really asked you that before, what you wanted to do.

“uh, I’m not sure honestly,” you were unsure of why you were even entertaining the conversation. Had it been asked a few days ago you might have just rolled your eyes and answered with the generic response you had been trained to use.

“Really? You seem like the type to plan everything a hundred steps ahead,” 

You quirked your eyebrow up in surprise “What’s that supposed to mean,” 

A light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he stumbled over his words, “No, it’s just that you, like, seem put together, like you know what you want,” he clarified.

The notion confused you to an extent. You never knew what you wanted. You had spent so long doing what people told you that you should do, that you barely even thought about what you wanted. Honestly speaking, you had only started tutoring because your mother told you it would look good on college applications. You had just so happened to actually end up enjoying it. That was the real reason you always did everything the same way and were what Mark called ‘uptight’.

“I don’t,” you admitted, “I have a hard time knowing what I want,” you trailed off quietly before asking him the same question.

“I want to pursue music, but I’m not sure if it’s practical,” he said shrugging.

“It isn’t practical,” you agreed, smiling lightly at the shocked face Mark sent you, “but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth trying,” you finished, watching as Mark let out a breath. 

He sighed, “I wish it were that easy,” his table tapping picked up a slow pace. You nodded in agreement, realizing that you were in a similar predicament. “Well, what do you like to do?” he asked suddenly.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you replied simply, playing with the seam of your jeans.

             4. I hate that he’s unbelievably stubborn

                   [Monday]

“Mark, honestly we can just reschedule,” You watched as the boy shook his head, jumping from his previous position.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head a few times before gesturing in your direction for you to continue.

The boy kept nodding off throughout your lesson and showing obvious signs that he was in no way capable of learning anything. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eye bags were at least three shades darker than usual, and most importantly he wasn’t making any noises at all. Not even his usual incessant table taps.

“Mark, you did pretty well on the practice quiz, you can take the day off,” you tried to reason with the boy whose eyes were barely open. It looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“No no, y/n,” him using your real name made you feel weird and told you that he was definitely not in the right mind. “You came all the way here, let’s just start,” 

You chuckled lightly at his groggy and barely comprehensible voice as you closed your books. 

“Why are you so tired anyway? Did you work over the weekend?” you found yourself actually curious about his answer, not just asking something random for the sake of it not being awkward.

He answered simply, trying his best to hide a yawn, “yep,” 

You shook your head disapprovingly before finally speaking, “Alright this is what we’re going to do. One more practice test and then please go home and do us both a favor and go to sleep,” 

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he admitted, sitting upright.

“You’re more of an inconvenience this way because I can't tutor someone who can’t even spell their own name,” I tapped on the corner of his notes, where he had written his name as “mar” leaving the last letter off.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his hoodie off of his head.

“You’re so god damn stubborn,” you whispered mostly to yourself.

“I can hear you, y’know,” you smiled at his remark before setting a practice test in front of him.

               5. I hate that he sees what no one else does

                     [Friday]

“Yes, mom,” you paused for a moment, waiting for your mother’s usual rant about how you never did anything right, and how at your age she was already starting her own business, yada yada, the usual. 

“I know,” pause, “I sent them out last week, remember?” pause, “I will,”

“Hey, tutor girl,” Mark greeted, taking his usual seat in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face as he noticed you were on the phone having an unpleasant conversation.

You pulled the phone away from your face, “I’ll be right back,” you shot him a small generic smile before walking outside of the building.

“Y/N if you don’t get it together, I’m going to-” your mother’s voice could be heard despite the fact that you had pulled the phone away from your face.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session, I have to call you back later,” you interrupted, pressing the hang-up button soon after.

You took a few long breaths before plastering a smile onto your face and walking back inside the building. You could feel Mark’s eyes on you as you walked towards him trying your best to keep up a strong facade.

“Are you okay,” the concern in his voice as you looked at him almost wiped the smile off of your face.

“I’m fine, let’s get started,”

“It’s okay if you’re not. You can tell me about it,” he paused for a few moments, tapping on the table as he usually did, “I can tell you’re you aren’t,” 

“It’s nothing, let’s just start,” you waved your hand in dismissal.

“If that’s what you want,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

“So, today let’s talk about how point of view affects the entire story,” you began your explanation, the fake smile long gone as you gave examples from the required reading. Mark seemed only half interested in what you were saying, which was usually normal, except today you could feel his eyes glued to your face while yours were in the book as you gestured to certain sentences. 

You were not in the mood for his antics and as time passed he was truly starting to bug you. “What!? What are you looking at?” you whisper-yelled in his direction. You found yourself feeling immediately guilty as the boy looked at you in complete and utter shock. His lips had slightly parted into an ‘o’ shape and his brows were slightly raised. His cheeks had even begun turning into a deep red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled, trailing off at the end.

You raised your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on, “no, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m a little stressed out,” you admitted.

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it. Like, if you want,” he looked at you expectantly, with a concerned expression adorning his face.

“It’s just my mom. She has a lot of expectations for me. It’s stressful sometimes, y’know,” he nodded at your words, waiting for you to continue, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t really know what to do. It’s like she’s been controlling my life for so long that I don’t even know what I want to do without her telling me,” you finished. 

It felt good letting it all out, and for some reason, you felt comfortable telling Mark about it. He seemed to really listen to you, like he actually cared. 

“Have you ever talked to her about it?” he asked.

“No, she’s not the best listener,” he nodded again.

“Then I think right now all you can do is try to figure out what you actually want for yourself. Like what’s something you really want to do? Like bucket list stuff,” he asked with wide eyes.

“I dunno, maybe a road trip,” you said the first thing that came to mind, mentally slapping yourself at how lame the answer was. “I’ve never really been anywhere,” you explained simply. “Kind of lame,”

He shook his head, “It's not lame if it’s something you want.” You only nodded in response.

“What you want is important, Y/N. Even if you don't know exactly what that is yet.”

               6. I hate that he is everywhere

                     [monday]

“It’s not my fault,” Haechan rolled his eyes at your shocked expression as he spoke.

“Haechan,” you said slowly, “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” you shook your head in his direction. 

You were walking down the main commons area in your school, killing time before your next class.

“If someone says to you, hey! Can I borrow your hanger, how am I supposed to guess that they’ll-” he stopped speaking suddenly, a smile breaking out on his face, “look there’s your boy,” he nodded slightly in the direction ahead of you.

You looked up, almost immediately spotting Mark. He was smiling brightly as he spoke to a girl beside him. She looked to be familiar, maybe from the year below you. You watched as they laughed together, heads falling back as if they were in a movie. You had to admit, they made a cute couple.

“He’s not my boy,” you shoved your friend with light force, ignoring the tight feeling in your chest.

“Don’t worry, pretty sure she’s dating Jeno. Actually no, I’m super sure, every time I see them, they’re sucking face,” he grimaces at the notion, furrowing his brows tightly as if remembering the image vividly.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Why would I worry?”

“Okay, y/n,” he matched your expression, shrugging in the same way you did.

            7. I hate that his car smells just like him

                   [Tuesday]

“No it’s fine, I’ll just find a way home,” you glanced at Mark, whose eyes were on you already. “No, Haechan don’t worry about it. I’ll text you later,” you hung the phone up and looked up at the boy ahead of you.

After you opened up to Mark the previous week, he had begun taking a seat next to you in class. It seemed like you had become friends, or acquaintances at least. That felt weird to even think about. You and Mark were friends? No, acquaintances, you were just acquaintances. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, gathering his belongings.

“Yea, I just have to walk home,” you answered absentmindedly before standing.

“I can, like, give you a ride,” he offered nonchalantly, standing in front of you.

“You drive?”

He smirked at the question, “just got a new car,” 

“Okay then, if it’s no trouble,” you agreed, nodding at him. It was super weird how comfortable you were around him now. There were still things you very much disliked about him, but getting to know him had shown you that there were some things you hadn’t known at all.

“Alright,” he smiled in your general direction before leading the way. You had grown used to his quick pace, keeping up with ease now. 

“It’s nice right,” he pats the old black car lightly, as if he was afraid something would fall off. 

“Super nice,” you agreed with a grin.

You both walked to your respective sides and slid into your seats quietly. You were immediately hit with the smell of watermelon air freshener and the cologne Mark usually wore. 

“You can put your address in,” he pointed to the GPS on the car and you promptly typed it in.

There was a lasting awkward silence after that, Mark focusing diligently on driving while you were focused on counting the red cars that went by. You wondered how long it would take for someone to say something. Eventually, Mark just put on the radio, hoping to fill the silence.

He winced slightly at the country song that began playing, “You wanna hear one of my songs,” he said suddenly, a small smile accompanying his words.

“Sure,” you were actually curious, seeing as you had never heard him rap seriously, only hearing his mumbles when he was bored.

“Press the acronym one,” he said, handing you his phone, eyes still trained on the road. It was almost comical how focused he was while driving whereas during tutoring sessions he was always distracted.

“Que-tay, uhm, qwe-ta,” you tried pronouncing the acronym, eliciting a laughing fit from Mark. His laugh was so innocent you couldn’t help but smile along even though you didn’t know what was so funny.

“Key-tah,” he finally said with a smile.

“Ah,” you nodded, turning the volume up.

The song started off subtly, with a chill beat that matched the atmosphere in the car. You could see Mark’s light blush peeking from your peripheral as the song went on. By the time the second verse began, Mark was humming along before finally fully rapping alongside himself. Again, you were reminded of how addictive his voice was. 

He seemed so passionate at that moment, so confident. He was showing a side to himself that you hadn’t seen before. Someone so comfortable where he was. Someone truly in their element.

“I get why you want to do music,” you commented as the song ended.

“Why?” 

“You love it. I can tell. It’s like more than just a career for you, it’s a part of you,” you said matter of factly. The statement confused you to some degree. You had never seen someone so comfortable in their element. You hated to admit it but you were even a little jealous.

He smiled at that notion, “It is a part of me. Ever since I was young, my dad taught me how to play guitar and that really just jump started my love for it.” You nodded in understanding before picking a random Frank Ocean song on his playlist. 

“You should come to my showcase next week, I just got offered a spot today,” he said suddenly. You were completely shocked that he had asked you. 

“You can bring your friend, I think our whole class is going. It’s supposed to be an end of finals celebration” ah, everyone was going. 

“Okay,” you accepted simply, heat rushing to your cheeks for an unknown reason.

“just put your number in my phone, I’ll send the details later,”

The car ride from then on was more comfortable. What was once an awkward silence had become a relaxed atmosphere where you and Mark would chat about random things like the music on his playlist or the watermelon screensaver on his phone. 

              8.  I hate that he thinks can pull one over on me

                    [wednesday]

 “tutor girl, what’s up?” Mark crashed down into the seat in front of you, setting down a drink carrier from his cafe and a bag.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, shaking your head at his noisy entrance.

“Here you go,” he pushed an Iced Americano in your direction, following with the white bag.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you watched the smile on his face widen as he shook his head.

“It’s the least I could I could do for my favorite tutor,” your felt your cheeks get hot until you remembered one very important detail.

“I’m your only tutor, and you still have to take the full practice test,” you said sternly, putting the straw in the coffee quickly.

“Come on,” he whined out before starting a whole argumentative speech about how the practice tests were annoying.

               9. I hate that he doubts himself

                    [thursday]

“I mean, and I say this with full respect,” Mark began, “I truly don’t think I’m going to do that well,” he admitted, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Mark, just because you say with full respect, doesn’t make it more respectful,” you said with a grin, “but seriously, you’ve been doing so well on your practice quizzes. Over 60% every time, which is way better than what we started with,” you admitted, wincing a bit at the last statement you let slip out.

“Still, that’s not a passing grade,” he shrugged, utterly defeated as he picked up the essay rubric from his desk. His usual brighter than the sun smile had disappeared, leaving you feeling uncomfortably cold.

“Honestly your lack of trust in my tutoring skills is beginning to annoy me,” 

“No, dude, I trust you,” your eyes flew to him at that statement. He was still pondering over the paper in front of him as he continued, “I just feel like I suck at this stupid subject,” he threw the paper back onto the table at that statement.

You found yourself giving a pep talk without even a second thought “No, you don’t. You’re caught on quickly. You’re so smart but you need to stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to do well. Even better than well because you have my help.”

“Thanks, tutor girl. I appreciate you,” you could tell he was sincere because he had met your eyes, even if just for a split second. It was the first time he had ever looked you in your eyes and it was making you feel things.

“I’m serious though, you are way smarter than you give yourself credit for, and you should know that you are no matter what score you get on this stupid test,” you finish, grinning as the smile returned on his face.

“Okay,” he nodded lightly as he stood waiting for you to join him.

You chuckled lightly at the boy as you looked up at him, “What is it, Mark?” he had a sheepish look on his face as if he was nervous about something other than the obvious.

“uhm well,” He was looking intently at you when you didn’t notice, waiting for any signs that he was annoying you.

“Actually, there’s something I was going to ask you,” a light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he spoke. You nodded in his direction waiting for whatever he had to say, looking up to find his eyes on you. 

At that moment you noticed almost like for the first time how pretty his eyes were. They were so doe-like and innocent, you couldn’t stop staring. 

To outsiders, you both would have seemed very odd as you stood just staring at each other. 

“Well, I-”

“Y/N, hurry- oh shoot, sorry,” Haechan’s voice rang from the doorway, pulling you out of whatever trance you had been in.

“I’m almost done,” you widened your eyes in Haechan’s direction for emphasis, looking back at Mark who had already looked away. “What were you saying, Mark?”

He smiled lightly for a moment, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,”

You furrowed your brows lightly, “You sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” 

              10. I hate that I don’t hate him

                   [Friday]

“I told you so,” Haechan was grinning ear to ear as he joined you on your walk to class.

“I could name ten things I hate about him, yeah right,” He laughed to himself suddenly, mocking your old statement. “Imagine my shock seeing your face a few inches away from his. I should’ve taken a picture.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him lightly, finally reaching the door to the lit class.

“I’ll see you afterwards, good luck,” he said, sending you a final wave before walking away.

It was the test date and you were sure that Mark was nervous. As soon as you got into the room, you noticed his fingers tapping violently on the desk, his single mechanical pencil clattering as it jumped around. He was there early, earlier than you were and that was saying something. The room was empty except for the two of you, even despite you being only about fifteen minutes early.

“Mark,” you had to call his name a second time to get his attention. “Mark, relax,” you took the seat next to him and swiftly grabbed his chattering hand in your own. You watched as his leg began bouncing up and down as if it were mocking the pencil’s previous movement, “Mark, breathe,” his eyes were glued to something in the distance, his breath labored.

“Shit, I’m not prepared,” he muttered quietly, “I should have done another quiz,” he breathed out. “and I can’t fucking breathe,” he clenched his brows at the last statement, his breathing coming out as quick huffs.

“Look at me, Mark,” you reached up to turn his chin towards you. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” you said the words slowly, hoping to not make it any worse.

“You have to breathe, I’m right here and I’m not going to let go of you,” you squeezed lightly on his hand to emphasize your words.

“You’ve studied and studied. You’ve worked hard. You’re going to do well. All you have to do now is relax and breathe. In and out,” his eyes were glued to yours before he finally closed them altogether and began taking slow deep breaths.

“I’m here with you, and we’re both going to destroy this thing,” he nodded slowly at your words, opening them a few minutes later as his breathing reached a normal pace and his leg stopped bouncing. 

You released his hand in the next second, sending him a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” was the last thing he said before people began filing into the room.

[Monday]

“I know what you’ve all been waiting for. I have your graded finals,” Your professor had waited until the end of the day to finally share the news, leaving everyone anxious.

It was utterly silent as he passed them around, only the sound of him saying a quick “see me after class,” to Mark, who immediately winced at the statement. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, noticing that Mark hadn’t received his test back.

“Class is dismissed,” he pointed towards the doorway after delivering the final test, smiling lightly at the people whose arms were thrown up in celebration.

Your score wasn’t that big of a surprise, you had gotten what was expected of you. You were way more interested in Mark. So you decided to wait outside the door, watching as students filed out.

It seemed like hours had passed while you were waiting for him. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, completely missing the sounds of someone walking up to you, that someone being Mark himself.

You yelped in surprise as you were lifted off of your feet and spun around in the air.

“What the hell,” was all you said as the boy set you down.

“Y/N, Look!” he exclaimed, handing you the test with a huge eighty-five percent scribbled in red on the top right corner of the sheet.

“Mark, I told you, you could do it,” you hugged the smiling boy, grinning brightly at him.

“I couldn’t have without you, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into your own was making you melt on the spot. 

“No more tutor girl?” you asked, grin never falling.

“You’ll always be tutor girl but, uh,” he paused as if deep in thought for a moment, “I really like spending time with you. I think it will be weird not seeing you all the time,” you nodded in agreement, realizing that the semester had ended, meaning it was summer break.

“Well, we’re friends now right. We can still hang out,” you offered, watching as the boy looked down with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Um, I know we’re friends, but,” he stepped a little closer to you, “I was wondering like, y’know if it’s possible, if you maybe wanna,” he continued to stumble over his words. You couldn’t help but smile at his very awkward, very cute way of asking you what you already knew he was getting at.

“Mark, do you want to go out sometime,” you finally blurted, chuckling at his pink face. 

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said nodding.

“I don’t know if you knew but uhm, I mean it was before, but basically um, I’m sorry I judged you before, Mark,” you apologized suddenly watching as he shook his head in dismissal. It had been on your mind for a while even despite him not knowing.

“I knew you felt that way before. That’s kind of why I was so like reluctant to have you as my tutor,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed lightly.

“That’s why you were so weird the day he told us,” you nodded in understanding remembering the look Mark gave you when you were first introduced, as if you spat in his drink. In his defense you deserved it.

“Honestly, yeah,” he confessed, “but in your defense, I am kind of an acquired taste,” 

“That’s not an excuse. I was an idiot,” you admitted, “Mark, you’re amazing,” he smiled lightly at your last statement, taking the time to just look at you. His brown eyes were like a pool, drawing you in until you sank, unable to stop staring.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

You only nodded in response, waiting patiently as he lowered his head towards your face until he was less than a centimeter away. It felt like hours had passed until his lips grazed yours, allowing a tingling sensation to move throughout your body.

 In a flash, your arms were around his neck and he was holding onto you delicately, like you would break if he was too rough. He tasted like a mixture of mint and watermelon gum. His warm foresty and floral scent was filling your senses, actively intoxicating you as his lips moved against yours rhythmically. The kiss was greater than any apology you could have given him since it was full of the emotion you couldn’t fully articulate. Mark was fully focused on you in the moment, lips moving against yours like a magnet.

“I told you to become friends, not make out in public,” you heard Haechan’s voice interrupt, causing you to immediately pull away from the boy in front of you. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at Haechan's mortified face and Mark’s intense blush.

“Sorry,” Mark muttered quietly, smiling as he looked down at you.

Haechan walked towards the older boy, looping a hand around his shoulder as he spoke, “Y’know, I always saw this coming. She said she didn’t like you, but a best friend always knows,” you could only shake your head as Mark looked back at you as if asking for help. You could hear Haechan going on and on about his premonitions as you trailed behind the two boys, feeling a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Mark was someone you could never see yourself with. He was loud, always distracted, obnoxious, stubborn, and mysterious. But he was also kind, deliberate, hard-working, smart, infectiously positive, and beautiful. You didn’t know when the thought struck you, but as you looked up at the brunette boy walking ahead you finally knew what you wanted. You wanted him by your side for as long as possible.

[corvus--rex]

So, to start off with, these are a little rough. Mostly cleaned up for spelling/grammar, but there are things that are more like placeholder notes in exposition form that would be written out if I went back to it.

This one's working title is Quantum Fracture, is "in universe" non-canon compliant, and is set both near the end of s.2 after ep.9, and a few years post s.8. It's also only semi-abandoned. I like it and want to keep going with it, but I've hit a wall and just can't do anything with it right now. It has (sort-of) time travel and "Galra genetics are weird" resulting in Klance kids. It does also switch between times, but those sections have punctuation separators.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lance, Pidge, keep watch on the area. Keith, Hunk, and I will go down to check it out,” Shiro said over the comms.

“Got it.”

“Copy that.”

Green and Blue split off from the V-formation, flying over the asteroid while Black, Red, and Yellow landed on its surface. Lance and Pidge kept a visual track on their friends while keeping their scanners active for anything in the area. Team Voltron had been on their way back to the Castle after liberating another planet from the Galra Empire when Pidge’s more finely-tuned scanners picked up on what looked like an abandoned Galra base embedded in an asteroid. Shiro made the call to check it out and let Allura and Coran know what was going on, keeping Lance and Pidge on watch. The Black Paladin took point, with Keith right behind him. Hunk brought up the rear, man-portable cannon ready for whatever might try to sneak up on them. The facility was powered down, a layer of dust on every surface.

“Looks like it really is abandoned,” Keith said, “I don’t think there’s anyone or anything left here.”

“Agreed, but I want to complete a sweep of the facility. Never know what might have been left behind,” Shiro replied.

They continued on, not making any real effort at stealth, but only made it about another 20 feet before a side door creaked and flew open, Keith finding himself blown out into space, despite Hunk’s effort to prevent it. Keith tried to use his jetpack to redirect himself and head back to the facility, but there was just enough gravity generated by the density of the asteroid field to pull him toward the nearest surface. He bounced off the next asteroid, damaging his jetpack in the process. It sent him away from the asteroid field and into open space.

This isn’t how this was supposed to go, Keith thought as he floated in the void, then realized just how much Lance was rubbing off on him. His back hit a second, smaller asteroid, and he bounced off into the nothingness. Come on, Red. Where are you?

He felt the shift in the vacuum an instant before the sensors in his armor picked it up. The short chirp announced the sensors’ findings, bringing it up on the HUD. The display’s minimal capabilities showed the slight variant, a faint ripple in the fabric of space.

“The fuck is that?” he asked the void of space.

He hadn’t expected an answer, and didn’t get one. What he did get was the familiar mental pressure of the red Lion, immediately followed by the equally familiar golden glow of the robotic cat’s eyes. Red swallowed the paladin’s free-floating body, and he rolled through the slowly pressurizing corridor before the artificial gravity activated. He had only just taken his seat in the cockpit when he heard Pidge shouting across the comms.

“Keith! Are you ok? There was a spatial-temporal fluctuation right next to you.”

“Yeah, I felt it, but I'm ok,” he answered, exhausted from the mission and subsequent launch into space.

Green came up alongside Red, guiding them back to the Castle, Blue right behind them. Once the three Paladins were back aboard the Castle of Lions, Pidge insisted that Keith go to the medical deck, just in case.

“Ok, fine, Pidge. But I'm fine. Really,” Keith protested while simultaneously giving in.

She didn’t trust him to really go, but she was also concerned with the anomaly she found, so didn’t question it when Lance volunteered to make sure Keith went.

“Keith, what were you thinking?” Lance asked when they were alone.

“I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t anything I did and Hunk and Shiro will figure it out. Pidge is more worried about the space-time ripple we encountered. But I'm fine. Really.”

Blue’s Paladin stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. “You scared me, cuervo. I saw you get ejected into empty space without Red or any of us nearby. Pidge said she was going after you, but still…it scared me.”

“I don’t think we should hide anymore. I think it’s time to let the team in on our secret.”

The pair had been dating secretly for a month at that point, intentionally keeping their relationship from the rest of the team. Keith didn’t think they would have been taken seriously to begin with, and Lance agreed. After a late-night talk, they both decided to give it time and let themselves settle into their budding relationship. But it was beginning to make them behave differently, especially on missions. They became focused on where the other was and it was causing mistakes. This last mistake could have been deadly, although Keith was right, he hadn’t done or not done anything that led to the deserted Galra base’s small side door opening and pulling the Red Paladin into the cold vacuum of space.

“Yeah, I think you might be right,” Lance admitted.

Keith took his boyfriend’s hand, linking their fingers together, and headed toward the medical deck. Coran met them there, no doubt having been called by Pidge. Keith was thoroughly checked over by way of the Castle’s scanners, and as far as they could tell, not a molecule was out of place. After finding out that Keith was at least partly Galra, Pidge and Hunk had thrown themselves into a reprograming project to the medical deck’s scanners, integrating human biological standards. They were surprised to find that the scanners were already programmed with Galra standards, and that was when Coran told the entire team about the original Paladins, Zarkon included.

Instead of the lounge or one of their bedrooms, Lance and Keith instead went to one of the Castle’s many observation balconies. Once they were alone, Keith let himself crumble, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and holding on as tightly as he could. Lance gently returned the physical connection, understanding that the events of the morning had affected him more than he would let on in front of anyone else. He waited until he could feel the tension drain and knew that Keith was just sneaking middle of the day snuggling.

“You better now?” Lance asked.

Keith sighed softly against Lance’s neck. “Yeah, I think so. We should probably go see what Pidge found before anyone wonders where we went.”

“I don’t wanna,” he protested, holding on tighter.

Keith laughed and pulled away. “Well, if we stop keeping all this a secret, we won’t have to worry about where and when anymore.”

“Ugh. I guess.” Lance’s tone was overdramatic as usual, but his blue eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea of being open about his relationship.

Stepping backward out the door, Keith led the way toward the Lions’ hangars and Pidge’s lab. Halfway down the second to last corridor, Keith tripped over the smooth floor. He caught himself mid-stumble and stopped completely.

“Keith?” Lance asked, “Mi cuervo, you ok?”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Keith! What the fuck was that?” Lance called over the comm.

“Dunno, but my speeder’s sensors caught it. Heading back now,” Keith answered from inside his modified speeder.

Modified, that was, by Pidge, who had retrofitted all of the Lions’ speeders to be able to fly in space. They were still fairly short-range, not capable of straying far from the Lions. It meant that Keith was still in visual range of Red when the Lion’s sensors spiked with the anomaly’s fluctuation.

Lance was waiting at the door to the cockpit when Keith came in. The tail of the raised French braid that normally ran halfway down his back was draped over his shoulder. Lance had insisted on braiding his husband’s hair that morning. Keith had groaned and asked why, seeing as it was just a simple recon mission. “Because you’re pretty, the twins are at school, we have time, and I felt like it,” was the list of reasons Lance rattled off as he made Keith sit. He didn’t mind it, but they usually saved more complex braids for diplomatic missions, not “drive down the street for space readings” missions.

Keith had had his second puberty while in the Quantum Abyss with Krolia, and it ended up being a good thing she was there. Alone, he would have assumed that the abdominal cramping, chills, fever, nausea, and full-body pain meant that he was dying. Krolia, however, recognized the symptoms of the shift in her son’s body to that of a Carrier and becoming physically capable of conceiving and carrying a baby. She told him that his half-human status may well have rendered him infertile, but they didn’t have the resources to look into it at the time, and the middle of a war wasn’t the time to worry about it. So it surprised both Keith and Lance when he found himself pregnant not long after the war ended, and they welcomed their twins Andra and Ori five and a half months later after a normal Galra-length pregnancy. The twins birth records had their names down as Andromeda Artemis and Orion Fenris Kogane-McClain, names that were called with increasing frequency now that the twins were five.

Keith sat himself in the pilot’s seat, pulling up the sensor readings from both Red and the speeder. They looked the same to both himself and Lance, but Pidge would be able to make better sense of them. But something about the anomaly was bothering Keith. It took a good minute of staring at the readings to realize that it was similar to how spacetime behaved near the core of the Quantum Abyss. And something about thatbothered him even more.

“You ok, cuervo?” Lance asked, leaning against the edge of the display panel.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, “Just something about that anomaly reminds me of the Quantum Abyss. We’ll get it to Pidge and figure it out.”

The trip back to the new Castle was short, Red bypassing the reconfigured IGF-Atlas and heading directly for his hangar on the original Castle of Lions. After the end of the Galra War and the brief, but intense, war with Honerva, the Voltron Coalition needed a permanent – and mobile – base. The Atlas reshaped itself, wrapping around the Castle like the defensive walls of an ancient castle around its keep. Its completed size rivaled that of Galra Central Command, now the seat of the newly-formed Galra Collective.

Team Voltron’s power couple – beating out Shiro’s marriage to Adam – crossed the distance to Green’s hangar, where Pidge still maintained her personal lab. They found her buried in her multi-screen setup, one screen dedicated to the call she was on with her long-distance Olkari girlfriend Malyn, the others covered in technical readouts, diagrams, and blueprints.

“We’re back,” Keith announced when they walked in.

“Oh good. Anything weird happen out there?” Pidge said, taking Keith’s comm.

“The anomaly is behaving like the core of the Quantum Abyss.”

Pidge shoved the device into her computer a little harder than she intended. Except for her ongoing call, she wiped everything off the other screens, replacing what was on them with the readouts from both Red and the speeder. Her amber eyes flicked from screen to screen, already analyzing.

“I’m really sorry, Malyn. I have to call you later.”

“Of course. Is everything all right?” Malyn asked, concern laced in her voice.

“I’m not sure yet. We found a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it’s behaving differently from anything similar I’ve seen. Maybe…there was one…nah, that was different…”

Malyn laughed, she always found her girlfriend’s analytical mind adorable. “I’ll let you get to that. We’ll talk later.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, Malyn. We’ll talk again later, promise,” Pidge apologized again, but Malyn waved her off, still laughing, and cut the call.

“So, you'll let us know when you’ve found something?” Lance prompted.

“What? Yeah. Right. This is weirder than anything I've ever seen like this…”

Lance and Keith shared a look, knowing that Pidge was fully invested in the data and that she wouldn’t leave her computer unless she was physically removed. Deciding on the tactical retreat, they left her to it, heading back to their apartment on the Castle.

The Atlas hadn’t been the only thing to be reconfigured. The Castle of Lions had undergone its own renovations, the old single rooms turned into apartment-like suites. Shiro and Adam maintained Garrison positions onboard the Atlas, but retired to the Castle at the end of every day. Lance and Keith settled into their apartment after their two month long honeymoon. Hunk was splitting his time between the Castle and Balmera, sharing his space with Shay when they were there. Pidge mostly used hers as an excuse for more tech and a separate workspace, but Malyn stayed there with her when she could get time away from rebuilding Olkarion under Ryner’s guidance. Coran had decided to keep his old room the way it was, and Allura felt that her own rooms didn’t need the upgrade. The rest of the rooms stayed the same for the new Altean crew running the ship at a proper capacity.

It wasn’t until they got back that Keith realized Pidge still had his comm. “Well, shit. I’ll be back,” he said, heading for the door.

Lance decided to follow him out into the corridor.

“Why?”

“Because,” Lance answered, “I have nothing better to do and I can watch you walk away all day.”

“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith groaned in mock frustration.

“No, that’s after we get your comm.”

Keith turned, intending to call Lance out on exposing him like that, but stumbled, relieved that Lance was close enough to catch him.

“You alright, cuervo?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just tripped,” he said, but stopped. Something was wrong. He could feel the braid hanging over his shoulder from when he stumbled, felt the strength in Lance’s arms. No, this was wrong. He looked up. There was a small scar he didn’t remember being there, and the blue Altean marks were definitely new. His own body felt foreign. It was shaped differently, taller and broader than it should be. His voice was different, a little deeper, a little huskier than it should be. “Lance?”

“Keith, love, are you really ok?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Lance helped him to stand, leading him back to their apartment. Once inside, he sat Keith on the couch. “What happened? Exactly,” he asked.

“What does – is this about the anomaly? I told you before that I'm fine. We had Coran check me out. There was nothing wrong. Where are we anyway?”

“We didn’t have Coran check you out. There’s an entire medical crew for that anyway. We’re home, on the Castle. What do you remember from this morning?” Lance’s entire tone was cautious. Something was very wrong with his husband, but he wanted to have at least some answers before bringing it up with anyone else.

“We were coming back from a mission and stopped to check out an abandoned Galra base in an asteroid field. One of the side doors opened and I got blown out. There was a ripple in space-time, and I got close to it in nothing but my armor before Red came to get me. But I'm fine. I told both you and Pidge that.”

Lance remembered that mission. Overall, it was unremarkable. The base didn’t have anything useful. But there hadn’t been any temporal fluctuations. Yes, Keith had ended up floating through the void, but nothing happened other than that. The only reason he remembered that mission in particular was because that was when they decided to tell the team that they were together. It had been ten years since that mission.

“Ok. I do remember that. But, that was ten years ago. That was when we decided to tell the team that we’d been dating for a month.”

Keith’s face flickered between shock, bewilderment, and terror. Ten years? There was no way that could be right. But the evidence was right there. His own body and voice were different. He could see and feel how long his hair had gotten. And then there was Lance. He was beautiful as ever, and it certainly seemed that they were still together, but he was different. The scar, the Altean marks – how and when the fuck did that happen, and why? – and there was the fact that he was broader, more muscled, not slender and willowy like he had been. He processed everything in real time, not saying a word in that time. It had apparently been longer than he thought, because Lance was looking up at him from where he’d tilted his head to the side.

“Keith? Mi cuervo? What is going on?”

“You…you still call me that? It really has been ten years?”

“This has to be related to that anomaly,” he muttered. “Yeah, it’s really been ten years. And, yeah, I do still call you that. A lot’s changed in ten years, but not that. Stay here. I need to show you something. It might help.” Lance stood, leaving the room for their bedroom, coming back in less than a minute. He extended his free hand, bringing Keith over to the table where they both sat. Lance placed a ring of smoothly twisted and woven silver metal and carved crystal that shifted between blood red, cobalt, and vibrant violet on the table between them. “Do you remember this?” he asked softly, “Do you remember when I gave you that?”

Keith stared at it like if he could untwist it mentally, he could remember what it was. But he couldn’t, because Lance had never given him anything like it. It was definitely something he could see Lance picking for him, but as far as Keith knew, he never had.

“No, I don’t,” he had to admit.

Lance sighed, a tinge of sadness to it. “Ok. Something happened with the temporal anomaly we found earlier and that Pidge is still analyzing. I know you’re really Keith, but I don’t think you're my Keith. What you said happened this morning happened ten years ago for me. We need to go check in with Pidge and see if she’s figured anything out yet.”

“Ok,” Keith agreed, rising to follow Lance, “I shouldn’t know anything else. Not yet. But at least I know we’re still together.”

“We certainly are,” Lance agreed, taking Keith’s hand, “We’ll figure this out. That anomaly might have fucked with your memories somehow, but we’ll figure it out.”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Yeah, fine.” Keith stood on his own, suddenly realizing that they shouldn’t have been a corridor and a half away from Green’s hangar, they should have been close to their apartment in a completely different part of the castle. Everything seemed ever so slightly bigger, except for himself and Lance. His braid was gone, and he was wearing clothes he hadn’t seen in years. And Lance looked so young. This was the thin, wiry boy he’d fallen in love with more than ten years before. The one without the Altean marks he’d gotten when Allura revived him after saving her from an energy blast. But he heard Lance call him by that familiar pet name. That alone left Keith with more questions.

“We need to see if Pidge’s gotten anywhere with that anomaly,” Lance said.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. When had his voice gotten higher?

Keith stopped when they walked into Pidge’s lab. It wasn’t what he was expecting. This was the lab of a decade earlier. The one with the laptop she’d brought from Earth along with the equipment she had either repurposed or built from scratch. It startled him, and he froze in place.

“Keith, seriously, are you ok?”

“I…I don’t know anymore. Everything is wrong. Where is everyone else?”

“Hunk and Shiro are heading back from the abandoned base now. That door just malfunctioned after going so long without maintenance. And there was absolutely nothing important there,” Pidge answered, still focused on her computer screen. She realized part of what he said and turned around. “Wait, what do you mean ‘everything is wrong’?”

“You’re looking at a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it didn’t happen now. There shouldn’t have been one here. I…I think I might be from your future. Or, at least, sort of. I don’t look any different to you, do I?”

“No. You don’t. Get back to the part where you think you're from the future.”

“I don’t know how much I should tell you. I don’t know if it could upset the timeline. But I know when I am now.” He turned to Lance. “It’s been about a month now, right? And we had that talk?”

Lance nodded, trying to understand just what his boyfriend was saying about the future. “Yeah, and we did talk about it. Just a few minutes ago. But if you're from the future, I don’t know if talking about that now will help. It also doesn’t answer the question of if you’re Future Keith, what happened to Present Keith?”

“I don’t know. Best case, he switched places with me. He’ll be confused and probably a little scared, but I know he’s in good hands there. Fuck it feels weird talking about myself in the third person. Have you found out anything about the anomaly here?” he asked Pidge.

“Well, I think so, but I've never seen anything like this before.”

Keith came up behind her, looking over their temporal disruption. It was identical to the one he’d found in his time. He had no question now that he had switched bodies with his 18-year-old self. But at least there were a few things he didn’t need to worry about hiding. He knew he was at least partly Galra at this point. He wouldn’t meet Krolia for a little while, so he would have to keep that one to himself. But it also meant that he hadn’t been through the Quantum Abyss yet. There was no way he could tell them about that without explaining everything. He would have to be subtle with asking about the war.

“I have, but I can’t tell you anything specific. Like where, why, or how. And even knowing what it is, I don’t have your science brain, Pidgey. I have no idea how it works.”

Both Pidge and Lance were staring at him. Not because of what he said, but how he said it. He’d picked up a lot of linguistic quirks from Lance over the years, and no longer gave it any thought at all.

“You sound like Lance,” Pidge said finally.

“We’ve all spent a lot of time together over ten years,” Keith replied, avoiding the real question.

“Sure. What canyou tell me about this?”

Keith pulled Hunk’s usual seat over, sitting beside her. Lance perched on an empty spot of desk space, suddenly wanting to be closer to his boyfriend, or whatever he was at that point.

“It’s specific to a single point in space, but not this one. But that’s the problem. I can’t tell you anything about where it is or what it is because you haven’t gotten there yet. All I can say is that space and time work very differently there due to massive fluctuations in gravity, which is why this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because there’s something there that affects the gravity in a way that it doesn’t where we found it.”

“Basically. It’s more like what affects gravity there doesn’t exist anywhere else, especially where this anomaly was found. It’s also far smaller here than it should be. Like the difference in scorch marks between Lance’s rifle and Hunk’s autocannon.”

“So, this anomaly is a precise shot, and where it should be is a huge mess,” Lance said.

“Pretty much,” Keith agreed, “But I really can’t tell you about it because there’s something vital to the war there and I don’t know how it would change things if you found out about it now. It wouldn’t be good. There are other players you don’t know about yet.”

Pidge continued typing away at her laptop, the 3D render of the anomaly rotating on the screen. Lance wanted to watch the progress, but he couldn’t focus on it. His attention was solely on Keith. Except for his earlier phrasing, he didn’t think Pidge had picked up on just how different he was. Body language, mannerisms, almost everything had changed in some way except for his physical appearance. And there was one thing Lance had noticed almost immediately after Keith started talking about the anomaly. He was pretty sure Keith wasn’t aware of it, but he had been running his left thumb across the ring finger of the same hand, like there was something missing. Lance thought about bringing it up, but decided not to, heavily suspecting Keith would just say that it was something else he couldn’t talk about.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[astralaffairs]

How do you think Phillip would handle an anxiety attack/depressive episode? As someone with depression, I experience these a lot and having someone there with me is nice

hey honey!! i empathize w u 100% — I've struggled w/ depression for years. that said, i kinda struggled w this, since having ppl with me when i go thru depressive episodes can be difficult for me, so i'm super sorry if this doesn't 100% reflect your experiences!!! as much as ik where you're coming from, i think my own perspective n experiences kinda colored how this turned out (also it got v long n self indulgent oops)

-----

"Hey, princess, you around?" Your eyes widened at the words, echoing down the hall of your apartment from your living room. "Y/N?"

You didn't respond at first, weren't sure what to say. You liked hearing the sound of his voice; it was a comfort in itself, but you also weren't sure whether you wanted him to find you in your room, still in bed in your pajamas, your now-empty bag of Fritos perched on the pillow beside you. You almost regretted giving him a key. You were exhausted — it was no secret for anyone who caught a glance of your half-lidded stare, the bags under your eyes. You were propped up against a pillow at the headboard, but you were still slouched over into your bent knees, curled into yourself.

You could see that he'd flipped the kitchen light on, its furthest reaches flooding the hall toward your bedroom. You wondered whether that'd mask the light coming from your room.

Your phone lit up beside you, but you couldn't see what the message you'd received actually said. It was instead filed under the notification, 'Pip 🥺💞: 7 unread messages.'

You reached over to put your phone on your bedside table, but when you did, your bed creaked loudly. You winced at the noise. Apparently, it also catalyzed the footsteps that'd stalled in your front room to kick back into action, now headed in your direction.

"Baby?" His voice was laced with concern, now. "You back here?"

When he reached your room, he raised an eyebrow, knocked lightly on the doorframe, and you sighed. "Hey, is everything okay? Can I come in?"

You didn't respond immediately, hesitant to speak for fear of him hearing the apathy that you knew had taken root deep in your voice. Eventually, after a long moment of apprehensive silence, you said, "Yeah. Yeah, of course you can."

How quiet, tired your words sounded only heightened the worry in his knit brow. His actions were tentative as he approached you. Your body was tense as he took a seat at the foot of your bed. "What're you doing in bed? It's almost 6 PM."

"What, I'm not allowed to be in bed in my own apartment?" Your voice was unnecessarily combative, and his eyebrows shot up at the sudden hostility.

"I didn't say that. Of course you are," he replied, and how gentle his tone was had you immediately struck with a pang of guilt. "But your laptop's off, and I know you've been silencing your phone. I just mean... genuinely, what have you been doing in here?"

You shrugged halfheartedly, not meeting his eyes. "I dunno. It's my day off; I don't have to be productive all the time, Philip." Again, when you spoke, it was accusatory, and Philip pursed his lips.

"Did I do something? Are you angry with me?"

Being branded as 'angry' usually would've multiplied your frustration tenfold — no, you weren't angry, but he'd showed up at your apartment unannounced and proceeded to question your lazy evening in; didn't you at least have a right to be annoyed? — but his searching gaze looked so troubled when it met yours that you couldn't bring yourself to be. Ultimately, you shook your head.

"No, you didn't. I just..." When you trailed off, you'd intended to finish the sentence, but you realized you didn't have a decent explanation to offer him. He sighed.

"Something's wrong. Talk to me; c'mon." You didn't say anything, and he scooted across your mattress to sit beside you, discarding your empty, crinkled snack bag to the floor. "Y/N?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine," you murmured, and though you offered him a tired smile, he frowned.

"Hey, no you're not." When he reached for your hand, you flinched, more due to instinct born of the tension in your bloodstream than to any real intention. Nonetheless, it took him aback. He was about to pull away, but when you relaxed, he laced his fingers tentatively into yours. You didn't rebuke him. "Y'know I'm here for you, right?"

The smile you managed to contrive at that was, in your opinion, more convincing than your previous one. "I know, baby. I love you. But really, I'm doing alright. I've just been tired today; I wanted to come take a nap. Sorry if I'm being grumpy."

You thought your words would've assuaged his concerns; they had with everyone who'd heard them before. However, Philip let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. "Please, don't bullshit me. I know you too well for that."

Your light laugh in response felt like an adequate supplement, and you squeezed his hand. "Relax. I'm not bullshitting, okay?"

You held firm on your smile as he eyed you warily, and when he leaned over to kiss you, you relished in the touch, eyes fluttering shut as his nose skimmed your skin. He didn't pull all the way away, though, resting his forehead against yours.

His lips met your cheek, and against your skin, he whispered, "Stop hiding. I love you, and you're only worrying me more."

He took your chin in his free hand as he pulled just inches away, watching carefully when your eyes widened. "C'mon, what makes you think—?"

"I know you." He cut you off firmly, the words leaving little room for protest or contradiction. You didn't like how exposed you felt. "And I can tell that something's seriously wrong."

A moment passed in silence; your eyes darted across his expression, searching for any degree of uncertainty, but he was set fully in his convictions. You bit your lip. "Okay," you finally said, voice tiny. "I... I'm sorry, Philip."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to be honest with me." He reached up to smooth his hand over your hair, it eventually coming to rest at the nape of your neck. You nodded.

"I know." You ran your thumb over his knuckles, staring down at where your hands were interlinked. "But... I don't know what to tell you. Nothing happened, and there's nothing you can fix."

"Then what isn't okay?" he asked. "What can you talk to me about? What's weighing on you?"

How earnest his voice was only left you frustrated, sitting beside him with no answer to give. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm what's been ruining my day."

"What d'you mean?"

You huffed, tried to pull your hand away as you turned your head, struggling to articulate anything. You felt stupid; you knew whatever would come out of your mouth would sound stupid. But he didn't let your hand go, and you found yourself easing back toward his body.

"This whole day has just... it's been so fucking hard. And I haven't even done anything. I'm still in bed, for god's sake; I've been useless." Your own words made your skin crawl. You sounded so whiny; why couldn't you form a thought without coming off as pathetic?

"It's your day off, right? Why should you be productive?" he echoed your own words back to you with a kind smile, and your involuntary resentment eased in the slightest.

"Thanks, Pip. But..." You swallowed. "I'm so tired. Everything I try to do feels so exhausting. The reason my laptop's still off is because trying to find something to watch was just... making me feel worse."

He nodded. "I'm sorry." You were momentarily disappointed when he released your hand, but that same arm then snaked around your waist, and he paused, not yet trying to pull you into him. "This okay?"

How gently, how tenderly he was treating you your fatigued gaze slowly softening. "Yeah." You shut your eyes when he held you close, leaning you into his body. He was so warm, and he was so good to you. "Love you," you murmured.

"I love you, too." The small, weak smile you gave was all but imperceptible when he kissed the top of your head. "So, what d'you think's going on, then? Are you getting sick? Do I need to take you to the doctor? Pick up some antibiotics?"

The concern in his eyes had returned when you glanced up to him once more, and you pursed your lips. "No, no, it's not... I don't need the doctor, or any ibuprofen, or whatever," you murmured, and your tone sounded more hopeless than you realized. You'd burrowed your face into Philip's side, by then, and you couldn't see it when he pursed his lips. The despair in his eyes was heavier than you'd have guessed.

"Alright, princess," he said quietly. When a beat passed, you thought he was going to leave it at that, but his voice was apprehensive when he continued. "Is there... something else you know that has you so spent?"

The noise of discontent you let out into his t-shirt was almost a groan. You weren't overly pleased with his hitting the mark, but after a long pause, you gave a small, weak nod. "Yeah," you whispered. "But it isn't something you can fix."

He didn't hesitate, then, to pull you into his lap, though the action caught you by surprise. Both his hands were holding you to him by the waist; you shifted in his grasp, turning to rest against his chest, your arms looped around his neck. "Then it's a good thing you aren't broken." You lifted your head from his chest, turning it to look up at him curiously, and one of his hands left your waist, instead coming to cup your cheek. "My sister's been dealing with depression for most of her life. I get that I'll never know what it's like, but if you're willing to talk to me, trust me when I say I won't take it lightly."

His thumb sweeped across your cheekbone as you stared up at him in surprise. He furrowed his eyebrows. "What's up? Was my assumption off-base?

At that, you let out a huff, surprised but no longer bitter. "No. You're just too perceptive for your own good sometimes; you know that?" you murmured, and he laughed. You could feel it reverberate in his chest against your body.

"Not too perceptive for your own good, though, apparently." He raised an eyebrow at you, expectant, and you rolled your eyes. When you didn't respond, he continued, "How come you never told me?"

"I don't know." You sniffed. "Depression's just so fucking stupid. Like, sorry, your brain chemicals are fucked up, so you're going to spend the next week rotting in bed. What kind of deal is that?"

The droll annoyance in your words made him smile. Anything was better than the apathy. "Really, princess, who comes up with this stuff?" he replied, mirth laced into his tone as he plastered on a look of annoyance. You cracked a small smile.

"I dunno, but I'd like to have a talk with them sometime. Give 'em a piece of my mind."

He laughed, absentmindedly rubbing circles into your lower back. "You should. Stick it to the man." The way he nodded decisively made you purse your lips, small smile threatening to widen into a watery grin. "But until then, is there anything I can do for you right now? What have you done today?"

You let out a heavy sigh against his body, with that, once again fully present in your wreck of a bedroom. "I showered, and I ate a family-size bag of chips."

"Hey, so you got out of bed." He nudged you with his shoulder, wearing an encouraging smile. "That's something, right?"

"Mmhmm. And then I got right back into bed," you huffed.

"Alright. What have you eaten today? Anything?"

You raised an eyebrow. "We just covered this. Family-sized bag of chips."

"That's not exactly a meal, baby," he said, and his furrowed brow made you scowl. "Hey, I don't mean to downplay that; I'm really glad you ate. I just wanna know if I can get you anything else."

You shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"Is there any food that you'd eat right now if you had it in front of you?"

There was a pause; you didn't move, gaze blank as you considered it, but again, you shrugged. "I dunno. Chocolate sounds nice. But I don't need anything."

"You need to eat."

"That's so unhealthy," you said quietly. Just your single day's worth of poor eating habits had you feeling beyond lousy about your body; you had no desire to see a mirror until at least the next day.

"What's unhealthy is letting yourself starve, princess." You rested the side of your head against his chest once more, having no desire to meet his eyes. You didn't want his stare to be judgmental.

"'M not starving," you mumbled, and one of his hands rose to the back of your head, holding you close as you leaned into him.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," he whispered, and his thumb brushed across the skin of your neck. "Relax. I love you. I can go and get you anything you want to eat."

"No, no, don't leave. Don't leave me," you murmured, and your hold on him tightened. "Just stay with me. Please. I'll deal with everything I've been neglecting in the morning."

He sighed. "Baby, you know I want to, but I'm worried about you. Someone's gotta take care of you if you aren't gonna take care of yourself."

"Later." You looked up at him, and he could see your distress in your gaze. "I promise, Philip. I'm just so tired. Just wanna stay in bed. Want you here with me."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promise, princess."

[platypanthewriter]

See You On the Other Side

Febuwhump: Day 5, Take Me Instead (got a lil derailed though) WIP

Steve was driving at night, listening to the radio.  The Eurythmics were blasting out his windows, the breeze whipping his hair and drying the sweat of Indiana in August, and there was nothing ahead of him in the road, when suddenly Billy Goddamn Hargrove stepped out right in front of his car.  The headlights lit up his bloodied wifebeater and the cigarette in his hand as the bumper of Steve’s car passed through him, and Steve yelled.  

The brakes screeched as Steve’s car came to an angled stop, and he panted, his arms up as he stared around, his heart thudding in his chest.  He scrambled out to look back, and his tail lights showed a dark shape standing, idly, where he’d just driven his car.  Steve jogged back.  

It was definitely Billy, sweaty, blueish, and bloodied as Steve had last seen him.  He was smirking past Steve’s head.  “...that you, pretty boy?” he asked, with a rasp in his voice Steve didn’t remember, and black fluid dried down his chin and neck.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Steve said automatically, jerking his head to squint at his car, then back to where Billy was standing, smack between the rubber marks where he’d tried to stop.  

“...move along,” Billy said, turning away, and Steve dodged around him, staring into his face, as Billy laughed, hunching his shoulders.  “...you want something from me, King Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, reaching out, then yanking his hand back.  “What the hell is going on?!”

“You wanna know more about me, your majesty?” Billy asked, stalking forward so their faces passed through each other, and Steve stumbled backwards so fast he nearly fell on his ass.  He caught himself in a crouch with one hand behind him, and pushed himself back up as Billy laughed his ass off.  

“Screw you,” Steve muttered, dusting himself off, but he could hardly just leave Max’s dead brother wandering the highway.  “Why’re you...streetwalking?”

“...I am not doing that,” Billy snorted.  “Sounds kinda unsatisfying, who’s gonna pay a ghost for a fuck?”

“What?” Steve asked, squinting, and Billy shrugged, raising his eyebrows.  Steve sighed.  “Jesus, I forgot what a dickhead you are.”

“Drive on, then, Harrington,” Billy waved him off, and Steve had to trot after him again as he wandered down the road.  

“Does Max know you’re out here?” he asked, and Billy snorted.

“The fuck would she care.”

“She cares,” Steve told him, stubbornly.  “No idea why, really—why’re you here, anyway?  You didn’t get run over—”

“Actually, I just did,” Billy pointed out.  

“You died at Starcourt,” Steve finished, and Billy tucked his hands in his pockets again, and started walking away.  “Why aren’t you—”

“What, in hell?” Billy snarled back.  “I don’t know where the fuck I am—”

“Johnson’s Texaco’s like three minutes thattaway,” Steve pointed, and Billy cocked his head, frowning over his shoulder, then pointed hesitantly the other way.  “...so the mall is…” 

“Yep,” Steve told him, and Billy stopped, sighing.  Steve opened his mouth to talk, then closed it, and blew air into his cheeks, feeling like a frustrated chipmunk.  “...I dunno if I can give you a ride,” he said after a while, and Billy snorted.

“Pretty obvious you can’t,” he said, sitting down right there in the road.  “The fuck d’you even want.”

“...come on, get out of the road, you’re gonna cause a wreck,” Steve told him, his hands passing through Billy’s arms, and Billy laughed.  

“Yeah, even dead I’m causing problems for everyone,” he said, lying back, so he was sprawled across both sides of the road, his arms and legs outstretched.  “Fuck off.”

Steve sighed, stalked back to his car, and swung it around, pulling over to the shoulder.   He looked for headlights before he stepped into the road, and walked over to kick through Billy’s starfished leg.  “The hell are you doing, man,” he sighed, and Billy raised one arm to flip him off.  Steve crouched, considering.  He’d heard a fair amount about Max and Billy from Dustin—Billy’s mom wasn’t in the picture, he gathered.  “You want me to tell your dad you’re here?”

Billy sat up, glaring at him.  “No, I fucking don’t, fuck off, leave me the fuck alone—”

“Oh,” Steve said, thinking.  

“Don’t you dare,” Billy hissed.  “Only good thing about being dead, him having nothing to say about it.”

“...oh,” said Steve, grimacing.  

“...why are you still here,” Billy sighed.

“Uh,” Steve said, thinking.  “Uh, El is fine,” he said slowly, and Billy laughed.

“You think I give a shit?!”

“...I mean, you died saving her,” Steve told him, “—so yeah, kinda.”

“Got her in trouble in the first place,” Billy said, so low Steve barely heard it.  “If I hadn’t gone fucking—crazy—”  Steve opened his mouth to answer, and heard a car coming.  He stood, frowning, and Billy scrambled to his feet and waved his hands through Steve’s torso.  “Get the fuck out of the road, Harrington—”

Steve allowed himself to be waved to the side of the road well before the truck even came around the curve and its headlights lit them up.  “...how come you’re out here?” he asked again.  

“...you should go,” Billy said, following him to his car.  “There’s shit out here worse than me.”  

He walked off into the woods after that, making no noise in the underbrush, and Steve couldn’t see him outside the area lit by the streetlights.  

 There hadn’t been much reason to go to Starcourt, before that, but he swung by after he spent his whole shift the next day wondering whether he should tell Robin he’d met the ghost of Billy Hargrove, or be honest, and admit he was going insane.  

Billy was lying along a car-sized chunk of fallen cement, and Steve wandered closer, watching him.  He looked...like a dead guy, Steve thought, he wasn’t glowing, or transparent—he was just there, his tank top stained with dried blood and black ooze, staring up at the sky.  “...Hargrove,” Steve called, and Billy sat up and glared at him.  

“You checkin’ me out?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, grinning, and then trotting over.  He walked right up to Steve again, and Steve dodged back as Billy’s face brushed through his.

“You made it back,” Steve observed, wiping his face off with a reflexive reflex, and then feeling dumb, because it wasn’t like it actually had Billy’s brain on it.  

Billy shrugged, smirking.  “The hell else am I supposed to go,” he laughed.  “They didn’t dig me out.”  

“Shit,” Steve agreed, raising his eyebrows, and Billy snorted, watching him.  “...what’d you mean, there’s shit worse than you?”

“Fuck you very much,” Billy laughed, tensing, but he didn’t answer.  His eyes raked over the parking lot.  

“I didn’t tell anyone you were, uh.  About you,” Steve told him, and Billy barked a laugh.  

“Because that always goes well,” he said, baring his teeth in a grin.  “How come I didn’t just—tell you I’d lost my shit, Harrington?  You’d’a put me down.  Beat my fucking head in.”

“...what?” Steve asked, blinking at him.

“Before I turned into—fucking Zodiac Killer,” Billy said flatly, his hands shaking.  “What’d my body count even end up being?”

“Wait, no,” Steve held his hands up.  “You—you were like, um, y’know, that movie with the little girl who pukes pea soup on a priest?”

“...you’re saying demons are real,” Billy scoffed, but watched him warily.  “...I was wondering if you were real, and then you said dumb shit about the Exorcist, and thought I’d wanna see my dad—”

“They’re...sort of real,” Steve said, biting his lip.  “I mean, you weren’t...you.  There was—there’s a—” he fumbled around, trying to explain, and Billy listened, waiting.  “...it drove you like a car,” Steve said finally.  “The uh, the car doesn’t—you couldn’t pick where to go.  Right?”

“...sure what it felt like,” Billy said, clenching his fists.  “I couldn’t—I could—sometimes, I could—I could go to work, or—but then I’d—” he took a deep breath, and then growled into his hands.  “...I tried to call the cops,” he whispered, and Steve ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, trying to think of something to say.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he said first, and Billy snorted a laugh.  “It wasn’t,” Steve told him, and when Billy opened his mouth to argue again, Steve waved his hands wildly.  “No, no, listen.  Look.  Okay.  There’s a lab—no,” he bit his lip, thinking, and tried again.  “The government started giving people these drugs, like, my mom’s age, when they were like—in college, like the seventies,” he began, and Billy listened.  After a while he sat down, glowering intently between questions, and Steve sat down crosslegged on the ground facing him.  

Billy didn’t have a ton of questions, but most of the ones he did have were about Will, and how Joyce Byers had saved him, and he stared down at his hands, licking his teeth in a fidgety way, his eyebrows raised like his brain needed the space.  

As Steve kept talking, Billy laid down, rubbing his face, but he listened to the end, staring at the sky as Steve told him about Hopper dying, and El and Will moving away.  

When the whole story was done, Steve sat and thought, watching Billy.  “...so it wasn’t your fault,” he said again, and Billy laughed hoarsely, curling onto his side, towards Steve.  

“...yeah, sure,” he said, his eyes distant.

The sun was setting, the sunset bright through the fence around Starcourt Mall, and Steve wondered, in passing, whether there was anything worth stealing in there—the quarter rodeo ride, or the candy machines.  

Billy sighed, closing his eyes.  There were dark circles under them, and Steve wondered, grimacing, whether the Mindflayer had let him sleep before he died.  He was grimier than Steve remembered, too, and it occured to him to be glad Billy’s ghost hadn’t kept whatever broken bones he’d gotten in the wreckage.  

He looked exhausted, and filthy, his curls greasy and tangled, but he walked fine, and there weren’t—Steve thought, with a shudder—bones jutting from a crushed ribcage, or a squashed eyeball dangling from a misshapen skull.  He just looked...asleep, Steve realized, as Billy curled up a little tighter, frowning, and making a little noise under his breath.  

Steve bit his lips together, watching Billy Hargrove bury his face in his arms, and then got his homework, and the flashlight from his car.  Every time Billy would start to squirm, and mumble, Steve would hiss “Psst!  Billy!” and he’d jerk, and roll into a different position, his shoulders relaxing, and Steve bit his lips together, feeling helpless.  

He was through his math problems, his essay on the Depression, and halfway through The Great Gatsby, when Billy sat up, glaring at him.  “...what the fuck,” he breathed.  “What—” he glanced around, his eyes narrowed against the darkness.  “What the fuck, why—why are you—what are you doing?!”

“Homework,” Steve said stubbornly, rubbing the back of his neck, and sitting his book down to stretch.

“Why are you doing it here,” Billy asked, sounding pissed.  “Fuck off home, Harrington—”

Steve sighed, and did, stopping as Billy ran up alongside him.  “...what.”

“Just being a ghost,” Billy whispered, leaning in to brush their faces a little through each other again, and Steve staggered back, yelling.  

“Stop putting your brain on my brain,” he growled, glaring, as Billy cracked up, leaning in Steve’s car door like a prick.  

“You sure?” Billy licked his lips, and Steve rolled his eyes, and took off the parking brake to head home.

 Steve took his bag of McD’s and parked in the lot of the charred ruin of Starcourt Mall.  He ripped the salt packet open, sprinkled his steaming-hot fries, and watched the floaty stuff start to rain down around his car as Billy approached, his weird Upside-Down atmosphere around him.  Steve heard the seat settle deeper next to him, and took a bite of his burger.

“Jesus, that looks good,” Billy said, and Steve glanced over, still chewing.

“You can see it, but you can’t, like...touch it?” he asked, and Billy demonstrated, waving a hand through Steve’s fries.  He was like Barb in Steve’s pool.   Steve watched him, until Billy licked his lips.  

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.  You can jack off to it at night.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and settled back in his seat, sighing.  “...you think maybe you can show me where you are?”

“Here,” Billy snorted, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know, dumbass,” Steve sighed again.  “I mean, y’know...you.”  He took another bite of his burger, after stuffing a few fries in his mouth.

“Why, you gonna throw some holy water around,” Billy shot back.  “Fucking...exorcise me.”

Steve chewed slowly and swallowed, as Billy glared moodily at his dashboard.  “Nah,” he said, finally, and Billy glared over warily.  “I thought maybe...if you’re like...haunting your, uh,” he waved a hand at Billy, grimacing, and Billy bristled.

“What,” he hissed.

“Thought I could like…” Steve frowned at the french fries, grabbing a handful, “—take you with me.  Maybe.”

“...what,” Billy growled, his eyes narrowed.  “What the hell are you—”

“Fine, jesus,” Steve said, rolling his eyes, and taking his car out of park.  “Have fun haunting a burned-out mall.”

“Wait! Wait,” Billy shouted, scrambling up onto the seat.  “Wait, Harrington, what the fuck—you gonna—you gonna, like, drive my skull around?”

“...I guess,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose, and putting his car back in park.  “Maybe.  I mean, we could—we can try and figure out where you are, maybe—maybe I don’t need the whole thing.”

“Put my middle finger on your keychain,” Billy breathed.  “That’d be metal.”

Steve snickered, watching his grin.  “Do you know where you are?” he asked, and Billy shivered, swallowing.  He shook his head.

“I...I don’t know,” he breathed, staring at the mall through the window.  “I don’t, uh,” he took a shuddery breath, and Steve wondered whether it helped.  “I don’t remember too clear,” Billy whispered.

“Okay,” Steve nodded, grimacing.  “Okay, uh, I’ll—I’ll bring a shovel, okay.  I’ll—I’ll find you.”

Billy turned and glared at him, his eyes reddening, a little.  “...why?”

“Dude,” Steve glared over, smacking his fists, holding the burger, into the steering wheel.  “The hell d’you mean why.”

“...I coulda killed you,” Billy said, and Steve grimaced, clearing his throat.  

“Yeah, well, then you got yourself killed saving El, okay, we’re even.  They’re gonna tear that shit down,” Steve pointed with a french fry, his eyes narrowed at Billy as he chewed, and Billy’s mouth quirked.  “You’re gonna end up in the dump, or something,” Steve said, throwing a french fry through him, and Billy snorted a laugh.  Steve threw another one.  “You wanna haunt the dump, asshole?!”

“Sounds like a wild night,” Billy said, holding his hands up as Steve threatened to throw another fry.  “...not sure you’re gonna find much, though.”

“Oh, I will,” Steve told him.

 That Friday night, Steve went back and tossed a shovel over the fence before climbing up it himself.  He wandered through the ruined mall kicking wreckage until he heard Billy’s voice.  

“The hell are you gonna do, dig me up and like...throw me in a trash bag,” he asked.  “I’m gonna smell like shit.”

“Oh, crap, yeah,” Steve said, stopping.  “You’ve been dead what, a couple months, in the summer.”  He sighed, and kept kicking rubble around.  

Billy yelled “Harrington, move your ass,” and Steve scrambled to the side as the charred, twisted metal he’d kicked collapsed, and he ran, stumbling into where the roof had already fallen.  He dropped to a crouch, panting, as Billy’s bluish hands waved through him.  

“Shit, Harrington,” he whispered.

“...I can’t figure out where the dome was, even,” Steve groaned, stretching.  “Come on, work at it a little.”

“You’re still trying?!” Billy panted, staring at him in the dim evening light, as Steve coughed cement dust, perched unsteadily on rubble.

Steve sighed, steadying himself on a rusty hunk of exposed rebar.  “Yeah, shithead, I’m still trying.”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, frowning around.  “Look, go—go back.  I’ll try to find it, okay, it’s—it’s a fucking deathtrap here, in the dark.”

“I can’t dig during the day,” Steve reminded him, rolling his eyes.  

“You can get the fuck out of here,” Billy hissed.  “Go home and fuck that bitch Wheeler, I’ll find it, jesus—”

“Euuugh,” Steve groaned, but he let Billy lead him out, squinting after the slightly darker shape outlined by the traffic lights.  He tripped once, and Billy was half through him, waving his hands at Steve’s, before they both remembered the whole reason they were there, and Billy turned away, taking a deep breath.  “...it’s okay, man,” Steve said, and then felt like an idiot, because it really wasn’t.

“...are you bleeding from anywhere?” Billy asked hoarsely, and Steve was the one who reached out that time, and then muttered angrily to himself.

 Steve went home and called the Byers’, said hello absently to Jonathan, and asked for Joyce.  “Um,” he said, taking a deep breath.  “Uh, I know this—sucks—but I need to ask some questions.  About—about Will.  About how you—knew.”

Part Two

[hoaxsen]

| angst has been coming to me easy now and idk how to feel about that.

| tw; character death, in depth talk of death, mentions of blood and other gruesome parts, season three spoilers.

| word count; 1.8k.

It was all over, spreading like a plague inside the walls upon their arrival. The victory of Wall Maria, along with the near extinction of the Scouts. How many supplies were lost during it? How much destruction was there while it all went down? Does anyone have a true number on how many bodies were being carried back on those flatbed carts after that expedition? 

They were mostly parts of bloodied and mangled things, some weren't even able to be called a body. More like a massive piles of mixed dirt, debris and whatever part of the human body there could be. One hundred and ninety nine people, turned into one enormous jigsaw puzzle that anyone has ever seen. How many carts were used for that, and which cart did this specific body rest upon? 

This body held the features of bright blue eyes, that the captain of the Scouts could sometimes find himself staring into for hours on end. Unknowingly at that. Blonde hair just swept back and kept so neat with its undercut. Sometimes Levi wonders if it was soft to the touch, it doesn't look to be hard, or dirty. Just right, minus those brows. If anything there were times where Levi wanted to trim the blonde bricks of hair off Erwin's face himself. 

Now, days like that will never come. For the sole purpose, of Erwin Smith being deceased. Giving his life up to his stupid cause and dream, this isn't what Levi meant by plundering your dream and lead those crying brats to hell. Was it selfish of him to think that Erwin might come back alive for him? It was, wasn't it? The man having to live through this shit as the leader, making gambles that no one knew how the hell they paid off. Let's not forget about the cadets and soldiers lost along the way in his gambles. A devil among men, though it was Levi wanting to be the one to raise hell right now. Bring a darker hell to the one on this very Earth for the fact that he chose to revive Armin instead of Humanity's Hope. 

Cold, and hardened steel grey hues watched as his body was pulled away, riding alongside on his own horse with this cart. Levi felt only himself at fault, what if he did revive Erwin? Despite the small specks of rocks, falling out and shredded intestines, and lack of life in the blonde's eyes, how would he look taking on the power of the colossal titan? Would he have looked the same as the treacherous Bertholdt, or better? If anything, he'd be alive right now. . .fighting a war once more in this hell. Yes, it was selfish, but Levi Ackerman had his reasons to be selfish in a time like this. Bringing back Erwin instead of Armin wasn't just going to be for humanity, it was also going to be for his own desires. To stop toying with the feelings the ravenette has for the blonde, to stop the daily lies about his ' small crush ' being just a phase. 

The captain never even got to make good on his promise before the commander passed. Wanting so hard and bad to end the Beast Titan, to make him feel the pain Erwin did before his final moments. Hopefully that chance comes back for him some other time. How badly Levi needs it, it'd only be fitting since Erwin gave up his dream for the wall retake to even have happened and succeed. 

For all Levi could do now, was regret and hope that Erwin's funeral would bring him into a small state of piece. Since the ex-commander was already in a permanent state of his own, never to be disturbed. The Ackerman slowly starts to wonder to himself, which kind of suit would really bring out a dead man's eyes? For blue, it had to be a subtle white, right? An ashen grey? Whatever color it was going to be, Levi knew he'd detest it. Knowing it'll be the final suit he sees Erwin in. 

Fast forward a bit to the lowering of the old Scouts' commander into the ground, Levi stayed behind a little ways after the ceremony. Standing before Erwin's grave, a short sigh leaving him as he placed a hand on Erwin's tombstone. 

Erwin Smith 

xxxx - xxxx 

Humanity's Beacon of Hope.

The words Levi read over, and over, and over again. Humanity's Hope, snuffed out a little ways too soon. Levi just had to wake up and face the music, it was bound to happen one day or another. He just wishes that day came a little later than this. Brushing his hand over the words, better now to say this before he keeps it inside for too long. He already regrets not saying this to him when he was alive. 

" How many of these have we attended for our fallen? Now look at you, dumbass. Right there with them, tell Petra I said hi when you see her. " 

His last chance to say this all know, because whatever God out there knows that Levi wouldn't visit Erwin's grave again after this. For the small grudge he'd hold against himself for using the syringe on Armin. 

" I followed you into the fire, made it out with a few scrapes. Though you were burned, still had the guts to carry on more bravely than me. . .even make a choice with that odd line. ' What if there is humanity outside the walls. ' Or some shit like that, and then I realized, and knew. . .that was how you were plundering your dreams and leading those crying brats to hell. " 

Unbeknownst to the captain, he wasn't alone. Just standing from afar, was another grieving heart. Armin Artlet, another soul wanting to say an unspoken peace to their old commander. But ended up seeing Levi there before him. 

" It's not fair you know, Erwin. Or that just might be me being selfish right now, yeah sounds like it. A biased opinion, since I fucking loved you and didn't have the guts to say it. Wanna know why? Cause I'm a coward. Since people I love keep leaving me in ways like this, death. Am I that detestable that death is the only way out? Gotta be, shitty way to go if you ask me, but probably your only way. Call it a curse, I guess. Sadly shit like this happens in the fucked world. I didn't even want to use it on Artlet, but you made your choice. So I had to make mine, fucking bastard. " 

Now that was a surprise to the little eavesdropper in the back, covering his mouth with his hand to not make a sound. Azure eyes bugging out of his head as the captain droned on. Armin himself wasn't even sure why he was saved, wouldn't Erwin have been a better pick? The power of the titan wasted on him, that's how it sounded. On the bright side, the colossal titan was in their arsenal with Eren's titan. Just with the wrong user in Artlet's mind. 

" It's not fair, you asshole. You get your peace, and leave me behind in this hell with a bunch of brats! Yes, they can pull their own weight. But you're not leading them anymore, instead it's gonna be someone else who can't live up to your name. All because I got emotional and saved that runt, when I knew, even with Hanji, that you were the better pick! A massive fuck up on my end, but then a small lived victory right? We have another titan ready to fight for us when needed. But I want you here! It's not fair, you trusted me to do the right thing with that weird liquid, and I don't know if I did! I promised myself that I'd follow you wherever, why did you have to go somewhere I can't go yet?! You and your stupid gambles, well make one with the devil down there and win, come back goddamn it! " 

At this point, Levi was screaming to a grave on the verge of tears. From standing to dropping on his knees, the turned up dirt from a freshly dug hole in the ground was staining his pants. Giving him the feelings of touching the underground floors, though this time he didn't care. Fighting back an attack of tears, his hands digging into the soil and gripping it. Dirt being trapped in his fingernails, a fierce look on his face with a few stray falling tears from his eyes. 

" I promise you, I'll make that sonva bitch pay. Along with aiding in to see that your final goal, your final dream is fulfilled. Even if I have to  die to make that happen. " 

It was a footstep, and the use of sharp senses that brought Levi out of his moment. Spinning around quick as could be, just to be met with a crying, tear stained face of one of his cadets. This was Levi's moment of vulnerability, being seen by Armin as if privacy wasn't a thing. Though now, the man couldn't hold it against the boy, dusting off himself to be free of the dirt and grime. Levi sent Armin a small glare, no words have been spoken yet, and not one really knew what to say. 

" Captain . . . I'm sorry, but you should have us--. " 

" Can it brat, I dunno how much you heard, and I hate repeating myself. But I'll make an exception, Erwin made his choice. I acted on it, now you might have to step up to bat. " 

Levi's words drew a small gasp from Armin, making him want to roll his eyes. 

" No one can live up to be Erwin, but I trust that you know what you're doing. Don't make me regret saving you now. " 

" Y-Yes sir! But can I ask a question? " 

That made a brow raise on Levi's face, a sign for Armin to carry on with what he was saying. The boy had to take a deep breath to even get the first word out. It almost made Levi scoff at a time like this. 

" Y-You l-love Commander Erwin, sir? Is-Is that true? " 

The stuttering fool really had the balls to ask. The captain almost looked impressed, but at the same time angered somewhat. 

" Yeah, I loved him, Artlet. A main factor playing on in why I wanted to use the syringe on him. But something happened during it, like I said. Don't make me regret it. " 

All he got was a frantic nod from the other blonde, even a salute for some reason. Levi responded with his own nod back, figuring now that his time alone with Erwin was up. Looking behind him at that grave, he sighed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. 

' Don't worry, Erwin. You won't be along for long, I said I'd follow you right? Into that same fire I'll soon be going. ' 

He whispered out, making his way to leave now. Going as far as to pat a startled Armin on the shoulder. His own line echoing inside his head to help cope with this, just tweaked a bit this time. 

' Plunder all your dreams, and lead those crying brats to victory. In his name. ' 

[sweetest-honeybee]

To Hell and Back

Chapter 23

Summary: Tango goes to have some cake an hot chocolate with Stress.

Characters: Tango, Stress, Xisuma (Doc, Hels, Wels, Keralis, Impulse mentions)

TW: None I don’t think?

————————

They were all in shock at the event.

Xisuma was seething.

Doc was pulling Beef and Wels out of the cage.

Tango had shot the arrow, much to their surprise.

Hels was still stuck in his other state of mind, not showing any signs of returning to his usual sadistic self. Tango’s hands were shaking from shooting his friend for any reason that wasn’t to just mess around. But again, it wasn’t Wels. It was a weird substitute for Wels that apparently had more willpower than he did and that really said something.

Thankfully, the knight was unconscious now. Only one arrow wasn’t enough to kill him and that’s what he hoped for. If Wels died and respawned, while he wouldn’t be too far away, it was safe to assume whatever that thing was had control over him and would have him flying off somewhere else in the opposite direction. Really, at some point it would come out to be a stupid plan. They’d message everyone to capture Wels on sight and given how spread apart everyone was across the map, hiding spots weren’t too evident. A search team of about twenty odd people would find him within an hour at most.

“Tango, are you alright?” Xisuma asked him. His head snapped towards the admin.

The demon exhaled shakily. “I shot him,” was all he said, still staring at the scene in front of him.

“I know, I know, but you did the right thing, Tango.” Xisuma’s voice wavered too much for Tango’s liking. He seemed just as panicked as everyone else was. Yet, his hands were balled right around his sword and his eyes showed none of the usual softness behind his visor.

Tango shook his head, disregarding that statement. “I shot Wels, X.” He gestured vaguely at the knight. In the spur of the moment, he forgot that it was Wels simply being controlled, firing at him instinctively. But after it all, it was still his tiefling friend.

“Yes, you did. But you also just saved Beef from being hurt more than….that.” He gestured vaguely and then put a reassuring hand on Tango’s shoulder. “You can leave if you like. You don’t have to be here.”

Well thanks, Tango wanted to say bitterly. Not quite what he wanted to hear, but Xisuma had a point. A shaking mess of a demon who could now barely hold his bow wasn’t too useful in this situation. Before Tango could accept the invitation to leave, the admin was already typing into his communicator, presumably asking for more help. His hands dropped to his sides defeatedly.

“Okay,” he muttered, taking one last look at the unconscious pair. “Keep me updated?”

“Will do.”

With that and a quick pat on the back, the demon rocketed away from the sandstone building. While he flew, he took out his communicator to see who was coming to help in his place. Preferably more than just one person, he thought. Probably someone fairly close by. Thankfully, he doubted Stress would be accompanying them and her hot chocolate sounded quite good right now.

<Xisuma> We need some backup at Beef’s base

<ImpulseSV> I can lend a hand

<Keralis> Me too

<Keralis> On my way

Well, at least they had people who Wels didn’t just try to kill an hour earlier. Tango was still a bit shaken up by that. So, he decided to visit Stress, seeing as she wasn’t accompanying them. Rather than taking the Nether Hub, he opted to take the long route to think and simultaneously clear his head. He kept thinking about Evil X for some reason, but that was justified quickly when he thought back to Xisuma.

Knowing the admin, he could probably just ask about it later, but he didn’t really want to press into matters that weren’t his, jokingly or not, given what’d happened earlier on from doing so. He also wondered about Evil X and how nervous the guy looked before flying off to his base. Poor dude, maybe Tango should’ve at least tried to understand what happened. After all, Xisuma was rare to anger and when he was, Tango didn’t imagine that it was pretty, be it cold silent glares or outright rage.

Nonetheless, it would probably leave you upset with yourself more often than not.

Slowly, he crept up on the familiar giant butterflies crawling around on the jungle trees and the pink topped buildings. The butterflies glanced at him but continued their activities. He landed on the glass rainbow to get a better view of the surrounding area. The demon looked around, not initially finding Stress, but after a few more seconds his eyes landed on the familiar pink cardigan. Strange, he thought she’d still have the T-shirt on, but who was he to judge when that landed him in a mess on its own.

At the sight of her, he grinned and glided down to the pathway where she was.

“Hey Stress!” He waved.

She turned to him. “Oh, Tango! Fancy seeing you here. I thought you were with Xisuma.” She tilted her head in question. “At least I thought anyways. Saw something goin’ on, I assumed you stayed with him.”

“Uh, yeah, I was. Then things got a little heated so I left,” he answered.

Stress nodded. “I saw they needed some backup. Mind telling me what happened? Nobody really knows what’s going on besides the few of you.”

That’s right, they hadn’t really explained in chat, or to anyone else really, what was happening with Wels and Hels. Tango grimaced at the thought that Wels would probably be waking up soon and lash out again. He didn’t want more people to be hurt, especially not Beef. Beef was such a nice guy and genuinely wanted to help both knights. He didn’t deserve how much he was hurt by it. And Impulse was there too now, and that was an accident waiting to happen. He didn’t want one of his closest friends hurt.

“Tango, you alright there? You’re spacin’ out a bit.”

The demon shook his head, ridding himself of the previous thoughts, and coughed awkwardly.

“Well uh, you know how Beef has that cloning machine, right? And Wels used it?”

“Vaguely, but yes.”

“Well, something’s gone wrong recently. I mean, not that it hadn’t before after he used it but worse this time.”

Stress began leading them inside her brewery, nodding along to him. “What happened the first time?”

“Ah, apparently it made this evil clone, I dunno if he met you yet-“

She perked up happily. “Oh, you mean Hels! Yes, yes, he’s a very interesting fellow. Very cooperative, too, I had to care for him because he came in from HelsCraft lookin’ like a mess.”

Tango raised a brow, suddenly interested in what she had to say instead. “Looking like a mess? Nobody really mentioned anything about that when they came over. Just said Hels wanted to meet me and moved on.”

“Oh yeah, had a dagger in his stomach and everythin’. Looked real painful but he’s a tough cookie.” Stress smiled as she sat the demon down on some stairs near a small kitchen she had built earlier on. Not too great for the overall area and stuck out against the few stands but she apparently recently put one in each of her builds in case of events like these, or just to keep baking convenient. “Care for some cake and hot chocolate? No offense, but you look like a mess, too. Could use some sugar.”

And always prepared with sweets.

Tango snorted. “Sure.” He sighed, continuing his story. “Anyways, so after all that, apparently he and Wels began like….switching places? Hels is becoming nicer and Wels….” he trailed off, grabbing Stress’s attention.

“What about Wels?” She leaned against the counter thoughtfully.

“He….came over because he shut himself off from everyone and I pestered him with some trades. But, after telling him that his offers were crap, he tried to kill me.”

Stress fumbled with the cake knife as he said that, her face twisting into worry. “Kill you?! Why on earth would he try to kill you over a trade?!”

The demon shuddered, the knight’s smirking face burning into that back of his mind. “It wasn’t him, Stress. He keeps being taken over by this….weird dark force or something. You should’ve seen his eyes, Stress, they were as red as mine!”

“Oh, goodness. Are you….alright? I mean, we all saw earlier that Evil X killed you, though. We just assumed he was causing some mischief.”

Tango shook his head. “Wels nicked my wing and I just,” he pushed his hands away from him, conveying a falling motion,”fell right into one of the towers.” He circled his arms around himself. “He didn’t help me. I couldn’t speak ‘cus I was hurt. But, I guess just by coincidence, Evil X came over and just….he said something about just going ahead and killing me and after that I was in my bed.”

Stress had momentarily forgotten about the cake and mugs sitting next to her, invested in his story. She had a hand over her mouth in sad surprise. “Did- did anything else happen?”

“Ah….Evil X came in, said Xisuma needed me to come with them. We go back up and Wels has these nasty red marks on his face but he’s still all evil and whatnot. Doc had him tied up and they just left. Suma wasn’t looking too good though.”

The lady eyed him curiously. “Not looking too good?”

“He was looking like he was gonna pass out. He said something about how he apparently hit Wels, something else about not affording to lose another Hermit.” Tango perked up. “Hey, do you know anything about that? I mean, I’ve been here for a while and the servers changed and stuff. Some people left, but he said it like….someone died or something. Like permadeath.”

Stress shook her head with pursed lips. “No, sorry Tango. Is there more to the story or do you want to eat some cake now.”

Slightly, Tango smiled. “Cake first.”

With a grin, she cut him a slice and moved to get some milk and cocoa beans for the hot chocolate. The two fell silent while she worked, pouring the milk in a small pot and placing it on top of a furnace where some heat began growing. She began to hum absentmindedly and cut herself from cake as well. Within a couple minutes, the milk warmed and she finished up grinding the cocoa beans with sugar.

“You like yours with whip cream and marshmallows, luv?” She looked up at Tango who was busy picking at something on his shirt, probably just to pass the waiting time.

“Hm? Oh yes, that’d be nice. Thanks, Stress!” The smile on his face grew and Stress couldn’t help but to warm at the sight of it. At least she had a knack for cheering up her friends with her recipes.

“Right then, they’re done!” She placed the cake and hot chocolate on a tray and had the demon follow her to a lounge-like area through a painting. Well, he’d never seen this before. Looks like she had a whole bunch of surprises.

“This is my private room to chill out once in a while, don’t tell anyone. I have a bunch of these.” She sat on a pink sofa tucked into one end of the long, thin room. “Given what on earth happened to you, I’m deeming you worthy to see it,” she added with a smile. Tango sat on the sofa as well, feeling how plush the cushions were.

“Guess I’m just that messed up now, apparently,” he chuckled. “Thanks again, Stress.” He took the cocoa happily.

“Anytime! If you need a sit, just come right on over.” She took a sip of her cocoa. “I really do hope Wels gets better though. And Hels too. Can’t imagine being kicked out of your own dimension.”

“Me too, Stress, me too.”

[evakuality]

Based on a prompt by @j-purplesunsets-rainydays:  I just thought of another prompt for you 😅 davenzi, enemies to lovers: their entire group is going to a cabin for a few days, though Matteo and David for X reason don't get along. They get there early, before everyone else, for whatever reason, but a bad snow storm hits and the others can't get to the cabin, so David and Matteo are stuck together there! It's cliche but I think you could really make it amazing

This isn’t quite what I had intended from that prompt, but here we are.  Chapter one of a planned eight!  Many many thanks to @kapplebougher who did an amazing and speedy beta job for me, and to my cheerleaders - you know who you are!

Snowbound, chapter one

It’s quiet as David presses his forehead to the cool panes of the glass and stares outside.  That’s something for which he’s genuinely grateful because it means he can try to get his racing thoughts into some semblance of order before he has to play nice for several days.  He’s had major reservations about this trip ever since Abdi first suggested it when he was five beers into a great night and everything had seemed equally hilarious, exciting and easily achieved. To Abdi anyway.  None of those things is even remotely true, definitely weren’t true at the time, and yet they had made it work in the end.  Sort of.  

David’s on a train in charge of an entire large bag filled with food and alcohol while most of the others are going to follow later in a car.  Which they could technically have brought the food in, but into which they apparently weren’t able to fit it considering the mountains of other important stuff they were trailing.  Like skis, a snowboard or two and lots of warm clothes.  Make ‘having no room for the food’ point one on the list of reasons why this trip was a badly organised, blatantly stupid idea. 

David sighs as he drags his eyes back inside the carriage and looks around him.  Looks at Matteo, who’s dozing in the corner of the seat opposite David.  That’s the biggest problem, and that’s why David had reservations about this from the start.  Not that anyone listened to him. That’s point two on the long list of why this was not a good idea.  Though in terms of how large it loomed in the list of ‘reasons why David should not do this’ it’s right up there, and probably should have its own points track and not just ending up lumped in with all the other much less important reasons.  

The thing about Matteo is that he shines and stings in David’s life in equal measure.

The thing with them has always baffled everyone around them.  Fuck, half the time it baffles David.  There was a small moment in time when he’d thought they were connecting.  Back when he was newly arrived from the raw, rough experience at his old school and Matteo had smiled at him a few times, David had thought he might even have made a friend.  Someone he could share thoughts with, relaxing into the new sensation of smoking weed and rambling about everything and nothing for hours.  

But he was swiftly disillusioned of that idea when Matteo had retreated into himself as early as the next day, his smiles coming less often over the next week, clipped and cut off and eventually fading to nothingness alongside short, rough dismissals of any attempt to connect again.  That it was something to do with David was obvious when Matteo was with his friends.  With them, he’d spark into life, laughing, pushing, teasing.  He had the energy he’d had on that one glittering evening they’d spent together.  So watching Matteo with those others, fresh from the wounds inflicted at his old school, David had run and hidden.  From that moment he was careful to stay as far from Matteo as he could get, unwilling to suffer anymore at the hands of people who flash hot and cold and always have some sort of verbal weapon hidden under the cover of their friendliness when it appears.

Huffing again, David turns back to look out the window.  Thinking about Matteo just serves to raise his blood pressure, sending both an aching thought about what might have been if Matteo hadn’t been such an ass and a stabbing anger at how blasé he seems to be about the whole thing now that they’re thrown together so often through chance.  Well, chance and a group of people who don’t let anyone stay distant once they’ve decided they want to be friends.  Blocking out the sight of Matteo sitting there in front of David is the best way to keep his carefully cultivated calm.  Once they’re all at the cabin with the boys it should be fine.  It’s never quite as hard to be polite when it’s not just the two of them.  So it’s something of a blessing that Matteo is asleep and David isn’t forced to make awkward small talk with him.

Instead he can focus on the beauty of the world outside his window.  Darkness is drawing in around the train and with it come some small flurries of snow.  They dance, fidgeting spinners through the air as the train rattles onwards through the landscape, beautiful and fragile.  Watching them, David lets himself drift, following their forms with his eyes and his heart and leaving his own troubles slumbering on the seat opposite.  There’ll be time enough to worry about all that once they get to their destination.

“How are we supposed to get to the cabin?” Matteo asks, his voice clipped, weariness seeping in even though he’s been asleep for the last hour at least.

David kicks at the heavy bag by his feet, finding it impossible to move and wondering glumly how they’re going to move it at all, let alone get it to the cabin.  

“David?” Matteo says, irritation slipping into his voice, and David’s gaze snaps up to Matteo’s.  The exhaustion is actually easy to read even in the shadowy light in front of the station, or maybe it’s so easy to see because of the way it throws all the planes and angles of Matteo’s face into relief and plays up all the hidden shadows reflected on it.  Dark smudges are visible under his eyes and his body is slumped against the stone wall in a way that looks more like genuine need for support than affectation.  David shrugs.

“Dunno,” he murmurs.  “Uber?”

Matteo’s lips purse as if the idea is distasteful, but he too looks down at the bag stuffed full of food and seems to recognise the inevitability.  He sighs and pulls out his phone.  Within moments he nods and looks over at David again.

“It’s on its way,” he says.  “We should get this stuff out the front I suppose.”

David nods, relieved to have something to do other than stand around making this awkward chat with Matteo in the dim lighting that calls back to the hallway in which they’d first talked.  The hallway and conversation in which David had first thought he might manage to belong in the new school that was so terrifying after everything he’d been through.

Between them, they manage to perch their personal bags over their shoulders and drag the food bag through the brightly lit entrance hall and out to the cracked and broken pavement out the front.  They stand together, panting breaths sending puffs of misty air out into the deepening dusk as the day slips even closer into night.  The snow is falling faster now, no longer dancing but now coming down as if with purpose.  David shivers as he looks at the flakes, rushing towards their inevitable soggy end now rather than twisting and dancing as if on spirited legs.  The wind is cutting through the hoodie he’s wearing, whistling in under the open edges of his jacket and making him shudder with the cold.  

Beside him, Matteo has lit up a smoke of some sort, and David doesn’t want to know what type of smoke it might be.  It’s enough that it smells terrible, the smoke acrid in the gusts of wind whipping around them, but that somehow Matteo makes it look good.  His eyes when he blows the smoke out flicker closed, his head tips back and David is drawn to the long length of his throat exposed by the movement.  Which is almost as infuriating as the revolting smell.

“How long before it gets here?” David asks, trying to shake off the sudden flush of heat that Matteo’s smoking has dragged into his own body, swamping it and masking the chill of the night.

That might have been a mistake as Matteo looks over at him, the smudges under his eye almost invisible now and his eyes a deep reflective blue in the artificial lights as his hair flops down over his face.  It’s so reminiscent of their first discussion under harsh lights outside a school room, that David has to suck in a breath and drop his own eyes to the ground, focusing instead on the scuffed shoes he’s chosen to wear.

“It’s about five minutes away,” Matteo says, and David nods morosely.  Five minutes.  Might as well be an eternity.

“Why can’t either of us drive?” David asks, not really intending to be heard but Matteo huffs out a tiny laugh drawing David’s eyes right back up to his face.

“Because we’re lazy fucks,” he says, his eyes glinting as he takes another drag on the smoke between his fingers, then offers it to David.

The smell crashes over him again, and he wrinkles his nose.  Shakes his head.  There’s a flicker of something on Matteo’s face, his eyes shutter for a brief moment before he nods and takes another drag himself.  The hint of a smile is gone, and when Matteo turns his back to the wall and looks up at the sky David knows the conversation is done.

This always happens.  There’s some small start at camaraderie or conversation, but then it shuts down almost as soon as it begins, leaving David ill at ease, body thrumming from a desire he can’t explain and head stuffed full of contradictory thoughts.  Matteo is at once enthralling and exasperating, never opening up enough to let David see inside.  As if that one long ago conversation was all David was ever to be allowed to see and to know and everything else is cut off before it can even begin.  It stabs at him again that Matteo isn’t like this with anyone else.  With them he’s charming and open, teasing and sarcastic, alive in a way that David is never allowed to see if they’re ever alone in this way.  Not that David wants to be allowed inside.  He just wishes he knew what the hell he’d done to make Matteo this different around him.

There was part of him, back then, that had wondered if Matteo was some sort of asshole who’d worked out David’s secret from that evening they’d shared and rejected him because of that.  Back then, it was all rough and raw and cut him to the bone whenever he ran up against the prejudices of others.  It’s not as bad now, not when he’s lived long enough in the world to feel more secure in his own skin.  He’s much less likely to give in to the desire to run and to hide.  Still.  The lingering feelings from those days colour every interaction with Matteo and it always ends like this.  Stilted conversations that go nowhere and a Matteo who’s closed off and shut down.

Before he can let his thoughts darken any more, headlights flash around the corner and a small boxy car slides up next to them.  Matteo’s bending to look into the window, and laughing at something the driver has said, all hints of his earlier tiredness dissipating as he turns to grab their bags and fling them into the car’s backseat.  The contrast is so stark that David can’t help the pain that lances through him as he climbs into the back seat next to the pile of bags.  

It only takes about ten minutes to get to the cabin, but in that time the snow becomes heavier until it’s almost impossible to see as they make their way through the night, headlights barely making any headway against the thickening shroud as it falls.  The driver has stopped cracking jokes and started squinting through the windscreen, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel and his face a mask of concentration.  Matteo has subsided too, his exhaustion obvious in the way he lets himself flop back against the headrest.  It all leaves David to the joys of his own thoughts, which are not particularly peaceful.

Sighing in relief as they arrive, he’s able to shake off the approaching melancholy and get their belongings safely stored into the cabin. David looks around him as they stand just inside the entrance.  It looks pleasant enough, this cabin they’ve rented, with a large open plan kitchen taking up most of the space at one end of the long room, and a table breaking the space between it and the living area which is filled with plump couches and overstuffed chairs.  Thankfully, there’s a wall heater as well as the fire place with wood neatly stacked inside.  It’s so cold in the unheated room that David is shivering again, and he knows there’s no way that fire will generate any heat any time soon.

Matteo seems to have had a similar thought, because he strides over to the heater and pushes a few buttons.

“Putting that on the highest it will go,” he says as he turns back to the luggage they’ve stacked just inside the front door and starts pulling out the various foodstuffs they’ve brought with them.

Part of David wants to argue, to push back against the assumption that Matteo gets to be in charge and making all those sorts of decisions.  But a bigger part of him knows that’s unreasonable and knows that if he’d been the one to turn it on he’d have done exactly the same thing, so he just hums an affirmation and bends to help Matteo with the food.  They work in near silence, with the occasional query about where to store certain foods the only discussion.

David wouldn’t call it uncomfortable exactly, but he can tell just how tired Matteo is and just how much he wants to be away from David.  The chilly tension from the station remains with them, and David hopes like hell that the rest of the boys aren’t too far away.  He needs their cheerful exuberance to make it through this trip with any sort of enjoyment.  This frosty, barely-there communication Matteo has going on is putting a huge dampener on David’s experience of this time.

The chill in the air wears off as they work, pushed away both by the heater’s warmth and the effort of heaving things around, but the chill between the two of them lingers.  David wistfully hopes that by the time they’re done their company will have arrived.  He’s not sure how much longer he can endure this silence and tension once he has nothing to focus on and they’re forced into some weird semblance of intimacy.

They’re just about finished, storing the last few beers into the suitably large fridge, when Matteo’s phone pings loudly.  He shoves the beers he’s holding deeper into the fridge and by the time he’s dragged the phone out of his pocket it has sounded twice more.

Matteo’s face flickers as he reads the messages and his lips crease into an angry line.

“Fuck,” he says softly, so quietly that David is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he can’t help the inquisitive hum he makes.

Matteo’s eyes snap up to him as if he’s just realised David is still here with him.

“The boys aren’t coming,” he says, his face flushing as he drops his gaze away from David’s.  There’s resignation and irritation in his voice and a scowl on his face.  David winces.  That’s one possibility he hadn’t even considered, too consumed by the need for the rest of the boys and their enlivening presence perhaps.

“What?  Why?”

“Snow storm, apparently.  They can’t get through.  Stuck at some little hotel somewhere on the road.”

That’s just great, David thinks viciously.  The boys were supposed to be his buffer.  They were supposed to make this thing something like fun.  Instead he’s stuck here with someone who clearly finds his company less than ideal.  Someone who David himself finds difficult to get through to, and with whom he has a complicated history.  Worse, the boys have all the equipment with them, so there’s no chance even for skiing or snowboarding to get him away from the supremely awkward moments he can already sense looming in his future.

He flings the door open and looks outside.  Indeed, the snow has piled up so there’s about a foot drifted against the cabin already.  It’s not stopping anytime soon, either, as the flakes are falling so steadily now that it’s impossible to make out one from another.  Any hope of the boys getting through to rescue David stutters to a halt, lost in the chilled white wall piling up in front of him.  

Beside him, Matteo huffs his own irritation.

“Fuck,” he says again, louder this time.

David has to agree with that sentiment as he closes the door, blocking out the unwelcome sight of the silent, muffled white world building its armour against them.  Fuck, indeed.

[freddiesaysalright]

Tale as Old as Time - Chapter 4

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @xviiarez​, @rogerina-owns-me​, @brianssixpence​, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​, @queenmylovely​, @queen-paladin​ If you’d like to be added, let me know! There’s only one chapter left!

A/N: Time for the most famous part of the story!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Chapter 4 here we go!!!

In the morning, Rami was true to his word and he retrieved you at nine. Then, you walked together to the garden. He told you that he spent every morning in this place because it always put his mind at ease. That made you question even more.

“Why do they mean so much to you?” you asked. “The roses.”

He reached out for one and delicately touched the petals with the pad of his paw.

“My mother planted them,” he said. 

“Your mother?”

He nodded. “She worked hard at maintaining them because roses were her favorite flowers. She was a bit of a romantic.”

You smiled. “She sounds wonderful.”

“I’m sure your mother is equally wonderful,” he replied.

You looked away sadly and paused, remembering what you could of your own mother.

“She passed away, actually,” you said. “When I was still a little girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened to her?”

“Pregnancy complications,” you told him. “My little brother didn’t survive either.”

“That’s horrible,” he said. “I see now why you’re so close to your father.”

“I see now why him taking a rose upset you so much,” you said. “If he had known, he would never have -”

He held up a hand to stop you. “Don’t. I...it’s done now.”

You nodded. 

You walked together a little further.

“Do you like gardening, Y/N?” Rami asked.

“Oh, yes,” you told him. “I started last year after reading about it. I like to grow things I can turn into something else.”

“So, food?”

“Yes,” you said. “I’ve really enjoyed helping Daisy out.”

“Daisy is a kind soul,” he said. “She’s been a joy to this castle.”

“She told me how you saved her,” you admitted. “It was so...compassionate. It surprised me.”

“Yes, I...I’ve been very bitter about my fate, and I never wanted to burden anyone else with it,” he said. “But Daisy resonated with me.”

“Well, what about the servants that remained after your parents died?” you asked.

“I tried to dismiss them, but they refused,” he explained. “Mrs. Carson insisted I needed looking after since I was still so young.”

“It’s a testament to you that they’re so loyal,” you said.

He looked away bashfully and you smiled to yourself.

“Tell me about you,” he said, facing you again. “About your life in the village.”

“The trouble with talking about my life in the village is that I barely had one,” you said with a sigh. “Every day was the same. Go to town for the day’s needs, come home and fix breakfast, get Papa to take his medicine and see if he needs help with his new invention. Then, spend the afternoon reading.”

“Mrs. Carson did tell me you love books,” he said. 

You nodded. “Yeah. Ever since I was a child, I’ve longed for adventure. To have something magical and unexpected happen. To see far off places. Books were my primary form of travel.”

You both chuckled. 

“My mother loved to read,” Rami said. “She always had something on hand. And she read to me a lot. My father wanted me trained in more sporting things like riding and archery, but mother insisted on my studies as well.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” you replied. “And a bit like my mother.”

“It’s a shame they never met,” he said sadly. 

“They probably would have been great friends,” you agreed.

A beat passed. The wind blew through the garden, making you shiver. It was a crisp autumn day, but winter would arrive before you knew it.

“Let’s go in,” Rami suggested. “I’ll have Mrs. Carson get a fire going.”

“That sounds lovely,” you said, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders.

“There’s something I’d like to show you first,” he said.

You raised a suspicious eyebrow at him as he offered you his paw. Smirking, you took it. He led you inside and toward the dining room. It was too soon for lunch, so your curiosity was piqued.

“Where are we going?” you wondered.

“You’ll see,” Rami replied mischievously. “It’s a surprise!”

You giggled and continued to follow him. You were going around a corner when he suddenly stopped.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

“Why?” you returned.

“Just do it!” he insisted with a grin.

You shook your head and obeyed. Rami took a moment to admire your face as you stood there. The sunlight pooling through the window struck it just right and for a moment, it appeared you were glowing.

“Well?” you questioned. “Are we going to continue?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

He took your hand again, and he began to slowly lead you down the hall. You couldn’t be sure how much further you traveled with your eyes closed, but it seemed only a few seconds passed before he stopped you again.

He dropped your hand, and you resisted the urge to crack open an eyelid and peek at what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes further shut instead. You heard a metallic click and the rattling of a chain. Then, the creak of rusty door hinges.

“Rami?”

“Just a few more steps, Y/N,” he replied, guiding you forward.

You knew you had entered another room because the smells changed. It was a bit musty, but there was the distinct scent of parchment and leather. 

Even with your eyes closed, you felt the room brighten as some curtains were pushed back and the sun began to warm your skin. A smile began to part your lips.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked eagerly.

“Just one more second,” he told you.

You heard his footsteps come up behind you and his paws fell gently to your shoulders.

“Okay,” he said. “Open.”

You opened your eyes, squinting at first at the brightness, and  then looked around. Your mouth fell open. 

There were books everywhere, on every wall from floor to ceiling. And the ceiling was as tall as a cathedral. Sliding ladders covered whatever height one might need, but there were also staircases up about halfway, with a path going all the way around the room. It was as appealing to you as a Christmas feast, and you couldn’t wait to sink your teeth in.

“Rami, I - I’m speechless!” you cried. “I’ve never seen so many books!”

“This is our library,” he said, a pleased smile on his face. “But I figured it could be your library, if you like it.”

“I love it!” you exclaimed. “You’re really giving it to me?!”

“Of course!” he said. “Friends give each other gifts!”

“Oh, but I could never return the favor!” you said. “This is….Rami, this is the sweetest gift I have ever received. I can’t thank you enough.”

“That smile is all the thanks I need,” he replied. “Besides, it’s I who should be thanking you.”

“What for?” you asked.

“Life was so dark for me before you came here,” he said. He glanced out the window and then back at you. “You brought me sunshine, Y/N.”

You beamed. That made you feel warm and fuzzy from your head to your toes.

“Can we have lunch in here today?” you requested. “Please?”

The look on your face made him realize in that moment that he could never deny you anything. You owned him.

“Whatever you like,” he assured you. “I’ll let Mrs. Carson know.”

You began exploring the shelves and Rami told you the books he’d read, so you pulled a few of those first.

“After I read them, we can talk about them,” you said.

“We can try,” he chuckled. “I haven’t read in so long…”

“We can read it together then,” you said. “And jog your memory.”

“That’s perfect,” he agreed.

Thomas came up and got a fire started in the fireplace. Then Mrs. Carson and Daisy brought up your lunch within the next hour. Daisy was also amazed by the room, since - like you - she had never seen it before.

“Wow!” she gasped. “This must be every book in the world!”

You smiled. “Do you like books, Daisy?”

“I dunno,” she said. “I never learned to read.”

You blinked. “What?”

“No one ever taught me,” she explained. “I learned how to cook and sew and speak, but never reading or writing.”

“Would you like to learn?” you offered. “I can teach you.”

She grinned. “Oh, yes please!” She looked nervously at Rami. “Is that alright, sir? I’ll still do all the cooking, it won’t interfe-”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Of course, Daisy. Take all the time you need.”

“We’ll have our first lesson tonight, after dinner,” you said. 

She giggled. “I’m looking forward to it!”

She practically skipped out of the room. Rami looked over at you.

“That was a kind offer,” he said.

“It’s important for people to know how to read, especially women,” you replied.

“I agree,” he said. 

You smiled at him. “So, what should we read together first? Shakespeare?”

“Goodness, no,” Rami said. “He’s dull.”

“Shakespeare?” you questioned. “Dull?”

“Yes!” he insisted. “Let’s start over here…”

In the coming weeks, you made excellent use of the library. Every morning, after your walk, you settled in for tea and reading. You made things exciting by reading aloud and acting out whatever you could. Mostly, you liked hearing Rami laugh.

In the afternoons, he would take some time to himself, and retreat to the west wing. You remained in the library. You decided to do some research into curses, hoping to find some way to break the one on Rami.

Unfortunately, the queen’s collection had little information on such matters. The books about magic mostly warned against its use and the ones who practiced it. Most solutions to magical incidents were unhelpful. You needed a concrete way to break this spell. But it seemed that Rami’s case was unique. You could find no other record of a similar curse and how it was broken.

After one afternoon of difficult research, you heaved a frustrated sigh and pushed the book away from you. Now that you were spending so much time with Rami, you pitied him all the more for his situation. In fact, you rather liked him. If you were his sunshine, he was your moonlight - soothing and peaceful, with a touch of mystery.

With another defeated sigh, you picked up the book and returned it to the shelf. You got the same hopeless feeling you had when you first arrived at the castle, only it wasn’t for yourself. Rami was a prisoner in this cursed body. And there was no key in sight. 

Tears began to well up in your eyes at the injustice of it. You sniffled, but were unable to stop them from falling down your cheeks. Even the warmth of a crackling fire couldn’t soothe your aching heart.

You looked out the window. Snow was falling gently from the sky, adding onto the already thick blanket on the ground. The snowman you and Rami had built in the courtyard looked rather lonely, but then you watched as Rami appeared and walked over to it. You smiled to yourself when he put a hat and scarf on the head. At the same time, it broke your heart. 

Rami actually had such a tenderness to him. He deserved to be a man again.

A soft knock on the door diverted your attention. Daisy stood in the doorway.

“Y/N?” she asked, brow furrowing. “Are you alright?”

You wiped your face and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Just getting sentimental, that’s all. Are you ready for our lesson?”

She brightened and nodded. You sat together beside the window to begin. Daisy was learning fast, but there was still a long way to go. You never realized just how important it was to learn early in life. Though, Daisy told you few girls in her village ever learned to read. Only the rich ones.

It made you grateful for your home. Your town had its issues, but you were able to attend school and choose your own way. That was nice. The thought also made you miss your home terribly.

You and Daisy studied for about an hour when Mrs. Carson came to get her to start dinner. You could tell Daisy was disappointed that her lessons couldn’t be longer, but she never complained. You were just putting the last book away when you heard a hard and sudden thunk against the glass of the window.

Startled, you examined it. Snow was splattered over the glass. You looked out and saw Rami standing several yards away, tossing another snowball up and down in front of him. You opened the window.

“Is that a challenge?” you called out.

“Only if you’re not chicken!” he returned.

You snatched your cloak off the back of your chair and wrapped it around you. Since the library was on the first floor, you climbed right out into the yard. Immediately, you knelt down and packed some snow into a ball.

“You’re on,” you said.

You hurled the snowball directly at him. He turned his back and it exploded across his cape as he laughed. You couldn’t waste any time, so you crouched again to make another. Rami launched the one in his hand, but you ducked, so it collided with the stone of the castle walls.

Mrs. Carson and Daisy returned to the library. Daisy decided she wanted to try something new in the kitchen and test her reading ability by consulting a cookbook for dinner. They were coming to ask you where to find one. They were surprised to find you absent from the room, even though they could hear your voice nearby. Then Mrs. Carson spotted the open window.

Both women went and looked out of it. There you were, down in the snow, wrestling with Rami. Both you and the prince had collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“Well, things have changed between them two!” Daisy laughed.

“Yes, Daisy,” Mrs. Carson agreed. “I think...there may be something there that wasn’t there before.”

“What’s that then?” Daisy wondered.

Mrs. Carson watched as you brushed snowflakes out of the hair around Rami’s face.

“Affection,” she said.

That night, as Anna helped you dress for bed, you accepted the loss of your life in the village. There was a pang in your heart at losing your father, but you found what you were looking for.

“What are you smiling about?” Anna teased as she draped your dress over the chair for your vanity. 

“I’m just happy,” you replied innocently.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

You sighed. “It’s silly since it’s been months, but...I finally feel at home here.”

She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, Y/N.”

You gave her a quick hug before crawling into bed.

Rami was being helped out of his things by Thomas. The butler had served as butler and valet to the king, and now served Rami the same. As Thomas gathered Rami’s wet clothes from the floor, he noticed that the prince was….humming.

“You’re in a fine mood tonight, sir,” he remarked.

“Things are changing, Thomas,” Rami said. “For the first time since my mother and father died, this palace feels like a home.”

Thomas blinked. “You’re falling for her, aren’t you? Y/N?”

Rami shook the excess water off his fur. “I...I am.”

“Well, that’s great!” Thomas cried. “The spell should be broken!”

Rami’s face fell. “It’s not that simple. She has to love me too, remember?”

“Don’t get discouraged, sir,” Thomas said. “There’s hope.”

“How?” Rami wondered. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“Of course, she’s a beautiful girl,” Thomas said. “And I think she’s beginning to see you, too, sir. To really see you.”

“You mean, you really think she’s starting to love me?” Rami wondered. “I’m still a beast!”

Thomas shook his head. “No, sir. You have always been a prince.”

A beat passed as Rami tried to gather himself. He had no words to express his gratitude for Thomas in that moment.

“I…” he began, but trailed off, unsure.

“You ought to do something romantic for her to let her know how you feel,” Thomas suggested.

“Like what?” Rami wondered.

“The New Year is coming up,” Thomas said. “Have a ball.”

“A ball?” Rami questioned. “Who would come?”

“Make it a private ball,” Thomas said. “Just the two of you, but get dressed up - you in tails, she in a gown - go all out.”

“You really think that would work?” Rami wondered.

“It can’t hurt to try,” Thomas said. “And you are on a time limit, sir. Now’s the time to take a risk.”

Rami looked over at the rose. Thomas was right, time was running out. The rose was curved over itself as it wilted, and more petals were all around it. He watched as another came off the stem and fluttered down to join the rest.

“You’re right,” Rami said. “It is time to take a risk.”

He straightened up. “Talk to Mrs. Carson. I want the main ballroom cleaned as soon as possible. I’ll help. I’ll need new clothes, so speak to Anna about tailoring some of my father’s old things. And Y/N will need a gown. Let her pick anything she wants from my mother’s collection.”

“Very good, sir!” Thomas praised.

“Oh! And Y/N is to know nothing about it, only that it’s a surprise,” Rami said. “The cleaning, the preparation, is all to be done as quietly as you can.”

“You are truly a romantic, sir,” Thomas said with a grin. “We will have it done.”

“Thank you,” Rami said. Then he swallowed. “For more than just this.”

Thomas nodded with understanding. “We will always take pride in serving you, sir. Good night.”

“Good night, Thomas,” Rami replied.

With that, the butler bowed and left. Rami sank down onto the bed, thinking of you. He really did have hope now. Whether or not you fell for him romantically didn’t matter as much to him. Just to know that he had you as a friend, someone who cared about him that wasn’t a servant or family member, was enough to make him optimistic. Not just that he could be a prince again, but that there was a life for him as he was now.

The new year was in a week. During that time, you noticed that the staff were unusually busy. Mrs. Carson was barely around when you needed her, Anna seemed flustered, and Thomas might as well have vanished. You only saw Daisy during your lessons. Even Rami was spending more time away from you.

“Is something wrong?” you asked him as you went for your daily walk through the garden.

You still took the walks, despite the frigid air. Rami found it refreshing and you thought roses were particularly beautiful in the snow.

“No, why do you ask?” he returned.

“Everyone has been rather...distant,” you explained. “Have I offended the staff?”

“Certainly not, they adore you,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about, Y/N.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure?”

“Believe me, I’m sure,” he chuckled. “Everyone loves you.”

You did not shy away at the word love, so he didn’t regret saying it. Instead, you smiled.

“I love everyone here too,” you said. “That’s why I’m worried.”

“I know it’s odd, but just trust me,” he said. “You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s just...a little more work than usual to be done.”

“Why?” you pressed.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh. You and your surprises.”

You glanced over at him and met his gaze, confirming to him that you were teasing. You loved his surprises because they kept your life at the castle interesting. A little adventure. 

The following day, Anna took you to the queen’s old closet. You were astonished by the size of it - it was almost the size of your whole room! - and got a little overwhelmed.

“The master wants you to pick something elegant,” Anna said. “For your surprise.”

“I don’t have much experience with clothes like this,” you admitted. “It all looks elegant to me.”

“I’ll narrow it down for you,” she offered.

She walked toward the back and selected four dresses. Each of them was stunning. The first was emerald green and velvet, and you thought it would be appropriate for the time of year. The second was a deep red, with white lace accents around the collar, which you also thought very wintery. The third was a sapphire blue, with jewels adorning the waistband. Then the fourth one really grabbed your attention. It was golden-yellow, made of satin, with a stunning sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.

“Which do you like?” Anna asked.

“The yellow one,” you decided. “It’s like sunshine.”

You would never forget the day Rami told you you brought him sunshine. Well, now you’d make it as literal as you could.

“Good choice, Y/N,” she agreed.

“Anna, aren’t these a bit formal?” you asked as she helped you out of your day dress.

You’d need to try on the new dress since the queen was a little taller than you, with slightly broader shoulders, so Anna needed to make adjustments.

“Of course,” she said, looking up at you with a smile. “They’re ball gowns.” 

Your brow furrowed. “Ball gowns?”

“Yes,” she said. “Stay there while I grab a petticoat.”

“Petticoat?!”

When Anna had the dress on you - petticoat and all - you were stunned by your appearance in the mirror. Anna gazed at you as well, and you saw her eyes begin to water.

“Anna!” you cried. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she sniffled. “You just...you look like a princess.”

You turned back to your reflection. You did look like a princess. You felt like a princess. But you were still yourself. Though this was something you never even imagined in your future, it felt right. You smiled.

“I look beautiful,” you said, half to yourself. “I never thought I could look like this.”

“It’s not just your sweet face, you know,” Anna said. “It’s you.”

You blushed at her words, feeling humbled by their sincerity.

“Thank you,” you said.

She grinned. “Come on. Let’s pick out some shoes and a tiara.”

“Oh, I couldn’t wear one of the queen’s tiaras!” you insisted. “It feels...wrong.”

“Y/N, if she were here, she’d lend them to you herself,” Anna said. “After everything you’ve done for her son -”

She stopped herself. You took her hand.

“Anna, what do you mean?” you questioned.

She shook her head. “I’m just being silly, but you’ve made a change in him. A great one.”

“How so?” you continued.

“It’s difficult to explain,” she said. “But you’ve given him hope.”

You let that sink in. You had given Rami hope? Well, he had given you a new life - a life filled with more than you even thought of. You had your own library for goodness sake! That was always a dream of yours.

“I...I don’t know what to say,” you told her. “I’m glad he’s happier. I’m actually happy too.”

She hugged you. You closed your eyes in her embrace, letting yourself feel and accept her appreciation. It was an odd feeling, but a good one.

“Now,” she said, pulling away. “Shoes and tiara.”

“I really don’t feel like I can wear the tiara,” you said. “I’m not a princess.”

“Very well, if you insist,” she conceded. “At least let me give you this.”

She picked up a comb from the shelf to her right. It was a beautiful hair comb made of gold. It had diamonds and rubies across it, but they were so delicate and dainty they reminded you of freckles. 

“That will be perfect,” you said.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and you were in your room most of the day preparing for your surprise. Anna had tailored the dress to fit like a glove, and it looked impossibly more beautiful. You took some time to walk around in the heels, since you had never worn shoes like that before, but you took to it quickly. Then, Anna and Mrs. Carson showed you the basic waltz steps.

Rami was fidgeting as Thomas helped him dress. The prince had not worn anything new or tailored in many years. He hadn’t been trying to see or impress anyone. But tonight, he wanted very much to impress you. To show you how much he cared for you.

When everything was ready - your hair was done, the dress was on, and the final touches were finished - you walked to the main hall. There, you saw Rami. You beamed. He looked dashing in his suit with tails. It fit him exactly, so you could see his whole form. He stood up straight as you approached, his smile widening with every step you took.

“Welcome, madam, to the New Year’s Ball,” he said when you came to a stop in front of him.

“A ball?!” you gasped. “I’ve never been to a ball before!”

Your cheeks reddened with bashfulness, and Rami saw your concern.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you. “It’s just us two.”

You brightened. He offered his arm and you took it. Carefully but confidently, he escorted you down the stairs and into the room to the left. What you saw took your breath away.

The ballroom looked brand new. The gold and bronze decor gleamed in the low candlelight of the bright chandelier. The floor was waxed and it shined beneath your feet. It all sparkled and glittered, making you feel like you were truly a royal. You had never seen such grandeur in your life.

“Rami!” you cried, stepping forward to take it all in. You spun around to get a proper look. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

In the corner, sat a string quartet. You shot Rami a questioning look.

“There can’t be a ball without dancing,” he said. 

He nodded to the players, and they began a soft, slow melody. Then, he looked back at you. He lowered himself at the waist, bowing. Then he offered his hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

You blushed. This was like something out of a book you had read. Only, Rami looked quite a bit different from the heroes you were used to. You smiled to yourself because you realized it didn’t matter one bit.

“You may,” you replied. “My prince.”

He rose to his full height again, grinning. You took his hand and he led you out onto the floor. One hand was in Rami’s. The other was on his massive shoulder. His free paw went to your waist. Then, he took that first step. The music crescendoed, and you began to dance.

Your heart swelled with the music and the sway of your body. Rami was a patient and helpful partner, so you felt like you had been waltzing since before you could walk. No step was out of place. You didn’t miss a turn. Your cheeks began to ache from smiling, but you couldn’t feel it. All you knew was the sense of belonging right in Rami’s arms.

Tale as old as time True as it can be Barely even friends Then somebody bends Unexpectedly

Just a little change Small, to say the least Both a little scared Neither one prepared Beauty and the beast

Ever just the same Ever a surprise Ever as before Ever just as sure As the sun will rise

Tale as old as time Tune as old as song Bittersweet and strange Finding you can change Learning you were wrong

Certain as the sun Rising in the East Tale as old as time Song as old as rhyme Beauty and the beast

Tale as old as time Song as old as rhyme Beauty and the beast

You and Rami slowed to a stop as the music faded down. You were out of breath as you looked at each other, each of you enthralled by the other.

“Y/N, I…” he began, but trailed off.

“Could we step outside?” you asked. “It’s suddenly quite warm in here.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

Taking his arm again, you walked out to the balcony. The night was bitterly cold, and you shivered as the wind hit your warm skin. Rami removed his jacket and wrapped it around you. Together, you walked over to the edge and looked out over the woods. The stars above you looked like jewels across the sky. 

“What were you saying?” you asked.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for quite some time now,” he said. “You see, after getting to know you, I…”

“Yes?”

“I want to know if you’re happy here,” he said. “With me. In the palace. I...are you?”

“I am, Rami,” you told him. “Truly, I am. There is one thing, though.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“I miss my father,” you admitted. “I miss him so much it makes me ache sometimes. If I could just see him and make sure he’s okay, I could…”

Rami’s mind went right to the solution.

“There is a way,” he said. 

Your eyes went wide. “There is?”

“Come with me,” he said.

He led you back to the west wing. You had not returned there since the incident with the robbers out of respect. It felt like a milestone that he was inviting you up this time. You went to his room, where the mysterious rose still stood, only looking worse than the last time you saw it. Rami picked up a gold hand mirror and held it out to you.

“This can show me my father?” you questioned. “I thought it was from the enchantress.”

“It will show you anyone,” he said. “It’s how I found you when you were in the west wing that day. Just tell it who you want to see.”

You were skeptical, but you trusted Rami. So, you held the mirror before you.

“Show me my Papa,” you said hesitantly. “Please.”

The mirror glowed, so brightly you had to look away at first, and then a picture formed. Your father was in his bed. Little crimson stains lined the collar of his shirt. He was white as a sheet and sweat covered his forehead. He coughed violently and you winced as you saw more blood dribble into his beard.

“Papa!” you gasped quietly.

Rami heard the cough and saw your face. His heart began to sink. The situation was dire.

“Oh, Papa,” you sighed, tears welling up in your eyes. “He’s so sick.”

You looked desperately at Rami. He looked back at you. He knew what he had to do, but his heart was hammering fast against his chest in protest. He glanced at the rose and then back at you.

“He needs you,” he said.

Your brow furrowed. “I…”

“It wasn’t a question, Y/N,” he continued. “Your father needs you.”

He took a deep breath. You watched him, holding yours as you waited for what he would say next.

“I release you,” he said. “You’re no longer a prisoner here. Go home and look after your father.”

You blinked at a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m free?”

“You’re free,” he confirmed.

His heart stopped hammering. Now, he felt it breaking. You would leave here and never return.

“Rami, I...I don’t know what to say,” you replied.

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “He needs you. Be with him.”

You took his paw between your hands.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “You’re a kind person, Rami.”

He looked away. Mostly because he didn’t want you to see his own emotion. You started to hand the mirror back, but he stopped you.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s a gift.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t need it anymore.”

A beat passed. You chewed your lip to think of something else to say. But what do you say to the person that you had this unique experience with?

“Take care of yourself, Rami,” you said.

“You too,” he returned.

His paw fell out of your grip and he went to the window. Feeling a terrible sense of dread, you left him there. You hurried to your room so Anna could help you change and pack.

Rami listened to your footsteps die down the hall. Then, Thomas and Mrs. Carson entered.

“Well, sir,” Thomas said. “How did it go?”

“She’s leaving,” Rami replied dully. 

Mrs. Carson gasped. “How could you let her leave?”

“I had no other choice,” Rami answered. “I love her.”

When you were changed and packed, you hurried out to the stables to grab Dotty. You got her ready as quickly as you could with your shaking hands. As you galloped out of the courtyard and away from the castle, you heard a mournful roar echo from the west wing. Rami’s cry. Your heart shattered.

[orangeoctopi7]

A Time for Every Purpose

: Part 1 : Part 2 :

Mabel stormed up the stairs, tears streaming down her face. It seemed like every time she tried to take her mind off her troubles, every time she tried to cheer up, something came along and made things more complicated. Had it really only been two days ago that she’d been excited about turning 13 and planning their birthday party? Now she had much bigger concerns, like Bill threatening her family, and Ford extending the apprenticeship offer to Dipper and her.

What with the tears in her eyes and the thoughts swirling around in her head, Mabel didn’t see her brother coming, and collided with him as she scurried up the stairs.

“Oh, Mabel, have you seen Great Uncle Ford this morning? I need to ask him…” Dipper trailed off when he realized his sister was trying to hold back tears. “What’s wrong? Did Bill come back? Is someone hurt!?”

Mabel shook her head, wiping her face on the sleeve of her pajama shirt she still hadn’t changed out of.

“I did see Grunkle Ford this morning. He told me I could stay in Gravity Falls too, if I wanted.”

Dipper’s face lit up. Sure, he’d have to completely redo his pros and cons list now, but this took care of the biggest negative on it! “That’s great!” But then he remembered she’d come up here in tears. “...isn’t it?”

“No!” Mabel cried, trying not to break down again. “Now I have to choose between staying here with you in Gravity Falls or going home to mom and dad!”

“Well, now you know how I feel.” Dipper pointed out. “Isn’t this what you wanted, though? This way you don’t have to leave Gravity Falls behind. You get more time with your friends, a little more summer.”

“Maybe. I dunno.” Mabel sighed and sat down on the steps, very close to pulling herself back into sweater town. “That was mostly just wistful thinking because I was afraid that everything was gonna change. I didn’t think it would actually become reality!”

“Hey, I get it. This is a really big, scary decision.” Dipper sat down beside her. “But you don’t have to make it alone. I can help you make a Pros and Cons list if you want.”

Mabel turned to look at her brother. “Dipper, I know last night you said we had to talk about this when we were calm and not super emotional, but I don’t know if I’m ever gonna not be super emotional about this whole mess!”

“Well, maybe making a list will help.”

The colorful girl scrunched up her face. List making was more her brother’s thing, but maybe it would help for her to get on his level for a bit.

“Ok. As long as I get to use glitter gel pens to write it.”

* * *

Stanford stood in the empty kitchen, the phone in his hand blaring a dull dial tone now that Debbs had hung up. It slipped out of his hand and bounced against the counter door on its curly cord. The old inventor was reeling. What had just happened? True, he probably should have anticipated at least a little apprehension from the kids’ mother, but surely, after explaining the advantages and benefits of his apprenticeship, any parent would have been happy to give their children the opportunity to learn at the feet of an accomplished scientist? And not just any scientist, but a family member who loved and cared dearly for those kids! Instead, she’d acted like he was threatening to kidnap them!

Oh you fool, you’ve done it again. The negative part of Ford’s brain chided him.

The old researcher pushed the thought to the back of his mind, instead trying to justify his own reasoning. It was a pattern he’d seen again and again throughout his life. People left. It always happened sooner or later. Sometimes because they found someone or something more important. Sometimes because they realized the relationship was bad for them. Whatever the case, the outcome was always the same. Deborah was simply trying to delay the inevitable. 

“Sooner or later”, yes, and you’re asking the children to leave too soon. That’s what Stanley was trying to tell you, but of course you didn’t listen. 

“No. No, I’m not the one being unreasonable here…” He muttered to himself.

Wasn’t he? Stan, Mabel, Debbs, they’d all acted as though Ford’s desire to keep the children here was wrong. Even Dipper had been unsure about it. 

But you wouldn’t listen to any of them. You’ve only ever hear what you want to hear. Just like with Fiddleford, just like with Bill!

Perhaps the pattern of people leaving didn’t apply to everyone. Only to him.

“What is wrong with me?” He groaned as he slid down to sit on the floor.

What’s wrong with you? You’re disgusting! Of course no one wants you! The freakish hands are only the tip of the iceberg. You push away anyone with the misfortune to actually get close enough to care about you, but not without doing some serious damage first. Because you don’t understand people and their emotions and relationships. You don’t even understand your own species.

Ford dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes tight, trying to steady his breathing. It was true! That was why he’d felt so at home in Gravity Falls, studying supernatural beings. That was how he’d survived thirty years in the multiverse, hopping from one alien society to the next. 

The only ones who’ve ever really wanted you just wanted to use you. Bill, the Dean at Backupsmore, your father… Stan…

Stan… Ford wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore. Surely his brother wouldn’t have spent thirty years trying to fix the portal just to use Ford.

No, he was just fine using your identity to make a cozy little life for himself in Gravity Falls while you were gone.

That just raised further questions, though. Stan had a stable life here. He had to have known Ford’s return would mean giving up the identity he’d been living under for thirty years. Even if Stan hadn’t expected his brother to insist he shut his phony business down, he at least had to have known his livelihood would be endangered. Wouldn’t it have been easier not to risk it all and just leave Ford to his fate? The only possible explanation was that Stan cared enough, or at least felt guilty enough, to motivate him to continue trying for thirty years.

Still, as noble as Stan’s intentions may have been, he still put the whole world, no, the whole universe, in danger by reactivating the portal. How could he have ever expected Ford to be ok with that?

A small part of Ford couldn’t help but wonder if he would have done the same, had their roles been reversed. 

Then of course, there was Stan’s horrible timing. Ford had been this close to destroying Bill, to finally fixing his mistakes, when he was whisked back to Gravity Falls. It seemed like every time Ford got close to making a decisive strike against Bill, something went wrong. He only had himself to blame for the glue situation, but if Stan hadn’t...

It wasn’t like he had known.

He still shouldn’t have done it. It was far too dangerous.

If Stan hadn’t brought him back, he never would have met Dipper and Mabel.

Stan had put the children in danger on top of everything else.

If it hadn’t happened when it did, Ford would have died trying to take Bill down with him.

Ford had known the risks and had been prepared to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to bring Bill down. Stan had ruined his chance… hadn’t he?

You heard what Bill said. He hates you. Why can’t you just hate him back?

Bill always lies. 

There was an abundance of evidence that Stan didn’t hate him. That he actually cared quite a lot.

Ford curled in on himself, the warring thoughts swirling in his head blocking out the rest of the world around him. He didn’t hear his brother coming until the old conman appeared in the doorway, eyes blazing with fury.

“Ford!” Stan shouted, his voice charged with anger.

He hates you.

Ford’s fight or flight instincts took over, and this time they favored flight. He had to get out of there. He darted out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

Dipper was glad that Mabel had accepted his help to put together her own Pros and Cons list. Not only was it helping him redo his list, she also came up with several negative points he hadn’t considered, like the fact that he’d be leaving behind his friends back at Piedmont Junior High. While Mabel definitely had more friends at school, there were still a couple of classmates that Dipper would consider his friends, although he wasn’t nearly as close with them as he had become with Soos and Wendy. 

Besides, he did kinda feel like he’d been neglecting Mabel over the past couple of days. He was just trying to figure all of this out, the rift, Ford’s apprenticeship, and Bill. Trying to comfort Mabel on top of all that just seemed like too much. Once he had the time to sit down and organize his thoughts, to really think things out, it became much less overwhelming. He trusted his Great Uncle to deal with the rift and Bill for now, and he was figuring out the apprenticeship thing.

It was interesting to see Mabel’s thought process as she put together her own list. She liked Dipper’s point value system, but they both scored the same things very differently. She thought getting to explore the caves behind the falls was only worth three points, tops, and she classified continuing to work at the Mystery Shack as a pro, not a con. 

Dipper decided not to share his doubts on whether Ford would allow Stan to continue running the Shack out of his home. Mabel already had enough on her mind.

"So, once you finish your list, you add up the points on both sides and whichever has the most points wins." Dipper explained.

"How do you know when it's finished?"

Dipper shrugged. “Just… whenever you can’t think of any more pros or cons, I guess.”

“But what if I forget something important?”

“Well, I mean, it can’t be that important if you forgot it.” 

Mabel sighed and started adding up her totals. Dipper did the same. Pros won out on both lists, although Mabel’s was by a slimmer margin. The boy laughed excitedly and beamed at his sister. She gulped. Despite what the numbers said, this still didn’t sit right with her.

“So we’ll both stay in Gravity Falls, together!” Dipper exclaimed. “I can’t believe it, this is like a dream come true!”

Mabel gasped. “Wait, that’s it!”

“What?”

“I think I finally figured out why I feel so wrong about this apprenticeship thing!” Mabel grabbed her brother by the shoulders. “You said you can’t believe it! Why?”

Dipper’s smile faltered. “Mabel, it’s just a figure of speech…”

“Yeah, but you used it now for a reason. Why?”

“Because…” Dipper stopped and thought about it for a moment. “Because if you’d told me two months ago that I was going to stay in Gravity Falls and work with the Author of the Journals, and that he was a long-lost relative, I’d think you were crazy.”

“Exactly. And I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Gravity Falls. I wanted more time with my friends.” Mabel agreed. “You said it yourself. Taking Grunkle Ford’s offer is a dream come true. Because staying in Gravity Falls is like living in a dream, or a fairy tale!”

“...What are you getting at here?” Dipper asked apprehensively.

“If we stay here, that’s not preparing us for the real world! We need to grow up in the real world first!”

“Are you implying that Gravity Falls isn’t real? That we’ve just dreamed up this whole summer?” Dipper asked incredulously. 

“No, of course not!” Mabel scoffed. “Sorry, maybe I’m not explaining this very well. Obviously, Gravity Falls is real. We’ve got real family and real friends here. And we’ve both grown up a lot over this past summer here. But would we keep on growing if we just stayed here all the time? Would we learn the things we need to grow up if we stay in a place where most of the grown-ups still act like kids? This is the kind of place where a nine-year-old can claim to be a child psychic and everyone believes him. This is the kind of place where the local kooky hobo is a genius inventor who builds death robots. This is the kind of place where a long-lost Grunkle can come out of a mysterious portal. This is the kind of place where a sad journalist like Toby Determined can have his own newspaper. Does that sound like the real world to you?”

Dipper grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I see your point. But… I thought you didn’t want to grow up?”

Mabel frowned and rubbed her arm sheepishly. “You’re right, I don’t want to…” She then looked up with renewed determination in her eyes. “But I know that I need to.”

The boy gave his sister a proud smile “You’re a lot more mature than most people give you credit for.”

“Thanks, Dip.”

“But…” His face fell. “I do feel like there’s so much more to learn about Gravity Falls… and I don’t want to disappoint Great Uncle Ford. I know he’d really love us to stay. I get the feeling he’s really lonely. The apprenticeship is everything I’ve wanted all summer… how can I just walk away from it?”

Mabel patted her brother on the shoulder. “Well, even if it’s not the right time to stay in Gravity Falls now, maybe someday when we are a little more grown up, we could move out here all year. So don’t think of it as walking away. Just think of it as saying ‘Not now’. And don’t worry about Grunkle Ford. He’s our family and he loves us! I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Dipper sighed and nodded. “I hope you’re right. Ever since Ford offered me the apprenticeship, I haven’t felt ready. He said I shouldn’t worry, because I’ve already accomplished so much, but I guess it’s not really about doubting my own abilities. It’s just not the right time in my life.”

“Guess we should go tell him, then, huh?”

“Oh yeah!” Dipper smacked his head. “I was heading downstairs to ask him to help Wendy with Bill-proofing her house. Maybe we can talk to him about it after that?”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah, making sure Wendy and her family are safe is more important. And it’s like Grunkle Ford keeps saying, we’ve got all week!”

* * *

After leaving Soos to look after the giftshop, Stan made a beeline for the kitchen where he knew his brother had been using the phone just moments ago. That nerd was about to get the talking-to of his life!

“Ford!” Stan called as he stormed down the hall. No response. 

He pushed the door open brusquely. The kitchen appeared empty, and the phone was hanging off its hook.

“Ford?” He called again. Suddenly, a figure shot out from behind the table. Stan barely had time to register that it was his brother before Ford dashed out of the room. What the heck had he been doing hiding practically under the table?

“Oh no, you’re not gettin’ off that easy!” Stan grumbled under his breath as he followed his brother. Sure, he wasn’t as fast as Ford, but the nerd had scrambled away so frantically that it wasn’t hard to follow his trail.

Unsurprisingly, the string of jostled furniture and scuffed floors led straight to Ford’s room. Also unsurprisingly, the door was locked. Stan rolled his eyes and slid a bobby pin out of his sleeve. What was even the point of locking a door that was so easy to pick?

Stan’s frustration with his brother evaporated as soon as he opened the door and got a good look. Ford was sitting in the corner of the sectional couch, curled up on himself. It wasn’t too far off from Mabel’s “Sweater Town”. The old researcher’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and he was eyeing his brother with the sort of caution a normal person would give an angry moose.

Was Ford… having a panic attack?

“Hey…” Stan said softly, approaching his brother with caution. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ford took a deep breath, and Stan could practically see his brother bottling up his emotions as the old nerd’s face became blank.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Ford said stoicly.

“Sure. And you bolted out of the kitchen just now because you saw a spider.”

Ford's blank expression flickered for a moment as annoyance crept in. "You startled me."

"Obviously." Stan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I called Debbs back after she hung up on you."

"You were eavesdropping on me?" Ford accused coldly.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing too! I managed to smooth things over with her so the kids can still come back here next year, and you're still allowed to spend time with them!"

Ford didn't reply. He just kept staring straight ahead, stoney-faced.

"She just wanted me to have a talk with you. About you and the kids."

“She doesn’t have to worry. I doubt either of the children will want to spend time with me once they hear about this.”

Stan scoffed. “This isn’t gonna make the kids wanna stop spendin’ time with you, not by a long shot.”

“Perhaps not.” Ford agreed. “They’re still children, quick to forgive and forget. I’ll have to separate myself from them for their own good.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your original assessment was correct. I need to stay away from the kids. If not to protect them from the physical danger that comes with my line of work, then to protect them from the emotional danger of growing attached to a damaged man who doesn’t understand the simplest of human interactions.” He explained in a detached tone. 

"Ohno you don't!" Stan retorted. "I didn't just stick my neck out for you, just so you could push the kids away! Those kids love your guts, and it'd hurt 'em a lot more if you just suddenly cut them off!"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about." Ford said clinically, as though he was explaining the problem with one of his experiments and not his own insecurities. "I have no understanding of the thoughts and feelings of others. The fact that you had to talk their mother into allowing me to continue spending time with the children confirms it.”

Stan heaved a sigh. "You still don't really understand why Debbs said no, do you?"

"I understand perfectly."

"I don't think you do." The old conman shook his head. "It's like I keep telling you, they're just kids. They still need their mom, and she still needs them."

"Yes, you were right and I didn't listen to you. Just one of many signs that I'm unable to properly interact with other human beings."

"I'm not finished! The thing you're not getting is just because you can't wedge your way into their parents' place, doesn't mean you can't be in the kids' lives at all! You're still a part of this family."

"And yet Deborah took my offer as a threat."

"Debbs doesn't know you from Adam, Ford! Of course she freaked out! I couldn’t explain the whole situation to her, but I did tell her those kids are the best thing that’s happened to you in 30 years.”

Ford couldn’t deny Stan’s statement. “I can’t do it again!” His prior panic finally burst out of its bottles. “I can’t stand to hurt another person I care about because I don’t even realize what I’m doing wrong until it’s too late! And I don’t even listen when someone tries to explain it to me!” His flare of anger died down, and he curled back in on himself again. “What is wrong with me?” He moaned.

Stan cautiously took a seat on the other end of the couch. “Nothin’s wrong with you.”

The old researcher scoffed. “A lifetime of my experience says otherwise.”

“Look, just because you’re not good with people doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. Not everyone’s a people person.”

“This goes far beyond not being a people person. I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever come into contact with.”

“Wow, exaggeration much?”

“How can you joke about this when you’re one of the people I’ve hurt the most!?”

The two brothers froze as Ford’s words hung in the air. Stan was at a loss. Since when did Ford feel like he hurt Stan instead of the other way around?

“See, you can’t even deny it.” Ford continued when Stan didn’t have a response. “It’s just eas-- It’s just safer if I just stay out of everyone’s lives.”

“You can’t just cut yourself off from the world, genius.” The old conman finally found his words again. “You’re the one who was sayin’ you don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“...I don’t want anyone else to get hurt either.”

Stan paused as he tried to think of how to handle this. “We still gotta stop Bill, right? That’s not something you can do alone.”

“I’ve been doing it alone for thirty years.”

“Yeah, and that’s worked real well, hasn’t it?”

“I was about to end him!” Ford shouted. “I was seconds away from taking the shot, when you opened the portal again and whisked me away!”

“...Oh.” Stan squeaked. He didn’t know how else to respond to that. So he just moved on with the conversation. “Listen, even you’ve gotta admit, you’ve had more success with those kids' help. Dipper helped you get that alien stuff you needed. Mabel pointed out the glue problem you never even realized. If we’re gonna take down this Bill guy, your best bet is to work with us, whether you like it or not. And yeah, maybe it’s risky, but isn’t it riskier to just sit around waitin’ for Bill to make his move?”

Ford just stared coldly back at his brother. “You’re not going to apologize?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna apologize for saving your life, no.”

The old researcher frowned and furrowed his brow, but he didn’t seem surprised by Stan’s response. He sat there thinking for a few moments before finally speaking again.

“I can see the logic in needing to work together to stop Bill. The children have proven to be incredibly resourceful in that department. And in less than a week, they’ll be returning to California. I suppose it won’t matter after that.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “For cryin’ out loud, they’re just one state over, not on a different planet. All those arguments you were makin’ about the kids still bein’ able to stay in touch over the computer? That applies to you too, genius. You can even drive down and visit if you want.”

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s best for Dipper and Mabel.”

“Heh, well, good to see we’re finally on the same page there at least. But I’m tellin’ ya, being their mad-scientist uncle is what’s best for them. And what’s best for you too.”

Ford was torn. He wanted to believe Stan’s words, but it was hard to ignore that negative part of his brain, telling him that Stan was a liar, and digging up all the times he had hurt people before. He pushed it to the back of his head for now. Better to focus on stopping Bill and protecting the rift. Speaking of which….

“If we’re both here, who’s guarding the lab entrance!?” 

“Relax, I left Soos to keep an eye on things.”

Stan’s reassurance was immediately undermined by the sound of a fight breaking out in the giftshop.

* * *

“Hey Soos, you seen Stan anywhere?” Wendy asked as she reentered the gift shop. 

Soos was clearing out the old inventory. After Mr. Pines’ Mystery Science Brother came in and asked Wendy questions about her dream, it had been a quiet day at the Mystery Shack. 

“He was here a minute ago, but he said he had to have another talk with his brother.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Of course. Well, I’m just gonna take off then. I gotta take care of some stuff. Let him know I decided to take the day off after all if you see him.”

“You got it, dude.” He assured her as she left.

Soos had been wanting a word with his boss himself, but whenever the handyman was about to ask Mr. Pines a question, Mr. Mystery was suddenly busy, giving a tour for just two people, yelling at his brother, or listening in on an important phone call.

It was clear that Mr. Pines was hiding something, and not the usual somethings Mr. Pines would hide, like incriminating evidence or suggestion cards. No, Soos got the impression that Mr. Pines was hiding something specifically from him. It wasn’t all that strange for Stan to avoid talking about anything that even remotely resembled feelings. But it was strange for Stan to avoid talking about what they were going to do for the off season. And even stranger for him to refuse free labor. True, there was a bunch of major drama going down in the Pines family right now, but it wasn’t like Mr. Pines to let it affect how he ran his business.

“The Mystery Shack has needed to be rebuilt like four times in the last two months. Maybe Stan’s just worried because all this reconstruction is costing too much money.” Soos reasoned to himself as he worked alone in the giftshop. But he didn’t quite believe himself.

The bell over the giftshop door jingled, distracting Soos from his thoughts. He quickly ran to the cash register, ready to serve another customer. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack dude!”

“Hello.” A short man with a grotesque face and a tiny 1930’s style reporter’s hat replied.

“Oh, hey Toby! I see you got away from that griffin!”

“I was indigestible!” Toby Determined said as if he was proudly proclaiming he got a new haircut.

“That’s cool. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to interview you, actually!” the reporter explained. “Rumor has it that Mr. Mystery has a long lost twin, and you’re the man with the inside scoop!”

“I mean, it’s kinda supposed to be a secret.” Soos hesitated. “I’ve only told Wendy, and my abuelita, and the mailman, and everyone who was at Greasy's Diner during the lunch rush last Saturday…”

“You’d get to be on the front page of the Gravity Falls Gossiper!” Toby enticed in a sing-song voice, holding up today’s issue for good measure.

“I’ll do it!” Soos declared.

“Perfect! Now, to start off, I’ll need to take your photo!”

“Oh hey, when’d you get a real camera?” Soos asked as Toby pulled out a large camera with an even larger flashbulb.

“Oh, uh, just recently.” Toby chuckled nervously. “Now, you stand right over there, next to that display of bright, shiny, reflective crystals. And I’ll stand right here, next to this clearly out of order vending machine.”

Soos struck a pose where Toby had told him to stand. “Oh, dude, wait--” He remembered he was supposed to be guarding the vending machine just as the reporter snapped the photo. The camera’s flash reflected and refracted through the crystals, blinding the handyman.

“Ah! My eyes!”

“Ah! Also my eyes!”

Unfortunately for Toby, he hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he should protect himself from the flash.

“Uh, dude, could you do me a favor and not touch that vending machine until my eyes adjust back to normal?”

“Never!” The determined reporter declared. “The man in the color-changing clothes and funny goggles told me I could be with Shandra Jimenez forever if I brought him the magic sticky ball hidden in the secret basement!” 

Toby felt around blindly for the machine’s key-pad and started pressing buttons randomly. Soos followed the beeping sound and tackled the little man to the ground. 

“Not cool, dude! You are officially banned from our FCLORP team!” 

“No!” Toby whined. “You guys are the only people who tolerate me!”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you tried to break into Dr. Pines’ secret lab, dude! Which, uh, which he totally doesn’t have. That… that’s not a real thing.”

Toby obviously didn’t believe him, as he continued to struggle against Soos for access to the vending machine. Soos easily stopped him by just sitting on top of him.

“Y’know.” the handyman mused as his eyes began to adjust back to normal. “Dipper and Mabel put up a much harder fight than you. I’m just sayin’ you might wanna start doin’ more exercise and stuff. I know a place at the mall that teaches karate! I’ve been goin’ there since I was ten.”

“Let me go!” Toby demanded as he flailed his arms and legs uselessly.

“No can do, dawg. I promised Mr. Pines I’d hold down the fort while he’s busy taking care of family junk.”

Soos didn’t have to keep Toby at bay for much longer. For the second time that day, Dr. Pines burst out of the Employees Only door. He had his blaster drawn, and Stan wasn’t far behind him.

“What happened!?” Ford barked, aiming his blaster down at Toby’s wriggling form. “What is that thing?”

“Uh, I think Bill got to Toby.” Soos explained.

The old researcher grimaced. “Bill must have used some sort of magical artefact to mutate him!”

“What? No, he’s always been like that.” Stan corrected him. “What’d the triangle promise you, Toby?”

“Triangle?” The reporter asked in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“He said a dude in color-changing clothes and funny goggles told him he could be with Shandra Jimenez forever if he got the magic sticky ball in the secret basement.” Soos recounted.

“And nothing about that seemed suspicious to you?” Stan asked.

“Well, not particularly…”

“Why am I not surprised.” The old conman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Somebody’s pullin’ a prank on you, Toby. The Mystery Shack doesn’t have a basement.”

“Oh, but he was so convincing!” Toby whined.

“He is very convincing.” Ford said gravely. “Where were you when he found you? Do you know where he is now?”

“He just came into the printing room while I was finishing off this morning’s publication. He told me to bring the ball to the dump.”

Ford scratched his chin thoughtfully, considering all the information before him. “It’s probably a trap. I doubt Bill expected this attempt to work.”

“Really, what gave you that idea?” Stan asked sarcastically. “Hey Toby, if you leave now and promise not to come back, I won’t press charges.”

“Hooray!”

“Oh, and gimme a call if you see that, uh, prankster again.”

The reporter agreed and left. Ford immediately began pacing.

“This was almost a disaster! If Bill had sent a competent pawn instead of this distraction, the rift would be broken by now!” He rounded on Stan “Why did you leave the secret entrance unguarded!?”

“I didn’t leave it unguarded, I left Soos.” Stan defended. “And yeah, he’s a goofus, but he got the job done, so I don’t see what you’re complaining about.”

“Aw, thanks Mr. Pines.”

“Don’t get mushy on me, kid.”

“Everything turned out alright this time, yes.” Ford admitted. “But what if Bill sends someone or something more dangerous than a tiny goblin man?”

“I can totally handle it, dude.” Soos assured him. “I’ve fought puhterodactyls, haunted animatronics, and ate my way out of a creepy monster made of candy.”

“Really?” Ford looked at the handyman like he was just seeing Soos properly for the first time.

The conversation paused when Dipper and Mabel entered the room.

“Here’s everybody. Hey Great Uncle Ford, can I ask you a favor for Wendy?” Dipper asked. He then took in Ford’s frantic pacing and Soos’s rumpled clothes. “What’s going on?”

“Toby Determined just tried to break into the lab.” Stan replied nonchalantly, like he was commenting on finding gnomes in the trash again.

“What?” The young twins cried in unison.

“Was it Bill?” Mabel asked in concern.

“It couldn’t have been, the barrier spell is still up.” Dipper reasoned. “Right?”

“The barrier is still intact, yes.” Ford assured them. “It appears Bill convinced Toby to find the rift while possessing the same time travel agent as before.”

“Poor Blendin.” Mabel worried.

“I can’t believe Bill actually tried to use Toby.” Dipper said incredulously. “I mean, he can’t have gotten very far.”

“He didn’t.” Stan said simply.

“I sat on him.” Soos added.

“It seems like Bill is trying to set some sort of trap.” Ford explained. “Bill told Toby to bring the rift to the dump. I suspect he shared that information knowing that Toby would get caught, and that we would interrogate him.”

“That’s weird. Why would Bill want us to go to the dump?” Dipper wondered. “Unless…” the boy’s eyes widened and as he glanced at his sister, he knew the same awful realization was dawning on her. Neither of them had heard from McGucket since the party at Northwest Manor, the day before the portal reopened. 

“Unless what?” Ford asked eagerly.

“Uhhh…” the young twins hemmed. They’d purposely forgotten to tell Ford about what happened to his old friend. How do you tell someone their best friend had driven himself insane and was now a homeless coot living in the dump? Although, considering Ford read Dipper’s entries in the Journal, the old researcher probably at least had an idea of how far McGucket had fallen.

“You remember your old research buddy, right?” Mabel asked awkwardly.

“...What does Fiddleford have to do with this situation?”

“He… kinda lives in the dump now.” Dipper’s reply pitched up at the end, almost like it was a question.

Ford stared at them agape for a moment. “I’d gathered that his mental state had deteriorated since I left, but… from what Dipper had written, it seemed like he was still working in robotics. How--why is he living in the dump!?”

“I think he’s just really bad with money.” Mabel shrugged. “He won a sweepstakes earlier this summer and he’s already spent it all on junky cars from Gleeful’s Auto Sales.”

“Yeah, I think he just used them for parts to build the Gideon-bot.” Dipper added.

“And you both believe he’s still at the dump?” Ford asked, distraught.

“Well, that’s where he’s lived all summer.” Dipper said slowly. “But… neither of us have seen him since the night before you got here.”

The old researcher finally stopped pacing and sat down heavily in the chair behind the cash register, running his fingers anxiously through his hair.

“Even if it is most likely a trap, that’s bait I can’t ignore…”

“We have to go find him and make sure he’s ok!” Mabel insisted.

“Yeah, but we can’t just walk right into an obvious trap!” Dipper exclaimed. 

“So just sneak in.” Stan suggested. “It’s the dump, not the State Penitentiary.” 

Ford shook his head. “Bill can’t be snuck up on, he has eyes everywhere. Our best hope is to take a direct approach and be prepared for anything.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course you would wanna go in guns ablazing.”

“Says the man who thinks every problem can be solved by punching it!”

“Ok, ok.” Dipper held up his hands, hoping his Grunkles would be able to stop fighting long enough to come up with a plan. “But launching a full-scale rescue mission is probably exactly what Bill wants. We can’t leave the Shack and the Rift unguarded.”

“Eh, Soos can probably watch it again.” Stan said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Pines.”

“Actually, I think Soos’s abilities might be better suited for our rescue mission.” Ford suggested. “We’ll need an unpredictable element. Someone who Bill is likely to underestimate. I think you’d be better to stay and guard the lab, Stanley.”

“Fine by me.” Stan shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t care less what happens to Old Man McGucket.”

Ford scowled at his brother, but held his tongue for now.

“I think we’ll need more than just Stan to watch the Shack.” Dipper reasoned. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid.” Stan said sarcastically.

“It’s not like I doubt your skills, I’ve seen you punch dinosaurs and fight zombies, but Bill is really dangerous, and we can’t afford to take any risks.” The boy looked around the giftshop. “Where’s Wendy?”

“Oh yeah, she took the rest of the day off.” Soos remembered. “She said she had to take care of some stuff.”

“Aw man.” Dipper groaned. The lumberjack’s daughter would have been the perfect person to help Stan guard the Shack. She was cunning and resourceful and could bury a hatchet’s blade three inches into a tree from ten feet away.

Mabel tugged on her brother’s vest. “Dipper, you should stay here with Stan.”

“What? But I wanna go with Great Uncle Ford! And, uh, I was the last one who saw McGucket at the party!” The boy protested, trying to throw some weak logic behind his desire.

“I know, but… but…” The girl threw her arms around her brother as she failed to keep her voice from trembling. “I’m so scared that Bill is gonna hurt you again! Please, can’t you just stay here where you’re safe from him?”

Dipper returned her hug. “I don’t want him to hurt you either. Maybe both of us should stay?”

Mabel shook her head. “No, somone’s gotta go make sure McGucket’s alright, and if it is a trap, Grunkle Ford’s gonna need all the help he can get.”

“Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Don’t worry, brobro, I’ve always got my secret weapon!” Mabel assured him, pulling out her grappling hook.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Ford promised, making pointed eye contact first with Dipper, then with Stan.

“Yeah, you better. Otherwise it’s your funeral when her mom finds out.” Stan grunted.

“Does everyone have what you need to defend yourselves?” Ford asked. Mabel held up her grappling hook, and Soos grabbed a shovel out of the Shack’s utility closet. “Then let’s go! We’ll discuss a plan on the way there.”

[rivalsforlife]

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE DOING COMMENTARY hope it's not too late to ask for The Scene at the end of chapter 5 of the catch up game?? if no one else has asked?

It is never too late to ask!! Genuinely you could probably ask me six months from now and I’ll ramble on about all this, I’m generally down to talk about my writing all the time. (And I’m actually a little surprised nobody asked about The Scene yet... oh well haha)

First though: have you seen this art yet? If you haven’t you should. It was going around twitter again lately and I love it a lot so I wanted to advertise it while I had the chance.

Anyways, keeping under a “keep reading” here:

So. The Scene. First I’ll present my notes from the outline when I was trying to figure out this fic:

Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

Somehow “kind of an awkward note” ended up being uhhh that!

Anyways before we get into this I want to say that I really did not think it would have that much of an emotional impact? I got a much bigger reaction than I thought and that’s around when people really started talking about it on the narumitsu discord and stuff, so I ended up for the rest of the week soooo stressed out that I’d accidentally gone in a completely different direction than I’d planned and set people’s expectations too high and they would be COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED IN THE REST OF THE FIC but uh luckily that didn’t happen! I think. At least if anyone was super disappointed they didn’t tell me about it!

And it was probably partially that I am not very uhh good with emotions and also probably that I got pretty desensitized to my work but I genuinely did not think it was that bad until I saw Ro’s art and then went “ohhh suddenly I am consumed with so much guilt...” (and also doubted how in character this scene was. how can ANYONE say no to that face --)

Most critically though, this scene distracted everyone from whatever the hell was going on with the casefic earlier in the chapter, so overall I think it’s a success.

Sorry it’s taking a while to get to the actual scene, but I wrote a few drafts of this thing beforehand and modified it a lot trying to get it right. I needed it to be sufficiently dramatic but I didn’t want it to seem like... I was just adding it in there for extra conflict? Like you know sometimes you read stuff and you’re like “where the hell did this sudden argument come from” yeah. I wanted to avoid that if I could, so partially this was supported by the weight of chapter 4 to explain Phoenix’s reasons for the rejection and then chapter 6 is supposed to elaborate more, but I still needed this to stand fairly well on its own.

The overall theme of this chapter was “Opposites”, and again, here’s what I had in my fic notes:

I want to contrast how Phoenix sees Miles and how Miles sees Phoenix. Because they both kind of see each other as an amazing person while seeing themselves as failures. Maybe at the end Phoenix is kind of putting himself down and Miles argues about it and then they have a slight argument. Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

I couldn’t really find a way to integrate this conversation in naturally, so I could only get Phoenix’s perspective in there a little bit. Originally Miles’ confession wasn’t supposed to be planned, just a spur of the moment in the middle of an argument where Phoenix kind of goes “I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with me, why are you spending so much time with me, I’m not struggling, I don’t need you worrying about me” and Miles interrupts with a “Because I love you, you idiot!” ... But I couldn’t get that to work because the buildup into the argument felt too abrupt. 

Last little bit of something just before the argument (some of the dialogue here went into the chapter 4 dinner conversation instead):

Miles: (quietly) I’ve spent most of my life trying to climb higher in my career, in order to fight corruption as best I could. And I have, and every day my mission is growing closer to completion, or at least as much as it can. But after that… (staring at some kids’ toy) what’s left for me? I’ve taken a rather unconventional path through life. I’m starting to wonder about opportunities I’ve missed.

Phoenix: (jokingly) Is that some long-winded way of telling me you’re planning on settling down?

Miles: I’d never settle. But in some sense, I suppose so.

Phoenix: (stopping in his tracks) You’re kidding. L-Like, what, in a year or so I’m gonna walk in to your office one day and find you with a wife and kids?

Miles: (rolling his eyes) You do know that I’m gay, don’t you? And why would I keep them in my office? There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Wright.

Again couldn’t fit it in I just found it funny. ANYWAYS FINALLY MOVING AWAY FROM THE DRAFTS AND TO THE ACTUAL THING, I’ll skip ahead a bit to just before the confession:

“How long has it been since I came here?” 

“I dunno… since before I got my badge back, probably.”

“That sounds about right.” Edgeworth sighed and leaned against Phoenix’s desk. “I’ve barely gotten the chance to see you, since you got your badge back and I took my new position. I’ve missed going up against you in court.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix teased, slipping his case notes into his desk drawer. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You’re one to talk.” The corners of Edgeworth’s eyes crinkled as he looked over at him. “You can be so infuriating, but I do like working with you. I had fun today.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Fun? You?”

“I suppose age has softened me up.”

“I didn’t think anything could soften you up.”

“You’d be surprised. I often have fun when I’m with you. I always…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and gripping his elbow. “I’ve been… thinking, a bit. On our earlier conversation.”

So basically... Miles got preeetty close to confessing during their dinner in chapter 4, but kinda backed out at the last moment, and he’s been agonizing over this ever since. Because the way he interpreted their conversation was sort of “We both want to move forward into a relationship but don’t know how to take the steps to do so”, whereas Phoenix interpreted more as a consensus that “We could probably start a relationship and there are feelings there but it wouldn’t really work out so we just won’t ever talk about it”.

And Miles throughout this fic assumed that Phoenix has been in love with him for a while and only holding back for Miles’ own sake, and waiting for Miles to signal that he’s actually ready to move into a romantic relationship. ... Which is very much not the case. What makes today different though is that Miles got to watch Phoenix solve mysteries, and I’m of the opinion that Miles considers Phoenix at his most attractive when he is uncovering the truth!! so Miles pretty much just saw him solve this case and go “I must kiss this man on the lips Right Now” but thought he should clear some things up before he did that.

which is good because if he just walked up to Phoenix and kissed him without preamble I’m pretty sure Phoenix would have died, so.

Something imperceptibly changed in the atmosphere. It made Phoenix’s heart race faster in anticipation. “Oh? Which one?”

“The one we had during the last dinner we shared.”

“O-Oh.” That had been weeks ago. Surely Phoenix had forgotten something.

“Everything has changed so much, over the course of my career, between us.” Edgeworth’s eyes flickered up to him briefly before settling back down on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of moving forward, but this, I want…” He exhaled, shakily. “Give me a minute. This is… difficult.”

Phoenix kind of... knows, subconsciously, where this is going, but he’s trying to deny it until the last minute because he’s very unprepared and has no idea how to deal with this... which will become very clear by the end of the scene.

Miles is tricky to write in a confession scene because he can be kind of weird with emotions? Sometimes he’ll give these Grand Speeches about how much That Man means to him but at the same time he struggled a lot with talking about his feelings during the trilogy and I think he’d still struggle with it now. Especially something as raw and vulnerable as a love confession.

And Miles is also someone who is, at least by the Investigations duology, determined to pursue what is Right and what is the Truth without any sort of hesitation. However pursuing Wright is different. (insert horrible forced laugh track)

“W-Well, don’t strain yourself,” Phoenix insisted. “We can talk another day. I-It’s getting late, after all, we should —”

“We should stop dancing around the issue.” Edgeworth’s eyes snapped up and locked with Phoenix’s, pinning him in place. “Don’t go easy on me now, of all times.”

oh man I have to admit I got really into Persona 5 Royal for like a few weeks around the time I was writing this and that “don’t go easy on me now of all times” is looosely inspired by a similar line in there that’s like “do you think I’d be happy with being shown mercy now, of all times?” because although it’s a different dynamic than narumitsu I was uh. intrigued.

... sorry it’s so vague I wanted to avoid spoilers anyways, moving on,

Phoenix’s mouth ran dry. Edgeworth couldn’t possibly be planning to —

“Everything has changed between us,” continued Edgeworth. “I want things to — to continue to change, I-I want to be closer, is—” He sucked a breath in through his teeth “— is it not obvious?”

Hadn’t they agreed, in that way they could agree without saying a word, that they were never going to talk about this?

Phoenix broke his gaze. “No. It’s not. I— I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late.”

Pretty much same as previous notes: Phoenix in extreme denial that this is actually happening whereas Miles is just trying to force it all out.

Phoenix is kind of trying to talk Miles down from confessing; Miles is sort of interpreting it as “Wright isn’t going to let me get away with not actually saying this so I need to be more direct.” 

I’m sure that later when Miles is curled up on his bed wondering where he went wrong he’ll think of that :)

“Phoenix.”

The use of his first name forced Phoenix to look up again.

Edgeworth stared at him for a long time. There was something impossible swimming just under the surface of his grey eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said. “I am in love with you.”

HE DID IT!! He’s so brave I’m sure that nothing can go wrong!!

Gossip was one thing. Lingering touches and stolen glances, Phoenix could deal with those. The knowledge that Edgeworth was interested in him in a not-so-platonic way… that was more than enough.

This, hearing Edgeworth say the words out loud, was another thing entirely. Even if Phoenix already knew. Nothing could have prepared him for — for whatever this was, for Edgeworth, looking at him all open and vulnerable, and — and saying —

“Wh… What…?”

Edgeworth tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his bangs to fall into his face. “Surely you’ve figured it out already?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

At first there was a line right after “Even if Phoenix already knew” that was “Even if he felt the same”, but then I decided to make it so Phoenix can’t even admit his feelings to himself, so I cut that one out.

Anyways this is shocking to Phoenix partially because of Denial but also because he didn’t expect Miles to actually come out and say something like this. He’s used to Miles being closed off with his emotions and doesn’t think him the type to ever directly acknowledge them, so it’s got him totally off guard, too. It’s unpredictable for someone who is supposed to know Miles so well so it’s very unnerving for him.

“I… I think you are incredible,” said Edgeworth. “Your single-minded dedication to truth and justice. Your compassion. Your mercy. The way you… brought light, brought life, back into my world. You can be so frustrating, and stubborn, but that’s part of why I have always admired you so much.” The corners of his eyes softened. “You saved me a thousand times over, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side… however you want me.”

Miles generally people go on at least one date before proposing marriage but okay.

One thing I find interesting about Miles as a character is that he’s very much an all-or-nothing kind of person... he doesn’t ever really half-ass things and he doesn’t know how to do things gradually haha. He won’t allow the truth to be covered in darkness for even a moment even if it makes things easier for him in the long run. Saying “I think you’re great, maybe we should go on a few dates and see how things end up?” is probably the SENSIBLE thing to say, but Miles puts 100% of himself into everything that he does post-character development; and he’s secure enough in his relationship with Phoenix that he doesn’t really feel the need to test the waters. Plus Miles is allergic to uncertainty, so by the time he confesses he’d need to be absolutely certain that he loved Phoenix Wright and was prepared to pretty much go all in with him.

after all Phoenix feels the same way right!!

Phoenix stared. His heartbeat was reverberating in his ears. “I don’t know what to say. … Me.”

“Who else?”

“Who — a-anyone else. God, Edgeworth, what even is that shit, about me being i-intelligent, and dedicated, and compassionate, and — and — incredible, geez, I’m a wreck! I—” His voice wavered into a fit of near hysteria. “The only reason I’ve gotten this far is ‘cause I’ve always had amazing people by my side, and — and once they’re gone I’m back to whatever I usually am, I-I only have this one suit, I still haven’t got my freaking driver’s license, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but instant meals in a month—”

(And he looked to Edgeworth, desperately, but Edgeworth was still gazing at him, expression gentle, gentle yet unyielding, not taking back his words or expressing an ounce of regret — why wasn’t he changing his mind —)

“You’re describing yourself more than me,” said Phoenix weakly. “Really, I’m not — I’m not like that, okay, I’m not…” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

This is the one part that stayed consistent throughout all drafts of this scene haha. Some of it is echoes from what Godot told him back in Bridge to the Turnabout about him always needing someone to swoop in at the last minute to the rescue; others are sort of a loose refence to his behaviour during the beginning of RFTA and Reunion and Turnabout where he couldn’t really function without Maya there to look after.

This part sort of ties more into that objective I had with this chapter of contrasting how they see themselves; they both see each other as incredible people, because they don’t really get to see inside each other and see how much of a wreck they feel.

Also the very first sort of script of this confession had Phoenix saying “I thought you knew me better than this!” but that just seemed way too cruel for this haha.

“I know that I… that I have difficulty with these things,” said Edgeworth, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ve never been the most open of people and we’ve — we’ve always been so distant, for so long. I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, and I want that to change. Because, ever since we met… you’ve been such a major part of my life. I never thought I would live to be older than my father. I never thought I would be happy with myself. But you, you came into my life, and you changed all that.”

(That wasn’t you,) a voice in Phoenix’s heart whispered. (You only started it. The rest was all him.)

“But I don’t want to be satisfied with what I have right now. I still want more. There’s still a part of life I want to explore, and… I want to do it with you.”

(He’s always been fine without you. One day he’s going to realize it too, and then…)

“I’m tired of hiding my emotions and being too afraid to upset the status quo when it comes to relationships. I refuse to be scared of that anymore.”

(Why isn’t he scared, too?)

ugh this was the hardest part to write I think...? Trying to figure out a way to get Phoenix’s internal feelings across where it doesn’t come out of nowhere. I settled with a lot of internal thoughts that are just like... self-loathing, pretty much.

Meanwhile Miles has prepared this whole emotional monologue that Phoenix is only half listening to, basically about what a huge impact Phoenix has had in his life and how he’s sort of... now that he’s presumably made large steps to fixing the justice system he’s turning to more personal goals in life, and one of those goals is spending his life with Phoenix, if he can be brave enough to do it.

Phoenix isn’t paying attention though because he’s too busy panicking...

“Most of all, I… I couldn’t hide anything from you for long. I’d trust you with the world. You’re my equal, and my opposite.” Something resembling a shaky smile crossed Edgeworth’s face. “And I love you.”

me shoving the “theme of the day” in there awkwardly

But he smiles!! This is one of the rare occasions where Miles kind of does smile... there’s a lot of “almost-smile”s or brief smiles and Miles is scared out of his wits here but he’s happy. he finally got that off his chest. he was brave and he told Phoenix how he felt and they’ll be so, so happy together, nothing can possibly go wrong,

The words knocked out any breath Phoenix had managed to regain. His skin suddenly felt cold and clammy, and he was faced with vertigo more intense than standing on rooftops. What was happening to him?

There was something he was supposed to say to this. He should react to this normally. His mouth was drier than a desert. His tongue felt unsightly and awkward in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that if I have somehow misinterpreted, I won’t mention this again.” Unease and uncertainty flickered behind Edgeworth’s eyes. “And I would never be upset, as long as you tell me the truth. I want to take the next steps of my life with you. … Do you feel the same way?”

oh yeah this part was a little tricky too. Pretty much Phoenix is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and cannot think of a response, even a nice polite rejection... and finally Miles starts realizing that something’s off, because before he was just running on adrenaline to try and get his feelings out that he didn’t stop to examine Phoenix’s reactions, otherwise he would’ve started overthinking and psyched himself out. But now that he got it out and seeing Phoenix pretty much in shock he’s starting to worry he’d made a mistake.

Also “unease and uncertainty” is definitely an “unnecessary feelings” reference because I’m shameless.

Yes, Phoenix wanted to say, yes, I do, and say what he felt, what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Why couldn’t he say it? It should be easy. If he truly wanted this, it should be as easy as breathing.

His vision swam with pink butterflies, he ran his tongue over the scars in his mouth, his breath caught jagged on the edges of chains —

Aaaand if either one of them had the magatama right now there would be the psyche-locks! I was gonna elaborate on this a lot but this is so far waaay longer than I intended so I’ll spare you and give a brief summary.

Essentially there are three locks. I wrote them as sort of representing each issue that Phoenix needs to acknowledge for them to break -- not necessarily fix, because that would be a super tricky thing, but acknowledging they’re there is a start. They’re pretty much “Trust”, “Abandonment”, and “Vulnerability”. Later I realized those issues are pretty much tied up in each other so instead I just made it so that each one is set by a traumatic event, and then acknowledging those events is what breaks them.

The first is an obvious “Dahlia and Iris really screwed up Phoenix’s ability to trust a partner romantically”. I love Iris but she really did mess him up as well. Phoenix kind of convinced himself he’s over this issue now since Iris was a good person! but really he’s still messed up about it. (And that’s where the butterflies + scars in his mouth sort of come from). Talking to Iris and acknowledging that he’s still hurting over it is what breaks this one.

The second is more directly related to all the times Miles himself has abandoned him particularly throughout the series. Some of the hurt when Miles prosecuted him in Turnabout Sisters, and definitely a lot regarding “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death”, it’s pretty much him being scared to get /too/ attached to Miles because he fears Miles might abandon him again. This one breaks in chapter 7 when he has the whole realization that Miles might die and leave him regardless, and acknowledges how afraid he is of Miles leaving again.

And the last is more of acknowledging his need to be needed by people and help people but they move on without him and not don’t really him in their lives. This built up more gradually... with littler things like Apollo leaving the Agency and Maya not being around as much and Trucy moving out. Neither of these are Big Bad Traumatic Events like the other two but it’s still an issue Phoenix has that he needs to acknowledge. Trucy’s letter breaks this one by telling him he’s never going to be alone and they all love him and are there for him. And that’s why right after reading the letter he can tell Miles that he loves him.

So that’s that. Moving back to the actual story now...

“Phoenix?”

Edgeworth still stood so close, too close, and when Phoenix breathed his senses were assaulted by the scent of his cologne and — and he was too close, and his words were too much, Edgeworth couldn’t be in love with him. Attracted, sure, but love — how could he so easily say love?

This wasn’t like Edgeworth. This wasn’t how things were before, this wasn’t how things had always been, every time things changed too fast something would go wrong, every time things changed too fast Edgeworth would leave again —

(— and right now Edgeworth’s body was coiled tight with tension, like a spring, ready to take off at any sudden movement —)

— and Phoenix couldn’t say a word.

Fairly self-explanatory I think: basically acknowledging that fear that Miles is going to leave again.

Phoenix was standing on the edge of a turnabout. Somewhere he’d have to take the plunge for victory, for the truth. He’d never shied from them before. He’d always accepted the risks. And they’d (almost always) paid off.

But something had Phoenix in a vice. Dark chains that wrapped around his chest and constricted his lungs. Something that would drown him if he took the plunge. Something that whispered that he could not risk this, his heart and his life in one. There was too much to lose. It was all too much.

That little (almost always) there is referencing that one time he presented the critical case-changing evidence and got disbarred for it; his disbarment messed him up pretty bad too, I guess it’d fit in the category of the third psyche-lock.

And of course the second paragraph references the psyche-locks more directly before they actually show up.

The words came. They weren’t the ones he wanted.

“No,” said Phoenix. “No, I don’t.”

The rattling in Phoenix’s head cut out. Silence fell over the room.

Pretty much once Phoenix stops pressing the issue the psyche-locks stop shaking. I imagine they’re a pretty terrible thing to break directly; he can’t do it on his own like this.

“... I see,” said Edgeworth, and something snapped shut, drew tight, rigid, back to a statue. “I thought… nevermind.”

Miles kind of draws back into himself all tightly-controlled, less open than before, because that really hurt him a lot. He’d probably prefer it than Phoenix being all evasive and sort of reassuring because he prefers people just cut straight to the facts, but that was direct even for him.

And of course he thought that Phoenix did feel that way about him. He was certain of it. So hearing Phoenix didn’t and he was completely wrong is... not good.

He’d gone so still. At the sight of it, whatever spell was holding Phoenix in its grasp broke, and he came back to reality — this wasn’t right, this wasn’t good, he had to fix this, somehow, bring things back to the way they were, “Edgeworth—”

And the sight of Miles completely freezing up and closing himself off is enough to break Phoenix free of the initial panic, because he does care a lot about Miles, and seeing him withdraw worries him.

“It’s getting late,” said Edgeworth, and only someone as experienced as Phoenix could detect the waver in his voice. “Thank you for being honest with me, Wright. I’ll talk to you later.”

The remark stung worse than a knife would, he couldn’t let it end like this. “I—”

The office door shut, none too gently. Phoenix was alone.

“... I’m sorry.”

That “thank you for being honest with me” wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a jab, of course, because Miles would prefer that Phoenix was honest than lie to him. But Phoenix did lie and that’s what bothers Phoenix the most throughout the next couple of chapters; they both value the truth so highly that lying to each other is inconceivable.

And Miles probably should have stuck around for a bit and heard Phoenix out and maybe Phoenix could have managed a half-decent explanation of “okay I don’t know what that was but this was very sudden and I’m panicking, can you give me time to process?” but if Miles stayed for much longer he probably would have started breaking down and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now, especially in front of Phoenix, so he left as soon as possible.

I think he managed to repress enough that he could get home safely, but the moment he crossed the threshold into privacy he probably had himself a good cry... curled up on the couch and watched some Steel Samurai with a tub of ice cream... but he was pretty emotionally devastated by this. It took a lot of effort for him to open up and be honest about his feelings so just being shut down like that... hurt a lot. He’d never admit it though.

anyways I also have this short bit of writing I posted a while back about Miles actually getting a hug after all this, because he really needs one.

And that’s the scene!! I think I said more than enough so I’ll end it here haha.

[dalygrace]

🔆 + [post] college au featuring @catherinedaly @evcravens @katarinadvpont

“Grace! Mamma wants a picture to make sure I got here okay and didn’t die en route!”

Catherine’s voice floats from the living room into the kitchen where Grace has her head in the fridge, looking for the bottles of wine Katarina had put in there to chill. She grabs the first one she sees (Kat can come back and get a different bottle herself if she wanted something specific, she thinks, swiping the corkscrew from the counter) before sweeping into the living room and depositing herself onto the couch beside her younger sister. Catia’s face is flushed from the two glasses of wine she’s already consumed, and Grace laughs as she fumbles with her phone for a moment before finally taking a selfie. Grace knows she’ll likely get a scolding voicemail from Simona before the night is out for the wine in her hands and Catia’s clearly buzzed state, but she’s happy, so she doesn’t care.

“Are you going to open that or just let it get warm in your hands?” Mikael asks, slouched in the armchair opposite her, and Grace laughs again, deftly uncorking the bottle and pouring him a glass. “For you, m’sieur,” she says in her snootiest sommelier voice, the one she’d perfected  those long nights in college when they used to mix something awful for each other and have a guess at what was in it, an exercise in masochism on both their parts that left them more often than not hating themselves the morning after. They’d grown since then, matured to real cocktails and wine that came in bottles instead of boxes (Thank god, Everett had exclaimed at the sight of real Italian wine, last year when they’d all gathered to christen Mikael’s new apartment in Jersey), and Grace’s liver thanked her for it.

“It’s Italian,” she says before Everett can ask, pouring three more glasses and pushing them across the table to their intended recipients. “Kat put aside her homeland snobbery just for you tonight, so we can indulge in your homeland snobbery to celebrate you finally deigning to grace us with your presence.” Mikael roars with laughter as Kat and Ev make twin faces of affront and Catia sneaks Grace’s glass off the table, taking a big sip before Grace can snatch it back. “That’s the last glass for you, drunky,” Grace says fondly, “You’ve gotta be with it when Papa comes to pick you up later or else Mamma will start thinking Kat and Everett are bad influences.”

The two in question pull faces again, and Grace settles back onto the couch with her new glass of wine, smile so wide it hurts her cheeks. 

She loves nights like this, family and friends gathered in the living room, when the house is full of laughter and conversation. The brownstone she shares with Katarina is warm and spacious, always kept tidy (Grace) and packed with art and photographs of their mutual friends (Katarina). They have a spare bedroom that they use to house the rotating cast of characters that come through New York, because despite only being in their mid-twenties, having a six figure salary (Grace) and coming from a long line of successful stock brokers (Katarina) means they can afford to live somewhere that isn’t a shoebox, exorbitant rent be damned. Its most common occupant is Mikael, despite the fact that he lives only a short train ride away, because he always whines about how annoying New Jersey Transit is and how cold it gets in the winter. Grace, who grew up in the City, thinks he’s full of shit; then again, he’d spent his whole life in Southern California before moving east after college, so she supposes he gets a free pass for the first few years of real winter.

Sometimes she wonders how they all ended up like this, living in each other’s pockets. Everett and Katarina had met first at an orientation for international students; then Mikael had crashed in, a fortuitous roommate pairing; Lillian came next, trailing in Katarina’s wake, and the four of them became MikandEvandKatandLil easily in the first months of freshman year. Grace, down the hall in Reiber and two rows back in econ classes, was an outsider to the fearsome four, too snarky to fit right in, raising hackles with her quick anger and the drinks she kept accidentally spilling on Everett. Ironic that that’s what brought them together in the end, she thinks, sleepy and warm, before excusing herself from the room.

It’s strange, she thinks, basking in the glow of their laughter as it follows her down the hall to the bathroom, that they all stayed together, relatively speaking. Lillian was off being beautiful somewhere in Europe (she’s in Paris, Grace knows, but she still instinctively pushes down the knowledge of the kind woman with whom she never quite clicked, a sequelae of having pushed down for years the frustration over whether she wants to kiss her or be her, a crisis she’s become more comfortable with since it first started in sophomore year) but she visits as often as she can; Everett was still in Boston, a godsend for Grace’s mother’s nerves as Catia settled into her first year at Tufts (Simona can’t quite handle being an empty nester - it doesn’t matter that Grace lives an easy ride away on the NQR, with Regina fucked off to Montreal for most of the year and Catia in Boston now, Simona is struggling to adjust to not having them all at family meals again like they had been once Grace came back from UCLA), but he too made the pilgrimage to New York with some regularity. Mikael was practically a third housemate. They’d muddled through important years together, through good ideas (vandalizing USC and using an unassuming Everett as the getaway driver) and bad (Grace’s brief affair with Rafaella, a beautiful but flighty exchange student; Mikael’s everything with Lucrezia, a Kappa a year younger than them all who’d moved back to Chicago after her graduation and summarily dumped Mikael over text when she was introduced to a player for the Cubs). Something expands in Grace’s chest as she looks at herself in the mirror, bright and warm and painful in the best way, and she has to sit for a moment on the tub to catch her breath. She leans against the wall, tired and overwhelmed by all the love she holds, and she doesn’t notice the minutes slipping away until the door opens with a quiet click.

To Everett’s credit, he doesn’t startle when he sees Grace, only makes an appraising noise and moves to the sink. Grace, head fuzzy with wine and sleep, does at the sight of him, and smacks her head hard against the tub. She groans, long and low, and Everett laughs at her, the bastard, before stripping off his shirt. “Not that I’m not enjoying the free show,” Grace says with a joking leer, “but why are you rinsing your shirt off?”

“Catia spilled her wine on me,” Everett says evenly, running the bottom of his shirt under the tap. “Must be genetic,” Grace mutters, and he laughs again. 

“I still don’t believe all those times were accidents,” he says, wringing out the shirt as best he can. “I’ve never seen you be clumsy around anyone else.”

“They really were,” she whines, clambering out of the tub to perch on the edge. “It’s not like I was purposefully trying to ruin the godawful number of polos you owned.”

“Really? All of them?” He turns from where he’s hanging his shirt on the towel rack to raise an eyebrow at her pointedly. “Even when an entire bucket of punch somehow went from your hands onto Castora and I all through the second story window senior year?”

“And she never forgave me,” Grace says solemly, and Everett only shakes his head with a bemused smile.

“We thought you all went to sleep without telling us.”

It takes her a moment to process the change in topic, but her mouth has always been quick on the draw, ready to spout nonsense until her brain catches up. “I only disappear mysteriously from parties that I am not hosting,” she says, “and this is, regrettably, my house.” She yawns, listing forward from the rim of the tub with enough force to alarm Everett, who easily catches her and pulls her to her feet.  “That begs another question,” he starts, bemused, “of why you’re in the bathtub and not, say, your room, where there’s a real bed?”

“Going to bed while you still have people ‘round is admitting defeat,” Grace says haughtily, though the effect is somewhat ruined when she almost trips going out the door on the hallway runner. She rights herself before Everett can steady her and flashes him a placating smile as she turns pointedly back towards the living room, where the rise and fall of Kat’s voice and Mikael’s laughter can be heard over the humming of whatever music Catherine’s put on the stereo. She’s only made it a few steps before Everett is in front of her, turning her around and shooing her back towards the stairs. “I just found you half-asleep in the bathtub,” he says pointedly, boxing her in as she tries halfheartedly to push past him. “And most of us are sleeping here anyway, so it’s not like you need to make sure we all leave without stealing your things.” She gives in with a frown, too tired to argue, overwhelmed by the nearness of him, the warmth he radiates, the sudden urge she has to latch on and not let go.

“Why do you do that?” He asks as he corrals her up the stairs, interrupting the low grumbling she’s kept up all the way down the hall. “What?” She replies brilliantly, caught up in her false irritation and the effort it takes to not trip up the stairs. “Sleep in the tub,” he continues, to which she stops on the top step and shrugs, full body. “Dunno,” she replies, truly uncertain of where that particular quirk came from but now painfully aware that this is not the first time that Everett has come across her asleep in a tub. Once is an anomaly, twice is a pattern.... She can’t quite figure the rest of the thought and instead flings herself onto her bed, loose-limbed and nearly asleep by the time she’s horizontal.

She looks up to see Everett leaning against the side of the doorframe, soft smile playing over his lips. She smiles in return, warm and open and real, and pats the bed beside her. “C’mere,” she says, rolling over to make space for him beside her. Grace closes her eyes as he closes the door, and she feels rather than sees him settle onto the edge of the bed, perched as if he wants to take up as little space as possible. She cracks her eyes open to level him with a withering look. “It’s okay, Mr. Chivalry. Let your hair down. Relax, take off your shoes and dive in, the water’s fine,” she quips stupidly, too tired and buzzed to filter herself. She’s suddenly aware as she rambles that this is the first time he’s seen her room since their freshman year at UCLA, all three thousand miles and seven years away from where they sit now. He’s been to her house before - to her apartment on Levering after their tentative friendship blossomed into something real; once, notably, to her parent’s Upper East Side apartment the summer after their graduation where he’d charmed her father with his talk of his Harvard MBA courseload and her mother and sisters with his insistence on making dinner to repay them for allowing him to crash on their fancy and entirely uncomfortable couch for a night - but never in those times did he come close to entering her room, a strange and sacred space. He never visited her in the shoebox of a studio she kept for the hell of it in Alphabet City that first year, too busy in Boston to do more than catch the Amtrak up for a weekend once or twice every few months. Grace, who had been pulling hellish hours in the office to prove to herself as much as her superiors that she was worthy of a promotion so soon into the job, saw him for an hour at most when he did make it up, safely tucked away in the dark corners of pubs that Katarina and Mikael kept locating in various parts of the city.

It is strangely intimate now, having him in her space, seeing the emptiness of the pale blue walls, the way each thing had its place and no mess was allowed to exist. This was where her fastidiousness for work was echoed in her personality; there was no room for her trademark wildness here.

“Just lie down,” she says finally, after they’ve sat a moment too long in a silence that’s toeing the line of discomfort. “Or walk down two flights of stairs to the guest bedroom, I don’t care.” With a shrug, she flops onto her back, closing her eyes again. She hears him type something (obvious by the quiet click of his iPhone keyboard because he has his ringer on, the maniac) and set his phone down on the bedside table, feels him settle beside her a moment later. She waits a beat before reaching out to tangle her fingers in his.

“Grazie per aver guidato Catia qui e prendersi cura di lei a Boston,” she mumbles sleepily, feeling him tense lightly at the language change. She likes that he forgets sometimes that she grew up speaking Italian around the house, likes that she can still surprise him by volleying his native tongue back at him. She saves it for moments like these, just the two of them, but tonight it feels different and the aching love in her chest feels different too. Tonight Italian feels like the hushed French she can hear from Katarina’s room every night when she talks to Lillian, devotion bridging the hours and miles that separate them. Tonight, sono contento che tu sia mio amico feels a little like I love you. Everett’s hand in hers is warm.

“È facile. Non c'è niente di cui ringraziarmi. So quanto eri eccitato di vederla.” The bright thing expands in her chest again.

“Sono felice di vederti anche io,” she mumbles.

“Lo so,” he says, smile evident in his voice, and he gives her hand a little squeeze. Grace grins stupidly at the ceiling, warm with pleasure and the gentle weight of Everett beside her, and falls asleep.

[threeletterslife]

05 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, intense description of torture, blood, mentions of death by torture

→ wordcount: 8.7k

Your days as a Crescent are a delightful routine. Every day is different from the last, yes, but the events are almost all the same: breakfast, lunch, dinner, sales with Yoongi and Hoseok, talk with Yoongi, sleep. The sense of repetitiveness, the touch of routine is what makes your life the best it's been since six years ago.

You almost don't have time to even mourn, anymore. Jimin would've wanted you to move on.

Besides, you're really finding yourself integrating into this family. Every one of their faces, from Kim Seokjin to Jeon Jungkook is welcoming—you're familiar with the new quirks they had picked up with maturity and you like it. You like the new them.

You've come to acknowledge that Kim Seokjin is a reasonable, level-headed boss who looks out for everyone in the Crescents. He's kind, astute and more observant than he looks. The same goes for Namjoon. You can't think of anyone else who would do his job as the underboss, Seokjin's advisor, better than he does. Yoongi and Hoseok are dauntless dealers. Both are quick-witted and scary when they need to be. While they share a quality of pragmatics, they use it in different ways that balance each other out. Though Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are often stuck with the so-called 'dirty-work' of the household, they rarely throw away their duties. You've come to admire their diligence.

You finally think you fit in with this family once more. Adult life is starting to become enjoyable.

You've been on the phone with your parents a few times too, reassuring them that yes, you got a job (minus the part you were in a lucrative underground business) and yes, you paid your rent and no, you can't get Jimin on the phone because you don't know where he is. It's only half true. Where do you go when you're dead?

Every time Jimin comes into your mind (though less often these days), you try not to become miserable; instead, your defense mechanism is to read his diary, which you're half-way through, by the way. His writing keeps you grounded when you miss him. You do everything you can to imagine him sitting at his desk with his diary splayed out in front of him as he pours out his mind onto the pages. It calms you down—makes you feel like you knew your brother.

You haven't really been paying attention to the dates until today, however. And you had no need to because Jimin wrote in his diary almost every day or every other day at most. Yet, the last entry you read before this had been nearly six months later (since you were going in reverse chronological order).

You frown as you examine the pages of the diary. Why the long break from diary writing?

Situating yourself on your bed so that you're comfy, you tug the diary closer to yourself, preparing to read it. The moonlight shines in from the open window as the crescent moon watches you read:

How much easier will this get? I don’t want to think about it. And I wonder... is there a special place for murderers in hell? The more I think about it, the more depressed I become.

What I was tonight... Whatever I was, wasn’t me, right? I think I was a monster today, but when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be normal. I’ll be Park Jimin. But a Jimin who had used his own hands to take another’s life. God. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself.

But I couldn’t help it. This is my job as a hitman. Jungkook and Taehyung were shaken up about it too, but Taehyung doesn’t want to talk about it and Jungkook’s too shocked to say anything. I’m too cowardly to mention it, so I can only write about it here.

I’m not scared of blood. But watching it seep through someone else’s body... knowing that I caused it to happen... Fuck. I think I might be going insane, writing this. My hands are shaking and my limbs are completely numb. I feel detached from my heart and soul and my mind is heavy in my head.

Oh, god, I cherish the glimmer in my eyes—and I can attest that everyone has their own special sparkle. But I took it away from someone today. I watched the sparkle abandon his eyes, leaving two dull, glassy, dead eyeballs. How am I going to live with myself after this? How can JK, Tae and I all live through this?

And you know what’s sadder? You know what’s fucking sadder? I’m more worried about what I have done than who I have killed.

I’ve become a monster.

Jimin's handwriting deteriorates further down the entry and the pages are wrinkled from teardrops and sweat. You can almost feel the pain he had gone through writing this. Yet you are stunned to silence as well. Slowly, you close the diary, tucking it under your mattress and laying on your bed with your hands folded on your stomach. You stare at your ceiling again.

Maybe Jimin stared at the same spot when he slept in this room.

God. You turn over to your side, sliding your knees up to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

It's one thing to imagine or assume your brother has murdered... but to see him confess it in his own writing...

What's worse is the fact that he never mentioned murdering in the entries after, which meant he became completely immune to it. You're in stupid denial once more. Just when you thought you weren't going to cry over your dead brother anymore...

You don't know how long you've been drowning in your own thoughts when someone knocks on your door. The sound scares you and you sit upon your bed, quickly checking the time. When had it gotten so late? It's 10 pm, already? Who would want to talk to me so late?

"Yeah?" you call. "Who is it?"

"I-It's Yoongi... I just, uh, wanted to talk."

No, Yoongi. I'm not in the mood. I can't—

"You can come in," you say, your own voice betraying your thoughts.

Yoongi's shy as he steps into your room, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he eyes you sitting on your bed. "Hey, I just..." he starts, walking towards you before sitting down on the edge of your bed. "I just wanted to apologize, Y/N."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Apologize?" Damn, the moment you hear his voice, you're able to forget about everything else.

"I, well... I'm not very um, good with humans as you may know," Yoongi confesses, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "I mean, I don't know how to talk to them... I never... Well, to be quite honest, I've never felt this," he motions between you and himself, "with someone before and I wanted to apologize, erm, because I don't know if I'm handling this um, normally... I don't know," he groans, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't even know what I'm saying right now. I just thought you deserved an explanation. I sure as hell don't know what to do when I like someone. Words aren't really my thing, you know? I just don't know what to do with... us."

"Oh, Yoongi..." you sigh, your chest feeling warm and your cheeks blushing. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I do!" he protests, throwing his hands out before looking at you. "We've kissed. Twice! And nothing's official! Is this how these things work??"

"These things," you giggle at his choice of words. "Actually, I'm not sure, either. I'm just as new to this as you are, you know?"

Yoongi smiles. "So I'm not the only one confused?"

"I'm just as confused as you are."

"But you're sure about one thing?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I like you too, you know."

"I don't think you would've kissed me back twice if you didn't," Yoongi chuckles. "So what now?"

"I dunno," you answer truthfully. "But I do appreciate your honesty. I can trust you." Yoongi's somehow able to take your mind off of business. It's funny. He's part of the Crescents, part of the mafia, part of a brutal gang, but when you're with him, you feel normal.

The bed dips as Yoongi slowly makes his way over to you, sitting so he's right in front of you. "Can I spend the night here?" he asks.

You don't think twice before you nod.

It's one in the morning but you're still wide awake. You find that it's impossible to fall asleep when there's so much on your mind, anyway. Sighing, you look up and out of your window, following the moonlight with your eyes. The moonshine illuminates Yoongi's soft features as he sleeps soundly with your head resting on his bare chest.

You feel safe like this, in his arms. Your Crescents marks touching too—Yoongi's on his chest and yours on the back of your neck.

You didn't think that you'd have sex with him tonight, but one thing had led to another... and it had just happened. But you don't regret it, either. Yoongi is a diligent and selfless partner, always chasing after your release more than his. The enjoyable sex took your mind off of everything. Until both of you had come down from your highs, that is.

Now that Yoongi's asleep, your mind can wander back to its bad habits: thinking about your brother. Though you'd forgotten about the diary when Yoongi was taking sweet care of your body, you remember now. That your brother is a murderer. That anybody in this gang could be one. You can't seem to fall asleep.

At that moment, Yoongi groans softly underneath you, making you raise your head to look into his barely open eyes.

"Hey, you still awake?" he asks with his gravelly voice. "Do you need some water?"

"No, no, I'm fine," you say, quietly. His arm moves around to wrap you tighter against him, and you snuggle into his chest. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"You always do," Yoongi chuckles.

You take a moment to contemplate before deciding for it. Maybe talking about it will put you at peace. "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Sure," Yoongi says, rubbing small circles on your arm. "What is it?"

"Have you..." you hesitate, "um, have you ever murdered someone?"

Yoongi frowns. "What?"

"I mean, have you ever killed someone before?" you say.

"That's what's been on your mind?" Yoongi sighs. "Well, would any of this change if I said yes?"

You stay silent for a while before sighing, turning over so you can face Yoongi properly. He sits up on the bed, staring at you with a worried look plastered on his face. It's the first time he's not stoic, outwardly expressing his feelings.

"I... I don't know, Yoongi."

"Y/N," Yoongi groans, raking his fingers across his hair as he breathes in deeply. "Will it make you feel better if I told you no?"

You stare at him blankly.

"I've never handled a weapon other than to sell it," Yoongi clarifies, making you let out a sigh of relief. "But indirectly, I've probably killed many."

Your brows furrow as you ask, "Indirectly?"

Yoongi gives you a sad look, caressing your warm cheek with his delicate fingers. "We sell weapons, Y/N... What do you think they do with them? Let's go to sleep, hm? Talk about it in the morning..."

He snuggles back into the blankets, tapping his chest for you to lay your head. You oblige, laying your head against him as he falls back into sleep. You can feel his even breathing, the small rises and falls of his chest. It should be soothing. But you're more awake than ever.

You've accepted it, really.

You're an indirect murderer, too, anyways. You sell weapons with Yoongi, therefore you are much capable of indirectly causing the demise of another stranger. You shouldn't be thinking too much about it—so you haven't. And as a result, your relationship with Yoongi has soared.

Your relationship with your co-workers has soared, in fact. Hoseok isn't really an asshole once you get to know him better. When you have your nice afternoon chats with him, he strikes you like the most normal businessman ever. Just a little uptight, though.

"I was afraid to sit my ass down on the toilet for a year after that prank," Hoseok snorts, shaking his head disdainfully as you're thrown into a fit of laughter.

"We didn't mean for it to affect you so much!" you wheeze, trying to pick up your teacup without spilling the tea from laughing too hard. "Besides, we thought it was insanely obvious that the snake in the toilet was fake!"

"If you had a penis, you'd be careful too," Hoseok scoffs.

You scrunch your nose, setting the teacup back down on the table. "Okay, let's not get into all about genitals, though."

"Fine. Then what about the time you guys hung a giant spider dangling down on the wall next to my bed?" Hoseok asks, shuddering at the thought. "Who's idea was that? Taehyung, again?"

"Surprisingly, that was my idea," you confess. "Dangling a fake spider to try and scare you is too tame to be Tae's idea!"

Hoseok scoffs again. "I didn't deserve those pranks."

You smile. "I know. You were so patient with us, too. But I'm just putting it out there that I only pranked you with JK and Tae. I'd never do it solo."

"Yes, that makes me feel much better," Hoseok says, rolling his eyes.

You snort. "Hey! You learned sarcasm!"

Hoseok laughs, crossing his legs as he leans back on his sofa. "It took me a while. You guys used to make fun of me for not understanding sarcasm too." He never sounds bitter when he recalls his past, which puts you even more at peace.

"But that was all of us as a group!" you protest. "Jimin used to call you the Sarcasm Man, remember?"

Hoseok hums in remembrance, smiling wistfully. "Of course I do. Remember? He used to always tell me, could you be more serious??"

"Yeah!" you laugh, "And you'd always say—"

"Here are the baked goods for the little tea party!" Taehyung sings, carrying a plate full of warm, homemade cookies. He sets them down on the table in between you and Hoseok, grinning proudly at his masterful baking skills.

"Oh, thanks," you say. "They smell really good!"

Apparently, Hoseok doesn't think so. "What kind are these?" he asks, scrunching his nose.

Taehyung scoffs. "Isn't it obvious? Chocolate chip!"

"Can you bring oatmeal?"

You raise your eyebrows as Taehyung groans. "Only old farts like oatmeal, Hoseok. Act your fucking age for once." But with one look from Hoseok, Taehyung's darting out of the room to bake oatmeal cookies.

"Isn't chocolate chip fine?" you say, picking up the warm treat and biting into it. "Mmm, see? It's great. JK and Tae have been getting really good at baking these days."

Hoseok shrugs. "Taehyung should know I don't like chocolate chip," he grumbles. "He's always getting on my nerves."

You nod silently. There's nothing you can really do about the in-house rivalry except watch it unfold before your eyes and hope you don't become a part of it. It's something that was never a problem before when you were children, too. Yet, you've gotten used to it now.

Hoseok sighs, taking a sip of his bitter tea. "You know how the family is, right? We're always split up in different ways no matter how united we are. Jungkook and Taehyung have always been great friends. Jimin and Namjoon were always close too, along with Seokjin. And I was left with Yoongi. It's better that way. Besides, Yoongi was one of the few who wouldn't drool over you in the past, anyway."

You laugh. "So I've heard."

"Yeah," Hoseok smiles. "Seokjin, Jungkook and Taehyung were all completely into you, though you might've heard from someone else. But I didn't want them coming to me to confess their undying love for you. So I stuck with Yoongi. Until now." He groans dramatically but you smile, seeing right through his act. "Yoongi won't stop fucking talking about you!"

"Really?" you grin. "What does he say?"

"Ugh," Hoseok groans. "Have I become the middleman?"

You giggle, shrugging. "I wouldn't mind if you did."

Hoseok grunts as he sips the last of his tea and throws a disgusted look at the sweet chocolate chip cookies. "That's enough chit chat for today, don't you think Y/N? Let's get ready for that sale today."

"Oh, yeah, right," you say, quickly stuffing a cookie in your mouth before taking two in each hand and standing up. "Mmph—what?" you ask with your mouth full when Hoseok gives you a disgusted look. "Ift's for Yoongmi, I swmear!"

"Sure," Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi hates chocolate chip."

"Oh—" you say, shrugging before swallowing. "More for me, then."

Hoseok rolls his eyes but he smiles. "We'll have to grab the oatmeal cookies later, after the sale. It'll be like an incentive to make us work harder."

You scrunch your eyebrows. "Yeah, but who says I even like oatmeal cookies?"

"Y/N, you would eat anything that has the word 'cookie' in it," Hoseok sighs. "You loved baked goods when you were younger so I just assumed you like baked goods now as well."

"You're not wrong," you say, taking a giant bite out of your cookie. "C'mon let's go find Yoongi for the sale."

You kinda might've totally accidentally forgotten to cover up for the sale today. Your arms and legs are left exposed (which, you don't mind because that's how you beat the hot L.A. weather), but that's also bad news when you're dealing.

You can easily ignore the cat-calls and sexual side comments the men shout in your face. You've come to toughen up these past several weeks. Besides, you know that if any of them lay a finger on you, they'll deal with Yoongi and Hoseok's consequences. Otherwise, you, Yoongi and Hoseok have made a silent pact to ignore the comments completely—actually ignoring them scared them even more, you found. Once a man had vulgarly pointed out how nice your tits would look in the open air; you didn't even flinch as you cocked a pistol next to you. He shut up after that. It's amusing to speak with your actions.

Yet, today, Yoongi is on a different page.

"What did you call her?" he asks, quietly, teeth clenched.

"Oh, you need me to repeat that?" the hitman grins. "I called that girl a whore. Look at her, exposing skin like that. She's asking for us to look."

You're about to point your biggest, scariest, most expensive rifle at him to shut him up when Yoongi speaks again.

"If she didn't say you wanted her to look, then she didn't quite ask for you to look, did she?" Yoongi seethes. "Besides," he grins, "we have men everywhere around the city looking to take out some of you low-level crooks, so you better keep your mouths shut in front of a proper lady. Learn some manners."

The men look terrified. Without another word, they quickly gather their items before dashing out of the room like their lives depended on it, which apparently, it did. The three of you watch them leave with amused looks on your faces.

"Damn, Yoongi. You're really looking out for Y/N," Hoseok laughs. "Well, I'm gonna go get my oatmeal cookies. Join me if you want to." He leaves in an excited rush before you and Yoongi can answer.

"He's always really liked Taehyung's oatmeal cookies, though he fails to admit it each time," Yoongi laughs.

"I want to try some of these famed cookies myself," you say. "But um, I'm honestly confused. I thought, you know, we, the Crescents only consist of the seven of us? Are there more out in the city that I don't know of?"

Yoongi laughs again at your innocent question, putting an arm around your shoulder and guiding you out of the room. "I was bluffing, Y/N. We're a very, very tiny gang. But no one else has to know that." He gives your arm a little squeeze before turning you around to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. "Let's go get those cookies."

You nod, though you feel a bit wary. Damn. Just when you thought you were getting used to the mafia tactics... This place is really testing my moralities.

The whole gang is in the white room again with Jin in the power seat and everyone else in their assigned seats. You're honestly a bit confused about what this meeting will be about but Yoongi assured you that you don't have to worry at all. You take his word for it, but something about that white room always makes you feel so uneasy.

"As you may know," Seokjin announces loudly, everyone quieting down to hear him speak, "the annual gala is being hosted soon."

"Hell yeah!" Taehyung shouts, pumping his fist in the air. "Free booze!"

Jin chuckles at Taehyung's excitement, nodding. "The Crescents will be going as usual."

"Objection!" Yoongi protests, which causes everyone to stare at him in utter shock. The man who's practically famous for having no input in any meeting yelling clearly seizes everyone's attention.

"Yes?" Jin asks. "If you are concerned about Y/N's safety, you do not have to be. We'll arrange something special for her."

"You surely can't let her go," Yoongi sighs, leaning back in his chair. "It's dangerous and you know that."

"That is true, Boss," Namjoon says as he turns to you. "It's an open party for all citizens... But there's a murder or two there every year since all of the gangs in the city go to pay their respects. We must be vigilant."

Hoseok chuckles. "You know, they keep coming up with creative ways to kill. Last year the unlucky victim drowned in his own sparkling champagne. I wonder what they're planning this year..."

You frown. Maybe Yoongi's right. Maybe you shouldn't go...

"Aw, but it's fun," Jungkook says. "Y/N will have fun!"

Yoongi snorts. "If your definition of fun is getting sexually harassed and objectified by the male gaze then sure, Y/N will have a lot of fun, Jeon Jungkook. I'd like to keep my girlfriend out of it if you please."

"Your girlfriend happens to be a Crescent," Hoseok sighs. "Yoongi, she's more than capable of going. It's just a single party."

"If she doesn't go, we all don't go," Seokjin says. "We don't leave Crescents behind."

"And we're definitely not going to skip the gala," Hoseok snorts. "That's where our alliances are formed!"

"It's also where our enemies are made," Namjoon points out. "We strap guns, grenades and knives under our tuxes and gowns."

"We'll be careful, then," Seokjin says. "Not that we're ever not careful..."

Hoseok throws a dirty look at Taehyung who raises his hands in protest.

"So I'm going?" you ask.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Yoongi says. "It's your call."

"Since when is it her call?" Taehyung frowns. "It's really Boss' decision."

"I'll leave it up to Y/N, Taehyung. Don't worry," Seokjin says, smiling. "Yoongi's right. It is your call, Y/N."

"Wait, but that's—there's pressure now," you sigh, slouching in your chair. "I don't want to ruin tradition..."

"It's not as dangerous as Yoongi says," Jungkook offers, staring at you with puppy dog eyes. "Please, Y/N? Tae and I love going there."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, grunting but not saying anything.

"If Yoongi's such a good boyfriend, he'll prove to you that he can protect you," Taehyung snorts. "Besides, it's an extravagant gala! And Boss has already bought you a dress!"

"Wait, what?" you and Yoongi say at the same time.

"You bought me a dress?"

"You bought her a dress?" Yoongi gawks.

Seokjin smiles warmly at you. "Yes, I did. The gala's in a few days, so after my day job, I went to get a dress and called Taehyung over for a second opinion. He said something about how you look good in midnight blue."

"Yeah," you laugh. "I wore that color for all of the high school dances. Taehyung remembered?"

"We all did, frankly," Hoseok snorts. "You wouldn't shut up about your dresses in high school, remember?"

"I was excited!" you defend yourself. "And, I mean, if I already have a dress... I might as well go, right? I'm sure nothing too bad will happen."

"JK's a cop, Y/N. If Yoongi can't save your ass, he will," Taehyung jokes. "Think of it as a social gathering with a double meaning! Free food and alcohol included! But don't mess with anyone because they might spear your head to the wall."

You laugh nervously, unsure whether you should take that as a joke or not. "In that case, I think I'll be fine."

For an hour now, Jungkook and Taehyung have been fussing over you as they helped you get ready for the big gala. They'd tried to help you with your makeup, but Taehyung failed your winged eyeliner eight times so you banned him from touching your face again. Meanwhile, Jungkook accidentally knocked over your eyeshadow palette, reducing the assortments of colors into unusable powders. Looked like you were going without eyeshadow tonight. You had to threaten them with the hair curler at one point too because Taehyung wouldn't stop burning your ear to curl your hair.

Now, you were hiding out in your bathroom with the door locked, taking your sweet time to put on your dress.

"Did you put it on yet?" Taehyung calls for the billionth time.

Your groan, throwing your head back in annoyance as you try to shove the dress on your body. "I'm never gonna come out if you ask me that one more time!"

Taehyung shuts up after that.

You zip yourself up with no problem, admiring the way the dress is perfectly your size. When you turn to face yourself in the mirror, you can barely recognize yourself.

I look beautiful.

The dress hugs every curve of your body, the feather-like chiffon fanning out from your cinched waist. You like the human embodiment of the nighttime sky: soft, delicate but mysteriously dark. You feel like you're being taken to high school prom all over again, the familiar giddy feeling rising up your throat. Except—your date is not Taehyung. He is Yoongi. And this isn't a high school prom. There's a one in five hundred chance that you might be murdered tonight, but all of the Crescents promised you'd make it out alive. You know that if everyone—except Taehyung—makes a promise, they keep it. You feel much better about your safety.

When you walk out of the bathroom to twirl for your friends, you find that literally everyone is already in your room, waiting for you. They're dressed to the nines. If you combined the total costs of their well-ironed, stiff suits and their jewelry, the sum could have probably paid for your whole college tuition. They look rich, in other words.

"You took so long, JK and I had time to change into our tuxes," Taehyung laughs. "But damn, you look hot. You're welcome."

"Thanks," you mutter, sheepishly. "Jin, you really outdid yourself with this dress. Thank you."

Seokjin smiles. "No need to thank me. It had your name written all over it so I had to buy it. It fits you very nicely."

"You look beautiful, Y/N. And I got a matching tie. Do you like it?" Yoongi asks, grinning at you wildly, unable to take his eyes off of you. You giggle as you admire his all-black suit with a midnight blue tie.

"I love it, Yoongi," you smile. "This is like prom all over again."

"Rated R prom," Hoseok points out. "With the possibility of a brutal murder. Oh yeah, and drinks, sex and drugs. Here," he says, handing out a holster to you. "Just in case."

"Woah, um—" you start.

"And this is the gun you'll be using tonight if you were to get into any trouble," Yoongi says, handing you a pistol. "But you won't get into any trouble because I'll be by your side the whole time." He helps you strap the holster on your thigh, securing it and sliding the gun in. When the dress falls over your legs, it hides the lethal weapon from view.

"Oh, and blow this whistle only in an emergency and all six of us will be running to help you," Jungkook adds, handing you a safety whistle of all things. It was silver, matching all of your jewelry and if you hadn't known it was a whistle, you would've thought it was a beautiful necklace. You mumble a thanks before putting it on.

"Now you're more than prepared," Seokjin says, smiling. "How are you feeling, Y/N?"

You laugh nervously, weighing out the rather heavy gun on your leg before replying, "I honestly feel overprepared. I think I'll be fine."

Hoseok snorts. "Oh, honey, you are not overprepared. You should see some of the stuff I'm hiding up my sleeve right now—literally."

"He's right, Y/N, you can never be too overprepared," Yoongi says, moving in to link your arms together. "Don't let go of me when we get there, okay? They're good at sniffing out new meat. If we get separated, stay still and look like you belong there. Okay?"

You scrunch your nose at his strange directions (how the fuck do you look like you belong somewhere??) but you nod. "Okay."

It takes another hour for Yoongi to explain, in detail, what you should and shouldn't do at the party. The list for the shouldn't do's is way, way longer than the list for the should do's. But you're not complaining—especially when apparently a single slip-up could lead to your own demise. Yet even with all the warnings and precautions, you're not sure what to expect. To you, this seems like a high school prom that had gone through puberty. JK and Tae describe it as the best party ever and only Yoongi seems to be truly worried.

You conclude that yes, the gala is dangerous, but no, it wouldn't affect you too badly. You'd go and have some fun, get out of the house for once. Right?

And with that, the seven of you are off to one of the most dangerous parties in the city in a shiny, black limousine.

Saying that the gala is extravagant would be an understatement. Everything looks like it's been touched by gold from the heavens. The ceiling is so high, it looks like the sky itself and the luxurious marble floors stretch on forever. The majestic chandeliers illuminate the whole room with yellow light. The food towers over the guests and the casino tables are bustling with wealthy people seeking a truce with fortune. Everything about this place is gilded—even the people in it.

You can't help but feel a bit underdressed when some women strut around wearing dresses made from diamonds and aureate shoes. Maybe underdressed isn't the right word. You are intimidated. You hadn't expected to feel this way, but something just seems off. Maybe your expectations for the gala had been too high? Or maybe your gut instinct was trying to tell you something.

Yoongi notices your tense shoulders and squeezes your hand as he looks around the party. "I hate this fucking song," he jokes to lighten the mood.

You didn't even realize music was playing until he mentioned it; you had been too entranced by the visual aspects of your surroundings to notice the soft jazz melodies echoing through the open space.

"Namjoon and I are going to talk with some of our buddies," Seokjin says, "I'll meet all of you later for dinner! And Jungkook and Taehyung," he gives them a stern look, "we are not here to hook up with women."

Taehyung grumbles. "I thought we can. We're just not allowed to bring them home."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Jungkook sighs.

"I'll lend you money to waste at the tables," Hoseok says. "Taehyung, you're good at poker, right?"

"Oh, I'm the fucking best," Taehyung grins. "Let's go!"

The three of them saunter off without missing a beat while Seokjin and Namjoon disappear to talk with their 'friends,' or allies, you suspect. That leaves you and Yoongi alone.

"This place reminds me of a 1920's hedonistic jazz party, minus the flapper girls and plus the sugar babies dripping in gold," you whisper anxiously to Yoongi who chuckles quietly. He must've thought you were joking. But you were making an observation laced with concern.

"So, The Great Gatsby on steroids?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"What do you want to do?" Yoongi asks as he snakes an arm around your waist rather protectively.

"What is there to do?" you ask, stiffly. "You choose. I'll just follow."

But there is honestly nothing to do. Earlier, from the long list of things you shouldn't do, eating had been one of them—someone was murdered with cyanide in their caviar, once. You can't even walk around to give yourself a tour because that'd raise suspicion and someone would fling a knife straight at your heart. And most of all, you can definitely not act as if you've never been to the gala. They play with the new meat like they're toys, apparently. And if you don't respond to their demands, they'll kill you without a second thought. No wonder you're so tense. When Yoongi had warned you about these things, the reality of it had flown past your head. But actually experiencing it...

"We can grab a table somewhere," Yoongi says, rubbing warm circles on your back in an attempt to help you relax. "And we'll just talk. How does that sound?"

"Like this is a date?"

"Exactly," Yoongi says as he leads you to an empty table. He pulls out a chair for you and you mumble a thanks before sinking in. It's strangely silent after that. Which is weird because when you and Yoongi are silent, it's usually a peaceful, calming aura. But this kind of silence carries heavy tension and stress in the air.

You begin to fidget with your hands.

"Hey, beautiful," a gruff voice calls to you.

You nearly jump a foot in the air when you see a rather handsome man with a chiseled face looking right at you. He grins and before Yoongi can do anything, he's already kissing the back of your hand like he's some prince from a faraway land and you're the princess he's to marry.

"May I take you away?" he asks politely, staring straight at you and failing to acknowledge Yoongi. Though there's a warm smile on his lips, there's something into his eyes that screams red alert to you. You get a strong gut feeling this man isn't an innocent person wandering around this grand party—he's a man with purpose, possibly a man with weapons hidden under his suit. The gun in your holster begins to burn against your thigh.

"I'm afraid not, Junhe," Yoongi speaks up, his voice clean-cut and cold.

The middle-aged man, Junhe, cocks an eyebrow. "Oh, Yoongi. Didn't see you there," he smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'd say we let the fine lady decide. Would you like to come with me?" he asks you. "Or would you like to stay with his tedious man? I'll make sure I'm anything but stoic," he offers. "I'll give you the reactions you want."

You're already disgusted by the smoothness of his words. He's manipulative in all the wrong ways, you realize, so you politely refuse. "I'd like to stay," you reply, slightly leaning away from the man as he looms over you. "Yoongi brought me here so the least I can do is offer him my company."

Junhe scoffs and mumbles something about you having a bad taste in men before he glares at Yoongi and strides away.

"Sorry, Y/N," Yoongi apologizes. "He's just some guy I know from work."

You frown slightly. Which kind of work was he talking about? His job as an anesthesiologist or as a dealer for the Crescents? But you realize Yoongi had purposely been vague so you let the whole matter go.

You haven't yet released the tension on your shoulders since you first walked into the gala and that encounter with Junhe was not helping. You're awkwardly staring at your hands folded in your lap when Yoongi clears his throat.

"I, uh, I'm not too stoic, am I?"

"What?"

"I'm not too apathetic?" he asks again. "I don't want to be boring."

You shake your head though your body remains rigid. "It's part of you, Yoongi. And I like that about you. You don't dramatize anything."

Yoongi nods thoughtfully but you can tell he's troubled because there's a thin worry line dragging across his forehead. It's too bad both of you suck at small talk.

The silence between the two of you gives you time to drown in your worst fears. You've never quite liked crowds, but a crowd of highly-dangerous, rich folks is far worse than anything else you've ever experienced before. You can't trust anyone. You don't know who has a dagger literally hidden behind their back.

It also makes you realize you might not be safe.

Jimin's murderer could be here.

Chills run down your spine and your blood runs cold when you realize that a cold-hearted killer could be looking for you. Waiting to kill you like he killed your brother. Your eyes shake as you try to look around the room, trying to see if anyone is targeting you. God. Why did you agree to this? Why did anyone agree to this? Did they really think you could be safe?

With so many wealthy people here, it'd be easy to hide any murder with hush money. This is a mafia gala, for heaven's sake—the room is filled with people who have gotten away with murder once, twice or thrice. Maybe even countless times.

Suddenly the skin exposed on your arms feel prickly and cold and the hair tickling the back of your neck is irritable. You're getting a crazy feeling at the pit of your stomach that someone is watching you. Maybe you're being paranoid?

"Hey, you okay, Y/N? You're starting to sweat," Yoongi whispers. He reaches over to grab your hand across the table. "Do you feel sick?"

Your face is starting to feel hot and your head is starting to hurt. The room seems to spin. "I wanna go home," you whisper. "Please, Yoongi."

Yoongi hesitates. "Oh, Y/N—"

But he's interrupted by a series of muffled gunshots coming from near the gambling tables. Your heart drops. "Isn't that where Jungk—"

Yoongi takes you by the arm mid-sentence, dragging you further away from the commotion that was starting to pick up. "We'll get you home early."

"Wait, but—"

"There's nothing we can do, Y/N. I'm sure they're fine. We're just going to wait in the limo," he whispers lowly in your ear as he guides you steadily toward the exit. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest but he seems fine. Unbothered, even.

You squeeze your intertwined hands and you lean closer to Yoongi as he leads you out of the gala safely. He whispers not to look back, to act natural as the two of you make your way over to your parked limo.

The moment both of you get inside the luxury car, Yoongi pulls down the blinds and whips out his phone. He frantically texts someone—you assume it's Seokjin or Namjoon. You hold your breath for news.

After six painstakingly silent minutes, Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. "The rest of them are coming right now. Taehyung told me to not say anything as of now because he wants to tell you the story, himself."

"So they're okay?" you say. "But there was a murder?"

"There were several, today," Yoongi sighs. "But everyone we care for is okay." He reaches out to check your temperature, placing the back of his hand on your forehead as he caresses your cheek with his other hand. "Are you feeling better?"

You nod. "I'm sorry I freaked out. I just hated—"

"We've survived!!!" Taehyung sings as he swings open the door of the limo, nearly causing you to have a heart attack at the suddenness. "I'm here to spill the tea!"

Hoseok rolls his eyes as he steps into the car. "It wasn't really as creative this year," he grumbles. You grimace when you realize he's talking about the murders.

Everyone else fills in the car, all ears on Taehyung to tell the dramatized version of the story.

"So," Taehyung begins, his voice soft and eyes sparkling. "Hoseok, JK and I were minding our goddamn businesses at the gambling table. And I was kinda losing, you know? It's been a while since I played poker. So I had to fold and get the fuck out of there before Hoseok beat my ass for losing his money. And for some reason, I really had to pee, which was the universe's way to tell me I had to check out this awesome murder in the bathroom!"

Jungkook giggles. "I was there too! We walked in and it was just eerily quiet in there, you know?"

"Yeah, usually couples are getting it on in there, if you know what I mean," Taehyung snorts. "So JK and I are like 'oh, ha, that's strange,' but we don't think much of it until we see a pair of legs poking out of an open-doored stall."

"At this point, I'm cursing at these stupid hooligans because I'm holding their spot at the tables and they're taking too damn long to relieve themselves of piss," Hoseok sighs, shaking his head. "Didn't know they were going full-on detective-mode in the bathroom."

"Yeah, well my first reaction is, 'man, if you wanna fucking piss on the toilet at least close the stall door??' But then I realized there's blood on the floor," Taehyung says. "JK and I get closer and man it was INSANE!"

"He had a knife just stuck in his back! It was wedged so deep into him too," Jungkook marvels. "And the best part—"

"His face was in the fucking toilet!" Taehyung exclaims. "Whoever killed him was not playing around. I personally think they drowned him first, but JK thinks they stabbed him and pushed him into the toilet. But that would mean they'd had to have a spectacular aim if you know what I mean."

You squirm in Yoongi's arms, unsure if you wanted to hear the rest of the story. He notices your discomfort and sighs, "Let's not be so vulgar."

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "How can I not be vulgar? It's a fucking murder." But when he sees your scared face, he becomes more serious. "Well, JK and I weren't going to report the murder because we're not going to get involved. And besides, I bet we were probably the tenth people coming across that scene—no one wants to get involved in that gala. So we just left to find Hoseok again."

"And that's when I hear the gunshots," Hoseok says. "It came from the table behind me, too, so I got to see everything." He crosses his legs and arms, scoffing. "Three men fell down. I left before a fight broke out."

"Four murders," Seokjin shakes his head. "That we know of, too. It gets worse every year, doesn't it?" Even though he speaks of bad news, he smiles, stretching out on the expensive leather seats. "But Joon and I got our jobs done. Yoongi, Hoseok, Y/N? We've got some good sales on the way."

"Delightful," Hoseok says.

"I think we'd better get home, now," Jin says, trying to give you a reassuring smile. "Y/N, you'd appreciate a nice, warm, bath, right? I'll try to dig out some of my special bath salts for you. I think you need a good soak."

You nod, though you grip at Yoongi's black silk button-up shirt.

Home has never sounded this welcoming.

Though Yoongi offered to soak with you in the tub, you'd declined, telling him instead you'd meet him in your pajamas in his room. He'd nodded without saying another word, and you silently thank him for knowing when to give you some space.

Seokjin had been right. A hot bath did really help—yet it didn't help clear your head filled to the brim with thoughts. Once you've lathered yourself with lavender lotion and gotten dressed into comfortable clothing, you knock on Yoongi's door.

"Hey," he says, opening it right away. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

"Yeah," you nod.

Yoongi guides you over to his bed, helping you into the covers and tucking you in before he climbs in and spoons you from behind. There's a comfortable silence. Then:

"How long did it take you to get used to this?" you ask.

"This?" Yoongi inquires. "You mean life as a..." he pauses, "Crescent?"

You nod.

"Not a while, really," Yoongi says, curling his fingers into your hair. "It... Well, it takes longer for others to adjust. Depends on the person."

"Hmm," you hum softly. "The murders today... Do you think they were correlated?"

"It could be anything," Yoongi answers. "But no, I don't think they were correlated."

"But either way, there were murders because there were enemies at the gala," you sigh, turning around to face Yoongi. "I was just so tense all the time. I think I subconsciously felt the tension between the gangs."

Your boyfriend shrugs. "Maybe, Y/N. But sometimes new recruits have to murder someone—anyone—to be accepted completely into the gang," he sighs. "Think of it as a token to join," he expounds further when he sees your confused expression. "The more tortuous the murder, the better. It's happened every year at the gala."

"But that makes the murder worse," you scoff. "At least if they were enemies, the victim might've seen it coming. But if the victim was chosen randomly—that's just the worst kind of misfortune!"

"I know," Yoongi mumbles. "It's not fair, Y/N. We all know that."

The way he's so nonchalant irritates you. "But, Yoongi! I could've died tonight," you sigh. "You know, the person who murdered Jimin could've been right there, waiting for the right time to kill me!" You shudder just thinking about it. "I didn't realize how unsafe I felt until I was at the gala, Yoongi. I don't know if I was being paranoid but I really felt like I was being watched. I could've been killed..."

Yoongi's silent, refusing to look into your eyes. Finally, he answers with a soft, husky voice. "I wouldn't have let that happen to you."

You scoff, sitting up and tugging yourself out of Yoongi's arms. "Really?" You raise a doubtful eyebrow. "You let it happen to my brother, though." You regret the words that had spilled out of your lips when you see Yoongi's hurt face. An awkward silence follows and neither of you moves.

Finally, Yoongi turns around, facing away from you as he grunts out, "Go to sleep, Y/N."

You don't have it in you to apologize, half angry at Yoongi for not protecting your brother like he swore to protect you and half sorry that you let out your fear and frustration on him. Without another word, you tuck yourself back in the blankets, back facing Yoongi. You stay still, staring into the dark nothingness as you wait until Yoongi's breaths become even. When you know he's asleep for sure, you slip out of his bed.

You can't do this right now.

Yoongi's supposed to be the one who makes you forget about your dead brother. But he's doing everything but.

You need to read Jimin's diary to calm yourself down. The only thing you need right now is to hear your brother's soothing voice echoing in your head as you read the words he had written years back. Quickly, you find refuge in your own room, snuggling up in your own covers before pulling out the leather journal from underneath the mattress.

You open the diary and read it in the faint moonlight.

Today, I woke up because I thought I heard Y/N’s voice calling my name somewhere off in the distance. I imagined that she was calling me a lazy stink bomb and pestering me to wake up so I could keep her company. But when I came to my senses, I realized that Y/N’s probably still sleeping in her apartment and I’m in a mansion miles and miles away from her. Part of me feels guilty for living such a luxurious life without her. But another part knows that what I did is for her own good. I think.

Sometimes I just want to drive back and tell her I’m sorry I left her. That I’m sorry I didn’t give her any explanations. That she has to lie to our parents for me. She must be so mad at me...

I feel like I left my blood-related family for my self-proclaimed brothers. On some days, I wonder if I made the right move. But then again, I can’t imagine a life without my friends and I’ve lived more than half of my life without my parents by my side. 

The only person who has to face the consequences is Y/N. I abandoned her to pursue my own dream life. I know it’s selfish of me but for once, I felt like doing something for myself.

I drowned in guilt for the majority of today. Y/N’s most likely called me at least a hundred times on my old phone... I can’t even bring myself to imagine the disappointed look on her face when I don’t pick up. I had to stop myself at least twenty times from dialing her number to call her. God, I’m just getting so homesick. I think I stared at those polaroid pictures for hours on end today.

I miss Y/N.

Maybe one day, when this... all of this dies down, I’ll be able to visit her. I’ll be able to tell her everything I experienced and before she gets mad at me, I’ll tell her my funniest stories! It’d be like I never left. I guess I’ll be waiting for that day to come.

For now, I have my polaroids and drawings for remembrance. I’ll go to bed hearing Y/N scream at me to toss my socks into the laundry basket. And for once, it’d be a welcoming noise.

You can't help the tears dripping down your face when you reluctantly shut the leather-bounded notebook This is the first time Jimin had mentioned you in his diary... which meant that in his future entries, he completely neglected to write about you or just... didn't care as much. It hurts to think, really. That every real feeling Jimin has, he ditches it the more he becomes involved in the mafia.

You fall asleep alone on your bed, but you don't feel lonely. Usually, Yoongi would be by your side to take your mind off of your brother's murder, but today, you need time to think about it.

The last thing you think you hear before you drowse off is the sound of your brother screaming at you that yes, he already did toss his socks into the laundry basket, so no, you didn't have to yell at him. Normally this kind of reply would irritate you even more, but it's a cordial illusion that brings a smile to your face before you're drifting off to dreamland.

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