#£10 a ticket is a fucking joke especially when some of it goes into the pocket of a WASP dad

[bisexualseraphim]

I just saw the FNAF movie (I was invited by the cinema to see it for free before you shout at me) and it’s actually surprisingly decent. I don’t know how someone who’s unfamiliar with the games would find it but I actually enjoyed myself. If you’re a fan of the games I would recommend you definitely do NOT download it illegally online *wink wink* because Scott Cawthon is a stinky Republican pro-lifer who DEFINITELY deserves your hard-earned money to spend on funding bigots *nudge*

[snowyaika]

Say, can we get Agent Texas with prompt 9? Reader can be a freelancer if you want!

prompt: “what are you going to do, shoot me? do it.”

pairing: agent texas x gn!freelancer!reader

word count: 1.02k

warnings: season 10 spoilers, all lowercase, swearing, gun violence, south violence, reader is kind of pathetic, some angst, no use of y/n

notes: this is mostly crack, got more serious in the end though! this is more so just to help me get back into writing for rvb !!! sorry if it’s so rushed, there is literally no plot to this one. more coming soon!  🫀 

—

ever since becoming a freelancer, there are some things you’ve just come to never forget.

for starters, never offer to spar with carolina when she’s in a bad mood (or good, either way you get a free ticket to the infirmary).

don’t play along with wyoming’s knock-knock jokes, they’re never good and they just leave you questioning why you still speak with him.

drinking with york always ends up with you waking up to an empty wallet, especially when he and north team up on you.

and lastly, the most important of them all, the sound of kicking ass always means agent texas is nearby.

so when you hear the ship's alarm systems go off, tanks bombing the docks, and the gravity getting powered off? you wish you had york with you to make a bet that it was all because of her.

you had been on your day off when everything started going to shit.

heading to the training grounds (because apparently exercise helps when you’re out on missions) was when the alarms started to go off.

assuming it was the run of the mill invasion from some small organization that had issues with our immoral ways of life, you started to make your way to the shipping docks to make quick work of it, if carolina hadn’t already.

halfway, the ship's gravity goes haywire and you have to float your way there? okay, not as normal.

arriving to see tex absolutely rock a floating tank trying to kill her? what the fuck was going on?

not one to barge into conversations, you happily take your time making yourself known, instead staying at the sidelines watching while the poor tank gets thrown around like a ragdoll.

after witnessing the tank basically bomb itself, you finally decide to get involved (of course, only when you saw tex look your way).

“hey there,” you awkwardly wave, not quite sure how to deal with the raging man-eating woman in front of you. for starters, maybe get on your knees and beg for her not to kill you?

looking down at her gun, your mouth moves before your brain can even catch up, “what are you going to do, shoot me?”

“...”

it’s as if you can hear the confused face she’s making. you and tex never had any problems. sure, she’d kick your ass in training more than you could count, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

sadly given the circumstances, and all the weird shit happening on the ship, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“i’m not.. going to shoot you? you’re on my side.” her words sound like a question, like she can’t believe you had said something so stupid.

“oh… right.”

it’s almost as if you forgot the talk you, her and york had prior to this. about how the immoral things your group did was actually worse than you thought it was, and how you were planning to put an end to it all.

it’s not like you were in the wrong though, tex is scary when she fights (and maybe more attractive than you’d like to admit).

“dumbass,” she muttered under her breath as she put her gun back, walking over to you.

“where’s york?” you ask, not out of concern, but out of fear of being alone with tex for any moment longer than you need to be.

how would you know if she decided she didn’t like you anymore and cut off your head? put a bullet straight through your brain? push you against the wall and make out with you?

“making things harder than he needs to be.” as if on cue, the lights flicker and the ship jostles.

you let out a small gasp, stumbling towards tex and grabbing onto her wrist for support. her hand flies to your shoulder to stabilize you, and you can feel your body burn where her hand is.

“hey,” she whispers, her face (helmet?) leaning down to yours.

you gulp.

“y-yeah?” you clear your throat, breathless. oh my god ohmy god ohmygod. are we about to kiss?

“the gate is opening. more men are probably coming to stop us.”

oh.

you tilt your head to look behind her, and just like she said, the gate opens to reveal–

not men, south.

“son of a bitch,” you whisper, letting go of tex and standing straight, your hand hovering over your hollister in reflex.

south looks pissed, more than usual. you follow tex’s lead, walking side by side to confront the raging freelancer.

you notice too late that she has a fucking grenade launcher, and you’re sent flying as you try to dodge her oncoming attacks.

thank god, or maybe, thank north for stepping in at the time that he did.

once tex leaves, probably on her way to the director, things escalate. south goes batshit with the grenades, and north does his best to counter her.

not wanting to interrupt the family reunion (you really need to know what their family holidays were like), you decide to branch off to find york.

when you find maine making his way to where tex just left, you inwardly curse. of course you got stuck with the brute.

you don’t even bother putting up that much of a fight, knowing whatever you do is pointless and a waste of energy against someone like him. you’ve never won against him, so what’s this fight going to change? you figured that after he slammed you into the wall, nearly knocking you unconscious, he’d leave you alone to continue whatever he was set out to do.

no, life never worked out that way for you. when he ripped off your helmet, you had already accepted your fate. if the searing pain of your AI being taken from your nape wasn’t enough to make you want to die, him pulling out his gun and aiming it at your head did.

apparently, there is one thing you’ve forgotten since becoming a freelancer.

your love for allison, your will to live for her, will never amount to maine’s thirst for power.

—

[nsk96]

Rant:

Lowkey feel like I'm watching my body slowly deteriorate because I'm getting increasing muscle weakness after 4 years of not working out (weight-lifting included). So much muscle weakness that I feel like my legs can barely carry me across a 10-minute walk; and my bag with my laptop and lunch weighs down my shoulder, my upper-body muscles can barely hold it up. Not to mention the muscle soreness I get at the end of each day now while I'm at this rotation.

And it's not like I haven't been active. I've been on my feet everyday since May, throughout my compounding rotation and retail rotation. I even felt like I was getting stronger at some point, but my health seems to have plummeted recently.

What bothers me even more is that I wouldn't be in this predicament if my mom let me go to a gym. Our deal when we decided to move here was that we get rid of our weight-lifting station (because it won't fit in the new house. I used it back in 2019. I became strong enough to lift heavy boxes during the move) and to make up for it, we'd join a gym and go for walks. Surprise, surprise, promises were broken.

We didn't do the gym because she deemed it "unsafe" (we just made it barely halfway through the parking lot. Didn't even go in before she backed out). And well, because I'm dependent on her financially I couldn't go, despite asking so many times the past 4 years. She'd make excuses like "you don't have the time" and emphasize how unsafe it is. But when it comes to other things that she deems important, she tells me "you need to make the time"...make it make sense. "It's not safe" and "you don't have time" seems to be her arguments for every time she doesn't want me to leave the house (like when I want to go to the school library to study over the weekend).

It's interesting though that she was actually opposed to me weight-lifting because she thinks bulking up would make me look too masculine and she would say that muscles don't look good on women, and go on to say my shoulders are already really "broad like a football player".

Today, I mentioned how much pain I'm in and said I need to workout. She said, "what's stopping you from working out?" What a fucking joke. All we have is that glider thing and a treadmill which won't do anything for my muscles. I'm already walking a bunch everyday, up and down stairs, between the pharmacy and the residents' room for daily rounds. To the outpatient pharmacist's office downstairs. If cardio was what I needed, I get enough of it.

She loves saying that I need to use the glider because it "works out the whole body." Trust me, it doesn't. It works for her, because she sits for her job all day...at home. Then when she's done with work, she puts her feet up to watch tv. She does chores intermittently. I told her the glider wasn't going to work and she said, "how is the treadmill going to help?" I didn't even mention the treadmill but she felt the need to bring it up because I always preferred the treadmill for my cardio (by the way I can't use either of them because they're set up in the garage; a one-way ticket to heat exhaustion). I told her I need to work out my upper body, especially work on the muscles for posture, and she finally said to go to a gym if that's what I need. tf. Then she goes on to say, maybe the one in ___ if it's safe.

"If it's safe". I'm so fucking done, because I know nowhere is safe in her eyes, and I'll just be stuck at home and become her. I'm convinced she wants me to become her, projecting her own insecurities on me all the time, and trying to keep me home. Her telling me to workout is just a mockery.

Well, it seems to be working. The negative voice in my head is hers. She's that voice. Imagine being your own kid's first and only bully.

Also, just a side note: the way she talks about other women is disgusting to me. Talking shit about how they're dressed, or what kind of plastic surgery they got, or judging their confidence like "she thinks she's all that". I know it's her own insecurities showing up, but I hate it so much, because it was because of her saying those things that I viewed myself and other girls negatively growing up. It took me so long to rewire my brain to think positively of other women who look/dress "better" than me. Undo the negativity she instilled in me, and still tries to instill in me. My own friends, she talks shit about. I become more of a girls' girl every day, but I know my mom will never be one. Maybe it's because of my narc dad, or maybe it's her own internal misogyny. I'm still working on viewing myself better but she's made that difficult my whole life. The part that kills me is that I don't think she even realizes what she's been doing to me, but if I were to point it out, she'd just get defensive and/or deny it.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive- Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 10- The White Violin Part 2

Summary: After a less then stellar time at the bowling alley, you and the Hargreeves must find a way to stop Vanya during her concert tonight, doing whatever it takes.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Warning: Reader gets stabby again, enjoy

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

Maneuvering your way out of the ball gutter area, you stumble a bit while getting out, a steady pair of hands catching your waist before you can face plant into the concrete. “Y/N, you cant keep falling for me in front of my family, it’s getting embarrassing.” Quips Diego breathlessly, lifting you up to face him, “Hilarious.” You deadpan, pulling away and readjusting your blood spotted jacket. His face shifts to that of a concerned boyfriend in an instant, “You were shot...look...a bloody hole in your thigh.” He says pointing towards the damage, you feel the fabric of your black jeans. The small hole is indeed wet with your blood, you let out a snort, you never even felt it. “Huh..the bullet must have went straight through. Didn’t even know.” You whisper, shaking your head, how you managed to completely ignore the shot, still surprises you, but now is not the time to think about it.

“Shit! We gotta go!” You tell Diego as you start jogging down the hallway towards the exit. He follows close behind, as more bullets rickashay off the cement walls in the background.

——

It’s a short sprint to the Icarus Theater but fortunately the five of you make it. No personnel is waiting outside to take your tickets and the doors happen to be unlocked. Guess they weren’t expecting highly trained childhood superheroes to come barging into a theater to stop their sister from causing the apocalypse. It could have happened to anyone really.

You race up the marble staircase, the other Hargreeves rushing up behind you. The beautiful sounds of an orchestra are floating on the air and into your ears, you’d be thoroughly enjoying it, if not for the dire situation. Suddenly Allison puts a hand on Luther’s large chest, stopping him with what she just wrote down on her notepad. You halt in your tracks, Diego sidestepping you so he won’t crash into your back as he turns around as well. I need to go alone. Is what Allison wrote, Luther’s blinks in confusion, “Wha...Allison, I can’t let you do that, all right? She’s beyond reasoning.” He argues firmly, she stares at him defiantly.

“You hear the music? It’s started.” States Diego, implying everyone needs to hurry up and take action now. You can’t help yourself and snort, “Yeah...we got ears.” You whisper sarcastically, he just rolls his eyes at you while holding in a smile, probably not the best time to be a smart-ass but stressful situations and use of sarcasm is how you cope.

“Do you honestly think she’s gonna listen? After everything that’s happened?” Continues Luther, trying to reason with a pleading Allison who just wants to save Vanya from herself.

“We don’t have time for this.” Says Klaus nervously, Luther finally caves and off Allison goes, racing towards the doors to the concert. The four of you watch her bound up the carpeted steps, “You’re using her as a distraction, aren’t you?” Says Diego to Luther, already onto his plan.

“Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya.” Luther replies glancing at Diego. You cross your arms, “Maybe if we leave her alone she won’t do anything and after the concert we can sort this shit out. I highly doubt Vanya’s in the mood to see any one of us right now....Especially you, she hates you the most” You explain to them, Luther furrows his brow at you. “Thanks. But we can’t risk Vanya accidentally doing anything dangerous.” He tells you, you turn to him. “Now you sound like Reginald, great.” Luther gives you an offended look, before deciding otherwise in arguing further with you. He makes for the stairs, as Klaus follows behind, Diego nudging you to follow them. “So, what’s the plan?” Wonders Klaus, as Luther stops on the steps to answer him. “Uh, you wait out front.” He tells Klaus, as you and Diego walk through the open doorway, you don’t care enough to stick around and listen.

You follow Diego through hallways and finally you make it backstage, Luther appearing on the opposite side of you two from across the stage. “I’m just throwing leaves in the wind here, but how is this an honestly good plan?” You whisper yell at Diego, he stops to look at you, who’s to his left. Your face is glowing in the red stage lights, making you look like an alluring creature from another world, and for a second he’s lost in your beauty. You’ve unintentionally stunned him in the most inconvenient of places, his heart pounds with adrenaline. “Uh...um...it’s all we got.” He fumbles on his words, not truly sure what to say that would convince you. He already knows you’re not gun ho for this plan anyways, but what other options do you all have. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or stupid measures thought up by a guy who’s half-monkey, never moved out of the Academy, and lived on the moon for four fucking years.

“God, she sounds amazing.” You mutter to no one in particular as you start to listen to Vanya’s solo, a second later Diego goes racing across the stage exactly when Luther does. “Wait! Diego, stop!” You yell at deaf ears, he’s already throwing himself at Vanya. She snaps around and whips a slash of white energy at him and Luther. Launching them into the screaming crowd, you make a break for it as the other instrumentalists stand up from their seating. She turns around once again to project another powerful wave of force into the orchestra, silently demanding them to sit. You’re unfortunately pushed roughly off stage, harshly tumbling into the theater chairs, you smack into a metal chair, falling to the floor with the wind knocked out of you. People rush past your injured body unaware to your gasping for breath, to concerned with getting the hell away from the weird glowing eyed lady on stage. You don’t blame them, none of them were clearly prepared for how their night just ended.

You stand up, hearing the shouts of Diego and Luther, as they attempt to direct traffic as orderly as possible. Within thirty more seconds the place is completely vacant, you dart for behind some chairs near where Diego and Luther are hiding. “She’s stronger than expected.” Breathes Diego, surprised from Vanya’s impressive display of power. “Yeah.” Agrees Luther, suddenly getting smacked in the face with Allison’s notepad. She throws him an agitated pout, you’re to her right, in the next row over. Shaking your head disapprovingly at him in a half-joking and half-serious way. “Yeah. We’re fine thanks for asking.” He jabs back before continuing, focusing on Allison, “Look, I almost lost you once, all right. I wasn’t about to lose you again.” He tells her earnestly. 

“Wow that’s real fucking adorable...but now we’re in a load of shit thanks to you two dunderheads.” You snap at him, annoyed with how rapidly the nights events are terribly going. Luther gives you a defeated look as Diego speaks up, “Well, so much for the element of surprise. What else you got?” He asks Luther, Allison starts to quickly make a gesture of her playing a ghost violin.

“No shit Allison. Tell us something we don’t already know.” Diego grumbles sarcastically, you roll your eyes at him. “She’s referring to the violin dipshit, we need to take it from her.” You sass back, the rest of them glancing over the seats to watch Vanya play. You catch the sound of boots quietly making contact with the red carpeting of the theater. Then a moment later, gunfire blasts through the area, screaming into your eardrums. “Fucking hell.” You mutter through clenched teeth as you hold your hands to your ears, ducking lower to the floor.

“What the hell happened to Klaus? He’s supposed to be lookout!” Shouts Diego from the floor. “Yeah are you surprised.” Answers Luther, who’s attempting to sink to the ground as low as he possibly can. When you look up again you watch as a sudden bright flash of blue appears from out of nowhere, less then a nanosecond later arrives Five.

“What’s with all the lollygagging?” He wonders while walking down the wide isle, completely oblivious to the masked murderers. “Five get down!” Roars Luther as bullets rain down next to Five. He lets out a surprised gasp as he quickly ducks in between the smaller isles. “Five...wha...I thought you bailed on us?” Questions Luther.

“I had an errand to run.” He vaguely explains, looking around wide eyed at the current carnage, “This is not good.”

“You know these guys?” Inquires Diego, assuming this mess has something to do with Five and the wack shit he gets himself into, not to mention the rest of you.

“Yeah, I do.” He simply says.

“And?”

“Well...we’re screwed.” Five announces worriedly, while looking back up the isle at the approaching assassins. He then turns his head to find you who’s watching the masked gunmen slowly walking your way. “Y/N! If you could manage to get one of their guns...then maybe we’d have a chance.” Yells Five as Diego throws some of his knives directly into the chests of more Commission assassins.

“Great idea! Cause I would love to get shot through my fucking scull!” You scream back, sarcasm dripping through every word. You’re fast, but unfortunately there are a grand multitude of guys with automatic rifles who could give two shits if you die or not. You’d make it to your guy, but you’d also be dead before you could do anything destructive, and getting shot is not a very pleasant feeling by any means. But before Five has time to reply with his own ounce of sarcasm, Klaus comes bursting through the theater doors yelling about seeing Cha-Cha and that she’s apparently coming to kill us. Or something along those lines, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hear as your ears are ringing with all this noise.

Scrunching up your eyes, you shake your head and cover your sensitive ears in a desperate attempt to collect your bearings once again. When you open your eyes ready to suck it up and take one for the team, you look over with wide eyes to the sight of ghost Ben, who’s releasing the tentacle monster from within himself and presently strangling and smashing the fuck out of the masked gunmen. You share a shocked glance with Diego, the both of you completely astounded as to how the hell Klaus is able to do whatever it is he’s currently doing.

Your nose catches the scent of something you’ve been hunting for the past week, head snapping to the stage, you scowl at the blooded assassin before you. Who’s giving you an equally nasty look that’s practically inviting you to take the bait. Without another thought, you stand up, racing down the wide isle to meet your foe. Ignoring the mumbled yells of Diego and the others, you’re solely focused on ending Cha-Cha once and for all. It takes you less then three seconds to reach her, before slamming her harshly into the cement wall at the back of the stage. She falls to the floor with a grunt, as you slowly walk over to her, eyeing up your prey like a she-wolf to an injured doe. She scrambles to pick herself up, jumping to her feet in an instant, fists clenched and ready to fight.

“You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that.” You tell her casually, unawares to the fiery glow subconsciously emitting from your irises. She lets out a ragged cough, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your eyes color change.

“Yeah well, you’ll have your time to see how great I am at it, and then when I’m done with you, I’ll pay your boyfriend a little visit.” She snaps at you, her voice dripping with malice. You only chuckle at her sad attempt at holding any ground in the conversation.

“If I didn’t want you to suffer you’d be dead already...I’m not feeling particularly gracious this evening.” Your voice is calm and collected as you tilt your head to her, fully enjoying the growing fear emitting from her injured body, although she hides it well. “You’re already half dead. But I’ll oblige and see if you really do know how to kill someone who can’t be killed.” She bitterly sneers at you while you smirk at her, silently egging her on to do something. Your hopes answered as she lunges for you, it’s an easy dodge to the right, as you smash your fist into her left rib cage. She lets out a rasped breath at the sudden impact.

Cha-Cha turns around to let more fists fly violently in your direction, you bring your forearms up to block a hit to your left then your right, then your face and then to your vulnerable chest. You can tell she’s giving everything, as you’re just toying with her. Your fight turns into that of a dance, the both of you throwing jabs at each other as you waltz around the backstage of the Icarus Theater. Her foot cracks you in the side of your knee, sending a white hot pain throughout your body, as you drop to the floor from the sudden jolting impact. She then laughs while taking this golden opportunity to kick you savagely in the stomach. Your vision goes spotty as she beats into you, until you look up to find Diego, watching the two of you from the stage. That’s all the motivation you need, before reaching out your hand to promptly halt anymore of Cha-Cha’s violent advances.

You pull her down, letting go as you stand up to face her once again, a single red trickle of blood painting down the corner of your mouth. When she stands up to launch herself at you, you swing your leg up, effectively smashing her across the head. She stumbles to the floor, dazed at your quick attack. Your steps are fast, as your fists are on her once again, laying into her with all your pent up emotions, finally gushing out in an array of violent brutality. She’s underneath you, desperately holding her arms up to help cover her already bruised face.

You’re screaming with rage and anguish for your fallen friend Patch and everyone else who’s ever needlessly died at the hands of Cha-Cha. Your fists are raw and covered in blood as you rip open her jacket sleeves with each new hit, making way into her bloody arms and face. You don’t notice the tears streaming down your face, when a hand suddenly touches your shoulder. Your head whipping to the side, staring daggers at whoever dare stop you. It’s Diego, he looks at you with sad eyes, staring deep into your glowing orbs of hellfire. He shakes his head while giving you a pleading look, beckoning you to stop your vicious tirade on Cha-Cha and to follow him. You look back down at her through your bleary eyes, blood and purpled flesh adorning her miserable features as she slowly lets in and out shallowed breaths from her pathetic spot on the floor.

You raise yourself off of her, standing defiantly above her like a tired warrior after a long battle. She opens one eye to look pitifully up at your blood spotted face. You step to the side to then glare down at her, your burning eyes meeting her wretched grimace.

“Get up.”

The corners of her lips curl into a wicked grin, as she lets out a strained wheeze, her last attempt at a comprehensible laugh. To your great astonishment, Cha-Cha begins to begrudgingly peel her bloodied body off of the cement floor. Bringing herself onto her knees then to her feet, she’s breathing heavily and swaying slightly, dizzy from the ferocious beating you just gave her. She spits out a wad of blood as her good eye glances over to Diego, who hasn’t moved a muscle, praying that he’ll make you follow him and leave her in peace. You look from Diego then back to Cha-Cha, your face a mask of stone.

“Patch wouldn’t want me to kill you...you know. She’d tell me something wise and how we can be good, even when we are full of hate and rage towards the ones who’ve wronged us.” More tears fall from your conflicted face, running down to your chin as hot and angry little droplets, “I liked her...she was nice and smart, believed in people and was good at her job.....she was my friend...Eudora didn’t deserve a bullet through her chest, but you killed her anyways. Just like all the others.” Cha-Cha opens up her arms, giving you a defeated shrug, she has nothing else to say to you. You give her a weary nod, as Diego comes up to your side, touching your arm in an attempt at leading you away.

“I wish I could be like her...but I’m not.” You whisper truthfully, pulling out a spare dagger from Diego’s leather knife vest, only to plunge it directly into Cha-Cha’s windpipe. Her eyes shoot open at the sudden impact, her hands reaching up to try and pull you away. But your arm’s to quick, you pull the silver blade out of her neck as blood spurts from the opened wound. She tries desperately to cover the damage, but her attempts are wasted as she falls to her knees in despair. You watch her stare on wide eyed at your unflinching form, while she abruptly falls to the cold ground. Bleeding out before your very eyes, your emotions are all over the place and you feel like you’re about to cry or scream or both everything building up and up and up. Diego turns your shoulder to face him, “Y/N we gotta go save the world. Babe are you with me?” He tells you quietly, looking deeply into your tearfully glowing eyes. You part your lips, about to say something but nothing comes out but a heavy stressed huff of air. You’re not entirely sure if you’re about to lose it or not, you’re angry over Patch’s death, you just killed Cha-Cha, and the apocalypse is supposed to happen very soon. Wiping out your whole world, the Hargreeves, and Diego. The one person you can trust with your life, and the one person you’ve loved since you were a teenager. Honestly the only person you’ve ever truly loved.

“I’m with you. Ride or die remember.” You reply, wiping the wetness from your face and giving him back his knife. He gives you a lopsided smile, taking your shaking hand and swiftly leading you to the others.

——

“Oh, welcome back. Where were you two?” Questions Luther, the rest of the Hargreeves closely positioned around him, all of them watching as you and Diego walk closer into the group circle.

“Murder.” You answer bluntly. He makes a confused facial expression and nods, not sure what that was implying but then again with you, he doesn’t really wanna know.

“So how do you wanna end this thing?” Shouts Diego over the roaring sounds of white energy and Vanya’s violin playing.

“We surround her. All right? We come at her from all angles.” Instructs Luther as the rest of you lean in to hear better.

“So it’s a suicide mission.” Whispers Klaus sadly.

“Yeah, but one of us could get through. It’s the only chance we’ve got.” States Five setting up the actual plan, well at least the best one the group could come up with. Either way, things aren’t looking good whatsoever and you’re not 100% certain if you’ll actually survive.

“Are we all in?” Says Luther while glancing around the six of you. All of you nod as he continues to lead, pointing to Diego first, “Stage left.” Then to himself, “Stage right.”

“Allison?”

Diego turns around to race up the isle as Luther focuses his attention on the rest of you, “You guys take the front.” With everything to lose you leave Luther and Allison as you run through the smaller isles next to Klaus and Five, your heartbeat pounding with adrenaline and fear. While Klaus takes the left corner of the chairs and Five takes the right. You jump over a couple rows to bring your way to the front of the theater. Vanya plays on, oblivious to everything that’s going on around her, blissfully unaware in her moment of music and light. It hurts your sensitive ears and the pure light radiating from Vanya is no help either to your hyper-aware senses. You hear the yell or battle-cry of Luther instructing everyone to charge.

You don’t think twice as you jump to your feet, launching yourself over the edge of the stage and bracing yourself for impact when you take out Vanya. Everything happens so fast, a second later you feel like you’re being blinded as the floor and your boots appear to not be making contact anymore. Unless you were just teleported to a zero gravity room, things aren’t adding up. When you squint open your eyes once again, you’re surprised to find yourself and everyone else suspended in midair by Vanya’s energy tentacles. You’re placed in the center with the Hargreeves boys to your left and right. Their faces seem to contort into a pained expression as you notice how Vanya’s sucking their life force from each of you. But due to your rapid healing abilities it’s not affecting you as terribly, it feels like the wind is constantly being knocked out of you and it’s getting harder to breath by the second. Without warning you hear a piercing blast scream through the air, whatever it was, stopping Vanya from hurting you anymore.

The moment of peace short lived as you’re dropped to the thinly carpeted floor. You jolt to your feet once again as everyone races onto the stage to make sure Vanya and Allison are okay.

“Is she alive?” Rushes Luther worriedly as Allison holds an unconscious Vanya in her arms, the rest of you looking on in deep concern while Allison answers with a quick nod much to everyone’s relief. That and the normal rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat a solid indicator of her aliveness, not that they would be able to hear it though.

“We did it. We saved the world.” Smiles Luther with a relieved sigh, the others doing the same. Your stomach twists with the horrid sounds of something breaking from far away. You can’t place where it’s coming from until you turn your head to look up through the glass-less open theater dome. Your eyes widen at the bewildering sight of scattered pieces of the Moon racing towards earth. You slowly rise to your feet, Klaus catching your odd change in behavior, he turns to stand as well. His eyebrows raising in surprise, “Um. Guys? You see that big Moon rock coming towards us?” Asks Klaus, just making sure everyone’s on the same page.

“That’s not good.” States Luther matter-of-factly.

“So this is it, huh. So much for...saving the world.” Sighs Klaus sadly as he looks down at his dog-tags with longing and fond memories. Everyone is standing by now, except for Vanya and Allison who are still seated on the stage floor.

“If only Sir Reginald could see us right now, huh? The Umbrella Academy. A total failure.” Mutters Diego with a defeated tinge to his voice, you look over at him and then back at the destroyed Moon.

“I guess now I can finally see what it’s really like on the other side.” Diego turns his head to look at you, reaching his hand out for you to take, you interlock your fingers together as you smile at him sadly, “I hope it’s nice.”

“At least we’re together at the end. As a family.” Adds Luther, gaining the attention of Five.

“This doesn’t have to be the end.”

The four of you turn around to face him with equally confused faces, all of you doubtful in whatever Five’s about to tell you. “What? What are you saying, Five?”

“I think I have a way outta here. But you gotta trust me in this.” He pleads as Diego, Klaus, and Luther shake their heads and practically shrug him off, all of them extremely skeptical. “Well, then, we might as well accept our fate, because in less then a minute, we’re gonna be vaporized.”

“What do ya got Five. Cause if I’m being honest I don’t really have dying by flaming Moon chunks on my bucket list.” He looks at you with a new found determination and slight relief that someone is willing to listen. “We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I’ll take you all with me.”

“You can do that?” Wonders Diego.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re lookin’ at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child’s body, so there’s that.” Scoffs Five, still annoyed with how things turned out for him.

“Oh, what the hell? I’m in. You in Y/N?” Asks Diego while giving your hand a light squeeze.

“Let’s do this.”

“Yeah whatever. I’m in.” Adds Klaus.

“Me too. Allison?” Says Luther while looking down at Allison for an answer, she shakes her head in agreeance, it appears everyone’s on the same page, even Ben.

“Okay great. Luther, grab Vanya.” Instructs Five as the seven of you gather into a circle.

“Wait, should we be taking her? I mean, if she’s the cause of the apocalypse. Isn’t that like taking a bomb with us?”

“The apocalypse will always happen, and Vanya will always be the cause, unless we take her with us and fix her.” Explains Five to an unsure Luther, the rest of you nod in understanding.

“No man left behind. Now Five get us the fuck outta here.” You quickly add, as everyone joins together to hold hands while Five begins using his powers. Suddenly a bright blue light starts to appear right above everyone’s heads, indicating the opening of Five’s time portal. Diego squeezes your hand again, you returning the favor while giving him a hopeful smile.

“Ah.” Yells Five, working through the pain and exhaustion of bringing seven people into another decade or wherever you’re about to go. You can feel the tingling of electricity buzzing throughout the air as blue and white waves of energy begin surging all around you.

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” He shouts over the loud wooshing sounds created by his time-traveling abilities, your own ears suffering along with it.

 You take one last glance at Diego before your vision is taken over by the incredibly blinding lights of the blue portal. You can’t hear anyone anymore and your whole body feels like it’s in a zero gravity room, you feel for Diego or Klaus’ hand but to your panic you can’t feel them anymore. A second later the portal opens up, giving you a good view of a nearby trash can and solid concrete down below you as you’re spit out of the sky in rapid succession. You suddenly can’t see the blue energy of the portal anymore or feel the electricity around you as you free-fall straight into some discarded trash.

[haikyall]

time and time again

Summary: Soulmates will always find each other in the end no matter how longe they've been apart, but Bokuto and Akaashi don't know that. Heck, they each don't know the other person even existed. WC: 3k Genre: Fluff Pairings: Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji

This is my entry to the bokuaka big bang!

Kuroo opens the door for Bokuto and Daichi as they enter unfamiliar territory. Their curious eyes scan through the place, embracing the peaceful ambiance. It was busier than most cafès; this cafè, in particular, was very noisy.  Bokuto, on the other hand, felt a sense of familiarity about the place, yet he has never set foot in this cafè.

Kuroo spots a booth with empty seats and leads the trio to sit there. He also offers to do the ordering given the fact that he was the only one who knew how to do so, as it was evident that their way of ordering differed from usual cafès.

Bokuto sits down and can’t seem to sit comfortably on the cushioned seats. It was like something was bugging him, something just really kept on poking Bokuto’s brain to just keep looking for something, although he didn’t know what exactly he’s looking for.

To Daichi, this mannerism of Bokuto's is quite a normal sighting, especially when he enters a new shop. To him, Bokuto is taking in the new place by trying to remember every single little detail it has like how the table and seats are very low, or how there were high stools that show the contrast. He also notices how Bokuto’s leg keeps on bouncing. He assumes that the owl is anticipating his order or is just excited.

“Excited, Bokuto?” Daichi tests his theory, and Bokuto is caught off-guard at the sudden boom of the fellow captain's voice. He had forgotten that he was with other people. This sense of familiarity and restlessness was mentally killing him.

He scratches his head. Maybe it was that, yeah, he’s just excited.

“YEA! HAHAHA~” He laughs out, deciding to brush off the fact that something was indeed bugging him and he can’t seem to point his finger as to what it is. He proceeds to tell Daichi about how a cashier from another café asked him out one time.he was asked out by a cashier when he was in another cafè. “There was this one time, my friends and I were in this other coffee place and the cashier kept on asking, like, these personal questions like ‘are you more of a bacon or egg person and I didn’t UNDERSTAND HER BWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH~”

“Mhmm?” Daichi hums out, he was interested. He didn’t necessarily understand how it was personal, but he kind of knows how Bokuto feels being asked the question.

“IT WAS THE CASHIER’S WAY OF ASKING IF I WAS STRAIGHT HAHAHAHAHAHA”, Bokuto explains loudly, and Daichi’s brain doesn’t believe it, but Bokuto was genuinely laughing and he’s physically unable to lie. His eyes go wide and he finally starts laughing at how lousy of a conversation he was hearing.

“PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHA,” he laughs till his lungs can’t take the lack of oxygen and deeply inhales, and Daichi slowly realizes how Bokuto lays out the story, “Wait, you didn’t understand?”

“NOPE, MY FRIENDS ONLY TOLD ME WHAT IT MEANT AFTER OUR ORDERS WERE TAKEN,” Bokuto explains, and Daichi nods his head, understanding why Bokuto wouldn’t think it was more of a sexuality question rather than a general preference question.

“So what did you say?”, the crow asks the question.

“Egg, whICH MEANT I WAS STRAIGHT HAHAHAHAHAH,” Bokuto excitedly explains starting to laugh, and Daichi joins with a chuckle as he thinks about the stupidity of the question and how innocent Bokuto could be sometimes, and his chuckling deepens. Kuroo finally comes back with a tray of their orders and sees the two gasping for air in laughter and is interested as to what’s got Daichi laughing.

“Oya, oya, what are we talking about, here?” Kuroo asks, and Bokuto was the first one to regain some sanity,, explaining while laughing,

“I just —heh— told D-Daichi about the —hehe— cashier story,” he explains as Kuroo gives each of them their order and starts to settle down. Meanwhile, Daichi just keeps on laughing and banging the table. It was rare to see Daichi lose his chill like this.

“Ah, the cashier that didn’t know that’s not how you check out a guy and ask if they’re straight, damn, she does not get laid a lot,” Kuroo says, chuckling as he remembers the story, and shakes his head at the obliviousness of both parties in that conversation.

“SHE WORKS IN A CAFÈ, GODDAMMIT HAHAHAHAHA,” Daichi says, and everyone laughs again at the thought of the scene playing in their brains.

The laughter seems to die down as people enter the café. Bokuto turns around as he unconsciously follows the sound of the bell ringing with each movement of the door. He sees an exasperated, lean, and messy, black-haired boy, holding a laptop bag, along with a silver-haired, livelier guy, and a smaller guy with bleached hair with roots starting to grow out. Bokuto feels like he knows the exasperated guy.

Bokuto doesn’t know the guy.

The bugging sensation is back, more intense than ever, and Bokuto is restless again, appearing to look at anything but the new arrivals.  He tries to calm himself down, but his eyes stray back to the trio that recently entered the building, and he’s back to being fidgety and restless yet again.

“Boku-dude, you okay, there?” Kuroo asks, clearly disturbed by Bokuto’s hyperactivity. Bokuto recognizes the nickname and realizes that somebody is talking to him, and he finally relaxes, looking at Kuroo as he replies.

“Yea,  it’s the coffee in the drink,” Bokuto quickly explains and Kuroo raises an eyebrow, he’s been watching Bokuto the entire time since he sat down and he hasn’t touched his drink yet. Both Daichi and Kuroo know this, and they both let it slide as they see Bokuto might get his emo mode out of schedule and both of them are not in the mood to handle it.

“Told you, you should cut down the sugar, seriously, black coffee for breakfast and then WHITE CHOCO MOCHA FRAP? YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE,” Kuroo continues, not showing that he knew that Bokuto gave the wrong reason for his hyperactivity.

“HAH! JOKES ON YOU, I DIDN’T DRINK BLACK COFFEE THIS MORNING,” Bokuto says, indicating his attention is back on them. Both of them sigh in relief, but Kuroo is impressed, Bokuto isn’t drinking his usual black coffee.

“Oya? Is that so? So what did you drink for breakfast?” The former Nekoma Captain asks, and Bokuto is silent, probably remembering what exactly the owl did drink for breakfast.

“… egg?” Daichi says after a moment of silence, and laughter breaks the momentum of peace, and Kuroo starts scolding Daichi after that bad joke.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, YOU CAN'T DRINK EGG, YOU DAMNED CROW”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I HAD TO OKAY?” Daichi explained,

“…. red bull…” Bokuto says quietly and both of the other captains he was with nearly stand from their seats in shock.

“You drank RED BULL FOR BREAKFAST?!?!” Kuroo asks, and Bokuto puts his hands up in defense, ready to explain.

“WE RAN OUT OF COFFEEEEE!”

Daichi facepalms, “Yeah, but Red Bull is worse than coffee.”

Kuroo finally calms down and sighs, “Bokuto, you suddenly have a ticket to go to the mental hospital, signed by me,” he says.

“HEY! I WOULD DRINK RED BULL RATHER THAN…. Eggs,” Bokuto points out, and the three of them start laughing once again.

“BOKUTO, NO— HAHAHAHAHAH”

As Bokuto and his friends continue to bicker, the exasperated man he found himself ever-so-fond of settles his laptop bag under their table while his friends seem to be taking turns going to the counter.

“I haven’t been here at all,” the dark-haired man starts, and it leaves the two men with him bewildered. The man pushes up his glasses to take a look at the menu on the café wall. Alas, the font is too small for him, and he’s far enough that, even with glasses, he can barely make out what the menu is offering.

“It’s not that far from where you work, Akaashi” The blond dude says. He says this without looking up from the little Switch console he brought with him.

“Yeah, work is kinda building up on me so I don’t exactly have the time to go out,”

“Guess, I’m ordering for you,” the silver-haired friend chirps, and Akaashi nods. It turns out to be, this friend over here, might be the most cheerful of the bunch.

“If it’s not coffee, I’m not drinking it,” Akaashi warns, and his silver-haired friend lets out a sigh. He may or may not have a different idea for an order.

“… Darn it,” his cheerful friend says in defeat as he walks away. Akaashi looks for a table and immediately lays his laptop bag on the ground, leaning on one of the legs of the table.

As Akaashi and his blond companion settle down, he gets a notification from his phone. He grabs it in his pocket by instinct and instantaneously looks at what caused the sound. It turns out that there’s a last-minute meeting to be held in 10 minutes by his boss. Akaashi sighs, was a day-off too much to ask?

The gamer boy across Akaashi notices the dismay on his face and asks, “Really? Still working even now?”

Akaashi sighs, “Yeah, not as flexible of a schedule as you, Kenma,”

“Aren’t you on your day off?” Kenma points out as Akaashi chuckles at the observation of the CEO. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t get a lot of those.

“That’s also what I thought till I got the text that my presence suddenly matters,” Akaashi answers and sighs, “you don’t do much though,” he continues.

“Yeah, but then meeting assholes murder you every time for it so I think we’re even,” Kenma says, rolling his eyes at the thought, causing Akaashi to chuckle again at not just the action but because of Kenma’s.. colorful choice of words.

“I agree, then they take all the credit,”

Kenma then pauses his game to massage a budding headache just from thinking about his company’s growth and welfare, “then come crawling back to you when something goes wrong,” Akaashi nods in agreement and comfortable silence fills the air. The silence doesn’t need to dissipate. Akaashi is also aware that both he and the person in front of him are generally quiet people and would prefer silence over the conversation.

Akaashi suddenly feels it. The uneasy air, the stuffiness, the stillness. Akaashi looks around the café to see what exactly is causing the sudden change in atmosphere. He looks over to Kenma and he sees the gamer boy fiddling away with his switch. Akaashi knows it's not from the man across the table.

“This place feels… odd,” Akaashi says, shifting in his seat, trying to sense what exactly is making him uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be his seat, no. It’s the atmosphere, it feels stuffy as if something is going on. He turns around to see if someone is staring at him.

No one was giving him a single glance, but his eyes fell upon one person. A man with white hair and black highlights. A guy with his friends, who was probably peeing his pants in laughter as they bantered on. He seemed ecstatic, attractive, like the entire room was watching them, although no one was.

“Is that so?” Kenma says, not feeling a single strand of discomfort. He looks at Akaashi, wondering what’s got the editor so fidgety. Akaashi fidgets around so much that it causes Kenma to look around just in case he could see something that would cause Akaashi to be so unnerved.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure why or how, though.”

Kenma, seeing that there is nothing that could make Akaahi want to leave, shrugs. “Maybe it’s cause you haven’t been to this place before.”

Akaashi nods. That’s a good argument, he’s never been comfortable in new places, he always felt like some puppy in a wolf’s territory. “Yeah… maybe.”

“Hey, here’s your drink— Akaashi—,“ the silver-haired boy finally comes back with all the drinks in-hand, and Akaashi takes the drink given to him and starts to get up from his seat.

“Sorry, Sugawara-san, I have an emergency meeting to attend,” Akaashi says, looking at the time, completely forgetting he had a bag on-hand when he first arrived at the store. He was already a few meters away due to him jogging.

“Oh, it’s fine! Take care, though!” Sugawara and Kenma both bid farewell to the rushing editor as they see him brisk-walk farther from the café.

“Isn’t today a day-off for Akaashi?” Sugawara mentions as he takes Akaashi’s seat, settling down.

“That’s what I said, too… his bosses are honestly merciless,” Kenma mentions, shaking his head in slight frustration at the fact that Akaashi simply can’t rest. His eyes then rest on the forgotten laptop bag of Akaashi and his eyes go wide, “Suga-san…,” the gamer boy says, pointing at the bag. Sugawara was taking a sip of his drink when he looked under the table where the object in question remains untouched. The man sipping his drink then nearly spits it out and panics.

“Oh shit, Aka—“

A new voice enters the conversation, “Is it fine with you if I return the bag to him? I can catch up to him; noticing his speed, he would be near the subway station by now,” the pair looks up at the new voice and sees a lean man with black highlights on his white hair. The silver-haired man silently smirks before replying.

“Uhm… yeah, sure I guess,” Sugawara says, knowing Kenma is too shy to rebut and say the stranger might steal the laptop. He hands over the laptop bag and the stranger takes off. Kenma watches the whole scene unfold with both eyes.

“You are stupid.”

“No… I just feel like being cupid. That guy has been staring at Akaashi the entire time he’s been there. He only looked away when the two of you were looking around,” Sugawara says, taking another sip of his coffee.

__________________________________

Bokuto runs as fast as he can, keeping the man he's pursuing in his line of sight. “Hey! Wait!” He screams, but as he’s too far, and Akaashi can't hear him. Bokuto makes it his mission to be faster. He’s a volleyball player anyway, he can get faster, right?

“HEY!!” He tries again after closing some distance, though not much of it. He’s still far and Akaashi heard him this time, but he feels like he wasn’t the person the voice was calling out to, and it would be embarrassing on his part if he turned around, assuming it was him.

“ AGAASHI! ” Bokuto finally reaches Akaashi and suddenly blurts out his name. It freezes both of them because they do not know each other. Bokuto is freaking out internally, what did I just say? He starts to think of some lousy excuse. He scans the laptop bag for a name tag at least and finds nothing. He tries to remember if the stranger’s friends even said his name before he interrupted them. Everything moves in slow motion in his view as he tries to make up for an obvious mistake.

“How do you know my name?” Akaashi turns around, cautiously.

“You forgot this” Bokuto says, and just like that, they are both transported to a temple, and both of them are wearing hakamas, and the laptop bag is non-existent. Bokuto is holding a katana.

Akaashi is shocked. He looks at Bokuto to see if he is just as shocked, but he doesn’t seem fazed at the fact that they were just surrounded by buildings and are now surrounded by mountains and trees, empty streets, and ancient temples.

“What?” Akaashi says, still bewildered at the part about suddenly traveling to some olden time. He looks around to process where on earth they are.

“Your katana, you forgot your katana… W-weren’t you leaving, Agaashi?” Bokuto says, poking at Akaashi’s arm. Akaashi’s attention is back on Bokuto. It was only then that he noticed this man’s features, the jawline, the golden eyes, the bright smile, the radiant personality. He seemed… attractive. “You can’t leave training without your katana, Agaashi~” Bokuto teases with an eyebrow arched.

Akaashi couldn’t help but feel a little tug deep inside him when he saw the taunting look of his new formed friend. So many things are rushing through his head right now, it felt like he’s in a world one of their clients back at work made. The details, the sounds, the feeling was so surreal Akaashi swears this might be some daydream.

Akaashi wanted to ask where they were but Bokuto didn't seem to know what he was talking about and it was like he couldn’t change what his mouth was saying as he says, “Oh, yes… thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi’s eyes go wide as his hand mindlessly reaches to grab the katana by the handle and Bokuto gives a slight smile. He doesn’t know this man.

Suddenly, everything is back to normal; they’re in front of the subway station entrance, the katana has disappeared, and the laptop bag returned; the two men are both back in modern clothes. Bokuto seems to be the first one knocked out of the daze, as it seems that both of them were stuck in some trance. Akaashi sees that he’s already holding the handle of the bag,“Hello? Sir? You forgot your laptop bag… Your friends were supposed to chase you but I figured you’d be too far to reach so I offered to do it instead. I’m sorry, the name just blurted out and I swear I don’t know how—” Bokuto tries to explain but Akaashi cuts him off.

“Did you see it, too?”

“I- I mean, YES, I DID SEE IT. I MEAN, THE VISION? NONONO, IT WAS LIKE SOME—“ Bokuto freaks out as Akaashi takes the bag and smiles softly at him. Bokuto finally calms down and realizes that the man in front of him has a nice smile.

“You can ask for my number from my friends back in the café… and thank you, Bokuto-san, ” He says as he waves away from the volleyball player.

[thtdamfangirl4]

thanks @pretend-im-normal for this set of questions!

i shall start with a christmas ask game (yes i know it’s january 28th) created by none other than archie’s husband

1. Their favorite Christmas tradition

I think for Archie it has to be baking christmas cookies. He loves doing it even if it’s just him, but especially doing it with the people he loves. He takes the decorating process way too seriously (this may or may not be inspired by my real life) and all the bois pitch in and reginald’s are always disturbing but annoyingly delicious and dorian’s are always a little goth and octavius’s are fabulous and archie keeps telling him that louboutins are not a christmas item but octavius insists that since he asked for them for christmas they should count, and archie loves him so he lets it slide. Eustace very carefully decorates and does his best and every time you eat one you can tell it’s full of love. Jasper wants everything to be as colorful as possible and he covers them in sprinkles. And nathaniel, lovely nathaniel, can’t decorate for shit but he just has fun with it and laughs the whole time and that makes archie’s chest feel tight for reasons he can’t explain until later. And then Archie and Nate finally start dating and during their first Christmas, aside from the bois cookie night, they do one of their own and Archie shows Nate how to decorate the way he does and Nate can’t quite get there but he’s following each direction with fervor and they look pretty good and he’s so proud of himself and Archie sneaks mistletoe into the kitchen and kisses him and now they do it every year, and every year Nate gets a little better. And eventually they have kids and they join the tradition (even the annual cookie decorating night with the bois), and Cam is fantastic at cookie decorating and Ben eats the dough and Archie swats him teasingly with a wooden spoon every time and Evie mixes icing colors cause she’s great at art and Nate washes dishes and makes a valiant effort and they dance around the kitchen and sing christmas music playing from Archie’s phone and he smiles the whole time and every year, he pulls out the mistletoe and kisses his husband and the kids go from thinking it’s cute to thinking it’s gross and embarrassing and all the way back to thinking it’s adorable when they’re old enough and one year Evie snaps a picture of it and it’s on the Christmas card the next year. Christmas is his favorite time of the year, and cookie days just feel like this magic untouchable place where he’s with his family and doing what he loves and to him, it is Christmas personified.

2. Their favorite Christmas song

It’s very hard to narrow down, so I’ll give a top three: All I Want for Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey, Last Christmas by Wham!, and Mary Did You Know by Pentatonix.

3. Their least favorite Christmas song

This will not come as a shock, because well... I’m Archie. It’s Michael Buble’s version of Santa Baby. He loves most of Michael’s Christmas music, but in his words, Michael Buble “needs to man up and be willing to fuck Santa or don’t bother singing the song.” He just made it weird by having it be Santa Buddy and Santa Pally. And Archie loves this song. He tweets Michael Buble about it every Christmas, begging him to erase it from existence.

4. Their general feelings about Christmas

Archie goes feral for Christmas. He loves everything about it. Fun, family, love, festivity, good music, good food, an excuse to bake 24/7, baby Jesus, buying presents, getting presents. Archie prides himself on being the Christmas Bitch. He’s especially fantastic at gift-giving.

5. Their favorite Christmas treat

Octavius’s homemade pizelles dipped in spiked hot chocolate.

6. The best gift they ever received

When Evie is like 20, she gives him a scrapbook for Christmas. It’s filled with pictures of Archie, Nathaniel, the kids, and the other bois over the years. Every page has Taylor Swift lyrics that relate to the images and stories, as well as messages she’s written and cute captions. In addition to pictures, there’s little mementos like ticket stubs or receipts or notes she’s collected from her dad and her aunts and uncles and scattered throughout the book are cutout lines from a printed out version of the poem he wrote for his and Nathaniel’s anniversary. Archie cries for like 3 hours.

7. The worst gift they ever received

One year, Jessica gets him in the PTA secret santa, and she gets him a few workout shirts and an expensive bottle of red wine. He’s so offended. To an outsider, this may seem like a nice gift, but it’s very clear that she got him the shirt because she disapproves of his crop tops. And she knows full well that he doesn’t really like red wine. He’s a white wine bitch. She knows. It’s been discussed.

8. The best gift they ever gave

He likes to joke that the best gift he’s ever given is the supplementary bundle of “free sex” coupons he gave to Nathaniel their first Christmas together (he also got him a fluffy bathrobe, a playlist of songs that remind him of nate, an anthology of queer writing and letters from historical figures, and a trip to color me mine, don’t worry). But the real best gift he ever gave was years later, when they’ve been married for 5 years. He surprises Nathaniel with a trip to New York, where he’s also gotten them tickets to a revival of Hamilton, they go on a tour of diner breakfasts, and then have a shopping and spa day. And then he has them get dressed up but Nathaniel doesn’t know why and after they go to a fancy dinner, he takes Nathaniel to the Woolworth building on Broadway (where the ball scene from Enchanted takes place), and the whole place has been rented out there’s the actual singer from the movie and they slow dance in the romantic lighting to So Close (their wedding song) and it’s endlessly romantic and both of them are crying a lot little.

9. The worst gift they ever gave

No. Archie has never given a bad gift in his life.

10. How they decorate their house

dude. DECK THE FUCKING HALLS. There are two trees. One is picture perfect and looks straight out of a hallmark movie, and the other one is covered in popcorn strings and tacky ornaments from movies and shows and homemade ones by the kids and Ben always puts too much tinsel on it and Cam eats the candy canes so it’s a little wonky and that one is not-so-secretly Archie’s favorite. Beautiful wreaths on the doors and windows outside. Beautiful real-looking garland and berries and red ribbon and little bells decorate the banisters and staircases. There are lights everywhere. Christmas paintings. Outside is decked the fuck out in lights of all colors, he loves the icicles, no blow ups, but he does get a moving reindeer made of lights, and it’s a whole winter wonderland. Lots of seasonal scented candles. White lights on the mantle. Always a fire burning in the fireplace. A beautiful handmade and well-lit nativity scene. Cinnamon scented pinecones everywhere. Santa, reindeer, and snowman figures are in a lot of places. He puts mistletoe above every doorway, molding, entryway, high cabinet, or anywhere he can hang it because the man loves love and he wants as many excuses as he can get to kiss his husband.

11. Their favorite Christmas memory

On Evie’s first Christmas, she gets all fussy and cries a lot while they’re at Octavius and Dorian’s for Christmas Eve and so they go home early and they put her to bed but it’s only like 8pm. So they have their own end to the night and it’s just them in their pajamas, watching The Holiday and Love Actually while drinking tea and they just cuddle up under a blanket. Archie gives Nate forehead kisses and they fall asleep curled up on the couch halfway through The Year Without a Santa Claus. And he wakes up and Nate isn’t there anymore and he finds him holding Evie in her rocking chair humming Christmas songs to her and he just watches from the doorway until Nate finally looks up and smiles at him. And then they get everything ready cause everyone they know is coming to their house for Christmas and Evie wears an adorable Christmas onesie and they all open presents but. Those like 12 hours. Cuddling with Nathaniel and watching christmas romcoms and waking up to see his husband rocking their beautiful baby daughter to christmas songs. Yeah. That one’s his favorite.

12. Their least favorite Christmas memory

When he was like 12 (back in the regency days) he got sick on Christmas and couldn’t go to any of the events or parties and he hated it. But other than that,,, there’s a reason Christmas is his favorite time of year. It’s magic for him.

13. if/Where they travel for the holidays

Nah. He always stays home. He’s the Christmas Hostess With The Mostest. Always home for Christmas. He, Nathaniel, and the kids do go to Disney World for the week before/including New Year’s one year though.

14. Who they spend the holidays with

Obviously: Nathaniel, Octavius, Dorian, Reginald, Jasper, Eustace, Tyler, (and eventually) Evie, Ben, and Cam, and Eustace and Tyler’s kids. Gigi, Chloe, Jackie, and Liza, switch off every year whether they’re with family or the bois. Lynn and Suzanne always come to Christmas Eve and stop by on Christmas day before going to see their families. Every once in a while, Reginald brings a Doug who had nowhere else to go.

15. All of their Christmas traditions (not just their favorite XD)

jesus. well some have been listed. Cookies, decorating, hanging mistletoe fucking everywhere. he starts listening to Christmas music on November 1st. Snowball fight with the whole crew. Snowman contest with the whole crew. Getting drunk and watching Hallmark/Netflix Christmas movies. Making cinnamon rolls for christmas morning. wearing an entire christmas wardrobe in the month of december. Christmas treats at the bakery. Looking hot at Nathaniel’s work Christmas party. Wrapping presents for weeks after the kids go to bed. Making the world’s best hot cocoa. Bugging Octavius for his pizelle recipe (he won’t give it up). tweeting one direction and begging them to reunite for a Christmas album. Rewatching all the holiday seasons of the Great British Bake Off. Making roast for Christmas dinner. Making mulled wine at some point. Game day with the crew the day after Christmas. Writing Nate a poem every Christmas they’re usually really bad . eating one candy cane per season out of obligation and then going back to his hatred of mint. buying a million seasonal items at Bath and Body Works. watching It’s a Wonderful Life with Nathaniel on Christmas Eve Eve. Dressing his kids in christmas pajamas. That’s all I can think of for now.

okay i’m finally done this took me almost two hours oh my god. happy frat boi-ing.

[qrovidcore]

hey what’s up tumblr i’ve now seen hbo’s watchmen all the way through Three Fucking Times and i very well may go for a fourth if given an excuse whoops and apparently i can’t stop thinking about Laurie’s joke in She Was Killed By Space Junk, no i’m not the first person to analyze this and i’m sure i won’t be the last but i sure do have some Thoughts^TM,  so here’s some meta let’s go.

major spoilers ahead for the entire series:

Hey, it’s me again. I’ve got a joke. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. There’s this guy, he’s a bricklayer. He’s really good at it. He’s a real master of his craft. Because he’s precise. Every brick has its place. Anyway this guy has a daughter and he’s gonna teach her to be a bricklayer because after all, all a man has is his legacy. So dad decides to build a barbecue in the backyard. He does the math. He figures out exactly what he needs and he shows the daughter how to do everything. Step by step. And when he finishes, it’s a beauty. It’s a perfect barbecue. Just the way he drew it in blueprints. Only one problem. There’s a brick left over. One single brick. The guy freaks out. He must have done something wrong. He’s gonna have to start all over again. So he picks up his sledgehammer to knock the thing to pieces and his daughter suddenly says ‘daddy wait! I have an idea.’ She picks up the orphan brick and throws it up into the air as high as she can. And then…shit. Messed it up.

Okay forget that joke. Can I tell you another one?

As I said, I’m not the first to break down that Laurie is referring to specific people who have an influence on the story, there’s plenty of meta posts online that’ll say the same thing. I just think this is a Really Clever way to introduce us to her, to the major players in this story, and to the events from the comic that are going to end up being referenced. Anyhow, the bricklayer here is The Comedian. Laurie’s father. I’ll get back to this and how it connects later, but given that one of Watchmen’s major themes is the concept of legacy - who carries it and how, and what happens when that legacy is painful - this is a neat little hook into that idea. Laurie’s dad’s legacy. What she’s done with it, what she’s going to do with it, how she feels about it. Again, coming back to that.

Okay. Forget the brick. New joke. Three heroes die and they all show up at the pearly gates. God’s there and he’s going to decide what their eternal fate shall be: heaven or hell. Our first hero is dressed up like a big owl. God says to him “I gifted you the ability to make fantastic inventions. What did you do with this amazing talent?” Owl guy says “I made this really awesome flying ship and lots of cool outfits and weapons so I could bring peace to the city.” God asks, “So how many people did you kill?” Owl guy seems offended. He says “Zero. I didn’t take a single life.” God frowns. “Sorry owl guy, your heart’s in the right place but you’re just too soft.” God snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

I'm not super into the comic so it took me a while to get that she's referencing Nite Owl. I think this is strange since he doesn't appear in the show himself, whereas everyone else she talks about does, but I suppose it gives a more rounded-out view of the different approaches to heroism, and what exactly constitutes it, and also ties in another one of the original Minutemen. They did cut this over her arrest of Mr. Shadow in the bank, which makes me wonder about his role and why he appeared, and I still find it strange that this part of the joke wasn't about someone who had more of a presence in the show. (Though that being said, DC making fun of Batman, their own big-ticket character? 10/10 thank you for this).

Where was I? The pearly gates await our next hero in line for Almighty judgment. Our hero number two is confident he can game this out because that’s his God-given talent: smarts. Some might even say he’s the smartest man in the world. “So what did you do with that big brain I gave you?” asks God. “As a matter of fact, I saved humanity, ”says Smarty Pants. “Well how’d you do that,” asks God.” “Well I dropped a giant alien squid on New York and everybody was so afraid of it they stopped being afraid of each other.” “OK,” says God. “How many people did you kill?” Smarty Pants smiles. “Three million, give or take. But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs. “Christ,” God says. “You’re a fucking monster.”  “Am not,” says Smarty Pants. God snaps his fingers and our hero goes to hell.

GOD YES PLEASE DRAG OZYMANDIAS. GET THIS FUCKER’S ASS. Though the line that��s sticking out to me here is “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs.” Watchmen’s got an egg motif - and that’s an entire post on its own - and wow this is a place to drop it. I find it interesting that it’s given to Adrien here. Especially since it comes back later, when Will tells Angela that that’s what Jon said in justification of giving his life to stop the 7th K/Cyclops and Trieu. Eggs are used for a lot of things, but this line ties the motif solidly to a value of life here - how Adrien is the way he is because he refuses to value other peoples’, and maybe how Jon is the way he is because, when you can see the future laid out before you and live knowing how you’re going to die, how do you learn to value your own?

Okay. We’re down to the nitty gritty now. One hero left. God cracks his knuckles ready to administer the final reckoning. Now Hero Number 3 is pretty much a god himself. So for the sake of telling them apart, he’s blue and he likes to stroll around with his dick hanging out. He can teleport, he can see into the future, he blows shit up. He’s got actual superpowers. Regular God asks Blue God what have you done with these gifts?” Blue God says “I fell in love with a woman, I walked across the sun, and then I fell in love with another woman. I won the Vietnam War. But mostly I just stopped giving a shit about humanity.” God sighs. “Do I even need to ask how many people you’ve killed?” Blue guy shrugs. “A live body and a dead body have the same number of particles so it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter how I answer your question because I know you’re sending me to hell.” “How do you know that?” asks God. Blue God sounds very sad when he softly says “Because I’m already there.” And so, a mere piston in the inevitable of time and space God does what he did and will do. He snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

And now, we’ve got Jon. Dr. Manhattan. It's a neat moment of insight into his actions, motives, and how those are perceived by others (namely Laurie), and it's a nice thread of introduction to his previous actions to drop for audiences who haven't read the comics (actually, I can make this point about Adrien’s part of the joke too). Especially because most of what we get of Jon in-show is his relationship with Angela, his entire character arc really revolves around her and we don't see him portrayed as the contentious, unfeeling figure the world sees him as. So this sort of contrast between him as a figure and him as a person is very telling, doubly so coming from someone who it's clear knew him. And I really appreciate that there’s just as much stiffness as there is warmth to the Jon we the audience see - he’s kind, he’s loving, but he’s also very matter-of-fact and deterministic, and that bit of characterization really spans the gap between these two versions of him.

And so it’s been a long day at the pearly gates. All the heroes have gone to hell. His work done, God’s packing up to go home and then he notices someone waiting. But it’s not a hero, it’s just a woman. “Where did you come from?” asks God. “Oh I was just standing behind those other guys the whole time, you just didn’t see me.” “Did I give you a talent,” God asks. “No, none to speak of,” says the woman.  God gives her a good long look. “I’m so sorry. I’m embarrassed. Seriously, this almost never happens but I don’t know who you are.” And the woman looks at God and she quietly says “I’m the little girl who threw the brick in the air.” And a sound from above, something falling: the brick. God looks up but it’s too late. He never saw it coming. It hits him so hard, his brains shoot out his nose. Game over. He’s dead. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. 

Into some Thoughts^TM that I haven’t seen anyone theorize yet(?): I think God is meant to be Lady Trieu, and even if Laurie wouldn’t know this yet that’s some brilliant fucking foreshadowing. It's not as exact, but enough parallels are there that I think they're purposeful. It makes Trieu out as the ultimate judge of everyone - and in a way, she is. She sees herself as the most deserving of power of everyone, and it's her who kills Dr. Manhattan - sends him to hell, you could say, and he knows she's going to do it. It also hints at how she's going to die too, crushed by her machine falling from the sky like the brick, because she didn't expect anyone would be capable of stopping her. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. Trieu isn't ultimately above the others, and she's subject to their justice as they are to hers. 

Fitting too that Laurie is involved with the plan to stop Trieu, since, as I said I’d come back to, the girl who threw the brick is Laurie herself. Her depiction of herself in this way is representative, perhaps, of Laure's own feelings on vigilantism and what justice is, and that she's the force that's going to bring down these overblown personalities and their many incorrect uses of their abilities. Given this, it's interesting to think how the "failed" joke at the beginning connects, given that Laurie's dad is the bricklayer, and he's definitely... not a good person, or at least not in this continuity. But I wonder if it's indicative of what Laurie mentions about her parents training her up to do vigilante stuff (especially since she’s based in part(?) on a member of the Minutemen from the comic), and how she feels about her father and his work. If the brick is symbolic of his work as a vigilante, is Laurie throwing the brick in the air, and ultimately taking down the threat at the top, meant to indicate how she sees herself using what she learned from him, or - maybe and - a disrespect for his work based on her justified hatred of him?

Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Good joke. 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know i love memes as much as anyone else on this hellsite and the internet in general. but one meme i can’t stand now, as well as a joke used by older comedians about ~kids today!!!! am i right???~ that i can’t stand now, is the one that’s like “all 10 year olds want today is an iphone or an ipad or a macbook for their birthday or christmas! all i got for my 10th birthday/christmas as a kid was a tennis racquet and a tether ball that hit me in the face! kids are so spoilt today! you better get an i-job to i-pay for your spoilt mac-ass!”

because like.... do you not understand that in today’s increasingly over-connected world, ipads and macbooks or other tablets/laptops are pretty much required school equipment now, if your 10yo kid’s primary/elementary etc school has a ~bring your own device~ policy for kids in years 4-6??? like obviously yes, some schools will provide students with laptop/tablet trolleys and stuff.... or also the government might have a program to roll out laptops/tablets to schools (like australia did under rudd and gillard).... that some schools will literally put “parents must get a reliable tablet computer or laptop computer for their child to use for assignments”. when it comes to high school, i imagine that they’ll need their own laptop/tablet the whole way through their time there, if there is no longer any school provided or limited school provided laptops/desktop computers/tablets.

that’s besides the point that laptops etc are even more so required now than ever before, after everyone was forced to do homeschooling because of covid??? so. practically. a kid asking for a macbook/ipad or other tablets/laptops for their birthday or christmas, isn’t such a bad idea for a present??? even if yeah. apple is overrated and overpriced to the max. but suck it up and pay for your child’s future education??? even it means getting a cheaper laptop or tablet for your kid.

all i can say on the above point is that yes. the idea of ~bring your own device~ policies does set many families back- especially those in/from lower income areas/backgrounds or single parent families... considering that a decent tablet will set you back at least $500 and a decent mini laptop is around the same.... but bigger and better laptops are around $1000 on sale (windows) or idek like $1,200 on an apple education pricing deal. like yeah. it’s a demarcation thing and also setting some people up to fail. and again, this has been made increasingly obvious during covid due to different families acces to buying laptops/tablets or other internet connection means. i also understand that these big ticket item purchases of tablets/laptops hits the hip pockets of everyone harder during the pandemic, especially if you’re struggling with debt like mortgage repayments or whatever while being made redundant or are being paid less while working from home.

okay. not to sound like a spoilt brat of a kid, but i got my first laptop, an i-book G4 for my 10th birthday in 2005. then almost 10 years later, i got a macbook for my 18th birthday (and for my HSC/end of high school exams) in 2013. yes, this is the macbook that i promptly fucked up two years later in 2015, by trying to encrypt the hard drive, since i was taking it to uni and it had all my internet passwords remembered on it along with my banking details. the same goes for my other windows laptop... where the hard drive just decided to fry itself like 4 months into me using it, along with the trackpad. and that was a $1,200 ASUS laptop (bought on sale) that i was using for uni. and then finally my little HP stream laptop’s keyboard shorted out halfway through a creative writing class (that was $500 and it only has a 28gb hard drive so it’s very light and good for transport).

but my point is, me having my own laptop (as opposed to using the family computer only) helped me immensely in my studies..... and they were literally fucking essential to me both in business college and uni. but they were also helpful in late high school, considering that 90% of my assignment work was expected to be typed out in microsoft word or powerpoint or excel (for maths and science). or for more creative projects, i was expected to use adobe photoshop and video editing software like imovie or adobe premiere pro (art/computer tech/drama/that weird year 7 subject i did called INTEL) and garageband/sibelius (for music). how on earth was i supposed to keep doing work on adobe photoshop or word etc at home if i didn’t have my own laptop to continue the work???

because as a final point, for me, literally by year 10 in 2011, NOT ONE of my assignments was expected to be handwritten (bar my actual exams or in class tests; also state tests/exams etc; or if it was a poster or visual art). if you dared to turn in something handwritten, the teacher and student interaction would be like the following example:

teacher to a kid whose handed in a handwritten assignment: did you not read the assessment outline? it said WORD PROCESSED WITH WORD! what is this handwritten thing? okay fine. i’ll take it this time. but read the outline next time, timothy!

timothy: *stammers out* s-sorry miss/s-sorry sir *stalks away from the teacher’s desk in embarrassment and shame*

the teacher, probs thinking to themself: weird that a kid thinks they can hand in something handwritten. silly, really.

the above scenario was the same for me in years 11 & 12. also, by year 9/2010, we were using the education management system moodle (and maybe early stage presi for online presentations) for both of our HSIE subjects (history and geography) and i think a couple of other subjects, during most lessons and especially for class work that involved group work/class discussions, via online discussion boards function. my year group was actually was actually one of the test year groups for the early models of moodle. so by the time i was in uni, i was a native to using moodle; so i could skip the “moodle help tutorial” subject portions on it in every class.

hell, for today, i wouldn’t be surprised if foreign language subject faculties in high schools are now using school subscription class accounts or something for duolingo or babbel. and today, kids are learning coding from like year 4 onwards, i think, on apps at school as part of their science & tech studies lesson portion of the day. how on fucking earth are kids meant to keep up with their class work progression on coding apps or whatever, at home, if they don’t have their own laptop/tablet??? ridiculous. how would kids fare today without their own laptop/tablet, if all of their classwork for homeschooling is on like google drive/cloud or whatever other open source drive/open source cloud software their school uses?? or any other apps that their school might use??? obviously we are seeing this play out in real time during the pandemic, world over, where if a child is in a single parent family or if their two parents don’t have adequate enough resources/have been fired or let go from their jobs/juggling working from home and homeschooling; then it’s hurting these kids likelihood of doing well with distance learning.

but yeah. my point is that if your kid is asking you for a laptop or a tablet (regardless of brand) for their birthday or christmas, maybe buy them one?? because you never know. it may be the very thing at the top of their student resource list for the following school year. and also. do you know what stops kids fighting over their access to the family computer/tablet to do their assessments etc??? buying them their own personal laptops or tablets. even if they do cost an arm and a fucking leg. get your heads out of your asses and help your own goddamned kids (or relatives if it’s a nephew/niece etc asking for one) like you’re supposed to.

okay. for phones. i’ll admit i wouldn’t like a 10 year old having their own phone, because of social media being so easy to access on them. but if you don’t allow them to use the app store and don’t allow them to download instagram/facebook et al..... and give them the phone solely for safety reasons, i think that’s fine?

i’ve had a phone since i was 10 years old. also not to sound awfully clichè, but i turned out okay??? i had to have a phone back in year 4/2005 due to safety and also family issues. do you know what my teachers did with it? locked it away in their desk til the end of the day. obvs they had to remind me to take it home sometimes (bc i did leave it behind at school in the desk a few times lmao) but yeah. i was alright. if a kid wants a phone..... maybe make a compromise and get the classic nokia 3310 or something?? like i obvs agree that kids as young as 10 defs don’t need a smartphone like an iphone or a samsung galaxy. but a rock solid and basic nokia 3310 or whatever with no wifi access??? that’s good enough imo.

[notcanoncompliant]

A Coast That’s Unclear

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 

on Ao3 // Explicit, 18+ // TW: dubious consent (not in this chapter, and not between Tony & Peter) Pairings: WinterIronSpider

DISCLAIMER:

The 'Underage' warning is for a brief scene while Peter is 17, which is the legal age in NY. The rest of the explicit action happens after Peter is 18. It is going to get explicit. There is Daddy kink. Heed the tags, please. If you have an issue with it, don't read this fic. Don't bother with ship-shaming, I will delete your comments.

If y'all are good with this, keep going, and I hope you enjoy <3

____________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Just Typhoons and Monsoons (Intro)

Peter has always been ahead of his age group.

He's intelligent, gifted at science in general, but especially robotics.

At 14, his first year at Midtown High, he's awarded entry into an elite junior robotics club, sponsored by Tony Stark. 

In his sophomore year, Mr. Stark offers Peter a spot in the high school internship program onsite at Stark Industries.

*

The February after he turns 15, a couple months after he starts working directly with Tony at the internship, Peter's aunt and uncle die in a carjacking incident while waiting to pick Peter up.

There's no other family to take Peter.

Tony can't let him end up in foster care.

He hands the company over to Pepper and becomes Peter's legal guardian.

Tony's not good at feelings.

Peter is a depressed teenager (not good at feelings but has a lot of them).

Peter's depression drives a wedge between the two for a few months.

They fall into a pattern of nagging at each other's bad habits (they basically eat and sleep in quantities/frequencies in complete opposite of each other).

Their mutual concern leads to them dragging each other in towards a healthy middle.

(They compromise:

"I'll only sleep for 8 hours if you actually get 8 hours of sleep, you ass", etc)

They spend most of their time together, and halfway through Peter's 16th year, the kid's looking healthier and smiling more.

*

Peter goes to school and hangs out with his friends.

He swims in Tony's pool and works out in Tony's gym a couple days a week.

He still affectionately nags Tony about his habits.

They joke around with each other and share almost every meal.

They watch movies on the penthouse couch.

Sometimes, they fall asleep together.

Most of the time, it's Peter who falls asleep on Tony (head on the man's shoulder at first, and then on his lap, and eventually stretched out on top of him, head on his chest).

Sometimes, after an inventing binge or a rough conversation with Howard and Maria, it's Tony who falls asleep on Peter.

*

For the six months before Peter turns 17, Tony refuses to spoon him.

It could be so easily transformed into something sexual, and Tony doesn't want to put Peter or himself in a bad position.

Tony's worried he might feel the urge to push Peter into something he's not ready for, or that Peter might agree to something because he feels obligated or driven by hormones.

Peter just wants Tony wrapped around him, because Peter's a teenage boy with a giant crush on his older, very hot guardian.

They argue about it for the three months leading up to Peter's seventeenth birthday.

Three weeks before homecoming (three weeks before his birthday), Peter practically begs Tony, says he's fine, he's ready, he wants Tony closer...

...and Tony firmly disagrees.

They fight, and--feeling hurt and embarrassed by the rejection--Peter pulls away.

For a couple of days, they barely speak.

Peter starts asking to stay out after school.

He tells Tony he's hanging out with some friends.

Tony doesn't question it.

He trusts Peter, and...

...and he hopes that maybe Peter will give up the crush on his own, so Tony doesn't have to end it himself.

Two weeks before the dance, Peter asks if Tony will loan him money for his and his date's homecoming tickets.

His date.

His date.

His date.

Tony loans the money immediately and without question.

He shoves the mourning to the back of his mind.

He labels it 'inappropriate', where it is kept company by his fantasies of spooning with Peter.

The night of homecoming, Peter tries to kiss Tony.

Tony stops him.

Peter, hurt and rejected and angry, yells at him:

"If I can't do it with the person I love, what does it matter?

I might as well just sleep with whoever, right?

Maybe if I fuck around, I'll be experienced enough for you!"

Peter goes to the dance.

Tony panics.

Peter loves him.

Peter might go fuck strangers.

Fuck.

Tony's stuck between staying home and letting the chips fall...

...and driving to the school to bring Peter back to the penthouse and Tony's massive bed.

His biggest fear of being with Peter is that he would take Peter's life away.

Peter wouldn't get those first messy fumbles in back seats and under bleachers, with people just as nervous and unskilled as he is.

He wouldn't get to experience those awkward learning moments and memorable dating milestones that Tony had always heard were so important to Growing Up.

Tony didn't get those things.

He had the brains, but for love, he had Howard and Maria Stark: rich and powerful and distant.

He had MIT at 16, and older people who were attracted to him, but didn't give a single real fuck about him or his mental health.

Peter...

Peter is miles ahead of his peers, intellectually.

But he got to have Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

Peter was loved, treated with respect and caring.

He was raised so well that when he went through intense loss, he was able to come out the other side while helping Tony crawl out of his own hole.

He's snarky and intelligent and brave.

Peter was--is--amazing, and Tony loves him.

Tony loves Peter.

God help him, but he does.

Tony doesn't go to the school.

He falls asleep on the couch, watching a movie.

He imagines how it would feel to have Peter's back pressed against his chest.

Close to midnight, Tony wakes up.

He comes online as his arm is lifted and Peter curls up into his side, still wearing the suit he wore to the dance.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispers into the dark.

Peter clings tighter, his fingers twisting harder into Tony's shirt.

Tony wraps his arms around the teen, presses a long kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"I'm so sorry, Pete."

The kid cries into Tony's shirt, and Tony lets him; lets Peter sob himself hoarse and pass out on Tony's chest, Tony rubbing the boy's back and whispering apologies and sweet nothings in a midnight gravel voice.

The next morning, Peter wakes up, showers and brushes his teeth first.

Tony wakes up to the sound of water running and the scent of Peter's apple shampoo filling up the suite.

When Tony's done showering, he finds a fresh pot of coffee and Peter at the kitchen island, drinking tea.

It's 10:30 a.m. on a beautiful morning.

They kiss for the first time.

Tony makes breakfast.

*

A month later, Pepper tells Tony that a man lost his arm at a Stark Industries construction site in New York City, because of another laborer who was drunk on site.

Tony tells Pepper to take care of any and all expenses related to the loss, and requests the man's medical history and physical stats.

He asks that she set up consultations with leading experts in prosthetic technology.

A week later, Tony begins the biggest project he's taken on in a long time.

He's going to make James Buchanan Barnes a new arm.

*

Peter gives him room.

He supports Tony in any way he can, even if it's just to make Tony take breaks or sit down for a meal during long work binges.

Tony falls a little more in love with him.

*

Tony may be miles ahead, but Peter is a trip.

Peter's enthusiasm is infectious, his curiosity a force to be reckoned with; he keeps Tony on his toes.

Physically, they take it glacially slow.

Tony does his best to make sure Peter knows it's not rejection, but out of concern and care.

One of their most difficult conversations is the acknowledgement of Tony's lingering discomfort about the age difference, and his guilt that it hasn't stopped him from getting so close to Peter.

Peter does his best to respect the lines Tony draws in the sand for those first few months.

(But Peter is seventeen and constantly on...

...and Tony's not a saint.

There are many nights where Peter lays back between Tony's legs, his back to Tony's chest and his hand gripping his own cock, Tony doing nothing but trailing fingers up and down Peter's bare thighs, whispering encouragement and compliments and instructions into Peter's ear until he makes himself cum.

With intelligence, curiosity, and a loving partner, comes the beginning of kink exploration.)

*

On Peter's graduation night, he comes home early from the class party.

He and Tony make love for the first time.

Tony's careful, and Peter's happy (so happy), and their nerves are wiped away with quiet laughter and kisses and whispered words of love.

It's perfect.

*

A week later, the first ever StarkTech prosthetic arm is completed.

The pair celebrates with dinner in the penthouse.

They've only half-finished their food when Tony spreads Peter out on the dining room table.

*

Six months later, two months after Peter calls Tony "Daddy" in bed for the first time, and two weeks after Peter's 18th birthday, a Stark Industry employee leaks a photo to the press:

It's a grainy--but clear enough--shot of Tony pulling Peter into a chaste kiss in one of the labs.

Tony and Peter are in Seattle when the news breaks.

Two days later--after hours and hours of debriefing, legal counsel, and prep--Tony and Peter attend a small press conference in Seattle.

They tell select members of the news media that Tony Stark is in a romantic relationship with Peter Parker, the 18 year old that had been the 15 year old of whom Tony had legal guardianship.

They leave the conference to climb into a waiting car and take off towards the coast.

The media explodes.

*

They take turns driving down the scenic western coastline.

Their notoriety forces them to only stop in secluded areas and virtually unknown towns to avoid paparazzi.

It makes for a much more interesting road trip.

Four days after the scandal goes live, Peter and Tony pull up to their destination, the address for which Pepper Potts had provided:

A little AirBnB in northern California, in a town called Harvest Moon.

***

Bucky gets engaged to Steve because he doesn't know what else to do.

*

In childhood, they're inseparable, running around like hooligans, Steve getting into fights and Bucky getting him out.

Bucky adores the scrappy kid, admires Steve's conviction and bravery in the face of insane odds.

When they reach their formative teenage years, Bucky easily acknowledges his crush on his best friend.

(It's much easier than acknowledging how often he still has to clean up a lot of Steve's messes.)

*

They start dating at the end of senior year, the day after prom.

It's sealed by an emotional argument that leads to a confession of feelings and awkward, intense sex in the back seat of Steve's beat up Ford.

Steve isn't out, but Bucky's patient; endlessly so.

Steve doesn't tell his family about his and Bucky's relationship.

Bucky's just happy he's with the punk he's been following his whole life.

*

A year and a half later, Steve cheats on Bucky with Peggy Carter.

Bucky is 19.

*

Steve moves to California for a degree in art and web design.

Bucky stays in New York, splitting his time between construction and helping run his ma's diner.

*

Two years later, Steve starts writing him letters; one a month.

Six months after that, Bucky starts writing back.

Steve apologizes.

Bucky forgives him.

*

For nine years, Bucky lives.

He works, becomes closer to his family--blood and construction crew.

He's the best man at a couple weddings, and he dates around--guys and gals, nothing lasting longer than six months.

Steve writes him every month, like clockwork, and visits New York every so often.

The visits all end the same way:

with a plea for Bucky to move to California that Bucky always declines.

*

The crew Bucky's contracted with gets hired to work on a Stark Industries project.

One of the members is newer, a cousin of one of the lifers.

They give him a chance because...family.

They don't know about the guy's drinking problem.

The guy doesn't think they'll notice if he nips at a flask onsite, or if he slips off to his car to take swigs out of a bottle.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

Bucky's nearby when the drunk worker stumbles into a badly-supported beam, and part of the structure comes down.

*

The alcoholic ends his day in the drunk tank, with a court date pending, and no job.

Bucky ends his in the hospital, without his left arm.

*

Stark Industries agrees to pay all of Bucky's medical bills and any other expenses incurred relating to the loss of his arm.

Bucky quits construction.

Steve comes to New York, stays until doctors declare Bucky ready to leave the hospital.

Again, he asks Bucky to move to California, and slips a ring on Bucky's right ring finger.

Bucky says yes, as long as they can wait a bit to say 'I do'.

*

Six months later, at his and Steve's little two story in the middle of nowhere, he opens the front door to see the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts.

She's professional and warm, and the most efficient person Bucky's ever met.

Pepper tells him that Mr. Stark has finally approved a design for a StarkTech prosthetic, an arm that will function as well as--or better than--his original, and at no cost to Bucky, including the surgery to link the arm directly to Bucky's nervous system.

She passes along apologies from Tony Stark himself, for both the accident and the length of time it took him to reach out to Bucky with this incomparable gift.

Bucky signs the NDA, but he isn't asked to sign a waiver of liability.

When he asks, Ms. Potts smiles the smile of an overworked assistant to an eccentric genius billionaire.

*

A month later, a group of Stark Industries appointed surgeons and scientists, the best in the world, stands around him as he is put under anesthesia.

Bucky wakes up groggy, and with a new arm.

The arm works like a dream.

*

Post-surgical observation lasts two weeks.

On the last day, he signs the discharge forms and Ms. Potts offers congratulations, from herself and Mr. Stark.

She hugs Bucky.

Bucky goes home.

*

Steve seems like he's trying to be supportive.

He's clearly happy for Bucky, but he tells him he's worried that Bucky will want to go back to New York, back into construction.

Bucky assures him that construction is not a part of his life anymore, and he wouldn't just end the engagement because he's got his arm back.

They argue.

Steve is upset at the thought of Bucky leaving him.

He's angry that Bucky isn't asking for more from Stark Industries, while simultaneously being pissed that Stark Industries has something to hang over Bucky's head.

(Bucky decides not to tell Steve about the omitted liability waiver.)

Bucky realizes that part of his own anger is coming from guilt.

Even though he hadn't lied about being done with construction...

...he had thought about leaving.

*

He doesn't.

He shares Steve's bed, and takes care of the things that Steve doesn't:

fixing things, housework, cooking.

When Steve says he wants to offer their guest room up for rent or as an AirBnB listing, Bucky takes that up, too.

He doesn't mind the work; it reminds him a little of helping out at the diner.

The routine gives him something to wake up for, something to take pride in.

*

Steve may have suggested it, but the AirBnB project is Bucky's baby.

They're not insanely busy; they give the space out for a maximum of three nights, and Bucky vets the potential guests so they don't get any questionable people under their roof.

They mostly have one or two-night stays, and only once a week, but it more than supplements Steve's income, enough that Bucky doesn't have to get outside work.

Bucky lets the work fulfill him and distract him from his empty relationship with Steve.

*

Five months after Bucky comes home from surgery, Steve rants as Bucky holds Steve's laptop.

The article on the screen details Stark Industries' latest and greatest scandal:

The owner of Stark Industries has been sleeping with his adopted teenage son.

There are articles everywhere, examining every possible angle.

Bucky reads only from the reputable sources.

He's relieved to read that Peter is 18 years old.

He sees the picture that was leaked--a sneak shot of a gentle, smiling kiss--and the photo taken during the press conference where the pair had publicly announced the relationship.

They look nice together.

*

Steve rants.

Bucky wonders if Peter Parker is okay.

*

Bucky considers reaching out to Pepper Potts, but in the end, he doesn't need to.

Three days after the relationship goes public, Ms. Potts calls Bucky to tell him that Tony and Peter are on their way, and offers to pay for at least a month-long stay.

After the call, Bucky gets on the AirBnB listing and books out the month under his sister's name.

Four days after the scandal breaks, Tony Stark and Peter Parker show up on his doorstep.

***

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

[officialthiamlibrary]

Do you guys have any long slow burn AU fics to rec?

We sure have! 😊 Enjoy!

(Please not that this list only contains stories over 30k.)

Anchors by @thiamlife

Liam Dunbar has had enough of being out of control. So he decides to shut his wolf off for awhile… the only problem is it could end up getting him killed.

Theo Raeken had never been good with feelings. But he can’t fathom the idea of losing the little beta. So he makes it his personal mission to help Liam find his way back to the supernatural. Lines will be crossed and there may be no coming back from it.

[NR / 42.2k / complete]

Vargary by @lovelylittlegrim

Liam is worried everything will go to shit once the elder pack members leave Beacon Hills.

It does, of course, but he has Mason and Corey there to help him out.

He also, surprisingly, has Theo Raeken.

[TeenUp / 38.5k / wip]

Just too good to be true by @raekentheoryarchive

Liam has the worst luck when it comes to girls. Things just keep crashing and burning. Mason tries to convince him that maybe it’s time to come out, to date a guy instead, but his best friend won’t hear it. So he and Corey decide to find him the ultimate date, someone who’s exactly his type—snarky, tendency to punch people, and tough enough to put up with their volatile friend. Bad boy Theo Raeken is the perfect fit, despite his murky past and caustic personality. And the fact that he won’t do it for free. What could go wrong? // 10 Things I Hate About You AU.

[TeenUp / 56.2k / complete]

Midnight into morning coffee by @pettigrace

In an anger fit, Liam slashes his social studies teacher's tires. Enter Theo, who is an enigma surrounded by rumours, saving him. In return, he just wants Liam to pay his lunch. Easy, right? Liam would have never guessed the lane he starts walking by accepting the deal.

[TeenUp / 138.5k / wip]

On the same side by @teen-wolf-af

Liam is an FBI agent. Theo is an untouchable drug lord. There's a chase, some grudging trust, and finally the falling in love. It may seem unlikely, but in the end, they find themselves on the same side.

[TeenUp / 101.7k / complete]

Compared to the moon by @flyde

Theo Raeken is back in Beacon Hills. He is an outcast in a world where people show their true colors as actual colors beneath their skin, because Theo himself is a blank page. Joining the lacrosse team, he hopes for one last shot at finding a real place to belong. But things don´t start off too great, especially not between him and the team captain, Liam Dunbar.

[Explicit / 143.8k / complete]

Desolate by @glitter-cake20

Liam involuntarily becomes an Alpha. He refuses accept the new wolf and instead runs away, leaving Beacon Hills behind, and takes to a small cabin in the Colorado mountains for refuge, mostly from himself. He subdues the alpha wolf in him... Until one day when he has absolutely no choice but to let it out.

[Explicit / 60k / complete]

I can't not love you by @raekentheoryarchive

Liam's a little lost in life. His latest relationship has fizzled out, his best friends are about to be married, and he’s rapidly realizing he doesn’t want to be the best man without a date. So, inspired by their tale of rekindled romance, he decides to track down all his exes and figure out which one was right for him all along. The problem is that several have been out of contact for years, and he has no idea where they are. The solution? His promiscuous, struggling musician neighbor Theo, who happens to have dabbled in the police academy long enough to be good at digging up dirt and finding people. But time is running out, the wedding countdown clock ticking ever closer, and if Theo can stop flirting with him for maybe five seconds and find his former flames, he might have a shot at this. || What’s Your Number AU.

[TeenUp / 48.6k / complete]

Wilful Entrapment by @RedCoral

Theo looked at him from head to toe in the dingy bar they were at, his expression thoughtful and deadly serious as he said, "So tell me Liam. Are you sure you're not a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written all over you."

Liam laughed so hard, he almost fell from the barstool. "Oh my God. Is that what you're going with?"

"Did you know people are more likely to laugh at the jokes of people they're attracted to?"

[TeenUp / 41.9k / complete]

Tougher Than The Rest by @glitter-cake20

Theo is horribly self conscious about his body, but a pair of blue eyes sees him for what he truly is.

[Explicit / 44.1k / complete]

The Last Of Us by @raeken_09

A bizzare fungal infection breaks out all over the world, causing people to lose their minds and turn into infected monsters. The remainder of civilisation was quarintined in cities while soldiers kept a close watch on who goes in and out. The McCall Pack is fractured when it proved that the bites of the Infected were deadly to werecreatures. After a careless night out to just be normal teenagers Liam and Mason are bitten. So why does Liam live to see te morning?

[Mature / 50.3k / complete]

Vacancy Signs by @lovelylittlegrim

Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

[Explicit / 89.6k / wip]

Just like a tattoo, I'll always have you. by @mmmwddd

The pack has just defeated the Ghost Riders and for now everything is fine. At least until Liam’s sixteenth birthday when his soulmark shows up with a name that he was not expecting.

[NR / 31.4k / complete]

Happiness is a four-letter word by @glitter-cake20

Liam goes out looking for trouble, instead he finds the beginning of a road that could change everything for him.

[Explicit / 93.4k / complete]

Highway to Hope by @flyde

Theo has been obsessed with this youtube guy who posts videos of himself singing in his car. Watching every video there is of Liam, Theo finds himself falling in love. When Liam's songs get more and more sad and dark, Theo starts worrying. The shadows beneath Liam's eyes get darker in every new clip, his voice huskier, his driving a little too fast, a little too reckless. Paying close attention, reading between the lines, Theo can tell Liam is not okay. And then the catastrophe happens.

[Mature / 41.4k / complete]

Scepticism by @sweetest_thiam

Everyone told Liam to avoid the kid in the hallway, but that scrutinizing gaze was just too tempting.

[TeenUp / 50.9k / wip]

Red by @extrasteps and @ajp-37

Theo returns from hell but has lost all of his powers, including his chimera status, making him completely human. He also has a red string of fate wrapped around his left wrist, connecting him to Liam, the one who brought him back. When Malia attacks him, she nearly kills him, and Liam and Lydia step in, all but forcing Scott to bite him and make him a werewolf. Making Theo pack, and the growing connection between him and Liam, changes the whole outcome of season 6.

[Explicit / 134.1k / wip]

We Who Wait by @wolfenboyb

Liam is the son of a local preacher struggling to get good grades, to fit in, to live up to his father's expectations. Every spare moment is spent at the church or school, much to his best friend's annoyance. So when Mason drags Liam out to an underground all-ages punk rock show he's thrown into a world that frightens and excites him. Especially when he meets Theo, the pink haired, in-everyones-face vocalist that gives no fucks and causes trouble where ever he can. And he has a close eye on the preacher's son.

[TeenUp / 83.3k / wip]

The boy I shouldn't want to love by @dan13la-blog-blog

Liam comes back to Beacon Hills after years, when his mother decides to get remarried. His big shock is finding out that his new step-father's son is the same guy that back then in elementary school used to bully him, making his life a literal hell...

[Mature / 161.6k / wip]

[baepsaetan]

Inkarnate

Summary: Hoseok is a film student looking for muse, and Yoongi is a tattoo artist looking for money. When they meet, the two find that they could give each other far more than creativity and cash, but soulmate isn’t spelled p.e.r.f.e.c.t, and Yoongi’s tattoos cover up more than just his skin.

Chapters:  pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11  -> read on Ao3

Genre: Soulmate! AU, Angst

Warnings: Smut, main character death, swearing, implied alcoholism, implied past abuse, seriously a lot of angst, cancer.

Length: 8k

A/N: Another one! Already! Ideally this frequent posting will become a Thing but if we’re being honest Maybe Not. Still, hope some people have a chance to read this! Also shout out to @samwithham​! It really has been a hot second, but I’m grateful you’re still reading <3 

---

The last short finishes with a melancholic flourish that’s a little campy but still effective, and applause fills the theatre. Unlike at normal showings, there’s no immediate mass exodus; almost everyone stays to watch the credits, and even as they roll to a close, only a few people drift out. A low murmur arises from the crowd, and Hoseok hears snatches of opinions on the piece.

“Can you believe he said that?”

“… still caught me by surprise. I liked the depiction of family as…”

“Weren’t you crying? I thought…”

They wash over him, and he drowns in the ideas and impressions bleeding their vivid colours into existence even after the film is done. It doesn’t matter that the lights are coming on, that the screen is black, that people are slowly finding their feet and their car keys and getting ready to leave. There’s something comforting about his satisfaction, something tangible and unquestionable and honest, and Hoseok wants to bury himself in that emotion until he can’t see or feel anything else, forever.

He wants to, but he can’t.

During the presentations of the films, especially as they’d gotten into it, he’d managed to submerge himself in the experience, yet now that it’s over, Hoseok is drained, exhausted. Yoongi had kept hold of his hand for most of it, they’d eventually banished the arm rest and curled up together, and if the artist had dozed off once or twice during the four hour showing, well, Hoseok isn’t in the mood to hold it against him. At least he’s awake now, watching the black screen with a furrowed brow that makes Hoseok think he might be creating some tattoos off of what they’ve seen.

Hoseok eventually rises from his seat, unexpectedly stiff, and Yoongi is much worse, cursing and standing up so slowly he may as well have claimed a senior’s discount. Watching the grumbling sight, against his inclination Hoseok smiles.

“Such an old man,” he comments gently.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Yoongi replies, and laughs at the instant flood of red across the face of the other man, the quick glance to see if anyone heard.

Once he’s sure there’s no one within earshot, Hoseok relaxes, though he’s not necessarily keen on keeping up this line of conversation. Not in public, anyways. As they file for the exit, he asks, “What was your fave? Film, I mean.”

Yoongi pauses by the garbage at the entrance and throws out the wad of Kleenex he’d shoved into his pocket when his nosebleed had ended, a few minutes into the first film. “The one with the girl who gets lost,” he replies. “Though it’s fucking bullshit she never finds her way out.”

Hoseok chucks away the now-empty bag of candy that his boyfriend had impatiently refused every time it had been offered. Remembering the picture Yoongi’s talking about – the editor had gone crazy with the light filtering, but the tracking shots were gorgeous – Hoseok frowns. “You’re calling the ending bullshit but it’s your fave?”

A shrug. “I think we’re supposed to be pissed off about it. Mad no one helped her or something. It being bullshit is the point.”

That… is deeper than he’d expected Yoongi to go, and Hobi probably shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. It’s not like his boyfriend isn’t a thoughtful person – not in the least, actually – but he tends to get impatient trying to explain what he means, and it isn’t often he sounds so calmly certain about a point he’s trying to make. And Hoseok finds himself agreeing. There had been something demanding about the end of the short, about the way the camera spiralled away in an ever widening shot, something that asked why she was left standing alone in that barren space.

“Didn’t look at it like that, but I think you’re right,” Hoseok says quietly, and can’t quell the swell of guilt that washes over him. Had Yoongi been able to see it so clearly because he feels equally abandoned?

The other man glances at him, eyebrow raised. “I’m glad a soon-to-be famous film director agrees with my theory. Maybe I should publish a thesis paper or something.” Sardonic, but lightly so, and Hoseok may or may not be imagining the searching concern hidden behind that sarcastic gaze.

“You can put my name on it, if you want.” Hoseok smiles as he says it, but turns away from the worry his conscience might be making up. If he’s right – if any of the thoughts skittering through his head are right – it isn’t Yoongi who should be looking at him with that veiled compassion. If he’s right, he thinks his heart might just break under such a look.

“I’ll take you up on it,” the tattooist promises. “Until then… what was your fave, Mr. Expert?”    

Did he even have one? It’s not that he can’t remember them all individually, but it’s as though Hoseok had tried so hard to submerse himself in the films that he had accidentally pushed too hard against them, smudged the colours and details of their wet-paint newness into a blur. There’s nothing that truly stands out, and that’s… well, that’s just a shame.

“They were all so good. I’m not surprised any of them were included in the festival.”

Head ticking to the side, Yoongi sucks on his spit, opens his mouth, seems to think better of it. He looks down as they push their way through the doors and out into the early evening, his hands crumpling the beanie he’d taken off long ago into a tight ball before shoving it into his hoodie pocket. From the corner of his eye Hoseok catches him chewing on the inside of his cheek, the motion almost savage. Throwing up a hand to shield from the sudden sun, eventually the artist mumbles, “I just – I hope you enjoyed it, yeah?”

“Of course!” The reply is immediate, fervent, because Hoseok can’t bear the tentative way he asks that question. “Especially – man, that you thought of me at all. That you got the tickets for me. That’s so cool, Yoongs.”

The other man relaxes. “Well, like I said, they were free. Really wasn’t much.” That had been such a relief the first time Hoseok heard it, and even hearing it again has him sighing gratefully. He knows Yoongi doesn’t have money to spare – he makes a respectable amount tattooing, but almost everything goes into the rent for Born Tiger – and the thought of him paying had put Hoseok’s throat in knots. At least Yoongi had set that straight during the first intermission between showings.

It suddenly occurs to Hoseok that he knows that Yoongi isn’t lying about getting the tickets for free. Knows, not assumes or believes. It’s like knowing a fact is true because he’s seen it for himself. Where does that certainty come from? Where did–

He jerks his thoughts to a hard stop. He’ll figure it out, one way or another, but for now… for now Yoongi is watching him with gentle, tired affection, and if his eyes are bruises and his skin too blanched, at least he looks happy. Hoseok would do a hell of a lot more than play dumb to keep that expression in place, if only for a little while longer. They stop a little way down the street, keep out of everyone’s way. “You wanna get something to eat?”

Yoongi considers that for a moment, but eventually shakes his head. “I don’t want to take too much of your time – it’s already cool you agreed to spend some time with me today.”

“Y’know, I’m not a celebrity just yet. It’s not like my time is worth gold or anything.”

“Nah,” Yoongi replies with a wry twist of his lips, “just worth something else. Let me start paying you?” Then he reaches over, catches at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and Hoseok is already grinning at the familiar joke, but his smile becomes softer under his boyfriend’s mouth.

This kiss is quiet, almost too timid, so he throws his arms around the other man, pulls him closer, anything to cement their contact. His boyfriend responds with a low hum, the sound a reverberation of appreciation that pulses through Hoseok’s bones, replaces his marrow with a contentment that’s too airy to hold the weight of everything else. But – for a moment, it can manage. And it does, as they break off and Yoongi presses his face against Hoseok’s chest, though not quickly enough to hide the expression on his face, so tender it appears a mere breath from falling apart. Tightening his arms around the small man’s shoulders, as though that alone could hold them both together, Hoseok kisses the top of Yoongi’s head. Was there a way, some magic of filmography he hasn’t found yet, to extend this moment forever? Not freeze it like a photograph, but just… keep it going, keep all the affection and warmth and the way the sun burnishes Yoongi’s blonde hair into feathery gold?  

“I love you,” Hoseok murmurs, and for once there’s no anxiety in those words, no uncertainty or fear of rejection. He and Yoongi – together, like this – is so right. Maybe only for a minute or a moment, but for as long as it lasts, he can close his eyes and feel that rightness like music in his ears, like honey on his tongue, like a shot of some view you’d climbed miles to see.

For a long time, there is simple quiet in response, but Hoseok is aware of Yoongi’s shoulders trembling as he struggles to draw in breath after breath. Eventually the artist clears his throats, whispers shakily, “Yeah. I love you too, Hobi… so much,”

They stay as they are for several minutes, secure, linked by touch and something so much heavier, something Hoseok can’t name. Eventually though, Yoongi stirs in his arms, eases himself away. His mouth is a reluctant slash when he looks up, but nonetheless he says, “We should go. You got too much shit to do to be standing around.”

In more ways than one, he’s right. Hoseok can hardly think about the various project deadlines and exams coming up in the next two weeks, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And besides, if he’s actually going to make himself go through with the plan…

It’s his turn to take in a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’ll drive you home first.”

“It’s not that far,” Yoongi snorts dismissively, already turning to walk away.

Hoseok catches his wrist. “You set all of this up for me. It’s the least I can do.”

“Aish… okay.” The surrender comes quickly, more quickly than Hoseok expects it to, and he finds himself wondering at it as they begin to stroll to Hobi’s car. For all of Yoongi’s dismissive tone, it is a pretty far walk to Born Tiger – is that why he’d agreed so promptly? Because a walk like that is hard for Yoongi nowadays?   

Jiggling his keys to keep the electric tension at bay, the warmth dissipating like water through his grasping fingers and leaving something cold in its wake, Hoseok can’t stop himself from chatting as they walk, but his heart isn’t in it. Neither is Yoongi’s, to judge by the distracted responses, and he keeps expecting there to be a sudden crack, a sudden halt, a sudden outpouring of whatever is welling up inside the both of them. It never comes, though. The thunderous clouds just swell without rain, and he’s no god to know how to change this weather pattern.

He has to try, though.

By the time they’ve slipped into the car and Hoseok has pulled into rush hour traffic, that knowledge has hardened into resolve. When the other man takes out his phone and starts fiddling with it, he glances over – probably too intently – and asks so casually that it’s not casual at all, “Are you gonna call your doctor for an appointment now?”

Yoongi fumbles the device, drops it into his lap. “What – right now?” he asks, picking it back up.

“Not everyone works ‘til two in the morning, Yoongs. Pretty sure doctor offices close soon.” His companion is frowning at him, and Hoseok just hopes Yoongi assumes he’s nervous about bringing up something that was close to starting an argument a few hours ago. Which he is. Amazing how even a lie can rest on a foundation of truth. Clearing his throat when the other says nothing, he coaxes, “It’ll only take a moment.”

“And you get to see me doing it,” the artist observes flatly.

Hoseok flinches, can’t deny the implicit accusation. But neither can he backtrack, so he keeps his eyes on the road and sits a little straighter. “You put this off a lot, Yoongi. I’m just – I’m trying to help.”

A violent exhale from the man beside him, and Hoseok flinches again, more from the guilt of what he isn’t saying than anything else. After a moment of fraught silence, another sigh, considerably softer than the first. “I know you’re trying. I’m trying too. It’s just, this,” he touches his nose like it symbolizes all the misery he’s been going through, “this ain’t anything until someone tells me it’s something y’know? And I think I would have preferred… I mean, that I’d prefer not knowing. Easier.”

“But not necessarily better,” Hoseok says quietly, and wonders how much of this is real and how much is just more of the same.  

“Maybe…” A few seconds pass in torn silence, and then abruptly Yoongi snorts. “Fuck. I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Without waiting for a reply, he scrolls through his phone, has it up to his ear before Hoseok can doubt if he’s actually going to call. “Hello? Dr. Cho? Yeah, this is Min Yoongi calling. No, not – not about that.” It’s impossible to miss the tension in Yoongi’s voice, the coolly impassive look plastered across his face when Hoseok risks a glance, but Hoseok can’t make out anything the person on the other end is saying, just hears an incomprehensible voice.

“No, I don’t want that. I just wanted to schedule another appointment….” A pause as he lets the other person talk, and if anything, Yoongi’s expression grows colder. Or maybe not colder, maybe just… rigid. Eventually he seems to interrupt. “I know all that. Thanks. Like I said, just want an appointment. Some time next week? Yeah, sure. Uh huh. Mhm. Yeah. See you soon. Thanks.” His hand drops to rest limply on his thigh, and it takes several more seconds before Yoongi hangs up the call.

He turns to Hoseok. “Three o’clock on Tuesday. You satisfied?”

Refusing to rise to that combative tone – it’s obvious this call has unnerved his boyfriend, and in between his guilt and his pity, Hoseok can’t feel anything else – the film student just smiles as brightly as he can. “Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. Thanks, Yoongs. Seriously – thanks.”

His voice has lightened into something closer to grumpiness than anger when he replies. “Yeah, whatever. Now I get to spend an hour having her rip into me for not scheduling sooner.”

“Do you not like her?” Hoseok asks in surprise. He’s always assumed Yoongi’s aversion to getting a checkup was an internal issue, but maybe it was partly his doctor’s fault? That makes him hope. Maybe he is overreacting. Maybe it really is as simple as that. Maybe…

Yoongi grimaces. “It’s not like that. She’s just… pushy. Doesn’t like putting up with my bullshit.” His laugh isn’t very amused. “Guess that makes two of us. Anyways, no, I’ve had her for awhile now. She’s fine. I’m just being a bastard.”

“Good to hear.” Although it isn’t, not really.

They don’t talk much for the rest of the trip, Hoseok sweating over somehow giving himself away while Yoongi seems withdrawn and comfortable staring out the window without speaking. When they pull into a spot a short distance from Born Tiger, Hoseok feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. Hands pressing into the steering wheel until they ache, he almost doesn’t manage to make himself do it. Yoongi’s gathered up his stuff, hand on the door, before a surge of desperation rips the words from Hoseok’s tongue.

“Uh, hey! Could I borrow your phone for a sec? Mine’s dead.”

“What do you need it for?” Yoongi asks, but he’s already handing it over, nothing but distracted amusement on his face.

“I forgot I wanted to text Jimin, tell him I’m just gonna grab some fast-food for dinner. Ask if he and the other guys wanted anything.” The pads of his fingers are sweaty, and he has to try a few times to type Yoongi’s password – genius – before getting in. He hovers for a moment over Contacts, struggling to make himself move.

Meanwhile, Yoongi scoffs. “Dunno why you even need to ask. Tae and Kookie would eat out of a garbage bin if someone told them it was free.”

Hoseok cracks a weak smile. “Probably not out of it.” He still can’t make himself do what he’s been planning since before the films.

“Yeah, you’re right. They’d get plastic plates first.” It’s the fondness in Yoongi’s voice that does it. Pushes him into leaving Contacts untouched and pressing on Phone History. Because that gruff, protective affection for the younger boys… Hoseok can’t lose it. He can’t stop having those rough, secure words in his life, not when everything before Yoongi was too smooth to hold onto. He just can’t. And if this isn’t what he dreads it might be, well, Yoongi will be pissed, but he’ll also be forgiving, sooner or later. Haven’t the last few months proven that?

Phone tilted away from the other man, Hoseok taps into the most recent call, made to a Dr. Cho Jiyoo. Moving his fingers like he’s texting, he just stares at the number there instead, committing it to memory to the best of his ability. A few seconds later, he actually goes to Jimin, sends the message, and then hands the cell back to Yoongi with an empty hollowness in his stomach. It’s a good thing his boyfriend has his own things to worry about, because Hoseok isn’t exactly doing this with picture perfect guile.

It doesn’t take hardly any time at all for Jimin to reply, which is a blessing. Hoseok can only repeat the numbers in his head for so long before he’s bound to mess them up, especially while encouraging Yoongi to do most of the talking.

Breaking off a story about a guy who fainted dead away within five minutes of his first ever needle, the artist checks his vibrating phone. “Jimin says Taehyung is eating with Jin, but he and Jungkook could go for something.” Another buzz of an incoming message, and he barks a laugh. “Jungkook votes for McDonald’s, so I was right; he would eat out of a dumpster if it was free.”

Shaking his head at that – 4, 53, 67, 32, 08 – Hoseok asks, “Did Jimin get a vote?”

“Subway. You roll with the most high-class people, hey?”

“Oh, ‘cause your choice would be so much better.” When Yoongi opens his mouth, Hoseok adds, “Starbucks isn’t that classy, Yoongs.” 67, 32, 08…

“You would know,” Yoongi shoots back, with a gummy smile that’s nothing short of breathtaking, and it lurches through Hoseok’s throat until he almost lets go of the numbers and plan altogether. He can hardly breathe through his shame about not speaking honestly to Yoongi, and with that trusting grin right in front of him…

“Yoongi,” Hoseok says, and the man across from him dampens his smile at the strangled tone, leans forward a bit.

“Yeah?” the artist asks quietly, brows furrowing in miniscule tension.

Please tell me the truth. The words are so easy – so impossible to say. What is the truth? What is the nagging feeling that drags like oil across Hoseok’s brain whenever he looks at his tattoo? What is the crumpled expression Yoongi wears when he thinks no one can see him? And what the hell could Hoseok do if Yoongi refused to answer any of those questions?

And what if he didn’t?

His fingers drum against the steering wheel, and when he can’t get them to stop, Hoseok wrenches them off, buries them in his lip. He smiles, or tries to. “I’ll call you later tonight, okay? You can listen to me cry about how behind I am with everything.”

“My favorite mixtape,” Yoongi jokes, though the furrow across his forehead doesn’t really disappear. “I’ll be expecting that call. Don’t skip out.” His way of saying that he’s around to listen, that he doesn’t want Hoseok to keep it to himself. If they don’t get away from each other soon, Hoseok really is going to start crying.

Keeping his breath shallow, he shakes his head. “I won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

He’s actually relieved when Yoongi doesn’t make any move to kiss him goodbye. It’s not the usual – just another signal of how off things are between them – but Hoseok’s pretty sure if they touched right now, everything would come spilling out. Not necessarily through his lips, but maybe through his skin, or his head, or his heart… or wherever this aching connection is anchored, somewhere beyond his mere body.

Hand against his neck, Yoongi hesitates before he opens his door. “Happy belated b-day, Hobi,” he says, and the humour is so pale it might as well be invisible. All Hoseok can do is incline his head and murmur a tight thank you. Fingers still stroking across his neck, there’s another breathless pause before Yoongi shuts his eyes and heaves himself out of the car, movements stiff and pained. “I’ll see you later,” is his low promise, and then the door is thudding closed between them.

Because the spikes of restless agony are threatening to drive straight through him if he doesn’t move to avoid them, Hoseok doesn’t wait to watch his boyfriend walk to Born Tiger. Because there’s something ripping him apart already and anything added will splinter him into even smaller pieces, he doesn’t look in the rear-view mirror once he’s beyond the other man. Because the only thing he can do right now is go forward, Hoseok doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around, doesn’t go back. He sets his jaw, looks up a number and an address on his almost fully charged phone, and puts it into the GPS.  

---

The office looks as conventional as any medical company Hoseok has seen, at least from the outside. Short and insistently rectangular, the building is painted a sandy brown, while the double doors of the entrance are white, and plenty of windows dot the squat structure. There’s a little bed of flowers and some potted plants out front. It doesn’t look like a place where people go to learn they’re dying.

But it is. This isn’t the doctor’s office Hoseok had expected when he looked up the name and the number he had taken from Yoongi’s phone. He isn’t really sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t an oncologist’s office. The CL Courage Clinic is, according to the website, a specialty cancer clinic that deals with various kinds of chronic leukemia. There aren’t all that many cars in the parking lot, but then again, it’s kind of late. He wonders if Dr. Cho is still here. He wonders what he’s doing here.

His pulse is thrumming in his throat, and when Hoseok swallows it feels like his heart is about to burst through his trachea. He knows what the doctor looks like – the website had all of their pictures – but there’s a layer of static over everything he sees and he’s not altogether confident he’ll even be able to recognize her. Breath so harsh he can’t hear the music playing on the car radio, eventually Hoseok shuts it off, anything to reduce the unrelenting everything that’s crushing him into a panicked nothing.

What am I doing here? He’s falling to pieces so quickly he can’t put himself together again. Am I really about to– He can’t think about it, he can’t, he can’t. He has to do it.

He has to, but for a long time Hoseok just sits in his car, shifting constantly, rubbing his fingers raw against anything that comes under his hands. He’d thought he’d go into the building, ask for the doctor, but now he’s starting to wonder if maybe he should just wait for her out here. Maybe she’s gone home already. Maybe the thought that has him caressing his collarbone and then jerking away as if stung is more ridiculous than anything else he’s managed to think up. After so many months – after what feels like a lifetime – would Yoongi really not have told him?

By now, Hoseok isn’t really sure what he’s talking about, even within his own mind. Told him what? About sickness? Or soulmates? Or are they somehow the same thing, now?

Minutes pass and doubts churn trenches through Hoseok’s head, ruthlessly treading the same paths over and over again until it feels like there’s no way to think outside the ditches, no way to leap beyond their bounds. He thinks, and only manages to dig himself deeper into paralysis.

For the seventh or eighth time, the clinic door opens, and someone steps outside. He looks towards them, empty of expectation. That might be why it takes him a moment to recognize the lady in a flora summer dress as she hitches a purse over her shoulder and walks with quick, short strides. When he does, everything… collapses. The fear, the doubts, the shrieking, formless anxiety, they don’t disappear, but they contract into a place somewhere just behind his sternum. It’s almost as though the sheer weight of his breakdown has finally ripped a blackhole into existence, and it’s dragging his heart and lungs and stomach into a mangled mess of impossible heaviness. What emotions could escape the gravity of such dread?

He forces his door open too hard, has to wrench it back to avoid smashing into the truck he’d parked next to. Clambering out of the luxurious car feels like a confession of sin, and his jerky steps are quick to leave the sleek vehicle behind.   

“Dr. Cho. Umm, Dr. Cho!” The second time he calls she hears him, turns his way. His immediate impression is thinness – thin black hair, thin lips, thin eyebrows, thin shoulders… thin patience, if the expression on her taut face is any clue. He’s not sure how old she is – maybe fifty, though the exasperation makes it harder to be sure.

“May I help you?” she asks, in a slow way that suggests she’s hoping the answer is no. He can’t entirely blame her, given the time and the way he’s accosting her outside her work.

Bouncing his weight back and forth from foot to foot, Hoseok nods several times as if the motion alone might shake some words from his head to his too-dry mouth. It doesn’t, but the compression in his chest hasn’t managed to swallow his tongue quite yet, and so he manages to push out a quick introduction. “Uh, hello, Dr. Cho. My name is Jung Hoseok. We haven’t – I saw you on the clinic website, and I, umm, was hoping we could talk.”

If anything, her eyes narrow even further. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jung, but I generally only meet by appointment, and only during office hours. You could have phoned the clinic and scheduled a time to talk.” ‘Should have’ is more than implicit in her words, but the doctor’s displeasure hits his chest and – dissolves. It can’t gain any purchase in the flattened landscape of his feelings.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I couldn’t – I only just, uh, found out I need to talk to you.” Because I’m stupid. Because I’ve failed him.

Dr. Cho sighs, adjusts the purse on her shoulder. The motion makes her seem less annoyed and more… tired. “Did you receive a referral from your family doctor? I know it’s always very terrifying to receive a possible diagnosis, but it really would be better to schedule an appointment, so I have the opportunity to look at your information and –”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok interrupts, the pressure mostly squeezing embarrassment into oblivion. He doesn’t even flush at accidentally giving her the wrong impression. “It’s not about me, it’s about one – one of your patients.”

Immediately her back is a little straighter, her brow a little more creased. “One of my patients?”

“Yes. His name is Min Yoongi. He’s… I think he’s been seeing you recently?”

She mouths the name, not as if it’s unfamiliar, but rather as though it surprises her to hear someone mention it. The tightness behind his ribs contracts even further, to the point of pain. He’d thought – hoped, prayed, begged – that she wouldn’t know what he was talking about, but she definitely knows Yoongi. Everything had suggested that she would, but if it had been a misunderstanding, if he’d gotten the wrong doctor… It’s getting a bit hard to breathe.

For a second, it looks as though curiosity might impel Dr. Cho to speak further, but the inclination is quickly suppressed, and her wariness comes back. “We’re not permitted to discuss our patients without their permission. It’s best if you ask him about–”

“He won’t tell me.” Even to his own ears, the toneless certainty is too flat to be anything but despairing. Hoseok tries to picture it – tries to imagine a conversation between he and Yoongi that leads towards them understanding each other more, and not breaking apart – but he can’t. He believes Yoongi loves him, but now, with the open chasm of truth before him, Hoseok knows his boyfriend would do anything to avoid pitching him into its consuming blackness. That must be why. It’s the only reason he can think of for why they haven’t taken this plunge together.

It doesn’t make him feel better – if anything, it just makes it worse. He had thought honesty was white, was open, was a bridge between two trusting people, but this – this isn’t that.

Her eyes flick to his face and then quickly away again, embarrassed or uncomfortable with whatever she finds there. When the doctor speaks, her voice is kind but without an inch of give. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t help you with this. It seems best that you talk to him directly. If he gives permission for me to disclose information…” By the way she trails off, Hoseok isn’t the only one who knows that won’t happen. How long has Yoongi been seeing her for, that she’s so aware of that fact?

Straightening her shoulders, expression apologetic in face of his hopeless silence, Dr. Cho inclines her head. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “I hope everything works itself out.” And with that she moves to leave.

It turns out there’s one thing strong enough to escape the blackhole nestled in his chest – desperation. “Wait!” Hoseok reaches out, jerks back his hand before he catches her. Nonetheless, she pauses. Hardly knowing what he’s doing, he finds himself scrabbling at the high neck of his shirt, yanking it down with enough force that it sounds like the fabric is ripping. Ignoring that, he pulls it even further, baring the wilted flower there. The way her eyes widen, the way she leans forward with a mixture of revulsion and reluctant fascination, tells him it’s exactly as it’s been for the last few weeks.

He knows what she’s wondering as her gaze traces the withered lines, the tones that smudge more towards ashen rot than any real flower would ever experience. Why would someone get a tattoo like this?

Why did he get a tattoo like this? And God, doesn’t he know the answer?

“This belongs to him,” Hoseok blurts out, still only half sure of what he’s saying.

She doesn’t look away from the decaying image, but there’s no dawning awareness on her face as she replies, “Yoongi is a tattoo artist, isn’t he? He did this?” Can he blame her for not understanding? How long has it taken him to finally grasp what’s been hovering over this mark? How many times has he been on the verge of holding it, only to let go at the last moment, afraid that comprehension will make it into a reality too heavy to carry?

He takes too long to respond, grappling with what to answer. Dr. Cho straightens, finally pulls her eyes away. “It seems you’re good friends, and he’s obviously very talented, but that… I still can’t help you.”

“No, I don’t –” Just what is he trying to say? The pressure crushing his insides is finally too tight; cracks are ribboning through the blackhole, fissures of agonized acknowledgement that his whole existence isn’t enough to suppress. Guilt, terror, rage, grief – what are those words in the midst of the detonation blossoming it’s frenzied heat up his throat?

His hand finds the tattoo, presses against it. Too hard, his nails digging into the skin, but the heat remains, and so does the flower. It will continue there. He can’t rip it off. Nothing can. Nothing can separate the mark from the flesh. Hoseok finds a sudden, bracing relief in that thought, as though, with everything spiralling out of his hands, this alone will remain as it is. No matter what he says, no matter what he does – this bond is going to remain.

He breathes through his clenched teeth, as if the air burns his lungs, but there are a few words that haven’t been immolated in the fire. “This tattoo belongs to Yoongi,” Hoseok repeats, his tone almost too shrill. “It belongs to him, because–” There is a small falter, another hard inhale, before he continues, voice picking up force and certainty. “Because he belongs to me.”

Caught up in the torrent of his declaration, Dr. Cho understands what he means immediately, and her expressive eyebrows jump up in startled incredulity as she takes an involuntary half-step back. He almost wants to do the same, with the words still searing his tongue and blistering his lips. Saying it feels like releasing a spell, like casting some kind of dreadfully powerful incantation that he couldn’t undo even if he wanted to. At the same time, there’s a shuddering throughout his whole body, as if his muscles and bones are snapping into their proper places, for the first time in forever. He belongs to me. Hoseok wouldn’t unsay that, even if he could.  

This time, when her gaze lands on the mark, it tears along the lines like a surgical knife, trying to separate the bleak colours from the skin, to see it in a different light. And see it she does, as the understanding settles into something deeper, sorrowful realization mingling with heavy pity. Hoseok doesn’t want to see that – he wants to shut his eyes – but that won’t stop the sensation discharging through his arteries and carrying liquid anguish to the rest of his body.

“You two are bonded?” Dr. Cho all but whispers, and it’s so easy to ignore the way his eyes are aching and simply nod instead, as though he’s known all along. So easy to acknowledge that blood is red, tears are clear, Hoseok has a tattoo, and he and Yoongi are soulmates.

Why is it so easy? After months of refusing to believe, embracing this truth feels like holding onto Yoongi; light, warm, and altogether too real to be doubted. Hoseok finds himself mouthing the words, though he can’t quite say it yet. We’re bonded.

The doctor’s lips twist, her head tilting slightly, but nonetheless her examination doesn’t let up, body angled unwillingly forward to get a better view. “It hasn’t always looked like this?” she finally asks, and he wonders suddenly if there’s some kind of medical practice that takes the condition of soulmate tattoos into consideration. If she could have used this earlier.

It’s not so easy to shake his head, but Hoseok forces himself to do it anyways. “No, it hasn’t. Just – just recently. It’s always been – it’s never been absolutely perfect, but never this bad.”

“He really hasn’t told you anything?” Her disbelief hurts him, ashes and cinder burning along his throat as he’s reminded of how wrong this is.

Swallowing the embers, he replies, “No, he… I didn’t ask him enough. I should have pushed harder. I should have…” There’s too much to write in this column, not enough ink to jot it all down. He should have, he should have, he should have. “Please, I don’t know what else to do. Please, just…” Help me. Hoseok doesn’t know how to say that to this stranger, this woman who may well have been keeping his soulmate alive, who is undoubtedly judging him for his severe deficiencies now.

But if Dr. Cho is judging him, that judgement doesn’t overwhelm her sympathy. Eyes rising from his tattoo to meet his frantically imploring stare, the thin woman taps her forehead, where thoughtful creases have appeared. She doesn’t seem like the type to agonize over a decision for very long. And sure enough, far before the apprehension can do more than constrict his throat, the doctor turns away, begins to walk back to the clinic. Hoseok stares after her, not daring to expect anything.

Over her shoulder, she calls words that give him the barest hint of a reason to hope. “Come. We should discuss this in my office.”

Injected with something resembling relief – but not that, never that, not while Yoongi’s reality is still so twisted from what it should be – Hoseok hurries after her.

---

He’s collapsed on the couch, back pressed into the armrest, knees drawn up, a sketchbook resting on his abdomen and balanced against his legs, his coloured pencils on the table next to him. Yoongi is hunched over the drawing, almost curled around it, as though it’s an open wound that needs protecting. And maybe it is. He’s made several dozen strokes of his pencil along the page, but they’re just aimless slashes, split seams with nothing in between. He’d wanted to put his feelings down – on paper and otherwise – but his ideas keep slipping away, and if Yoongi knew what he wanted to draw when he sat down, he certainly doesn’t know now.

Hoseok’s face keeps intruding. That isn’t unheard of – and typically it’s more of a pleasure than a pain – but today is different. The sun without its rays is stark. Hoseok’s face without its smile is bleak.

Today had gone so fucking wrong.

I am so tired of this fucking bullshit.

It’s true, but it’s truer to say that Yoongi is tired of his own bullshit. Whether he means his body’s slow deterioration or his constant lying to hide that decline depends on the day – hell, it depends on the hour. Right now, he pretty much means the lying part. Pulling himself together enough to accompany Hoseok to the film festival after the news Dr. Cho had given him hadn’t been all that difficult – even Atlas had to get comfortable with the world on his shoulders, sooner or later – but had it even been worth it?

More and more, when Hoseok looks at him, Yoongi senses that the other man is… searching. Looking beyond the barriers he throws up, even looking beyond the concrete comfort that they feel when they’re together. His sun tattoo has been looking off recently, too. The colour isn’t draining, but the rays of light have become sharper, more defined, almost painfully distinct. Little spikes of anxiety. The overall tone has also shifted to a redder hue, more like a dying sun than a brilliant one.

Brushing his thumb over the inside of his elbow, he can’t stop the twist of his lips. Today, with Hobi all but demanding he call the doctor, Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss him or smack him upside the head. The concern is touching, a heart-hurt that he can only be grateful for, but it can only lead one way, the one way Yoongi can’t accept, and he suspects they’re getting closer to that path.  

In fact, as Yoongi had shut the car door and walked away, that feeling solidified into certainty. Hoseok found something. That’s what his demand was about, that was why he was acting so shady. The realization had been all altitude and dizziness for Yoongi, and even now, there’s nausea cringing at the corners of the artist’s stomach, like he expects the floor to collapse at any second and send him plummeting straight down. What had Hoseok found? Which secret? Any? Or is this just paranoia stacked on pain?

Another rough line added to the rest of the strokes, and it’s still a mess. Nothing clear. No answers. Just the wild apprehension teeming like termites through his wooden brain. Mumbling to himself, Yoongi tears out the page, holds it in his hand for a moment before, with a low exhale, he casts it aside.

He can’t start over anywhere else in his life, but isn’t that half the appeal of what he’s doing now?

This time, when Yoongi begins to draw, he has a better idea of where he wants to go. He’s borrowing from the film he’d liked. The concept, not the actual image. A single stem of soft blue orchids, floating in a black expanse that’s barely discernable as water. It looks more like ink. Some of the flowers are already partially submerged in the dark substance, the gentle petals streaked with oily shadows. There’s no ripple across the water, no sign of movement or change. Just the orchids, alone, slowly sinking.

It takes him a couple of hours, and during that time he can pour everything into the long funnel his focus creates, splattering the page with his loneliness. The fear, the anger, the guilt, the grief, it’s all there in that limitless lake of black. It’s nothing more than a sketch; he needs a table and a better setup to draw something worth showing to others. It is what he wanted to draw, though. As he finishes he knows that, yet… when Yoongi looks at it, his pencil falling into his lap, the itching, frantic feeling is already beginning to squirm to life again. He can’t exorcise it with this torrent of truth.

What if Hoseok does know? What then? Where is the beaming man in this picture?

Yoongi glances at his cell, checking the time. He’s only a little surprised to see that it’s a bit after 7. Time is a construct, after all, and it’s especially unstable when creativity and emotions come out to play together. A direct quote from Namjoon. Yoongi scoffs at it even as fondness makes him smooth the page against his knees with more gentleness than he might have done otherwise. The despair is demanding he crumple paper and shatter glass, but the artist shoves it down. Remembers the look on Hoseok’s face when he saw the theatre and realized where they were going.

His pencil – a yellowy gold tone – hovers uncertainly over the corner of the drawing. Can he add this? Does he deserve to add it?

Before he can make up his mind, there’s a knock on the entrance downstairs. Hard. It comes again, and then again, no regularity to the sounds. Again, like stuttering breaths or crippled steps. The pounding sets his nerves alight, and against any rational thought, Yoongi freezes, his fingers curling into fists. It’s probably some drunk messing up where they are; there are enough of those on Skymont, even if it is kinda early. Or maybe it’s a customer who forgot something, even though he’s meticulous about cleaning the studio and hadn’t found anything recently. It’s probably nothing. Maybe he doesn’t even need to answer.

It isn’t any kind of rational thought that has Yoongi casting his eyes down, half-flinching at a new round of knocking. It isn’t even intuition, the kind you laugh at during the day and heed while walking down dark streets. Something more forceful, inexorable, makes him drag his gaze back to the tattoo he had been considering only a few hours ago. A tattoo that is, before his eyes, slowly but surely dissolving through a slew of sickly colours, like diseased flesh across his skin. Yet, even as Yoongi watches in numb, detached interest, the form begins to solidify in an explosion of brighter, harsher tones.

As it does, he hears someone call in a voice stripped to its ragged core, “Yoongi!”

The sun loses its colours, finds them again, shot through with waves of distortion that look like a mirage. Repeat. And repeat.  

The entire process takes about five minutes, and the knocking doesn’t stop, and still Yoongi can’t make himself move. He watches the tattoo, waiting for it to fade into nothing, or at least go dead and black. It doesn’t, the jumbled swirls of colour continuing, but the person at the door calls again, “Yoongi! Yoongi – open the door.”

Yoongi’s complained about his thin walls before. Hoseok knows that he can hear. It wouldn’t even matter if he hadn’t. The tattooist – feels his soulmate. All the time, yes, but more so now, the awareness closer to a deafening noise than any kind of conscious recognition. And the wavering lines of the tattoo mean… just exactly what he’s suddenly terrified that they mean. The numbness is washed away in a flood of ice through his stomach, and Yoongi realizes that he’s trembling.

Almost too hard to make it down the stairs, hand on the wall for balance.

Stumbling off the last step, the artist makes his way down the hallway, through his tattooing parlour. The scents and sights of his chairs and equipment aren’t reassuring; he’s alienated from them, as though he’s become a ghost, just drifting through an existence that’s no longer his. Each knock jars him further from reality. He can’t seem to formulate any thoughts. No words or excuses or apologies to set his slanted world back on its straight axis.

The dread is a far stronger impression than anything else, coppery on his tongue, and by the time Yoongi gets to the front of the store, he can even feel it coating his fingertips. Lifting a too-heavy arm, he pauses at the lock, watches the way his hand shakes in front of it, and abruptly feels contempt. He’s so afraid. Does Hoseok deserve such a cowardly person?

“…Yoongi?” Quieter now, as though he knows how much closer Yoongi is, Hoseok’s voice wedges into the icy fear, sends little cracks shuddering through it.

His other hand comes up to press against his neck, almost hard enough to cut off air and dread altogether, and in the same motion, Yoongi throws the bolt. He can’t make himself open the door. He doesn’t need to. The other person must hear him fumbling with the lock – or maybe they just know – and a second later the door is jerked open.

The bell rings. Yoongi flinches. Hoseok doesn’t.

His crumpled mouth hurts more than even the red, frantic eyes, though those are hard enough to meet. It’s just, Yoongi hasn’t ever wanted to be the reason Hoseok frowns like that, like he’s going to crumple at any second. Hoseok is the most beautiful person on the planet when he smiles, and right now his mouth looks like it will never remember how to smile again. Yoongi caused that misery one too many times already, and he’s literally sacrificed everything to avoid doing it again.

Looking at Hoseok’s foundering expression becomes too painful and he wrenches his eyes down only to see his hands, running feverish tracks along the seams of his jeans. Faced with the silent, screaming pain of those fingers, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say.

[intheseautumnhands]

I don’t have an assumption but after all that musical talk I am VERY curious about your favorite musical? 🤔

I am so sorry, you have just, like, jammed the Ramble Button, musicals are my eternal fandom and one of my biggest reoccurring obsessions and have been for like... at least seventeen years? Longer if we’re also counting film ones?

Which is to say, I can’t pick a singular musical? I can’t, every time I try to narrow it down to one my brain just goes “but what about--” There are too many I love with my whole heart and cry over on a regular basis.

So, I guess... top five? With the caveat that depending on when you ask me, and by that I mean literally the day, that list can change. I am so bad at picking favorite anything and musicals have meant so much to me that it’s particularly bad.

I’m putting a jump in here because I’m only two shows in and the rambling is ridiculous. I’m so sorry.

I eschew numbers because that implies a ranking and there is none. Also there is so much rambling here. I’m so sorry, I can’t stop talking about musicals.

- In the Heights: So very very shortly before Hamilton’s cast recording came out and burst into popularity, my local theater company (who were, I digress to mention, fucking fantastic, I hated my city when we lived in Florida but holy shit we had the most talented local theater people) put on In The Heights for its yearly musicals in the park. (It used to be Shakespeare in the Park, but I guess they didn’t get enough sales, because it switched to musicals.) My mother and I pretty much always went, so we went despite having absolutely no idea what the show was about. And I fell in love. The music is so good, the characters, the story, and part of it is that it hit on some things I was going through at the time, but a lot of it is just... fuck, it’s so good? It’s so good. I get why the general preference seems to be for Hamilton -- I really enjoyed Hamilton! -- but In The Heights just speaks to me. I cry ever freaking time, usually at least three times (Breathe, Hundreds of Stories [it’s “inseparable, they even got sick together”, it breaks me], and the Finale [USNAVI IS A STREELIGHT AND I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS someday I’m gonna write that In the Heights SHC post and ramble about how the end of this show hits me so hard].)

- Wicked: So I was super into a lot of shows as a teenager, but Wicked was my second musical obsession. (The first was Rent.) It took until 2017 to manage to see it live (every time it came around I went for lottery tickets, but never succeeded before) but I can’t regret that because the cast I saw was. fucking. perfect. (Except for Nessarose but I have to admit to having an unreasonable attachment to Nessarose and her, like, five verses in total throughout the show, 90% of it because Wicked Witch of the East just feels so good to sing. Everyone else was perfect and I got to see it from the front row and it was such a good day.) This one is a very emotional attachment to be honest -- it’s tied in very, very deeply with old friends, only one of whom is really in my life anymore, and maybe that makes it hit a little harder for me than it might otherwise, but on the other hand, even when I first got into it I could not get through For Good without breaking down sobbing so who knows. But it’s also just such a great story of growth and friendship and growing up and it’s taken on new shades and dimensions to me as I grew up with it because of that. (When I saw it live, Glinda’s solo in Thank Goodness almost broke me. “There are bridges you cross you didn’t know you’ve crossed until you’ve crossed” hit a whole lot different at 27 than it did at 14, let me tell you.)

- The Last Five Years: This is, like... 40% technical admiration, 40% emotional attachment, 10% that Jamie is in my top five musical roles to sing, and 10% that Norbert Leo Butz and Sherie Renee Scott are among my favorite musical theater actors and knock that goddamn cast album right out of the park. But it’s so good! THE STRUCTURE OF IT IS SO GOOD. (I don’t know if you’ve ever heard it, so: L5Y is a two-person musical that tells the story of a couple meeting, dating, getting married, falling apart, and getting divorced over the course of five years. But Cathy is telling it backwards, from divorce to meeting, and Jamie is telling it forwards, from meeting to divorce, and they only ever meet up in the timeline when they get married. It’s BRILLIANT.) There are so many little moments that build on each other, and I could literally write thousands of words just going into raptures about the sheer perfection of the last song, of the time-displaced duet between them and the way it ends unsettled and I love every moment of this show with my entire heart.

- Into the Woods: I don’t have the same emotional attachment to this one - I do cry over it, admittedly, but it’s not the same as the last two particularly, which have been part of my life since I was a teenager and have multiple emotional ties to them. I just think Into the Woods is a phenomenal musical on a technical, story-telling, and particularly story retelling level. The music, the musical themes, the way act two flips act one and our knowledge of these fairy tales on its head, the fourth wall break (I love anything that breaks the fourth wall in an interesting way, it’s a problem). Also, I have to love a musical where I can actually watch the original cast perform. More of those please.

- Chess: I love this ridiculous mess of a musical and its many, many, many various forms and changes. (I particularly favor the Kennedy Center version and the Actors Fund one, but I just find all the changing variants terribly amusing, to be honest.) I love how everyone’s intense about chess and it makes perfect sense in context, I love seeing how things get shuffled, I genuinely and absolutely love the music itself. It’s a mess but it can be such a good mess.

(Runner-ups because I really do fail: Bare: A Pop Opera is not on here because I’m less a Bare fan and more a one very specific production of Bare from sixteen years ago fan. That said, I have more emotions about that one production than I ever know what to do with, one day I will write a dissection of John Hill’s Jason McConnell and then cry. Similarly, it feels like cheating to put Feeling Electric on here but if it didn’t than Feeling Electric would be on here. (It’s the workshop version of what became Next to Normal. I heavily prefer FE. I can ramble about why but that will also be a long, long ramble.) Company is not a mess like Chess, but it’s one where how little variants in the way people deliver lines can give such a different impact, especially of the main character, and I find that fascinating. Rent will always hold a special place in my heart. Though I actually prefer tick, tick... BOOM on a lot of levels. I am a tiny bit obsessed with how Pippin ends. Also with Patina Miller’s Leading Player. And I know it’s a not-undeserved joke in a lot of places, but I grew up on the Cats VHS stage production, Cats was the first live musical my mother took me to see, and I genuinely adore the stage version. It makes me happy. EDIT: Okay I’m not going to mention EVERY musical but I just realized I didn’t even mention Zanna, Don’t and that is a crime, because it already doesn’t get enough love.)

[queenmylovely]

Just My Luck; Part 3

Summary: John deacon x fem!reader. John and Reader make plans to see each other

Warnings: cussing, slow burn

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: There’s more of Queen in this one, especially of the Chaos Duo. It’s kind of a filler chapter, but there are a lot of cute little moments. Most likely, I’ll be posting on weekends from now own. As always let me know what you think!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (Epilogue), Masterlist

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Exactly three weeks after John sent the letter to you, he received one and sent another.

Receiving your letter was a godsend to him. To all of the boys. Not only did it save Deaky from his own worrisome mind, but it also saved Brian from constantly having to patrol Freddie and Roger, and saved Freddie and Roger from coming under the wrath of over protective Brian or manic Deaky. Not that the cycle wouldn’t repeat itself as soon as a week passed with no reply.

In the aftermath of your letter, Roger and Freddie figured they had an about two day grace period where they could talk about you and tease John as much as they wanted.

“Well it’s official, you two are now properly each other’s,” teased Freddie, referencing the way each of you signed off your letters. This got an eye roll and beginnings of a quick response from Deaky but he continued anyway, “Why don’t we call you Johnny? Where the hell did Deaky come from?” He questioned. “Johnny is much more traditional.”

“Are you joking? Fred, you’re the one who started calling me Deaky, because Johnny was too traditional,” replied a flabbergasted John.

“Oh that’s right, because fuck how things are traditionally done. Although I thinks it’s absolutely precious that your girl has a special nickname for you,” Freddie remembered, giving Deaky a cheeky smile. Deaky just ignored the comment about you being his girl and tried to focus on tuning his bass.

Since the band was in the studio before noon, John had gotten the letter early and decided to mail his response on the way back home. For now, he, Freddie, and Roger were in the control room while Brian was working some guitar part in the sound booth.

“In any case, I think the best course of action for you, Deaks, is to meet on your turf. If she comes to London, you can show her around, take her to all the fanciest places, have her stay with you, in your bed,” Roger said into the silence. His last remark was solely for Deaky’s embarrassment, and he knew his mission was accomplished when he saw the red on the other man’s cheeks. He didn’t allow Deaky time to object as he continued, “Plus, we only went to Brussels in Belgium, not this Tourn-ey place, wherever the fuck that is. You wouldn’t be any help there.”  

“Tournai,” John mumbled with the correct pronunciation. “It’s part of the French region in Belgium called Wallonia.”

“Well I’m glad to see that college education and those research skills haven’t gone to waste,” Roger joked, drawing laughs from the other two.

“French, you say, Deaky?” Freddie asked and John nodded. “You do know that French is the language of love, don’t you, dear? I bet Y/N is quite fluent and would jump at the chance to teach you.”

Again, Deaky just flushed at the implications of Freddie’s somewhat convoluted metaphor and focused on his bass.

After a while, they went back to working and got consumed by it. At around 4:00 p.m., when they finally had their lunch, Deaky remembered to write the letter, relying only on himself this time. He dropped it in a post box on their way home, this time around 9:00 p.m.

_____

Ten days later, after driving back from an early shift at the café, you were checking the mail in the lobby of your building and saw the now tell-tale sign of a letter addressed to you but without a name on the returning address. You sprinted up your stairs, seeing the long line outside of the elevator and knowing it would be faster to run. Reaching your apartment, you slowed down and grabbed your keys but picked right back up again once inside and ran into Jeanne’s open room. Even though it was half past noon she was still in bed, as she didn’t have class at all and didn’t work until much later. As you ran up, you grabbed her shoulder, giving it a small shake. She jumped awake then saw it was you and groaned, “Ugh, why did you wake me up? Why are you breathing so heavily? Wait, what’s in your hands? Is that another letter from John?” her questions becoming less annoyed and more excited as she went.

“Yes. But I can’t read it, I need you to.”

“Too nervous?” she asked, grabbing the letter from you as you nodded. “You know he’s going to say yes. Of course he wants to meet you in person.”

You just waited for her to start.

“Okay, here goes: ‘Dear Y/N, Your time at uni and your career plans sound brilliant. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing professor. If only I would have been so lucky to have someone like you for a communications professor, I might be better at it.’ Oh that’s cute,” Jeanne remarked and you smiled but looked down to hide the way his compliment made you feel.

She continued “‘I have been to Belgium, Brussels to be exact, but I haven’t ever been to Tournai. Since you’re teaching English there, do you speak French? Didn’t your best friend from high school speak French too?’ Yes, that’s right, John! Her lovely best friend, Jeanne, is the entire reason any of this reconnection is possible,” Jeanne laughed, delighted at this new revelation, causing you to groan and put your head in your hands. Jeanne remained content in her moment, pausing to do a little dance.

“What next, Jeanne? I’m sure the letter doesn’t stop at the mention of you,” you prompted when she took too long.

“Oh, right, just got a little distracted. Hmm, he says, ‘Although I did enjoy my time at Chelsea College, and did earn my degree, I’m not an engineer. I’m not sure that you would remember, but when we were in high school I was in a couple bands, which is what prompted my current career path. I’m working in music right now, which is what has allowed me to travel so much, to answer your other question.’ Wow, you didn’t tell me he was a musician!” Jeanne scolded with admiration for John in her eyes.

“I did, actually, it was just like, 7 years ago.”

“Ha, I keep forgetting that this is the same John as all those years ago. Okay, let’s see, next he says, ‘I absolutely would love to meet you in person! There’s no way that I would let you get within 300 km of me without seeing you.’ Hoo! That was too much. That just about took me out, how are you?” Jeanne said, fanning her face at his comments and looking at you to gauge your reaction. Your lips were pursed, eyes were wide and staring at the floor, and you felt your ears and cheeks heat up. Shaking your head, you motioned her to continue.

“‘If you wanted to come see London, I could show you around, being a local and all. I’m going to be in London all summer, so if you had any specific dates, I’m sure I’d be open.You could stay with me if you would like so you don’t have to pay for a hotel. Through my work I have access to discounted aeroplane tickets, if you would rather fly than take a 5 hour train ride. I honestly can’t wait to see you now. Ever Yours, Johnny.’ That’s so nice, you should take him up on his offer!” Jeanne said, referring to the plane tickets and extra room.

You were stuck on him wanting to see you so badly so it took you a second to respond, “What? Oh yeah, I’ll look into it.”

“Can’t focus because you’re smitten, huh?”

“Hmmm? What about a cat?”

“Smitten, not kitten. Geez, you’re gone,” Jeanne said as she laughed at the far-off look in your eyes. You remained in this state as you wrote back to him. Writing the letter, you probably poured in too much emotion, but Jeanne wouldn’t let you edit it any further. You had to trust Jeanne to drop the letter off on her way to work since you were busy with the final bit of paperwork you had before leaving for Tournai, which was just over one week away.

_____

You spent the rest of that week packing, carefully choosing what clothes you would bring with you. It was tricky because you were going there to teach but also to travel. This meant you had to have a lot of business casual clothes but also a wide array of layers in case you traveled somewhere colder. The most difficult choices were for the clothes you thought you would take with you to London. You wrestled with yourself because you didn’t want to stress out so much over clothes and definitely didn’t want to choose clothes specifically for one boy. Still, you kept thinking What will impress John? What will John like? despite yourself.

However, there was only so long you could agonize for and only so much you could fit. Eventually, all of your clothes and necessities were packed and you were spending your last night in the States much as you had the first night you had heard all of A Night at the Opera, with Jeanne and your mom.

The three of you talked during dinner then watched a movie, and closed out the night with another listening of the album, but paired with ice cream this time. It was an early night because you had to get up extremely early for the airport the next morning. Also because of this, your mom stayed over and slept in your bed with you.

After getting ready and getting into your bed, you were laying on your back staring at the ceiling. Your mom was facing the other way on her side, about to turn the lamp off when you spoke, causing her to turn to look at you “I’m nervous, Mom.”

“I know, honey. But you’re going to do great. Everyone in your class will learn English quick as whips, and I bet transitioning to life in Belgium will be easier than you think,” she said reassuringly. But that wasn’t all that was on your mind.

“Is it stupid that I’m actually more nervous about meeting John than I am about leaving the country for three months?” you questioned, grimacing at your own words.

“Nothing you feel is stupid. And I know you’re feeling vulnerable and scared, but there’s no way that you and John won’t get along. You wrote letters to each other for five years and never ran out of things to talk about. As soon as you get over the initial awkwardness, you’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you, goodnight.”

“Love you too, goodnight, sweetie,” she said, turning off the light and rolling back on her side.

The alarm rang out all too soon, before the sun was up, and before you actually fell into a deep sleep. The three of you got up and got dressed in silence, eating toast and fruit with eyes half-closed. Jeanne drove your car to the airport with your mom and you leaning on each other in the backseat. The only sound was the soft music playing from the radio, a song you vaguely recognized as early Queen, called “Some Day One Day.”

Walking into the airport, to the luggage drop off, and to the gate, you were all chatting and making sure you had everything that you needed in your carry-on. The three of you sat at the gate to wait and soon enough, the first group was called to board. You were in the second group, so you started saying your goodbyes right away, hugging Jeanne first.

“I’m going to miss you so much! What am I going to do alone for three months? How am I going to handle having our entire apartment to myself? Without you reminding me constantly about dishes and vacuuming and dusting and eating all of my food?” Jeanne’s tone was turning from sad to gleeful as she realized all of the good things about you being gone.

From your place next to her head, you tried to turn and look at her, “You sound suspiciously happy that I’m leaving.”

“Happy? No, not me! Just a little liberated, heh,” she admitted and you both laughed.

“As I’m sure you just realized, you’ll be fine without me. Plus, the university gave us those vouchers to give to the phone company so international calls won’t charge extra, so you can call me anytime. Anytime that I’m awake that is.”

Then it was time to say goodbye to your mom. You both got misty-eyed and gave each other a long hug. It was times like these that you were glad you never got taller than your mom, happy for the extra comfort and protection her height gave you. After a minute, you both pulled away, and she held onto your arms, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. This is a big step, and I know you’re going to do great. Remember to call me as soon as you get there and every Monday after that.”

“Thank you, Mom. Don’t worry, I will,” you replied. Then the intercom came on, calling for your group to board, “Love you, Jeanne,” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug before doing the same with your mom and kissing her on the cheek, “Love you, Mom. Keep each other company while I’m gone!”

They nodded and waved, as you walked right up to the desk, the last goodbye making you the last in your group. They stood together and watched the plane until it took off before heading back to the apartment to go on about their days.

_____

Deaky was asleep on the couch of the control room when the studio received your letter the day after you left Seattle.

Roger and Freddie, however, were wide awake, waiting for Brian to return with coffee when an intern came in with the letter and they maneuvered it from the unknowing college kid. They were quick to convince each other to open and read it without waking up Deaky.

Deciding to take turns reading it out loud, Freddie started, “‘Dear Johnny, Oui, je parle français.’ Oh she does speak French, astounding! ‘And yes, my still best friend, Jeanne, is the main reason that I can speak it at all. We’re roommates now and we still spend every Saturday just speaking French so we don’t lose it since her parents moved back to Montreal.’”

“This Jeanne girl sounds interesting. She can talk in English and French,” Roger said in a thoughtful voice, biting his lip. “They live together, too. Two girls speaking to each other in French…”

“Yes, that’s what it means to be bilingual,” Freddie replied dry-pan, ignoring Roger’s snort at the word “bilingual.” With a sigh, he continued, “‘Jeanne made it clear that she thought it was important to note that she’s the entire reason I’m even travelling to Tournai. But I can’t be too annoyed because that’s the reason I’m getting to meet you.’ My heart! I’m not sure I can keep reading this, you better take over.”

“Sure, you know I like a confident woman,” Roger smirked, earning an eye roll from Freddie. He found where Freddie left off on the page, “‘Of course I remember your bands! I always wanted to hear you play. When I’m in London, you’ll have to play me some of your old songs so I can experience it live!’ Ha, little does she know she’ll be staying with bassist of Queen. This is going to blow her mind!”

“Rog, love, do try to stay a little humble. She’s American, we’re not as well known over there. She might not even know who we are,” Freddie reminded him before joining the other man’s laughs. Although Freddie could be shy and wasn’t one to make other uncomfortable with his newfound wealth and fame, he was never less than proud of Queen, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Okay, okay, ‘If you’d be willing to have me, I would be delighted to stay with you and see London! You’re so sweet to extend your home to me. You’re way too kind to offer those vouchers, I’m fine taking the train. I have a week off from June 1-9, so I could come for a couple days if any of those work for you. I’m actually leaving for Tournai this Wednesday, so you can send the next letter to the address on the index card. Looking forward to seeing you more and more everyday! Very Truly Yours, Y/N. p.s. You seem very capable at communication to me, but the real test is in person.’ Oh-hoh-hoh, getting a little flirty aren’t we there,” Roger remarked, smirking.

“Ooo, very suggestive. Sounds like Deaky here is going to get himself a girlfriend by the first of June!” Freddie replied, both of them laughing.

“Deaky and Y/N sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S…,” one of them started and the other sang along. It was this that woke Deaky up. He rose to sitting on the couch and watched them dancing around with their backs to him.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily while asking, “What are you two on about?”

This stopped them in their tracks. They quickly put the letter back in the envelope, and whipped around, Roger holding the letter behind their backs. Unfortunately for them, Deaky had seen the flash of white.

“Nothing…” they replied in unison, trying to sound innocent.

“If you’re not up to anything, what are you hiding behind your backs?” Deaky questioned in a serious tone.

“Oh this?” Roger asked as he held up the letter and Deaky gasped. “It’s nothing important, just a letter from Y/N,” he said, tossing it to him.

“You opened it without me?”

“Not without you, darling, you were right there on the couch,” Freddie defended.

“I was asleep,” Deaky said half paying attention as he reopened the letter. As he started reading, his full focus stayed on what you wrote, not noticing the other two men staring intently at him. They exchanged glances when he visibly reacted to your words, grinning at you wanting to hear him play, frowning when you declined the vouchers, and giggling at your post-script.

Brian walked in as Deaky finished reading and looked at the scene in front of him before clearing his throat and holding up four cups of coffee. The other three heads snapped up, eyes zeroing in on the coffee. As they drank, Deaky filled Brian in on the details.

“You should definitely send the vouchers anyway. You should also tell her to stay the entire week. You can’t see all of London in two or three days,” Brian persuaded him, with encouragement from Roger and Freddie.

Deaky wrote another letter, including the vouchers and inviting you to stay the whole time.

_____

After arriving in Tournai, you got set up at an apartment with another graduate student from your program. As soon as you could, you called your mom and then Jeanne to check in.

Because of the day it took to travel, and the night stay at a hotel for orientation, you got John’s letter your second day at the apartment. You were surprised, but quickly remembered that mail would be much quicker within Europe.

You were so happy to see that he wanted you to stay the whole time and in your own letter gladly accepted. Although you thought the vouchers were too generous, some time on the phone with Jeanne convinced you to accept them anyway. Her talk didn’t stop you from thanking him over and over in your next letter, though.

_____

Over the course of the next week, you got settled in at your job teaching, too. Your new roommate, Eileen, was from France and was in Tournai to teach public speaking in the student’s native language. You thought you were lucky to be able to speak to her easily. She was nice, but reserved, and you soon developed a routine of eating breakfast together at the apartment and lunch together at the school, but had separate dinners.

On weekends you didn’t see much of her, so you explored much of Tournai on your own, quickly finding a cafe you loved and becoming a regular at the Museum of Fine Arts. Each week on Saturdays, you would spend the entire afternoon taking in a different branch for hours. You had completed three before your first four weeks were over and it was time to travel to London.

You packed your carry-on for London on the Friday night before, Jeanne on the phone to give you advice the whole time. You decided on two pairs of pants, two skirts, two dresses, five shirts, two jackets, and two pairs of shoes, including what you would wear on the plane. One of the dresses was pretty fancy, a choice made by Jeanne “just in case.”

You had told Eileen you would be gone during your week off a week earlier, and Saturday morning she asked you more about where you were going. Always polite and never prying, she accepted your description of your pen pal with understanding and offered to walk you to the train that would take you to airport. Walking with her, you confessed your nerves, and she turned to face you.

“We don't know each other that well, and I like you. He knows you very well,” she offered. You knew what she was implying, even if she wouldn’t go that far herself. That strengthened your resolve and thanked her, coming up on the train station. You kissed each other’s cheeks, as the French were wont to do, and stepped on the train, waving goodbye.

At the airport, you walked quickly and got to the gate forty-five minutes early. You sat, reading the book you had brought with you, Murder on the Orient Express. You had been inspired to read Agatha Christie’s books after her death reminded you of how much you liked the movie of the same name that came out a couple of years prior.  

When your group number was called to board, you took a deep breath and stood. With no one to say goodbye to you walked straight to the forming line without hesitation.

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[madokasoratsugu]

im new to shokugeki and i dont care about spoilers, why is it bad?

a no joke answer bc u deserve this:

tl;dr Shokugeki sucks because it lost its direction halfway through the story, and when Tsukada (the author) realised that he’d bitten off more than he could chew with such a huge cast of characters.

long answer:

here’s the thing. Shokugeki started out good. 

it mostly played off the usual shounen tropes: a challenger would appear, but then they quickly joined the friendship circle, rinse and repeat. but with such a wide cast of characters with differing goals and personalities plus the high stakes of only the top 10% graduating, it made it easy to bank on the character interactions and friendships, which is what the first half of Shokugeki did, heavily so. and it worked ! 

it was a simple set up (protag aims to beat his dad in a cook off, goes to cooking school, meets friends and foes ! a tournament arc ! fun and shenanigans ! yay!), but Shokugeki did it good. it didn’t subvert any expectations, just did according to what it set out to do. nothing felt exaggerated beyond the typical manga stuff, and everything achieved was earned with hard work. with the occasional fluff and friends thrown in, it became a comfy mix for a good shounen manga.

if anything, id say that half the success came from the character’s relationships themselves - the plot wasn’t anything special, but the genuinity that the characters and their friendships and goals (shared or not) were treated with were wholesome and fun.

which is why it was so fucking jarring when it derailed by throwing aside half of its cast and completely stagnating all character development for the remaining half.

(insert infamous Central Arc expulsion joke here)

if you’ve started/are intending to start, id say its the most obvious after the Moon Banquet Festival Arc/beginning of Central Arc. the writing started getting sloppy, as did the handling of the characters. ive mentioned this before, and ill stress this again: i honestly believe that Central Arc is when Tsukada realised what a big miss steak he did in creating such a huge cast, and in the face of Shokugeki’s then success, made some poor authorial choices to keep the hype going (both plot and character wise).

for characters: half the cast was rid of via expulsion, including very competent chefs (which had no proper in canon explanation on how the fuck that happened) who happened to be fan favourites. i mean, Hayama Akira ? fuck, Nakiri Alice, anyone ? plus any poor remaining characters got shafted in lieu of Souma, hard. this became more prominent as the Arcs slowly go on, the ones of which took the worst brunt of it being Takumi and Megumi.

(what do u think is worse. your fav never getting a cameo or your fav being part of the forefront team but constantly getting fucked over because Souma didn’t get the spotlight of the chapter yet. vote now in the replies.)

for plot: higher and higher stakes were introduced that again, just didn’t make sense !! in Central Arc, Souma was expected to win against Eishi, the best chef in his entire school. when two arcs prior he just lost a cooking contest to two of his peers (placed third), and one arc prior struggled to beat Kuga in ticket sales (even then he didn’t win because his cooking was better, so. wasnt even a win on the cooking front). there was no build up ! NOT EVEN A TRAINING ARC. he just went straight from the bottom rung of the ladder to the fucking ceiling. super different from the first half of the series when everything would be shown in careful detail (best example i can think of off the top of my head being the Shokugeki against Mimasaka in the Autumn Election Arc).

also: in the midst of introducing Erina’s character arc and backstory, Tsukada seemed to completely forget (or maybe just didnt know how to link back?) that he’d already established an overarching plotline: Souma’s quest to best Jouichirou. so when Souma began overthrowing these foes that are his seniors said to be leagues ahead of him, the suspension of disbelief was stretching waaay thin. but hey ! its a shounen manga ! we can forgive this much (sarcasm). 

then Tsukada introduces Asahi. mother fucking Asahi. who is basically introduced by beating Jouichirou without breaking a sweat, but oh boy did he break the suspension of disbelief right then and there and completely toss the plot into the fucking fire. because there’s no end goal anymore ! the one thing that our main character has been working so hard for ? non existent. pointless. this no name (at that time) character has done it, pack your bags boys, let’s go home.

(might i note that at this point, Shokugeki was also uuhh nothing like the slice of life comedy it originally was. it became an action-psychological mix that just…doesnt work. and i mean. of course it wouldn’t. there was no foreshadowing, the villians can’t be taken seriously because 1) theyre also teenagers for fuck’s sake 2) Azami’s just a creep, plain and simple. he has no depth. no one cares about an antagonist who’s bad at just being bad.

the themes it began with was completely set aside for really badly written character backstories and angsty edgey bs that i still don’t understand why Tsukada thought would work in retaining hype. especially when considering how pure the premise was.

i honestly also think that its the Blue Arc + Dark Chefs Arc when Tsukada actually realised that his plot had gone haywire, since volume sales were dropping hard and fans clearly hated the direction the series had gone in. but instead of trying to reign it back in, he decided to just let it run buckwild because he just didn’t know how to fix it.)

to rub salt into the wound: so many promised resolutions are shoved into the background, done offscreen, or worse yet, forgotten ! scenes that fans have literally been waiting for. Souma VS Erina Shokugeki. Souma VS Takumi Shokugeki. Nakiri Alice coming back to the series and actually fucking cooking again.

(im sure that there’s more that lead to its downfall but like. shrugs. this is mainly to me why it sucks: it had A Lot going for it (im not ashamed to admit that at one point i actually genuinely believed it could be one of the next Big 3 on Shounen Jump), and it just didnt live up to any of it for no other reason other than Tsukada mixing elements of a story that didn’t work well together, tried to force them to work, and did nothing to fix it when it didn’t.)

so our plot is gone. so are our lovable characters. so is the slice of life comedy that drew most people in in the first place. the potential that it had is now dust. what does Shokugeki have left that makes it unique, that makes people love it ? here’s the answer !

nothing. 

that fact kicks you in the teeth every fucking time you remember how good the first half of the series was. 

then that fact dropkicks you when you realise that Shokugeki no Soma literally started on a 90degree drop into a dumpster fire when the series was at the apex of its popularity and plot buildup.

that’s why it sucks.

[cockbiteproductions]

Hi, this was the most amazing weekend of my life, so I’m gonna make a continuation of this post. Click on the photos for captions. 

Me screaming about everything is going to be under the cut. And it’s going to be VERY long. I have a lot of words and I’m going to say a fraction of them, but in case you don’t want to read all that (because this post is honestly 99% for me) here’s a TLDR:

I met Jess (@noneeyewithleftyork) for the second time and hung out with her and Kt (@seelieflies) in New York for the first time and saw The Prom, Be More Chill, and Hamilton and cried uncontrollably and went to NY pride and Felt the Gay energy in the air and walked around the city and rode the train and took a million pictures and got blisters on my feet and ate some amazing food and slept a ridiculously small amount and took everything in and did fun things with fun people and had the time of my life and it can literally only go downhill from here!

Had 3 WILDLY different experiences seeing these shows since my experience with these shows were all different. The common thread between all of them was that I had a FUCKING BLAST.

The Prom

Saw The Prom on the Saturday matinee of pride weekend and the audience was AMAZING. Everyone in the audience was here and queer and LOVING it.

It was cold as SHIT in the theater and I was freezing my ass off the entire time but it was still so fun. 

I have never seen or heard any music from The Prom and only knew a vague synopsis of it going in (girl wants to bring gf to prom with her, can’t), so my reactions to everything in the show was a lot of genuine first reactions to the material. The Prom was funny as FUCK and the audience was laughing and clapping and cheering along. 

The dance numbers were incredible and I loved the choreography a lot. Caitlin Kinnunen can SING, holy shit. Like absolutely WOW. Just WOW. She was amazing.

I cried at the end of act 1 from how fucking mean spirited those students were and how the meaning of “tonight belongs to us” changed and it was just so brilliant. And the staging of the two proms on the each half of the stage with the different lighting and the two girls back to back was fucking BEAUTIFUL and part of the reason I started crying too. 

I cried also at the end of the show when they kissed because it was so sweet. I cried when Alyssa’s mom told her she just didn’t want her life to be hard. The actress who played Alyssa’s mom did SO well that for a Brief Moment, I felt sympathy for her. It was very brief but it happened. 

Be More Chill

Saw Be More Chill on the Saturday night show and it was so fucking cool. I saw Will Roland with my own two eyes. Like wow. Wow!!! 

The seats in the Lyceum balcony were slanted as FUCK it was almost funny. And because we had been so cold during The Prom, between shows we went and all literally bought jackets/something to wear to keep us warm during BMC but BMC was not more chill. In fact, it was hot as Satan’s anus. We melted to death but we still had fun.

A lot of the time I laughed in BMC was because of how actors delivered certain lines different from how I had heard them in the soundtrack/off broadway boot I’ve seen. Being familiar with the show made this experience really different from The Prom, but also I’ve only know about BMC’s existence for a bit over a month and only really gotten into it in the past few weeks, so the show hasn’t really really sunk in with me yet, which is probably why I had such a muted emotional reaction to it. It was definitely amazing but I didn’t cry nearly as much as I thought I would. 

I also cried during Voices In My Head when they kissed and during the na nas when they do the wave over their head. I just love that one very specific bit of choreo. 

Though the night before I went up to LA, I was in call with @noneeyewithleftyork​ and @seelieflies​ and Jess was talking about places we could visit in NY, and she mentioned the M&M store. I said to myself under my breath “but Eminem is dead!” and laughed because of how dumb the joke was. She wanted to know what I was laughing at and I told her I’d tell her after we saw BMC and so then the entire day when we kept walking past the M&M store, I was hyping up the joke/talking about it. 

By the time the show came around, we had talked about the stupid fucking M&M/Eminem thing like maybe 10 times since I initially made the joke so it was really hyped up. And then the Squip goes “buy that shirt” and Jeremy hold up the shirt and I’m already looking at them for their reactions and they turn to me and I laughed to the point it hurt. It was a lot of “are you kidding me? Is this it??????” looks and it was just the funniest fucking thing to me. 

And then the second Eminem scene happened and I laughed EVEN HARDER than I did before. They were also losing it next to me and turned to look at me and I was nodding and laughing and had tears in my eyes from how hard I was laughing and it was just magical and so incredibly stupid. The “did you kill Eminem” line was particularly funny. 

@noneeyewithleftyork in the M&M store before we saw the show. 

Cried a little bit during Loser, Geek, Whatever. Because you know. It’s lgw. I’m going to NOT cry, watching wrol sing his heart out on stage. He held that last note for like 7.5 measures and it was impressive as SHIT especially considering he’s been on stage for like an hour and this is the end of a six minute solo number. Fucking incredible. 

Will Roland’s delivery in the first bit of the show is incredible. It’s so LOUD and shouty and awkward. His speech is very halting and rushed. It sounds like Jeremy is taking a leap every time he chooses to say something and he always says it at the very last moment as if he deliberates over it for a long time. And then the transition from his character pre-Squip is incredible. Also he sounds even more nasally in person if that’s possible. I’ll post more about the performance later on my sideblog.

Hamilton

And then I saw the Sunday matinee performance of Hamilton. Holy FUCK, I saw Hamilton. The bottom row of pictures is every time I started crying/felt a fresh wave of tears come. It was 66 times. I had to keep taking off/putting back on my glasses because of my tears. Highlights of times I cried/times I full on sobbed include:

Crying around ~4 times because the guy playing Hamilton was asian (and he was SO insanely good)

Crying at the line “everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree” just because I know how much @noneeyewithleftyork loves that line

Before the show started started, I was just staring at my playbill and I started crying very subtly because I didn’t want the people next to me to see that I was crying before it even began.

I cried so hard leading up to/during Wait For It that by the end my arms had gone numb and I was almost hyperventilating. 

Sobbing at the second time the first verse of Hurricane is repeated and the lights go blue/purple and the entire company FREEZES as if they were caught in the eye of a hurricane and it was fucking beautiful.

Full sobbing during best of wives and best of women the MOMENT the violin starts to play because again it was so fucking beautiful and I knew what was about to come.

Full on sobbing during intermission and after the show. 

As soon as lights went down at intermission I was bawling. I talked to the people beside me about how I became good friends with @noneeyewithleftyork and @seelieflies years ago because of Hamilton and now we’re all seeing it together. Then went to talk to Jess and Kt and cried at them for a bit. Pulled myself together for the beginning of act 2. 

Then as soon as the lights went down at the end of the show I started bawling AGAIN and the woman beside me pulled me into a hug as I sobbed.

And then I ran down to tell the conductor (still full on sobbing) and the pit that I love them. Here’s how it went: “hi pit I love you oh my god I love you so much you guys were so good I love you so much.” All while these words were barely comprehensible because I was still crying too hard. I think a pianist waved at me but there were too many tears in my eyes for me to be sure. 

Those were the crying highlights. Onto other stuff.

The seat I had was fucking INCREDIBLE. Jess and Kt sat together in the 2nd row because Jess won the lottery and I sat in the 9th row because we had to buy a third ticket but the view was still absolutely AMAZING.

Here’s the view from my seat. I could see the entire stage with minimal movement of my head and it was AMAZING. We had sat super far left in the balcony for The Prom and BMC so sitting in the orchestra was SUCH a cool experience because we could actually see the actors faces instead of just the top of their heads. Jess and Kt sat so close they could SEE the tears on the actors faces. 

Similar to BMC, a lot of the laughs I had in Hamilton were from how certain actors delivered the lines different from the soundtrack I was used to hearing. However, they were different people from the ones on the soundtrack unlike BMC, so it really felt like seeing different takes on a character I had already known. I’ve also been a Hamilton fan for over 3 years now. I was WAY more emotional during this show than the other two for that reason I guess. Hamilton’s been with me for a while. And also the subject matter is just sadder.

The guy playing Burr was so fucking GOOD. Like there were a few times I teared up just because of how fucking incredible his vocals were. The guy playing Hamilton was also so indescribably fantastic.  

We stagedoored after and I showed some of the actors my cry arm and their reactions to it were great. Got my playbill signed by them too!

Not Broadway Stuff

We didn’t JUST see Broadway shows this weekend, though we did see a show in every possible time slot lol. We did other stuff!

Friday afternoon we went and saw Jess’ cousin’s dance recital which was holy shit. Those kids can DANCE. Like I wasn’t expecting that level of performance from them for some reason and I was blown away. The people behind us were very very very angry that Jess was Loud and being Jess, but then they left so who cares.

Saturday morning we got up super early and took the train into the city. On the train ride there Jess got an email that said she WON THE FUCKING HAMILTON LOTTERY. And we all just sat there in shock. When we got to the city, we just walked around and I took pictures of a bunch of theaters. We passed by the M&M store many times. We basically walked down the same like 5 streets a bunch of times and then we ran around like idiots trying to get tickets to the matinee show of The Prom, which we eventually did. We paid an astronomical amount of money to buy a third ticket for Hamilton. We went to a melt shop and they spelled my name in an incredible way.

Look at that. “trese-”

Fucking amazing. I had no idea there was a dash in my name but I guess there is now. Or actually, according to a girl we met on the subway, my name is Katrina. We just randomly started talking to some people we met in the subway station and continued talking as we packed like gay sardines into the subway to go to the pride festival. It was an Experience. 

I also saw this fan at pride and had to take a picture. I don’t take normal tourist pictures according to Jess. Which is true. I just take pictures of dumb shit that makes me laugh. 

And on that lovely note, it’s time to wrap up this post. I’m not kidding when I say this has probably been the best weekend of my life. But also I have memory problems so who knows what other weekends I’ve forgotten. But hey! That’s what this post and photos are for! To remember all this shit. This has been something incredible and I hope I get to go back soon because NY is honestly an amazing city and I love the energy of it so much. 

To steal a line from BMC, everything about this weekend was so wonderful.

[banyak100418]

i love you 100.

aka why i love you. aka word vomit of the things about you and us that make my life worth living. (warning: nsfw sprinkled throughout.)

 1. “love” itself sounds like an easy word to say. it gets thrown around a lot. but when i say that i love you, i mean that i love you. i’m in love with you. i mean it with every single fiber that makes up who i am. i mean that i care about your happiness even more than my own, because you, to me, are the sun.

 2. i like thinking about the first time we ever interacted. it’s been almost two years. july first. who would have known that everwing game invites will bring me to my home. they say it’s a small world but for me, it’s a vast universe, and it overwhelms me to think that among the billions of galaxies, people and creatures, you and i happened to be the people that we are, and we have found our way to one another. everything that happened had transpired in the right time and for all the right reasons, because this path brought me to miss right (a.k.a you).

 3. when we started doing our 11:11’s, i thought i was only wishing for your comfort and happiness, but in time i found myself wishing to have you, too. i always find it so endearing, how we basically started with this, how we gradually learned each other’s feelings by wishing each other happiness every night. and to this day, we still do it when we can, and it make my heart do a double flip.

 4. at some point there, you sent me something, telling me not to worry, because you’ll hold my hand the whole way through – and you have, you always did. you never broke your promise.

 5. cliché as fuck, but you are beautiful. inside and out. you are a beautiful soul. even if you think otherwise, i still think you’re the most beautiful, flaws and all. i’m proud to say that i have the most beautiful girlfriend in the entire world, and her majestic existence alone is enough to convince me to keep on going.

 6. your rosy, chubby cheeks that i love kissing so much.

 7. it’s your lips. so fucking irresistible. plump and sweet. 10/10 would kiss again. 100/100 would kiss everyday.

 8. you’re sexy when you’re sleepy. did you know that?

 9. you say you don’t like your hair, but they’re beautiful to me. your curls are cute as fuck. thinking about them makes me wanna touch them again. wanna run my fingers through them while we cuddle.

 10. you have a talented tongue. eyemoji.

 11. you give great cuddles. i love you. please cuddle me soon. i wanna cuddle you, too.

 12. your eyes and the way they light up when you eat nice food, or the way they gradually get a little glassy and sad when i cry a little too hard in front of you.

 13. it’s also the way they look at me, as if there’s something in me that’s worth seeing. your vision’s pretty bad (and that’s okay, i’d still love you even when you get old and blind), but you see everything in me that no one else couldn’t – that i couldn’t.

 14. hah, and the way they disappear when you smile your cutest smile, when your cheeks go all the way up and you’re just like ^u^.

 15. your laugh. sometimes you get giggly, like a low “hhhh” and it’s so cute.

 16.  but sometimes when i say something that just makes you laugh like “HAHAHAHA” my heart just forgets what i made you laugh in the first place, because all it knows now is to adore you. i hope you laugh like that more, my baby. your laughter can cure cancer and bring world peace.

 17. i love it when you laugh at my memes. i love how you laugh at my stupid, dumb jokes. know that you don’t always have to laugh at them if you don’t find them funny (because most of them are really dumb hhh), but honestly the only reason why i share them is because they made me laugh, and the only other person that i wanna see laughing is you.

 18. i absolutely love watching you eat. i love how you finish all of your food and you look so, so happy whenever you eat. i can be full just by watching you eat and be happy with food. my baby.

 19. you are my sunshine. one look at you and my problems and worries float away. when we talk, when i’m in your arms, i’m able to tune out the outer world, and i can only focus on you. my light.

 20. i say this in the most loving way possible—you have a crazy side that i always love seeing. it surprises me every time you bring this crazy out, when you sing your random little songs, or just suddenly make derpy faces or extreme green jokes. keep your crazy on, baby. i love everything about it.

 21. i absolutely love watching you gain consciousness in the morning. it’s one of the simple joys that i have in life. i love how, when you wake up and you don’t have anything important to do, it takes you like a hundred years to force your right eye open.

22. you snore. it’s cute. i love it. keep snoring. snore at my face. heck, snore right on my ear. i love you that much.

 23.  your voice. i remember at first you kept telling me that you don’t sound good. you were so insecure. but i couldn’t even find what is it about your voice that doesn’t “sound good”, because to me, your voice is sweet and comforting. like a blanket.

 24. the random selcas you send me sometimes, whether you’re sporting a derpy face or posing prettily, i love them all.

 25. also whenever i see those my heart goes dugeun-dugeun and all i could think of is: “so pretty. wanna kith.”

 26. i’m sorry that i often sound like i don’t care much when you do things for me, or when you do things that i ask of you. i appreciate each and every single one of them, baby. it’s endearing how you always want to be able to do things for me, and for all your other loved ones. you are really one of a kind. especially that time you gave me a gift by singing for me on my birthday.

 27. i could never forget the feeling that i had when you booked that ticket to see me. i was so happy, i felt like i was floating. it was all just so surreal. it was almost too good to be true for me. it’s a feeling that i’m always reminding myself of, the feeling that we made it happen the first time. and we also made it happen the second time. we’re gonna make it happen the third time (i’mma book my ticket soon!), and the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, until the day we don’t have to be miles away from one another anymore. this love, and everything that we are, is just extraordinary and i would never in a million years trade our love for anything else in this world.

 28. the first time i saw you, i was drawn to you. i’m not a hugger. but i ran to you before i could even think, before i could even process what was happening, or what i was about to do. you were a tiny bit awkward and taken aback, i could tell, but you hugged me back anyway and it was the most comforting hug in the world. to me it was something that i’ve always dreamed of (and i’d never thought i’d have), and when you put your arms around me i had this idea that maybe it was the same for you too, maybe you had wanted to hold me just as much as i was dying to hold you.

 29. when i asked us to sit down at the café for the meantime while the driver found his way to us, you immediately took your phone out. i don’t know, i could tell that you were trying to ignore how awkward it could get so i was just watching you with a smile but you couldn’t even look back at me? and it was just so fucking cute? you were so shy. you asked me “why” and i was like “nothing” but in reality i was falling hard and fast for you there. i love you. god, i love you.

 30. and on our way to the hotel, when you actually kinda called me in to scoot closer and hold your hand, i was on cloud nine.

 31. (later i learned that your hands aren’t only soft to the touch and nice to hold—you’re also talented in using them in other ways. like. you know. in bed.)

 32. on our second day, when i got home from class, i climbed to your bed and started falling asleep in your arms. you were running your fingers through my hair. it might just be my imagination, but as i was being lulled to sleep, i think i heard you tell me that you love me, in the softest voice. the way my heart jumped was something i’ve never felt before, and in that moment i confirmed to myself that this is what i am going to live for.  

 33. i like how you smell and just thinking about it makes me miss you so much, like holy fuck.

 34. i miss how your hair smells. sometimes i open rejoice bottles at the grocery store just to get a whiff of your scent, but it just isn’t the same. i miss you.

 35. when we were at baler, that night we went out and walked back to our place, it was scary but i felt strong beside you, even if you were scared of mongmongs. we’ll have more late-night walks, right? i will protect you from doggo. we’ll go to more beaches in our lifetime, and we’ll make out by the waves and under the stars each time.

 36. i’m sorry that our first kiss was shitty… but i hope i made it up to you? that kiss on the beach? to this day, i still find it to be the most picture-perfect experience i’ve ever had. do you ever wonder just how many people have had their perfect kiss? because i have, and it’s you, you are my perfect kiss. kisses are always perfect with you but there’s just really something about that kiss by the beach. we’ll do more perfect kisses. a hundred. a billion. we’ll make the most out of our time, all the kisses we missed while we were still far from one another.

 37. you are a wonderful friend. whenever you talk to me about your friends, or like when they have issues or something, i understand that you don’t particularly like it when you’re being dragged into their situations, but at the end of the day, you are still good to them and they can still call you whenever they need anything.

 38. you are so good at keeping civil relationships with everyone, and unknowingly, you help peace prevail among your colleagues.

 39. your work ethics. ugh. [ 100 emoji ]. i don’t know why you don’t see it, but you work so hard and so well. you are so good at what you do. i am always so, so proud of you. i’m proud that between the two of us, you seem to have most of the working brain cells, hahahaha.

 40. you ARE good at math. a fucking genius. i’m SO turned on.  

 41. you are creative af. i still remember the stuff you did on canva for the newsletter. you’re so good. like damn. i could never. THAT’S MY BABY RIGHT THERE.

 42. you know so many awful things about me. you know how my dad abused me. you know how i’m not very good at certain things. you know that i’m not really someone who has a nice face, and also, i’m fat. you know that i have the tendency to commit certain mistakes. and yet you’re still here.

 43. i’m not intelligent – at all – but you always tell me that i am. i’m not creative, nor pretty, nor cute, nor anything, but you always remind me that for you, i am every good quality that i don’t think i have, and somehow, i start to learn how to own them. you boost my confidence up, baby. even when i’m a shitty painter, the way you hype me up makes me feel like i can be up van gogh’s ass.

 44. whenever you’re sad, crying, or just generally not feeling well, i have this overwhelming urge to run there and at least hold your hand or hug you. i want to protect you, in any way that i can. it’s like one of my biggest missions in life. i wanna protect you, even though you’re much braver than i am.

 45. you are easy to love. you don’t make it difficult for anyone to love you – you are just lovable as you already are, and baby, trust me when i say that i fall for you harder everyday.

 46. you always know what to tell me, to make my heart find comfort. i hope i could be the same for you.

 47. you are not afraid to stand up for yourself, and that’s so brave. if it had not been for you, i wouldn’t have learned that standing up for myself isn’t wrong. every day, you give me strength and courage to fight for myself, just like how you do. it’ll still take me a long time to figure out how to do it consistently, but being with someone as brave and strong-willed like you is such an inspirational blessing.

 48. have i mentioned how much i love your lips? and our kisses? i’m pretty sure i did but i just wanna remind you just how much i wanna kiss you again. soon.

 49. when we first started dating, i wasn’t very good at communicating – like i’m just very shit at it, i don’t reply and i don’t always say the things i want to say because i don’t know how – but from you, i learned. i appreciate how good you are in this area, and how you always do your best to check up on me, or at least update me when you are doing things. i love you. i’m so happy i have someone like you. rather than just filling in my weaknesses, you help me improve myself.

 50. you try your best to have a very objective, almost perfectly neutral approach to problems but not without using your heart. us humans are naturally emotional, and to me, having the ability to be able to solve a problem by properly investigating the logistics of it, while at the same time keeping a heart, is a superpower.

 51. you are not afraid to argue with me when you know that i’m wrong, and although i have to admit that i sometimes get scared when you’re mad at me, i appreciate that you are bringing things up for the sake of fixing things between us. i am eternally grateful that you are a kind heart, that you call me out when i am wrong not because you want to shove my mistakes to my face, but because you want us to be better. all the more reasons why i should never let you go.

 52. i know that you always got my back. when things feel like they just can’t work the way i hoped they would be, thinking about us and how the universe just allowed us to be with one another despite all the circumstances gives me so much faith.

 53. you listen very well. with you, i feel like you actually want to know about the things that i’m talking about. you always hum and nod along like “i’m listening, go on”, even when i feel like what i’m talking about is very boring or nerdy or dumb. when you do that, i feel very loved. i appreciate that so much.

 54. you listen very well pt. 2, in the sense that when you do not understand something, you ask me so i can clarify it, and in return, you carefully listen to what i have to say. you listen so you can understand. you always give me a chance to speak. i appreciate it, all of it.

 55. YOU are a star. at everything. you’re good at everything you do, you always makes things work and even when you don’t, you’re still good and like i said earlier, you always make me so so proud of you. i love you. i hope you’re proud of yourself, too.

 56. i am tough to deal with, tough to understand at times, especially when i’m sick or going through something, but i’ve never ever seen you give up on me because you were tired. thank you for being patient.

 57. you hate waiting but you do it for me. i’m sorry. i love you. i’m sorry.

 58. absolutely love your pussy. i love eating you out. your wet pussy’s just so beautiful to me. also, i love how you’d run your fingers through my hair. i can’t wait until i get to taste you again, baby.

 59.  also, can i just say that whenever i see you looking at me, my heart still stops?

 60. the way you teach me malay, and the way you laugh at me when i say things with a foreign accent. nasi lemak sambal sotong? u w u

 61. the way you SPEAK tagalog. you’re so cute. you’re like a baby. whenever i remember how you repeat “dalawa” “na lang” “mahal kita”, my heart melts. i love you. so much.

 62. it’s a small detail, but when i have issues and you’re trying to help me with it, you always ask me what you can do for me. whenever i hear it, i become much stronger because i get reminded that you’re here, with me, willing to do whatever just to keep me at ease.

 63. another small detail, but whenever i’m going through something, you always say ‘we’ or ‘us’ instead of just ‘you’ or ‘me’. “we’ll make it.” / “can we eat our dinner soon?” / “is there any way for us to deal with it?”

 64. ah,, the way you grope me unapologetically in public. especially that time you claimed me at the bus. fuck. that was so hot. do it again. (suddenly i’m thinking of making out with you in a fitting room.)

 65. also, whenever i let you watch me fuck myself on vidcall and you ask me like, “good?”, i swear to god i can cum from that alone.

 66. i love you even when you think you are not worth loving, even when you feel like such a failure as a sister to your siblings, as a daughter to your family, or even as a lover to me.

 67. i love you even when we’re not okay as a couple. even when i’m not okay as an individual. even more when you are not okay as an individual. some nights are just so bad, and i am sorry for even letting us go through such things, but even so, we get through them. that is the most important thing, right? a lot of times, giving up has crossed our minds but did we ever? no, because we are meant to be.

 68. i love you. i know you love me, too. that love just never goes away, and it is the kind of love that is always worth keeping.

69. you, my baby, deserve this entire world. you deserve the sun, the moon, and all the other stars in the sky. you deserve the entire universe and a lifetime’s worth of love. i know that it’s impossible to swim from the ocean to the sky and personally pick out the most beautiful star for you but know that i’ll dedicate my life to giving you everything else that i could.

 70. i also know that i am still imperfect and sometimes i just couldn’t deliver, but i am asking for patience because i am still learning for you. i want to be better for you.

 71. actually, the mere idea that you always make me want to be a better individual for you already makes you such a wonderful person. again, for the nth time, i am so lucky to have someone like you.

 72. i love how you touch me. i love how you love my boobs. i love how you rub your my clit. i loved how your fingers felt inside me, like fuck. it was so good.

 73. i especially love how you kiss them and run your tongue gently against my nipples until they perk up.

 74. you never failed to support me. although sometimes, you don’t necessarily agree with my methods or the decisions i make, you support me anyway – you’re still there, you never left.

 75. if you ever need a kidney, i got two.

 76. if you ever need a heart, mine is all yours.

 77. i asked the universe for happiness, you gave me so much more. you gave me peace, you gave me wonder, you gave me hope and light when it’s just pitch black. i’m too far gone, too far in love with you and your soul that i swear i’d lose everything if i lost you.

 78. you can have my everything and i don’t even have second doubts about it. i am uncertain about a shit ton of things, but i am certain that i love you, and i want to build a future with you.

 79. and this is the part where i start daydreaming about the everything we’re going to have.

 80. you and i, we will be one. we’ll be happier. we will be okay. i will be your wife, and you will be mine.

 81. we’re going to have a house of our own. not too big, and not too small – just enough for you and me to be in our own little world. can we grow houseplants? i’d love to grow my own herbs by a windowsill.

 82. i’d cook for you. maybe not everyday, because remember you’re dating a lazy ass bitch and i know sometimes we’d both come home just hungry as fuck that we’d want to just order take out, but if you ask me to, i will put on that apron and cook for you. i wanna be that nurturing housewife, you know? (of course i want some kissy kissy while i cook. may i have those too?)

 83. don’t forget the nine cats we’re gonna adopt. we’re going to love each and every one of them. they’re gonna be like our children. you are going to be such a great fur-mom to our future cats. i can’t wait to see that.

 84. i’m gonna do housekeeping. i’ll clean the toilet for us, you’ll do the dishwashing. i’ll happily fold your clothes and iron them always.

 85. we need house rules. maybe at least five. number one should be “don’t forget to kiss your wife goodbye”. if i can’t go to work with you, then you better give me that kith before you go. > : c

 86. i won’t let you get out of the house without breakfast. but if you’re running late, i’m gonna make sure you have a packed meal ready, so that you won’t be too hungry when you get to work. <3

 87. you’ll do your best at work like always. when you come home tired, or when you want to rant about your coworkers, i’ll hold your hand and kiss you while you talk, so that you can calm down. when i feel like wanting to give up, you’ll be there for me like always, and you’ll pick me up from my slump.

 88. on our off days, we’ll stay in, eat pizza and ice cream, and watch Netflix, hold hands, kiss and cuddle.

 89. ^ if you’re bored with that, we can go out and explore. you can drag my lazy ass outside, it’s fine, as long as i can get to see your pretty pretty smile.

 90. i’m gonna have my master’s degree! and be a good housewife for you. you’re going to reach everything you want to achieve, learn everything you want to learn, earn everything you want to earn, because you are my #BestAgent, #CEO, #RichMama.  we’re gonna witness everything fall into place, not only for me, but for you and all the people that we love.

 91. not all marriages are perfect… there’s gonna be yelling here and there. but we’ll get through them, just like how we get through things right now.

 92. we’ll grow together, as a couple and as individuals. i’ll learn so many things from you, and i’ll be able to share some of my knowledge with you, too.

 93. you and i will grow old. together. we’ll see each other’s hairs turn gray, we’ll lose our teeth together and laugh about each other’s wrinkles when we’re much older.

 94. (i wonder how the sex is gonna be when we reach that age. hmm. we’re gonna be so lethargic. we really need to invest on vibrators. HAHAHAHAH jks.)

 95. all of the things i listed above are the things that keep me going – the things that keep me sane. it’s you, beautiful. you keep me on my feet, you help me get back on track. but most of all, you give me hope that i will be able to spend a lifetime being happy with you. you give me hope that i deserve to be happy with the person that i love, despite my past and the issues that i carry from those scars.

 96. there are lots. there are a million other beautiful things about you and me that i failed to mention, and there will be a billion more memories to create with each other. along with those memories, i will learn a gazillion more reasons to love you.

 97. like that one 8bitfiction quote, “i forgive the world because it has you” – it’s true; the world is ugly but it’s beautiful to me. you make all the difference, baby.

 98. we will be okay. you and i will have our happily ever after, so i need you to hang on tight until we get there. me too, i’ll be here, i’ll always do my best, and i’ll always hang on tight so that we can reach our dreams together.

 99.  you’ll always have me. i’m not going anywhere.

 100.  and even before you ask in the future, for the record, yes, i will marry you.

 i love you, baby. happy valentine’s day. <3