#First it was trying to figure out how the ruins puzzles functioned

[carmenized-onions]

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

 “Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

Next Part

[unwantedmagazine]

The Modizzhend Myth: We're not impressed with Gay People

By the Unwanted Magazine Editorial Board

The Modizzhend Myth—also known as nostri structuram—aims to be an interactive experience that evokes mystery, engages hunters in adventure, and tells the story of longing and romance but ends up being an uninteresting story about ghosting a gay lover gone wrong. We have concerns about the execution, timing of the myth, and the harmful stereotypes displayed in the story.

We urge hunters to avoid the Modizzhend Myth and invest your investigative energy elsewhere besides this rainbow-washed display.

At a time where our society is recovering from the pandemic, more stories about gay lovers gone wrong is NOT what the Roblox Myth Community needs. The Modizzhend myth is a tone deaf, poorly timed story with an execution that would serve better 4 years earlier or 4 years later—not during a deadly pandemic.

(Caption: An in-game screenshot of the first area. In the photo is a very uninviting spawn area.)

Entering Modizzhend’s first game, structure, is an unpleasant experience. Hunters find themselves in a cramped, cold area with a glowing doorway in the distance. The ambiance is unwelcoming, and the smell is nearly unbearable. If the Modizzhend myth wanted to create a welcoming and wholesome environment for hunters, they should instead invest in creating an expansive, warm-tinted spawn area and play music that appeals to the new generation. The Editorial Board recommends songs from musicians like Katy Perry, Harry Styles, or other modern singers to bring more excitement to the spawn area. Beyonce should’ve gotten the Grammy.

A deep issue with the Modizzhend games is their use of older animation packages for hunters. For a myth that is supposedly “groundbreaking” and “underrated” the myth couldn’t even bother to update animations. This game still uses outdated R6, instead of R15 or even the anthropomorphic body packages for players—another glaring oversight.

Furthermore, the color palette didn’t leave much to savor. Dark, bold, unrelenting colors with barely any saturation was an unwelcome addition to our deck of initial observations. Not to mention an unsavory look for a game that’s supposed to be about the LGBTQ+. We hope that in future iterations of the Modizzhend myth that they take steps to make the games as colorful as their main characters.

(Caption: An in-game screenshot of the second area. In the photo is a shivering gay in a snowy location—a place gay people do not belong.)

Our lack of excitement with the myth continued with the second area—a desolate and frozen landscape of ruin and barely-functional machinery. In order to progress from this weathering and uncomfortable location, hunters are required to go through ridiculously complicated puzzles (clicking a button to name one) to open a locked door which would lead to the next area. 

The music and ambiance in this area had very little improvement compared to the spawn. At least this location had some sort of melody. But the nightcore version of a Macklemore song would have suited the theme of this myth better, and we were disappointed to not see anything like that here.

After spending hours solving the very complicated puzzles that bar the players from the third area, advancing forward leads you to a deep, dark, incredibly red segment of the myth.

(Caption: An in-game screenshot of the third area. In the photo are two gay people, Sercauti and Modizzhend.)

At this point, the Unwanted Magazine team simply decided not to continue playing because we all got incredibly bored and simply couldn’t solve the incredibly complicated puzzle of trying to figure out how to progress past this point. Also, Sercauti following Modizzhend was incredibly annoying. Furthermore, the music was just depressing. The myth needed something exciting and fun to bring hunters in, like a TikTok remixed audio of a Rio or Rio 2 song.

A core and central theme of the story is the secondary individual, Sercauti, being missing. Another core and central theme is Sercauti being Modizzhend’s gay lover. The entire myth seems to revolve around pining, gayness, homosexuality, and ghosting.

“[Modizzhend]’s gay cause obviously the creator is gay and loves men.” Nicosela6, a hunter, spoke with the Unwanted Magazine about Modizzhend. He voiced concern about the Modizzhend myth being too gay and harmful to the Myth Community during a deadly pandemic. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be [harmful].”

Nico went on to explain that Sercauti, being a harmful stereotype of gay men ghosting their lovers, is harmful to the LGBTQ+ community and is lazy storycraft. 

“[Modizzhend did that] because that’s the easiest story for gay myths.”

RMH retired HR Phosphyte, also known as Jay, agreed with Nico that this stereotype used by the Modizzhend myth is incredibly harmful, dumb, stupid, and dumb. “It's really prevalent in queer media.”

All of this is coming on the heels of a deadly pandemic. Not once have we seen any vaccines or masks in the Modizzhend myth—a clear sign that the myth is not taking the crisis our country is in seriously. So in order to get a holistic understanding of the Modizzhend myth and its lack of seriousness on the COVID crisis, the editorial board took an interview with Modizzhend, the homosexual attempting to find his lover that ghosted him. The results of the interview were shocking, to say the least.

We asked Modizzhend why players do not spawn with masks, and if he truly cares about the victims of COVID-19. He responded that he felt no urgency to protect people from a deadly virus, and responded that he’ll be adding bare minimum protections to the games in “200,000 years from now.”

When pressed about this Modizzhend caved, exposing serious radical COVID denying ideology. 

“Well, I don’t think such a virus exists.” He stated, despite clear evidence and countless deaths proving that COVID-19 exists. One of our board members got very emotional at this response, to which he responded in a threatening tone that “there will be a pipe bomb going to your location shortly.”

Modizzhend instead sees an opportunity within the death and desolation caused by the deadly pandemic to push rainbow ideology down people’s throats and use harmful LGBLT stereotypes against our most vulnerable communities. Avenues include using his games to push the harmful ideology, like the fog in his games, which are, according to him, representative of the lack of clarity to the heterosexual individuals.

“This is to target heterosexuals.” Modizzhend blatantly states about the choice to use lots of round objects instead of sharp, jagged edges. “I hate women.”

“Making [structure] a gay nightmare is reflective of my own identity,” Modizzhend claims, repeating extremist remarks and ideology.. “It’d make more tolerable individuals want to play the game.”

He goes on to state on the record that Heterosexuals are not tolerable people. But it gets even worse.

Being pressed about how slow walkspeeds represent the slow death of victims of COVID-19, Modizzhend admitted to just wanting people to suffer and die from deadly diseases, going on record to confirm that he wants people to die from COVID-19.

“Yes, certainly!” He exclaimed when a board member asked if he enjoyed seeing children die of organ failure. “This is very true.”

“COVID-19 is such a glass barrier and really shows which heterosexuals are worthy of crossing it.”

Of course, no heterosexuals are worthy in his eyes. And it seems neither are gay people.

“Sercauti didn’t ghost me.” He lied homosexually. “He’s just missing, I think.”

“I’m targeting those who are unable to have or create a balanced relationship with their significant other.” Modizzhend states, despite clearly being in the wrong, also having an unbalanced relationship with their significant other, since Sercauti ghosted him.

When asked if using first person POV to make an analogy to how society uses a single lens in order to ignore things such as racism, heterophobia, and gender privileges, Modizzhend emphatically agreed.

“Definitely racism, and all the other stuff, yea.” He said racistly.

In a shocking note, when the board pressed Modizzhend about not using any Beyoncé music in his games, he responded that he actually hates the talented singer and prefers white men and their mediocre music instead of Queen Bey.

“I actually [hate] Beyoncé.” Modizzhend stated without remorse. “I heavily focus on the classical old white German men's music because I’m racist and I hate singers of color.” 

It was clear after this interview that Modizzhend was not fit to be recognized as a myth.

After thoroughly investigating the Modizzhend Myth, the Unwanted Magazine team took a break to play some actual good myth games—Doors, Plates of Fate, Lab Experiment, Zach’s Service Station, and Witching Hour. We encourage Roblox Myths to learn from the Modizzhend mistakes and study the new age of Roblox games in order to know what truly matters to a new age of Myth hunters. Divest from stuck-in-the-past myths like Modizzhend, and invest in innovation.

The Unwanted Magazine editorial board members are Laura Lontihts & Bobby Buhtstufe

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 22🧂

Today is the last part of the Great Rainbow Bake Off preparations! Now we only have the actual competition to go :) In this one, Dokkaebi does her best with Lesion's support. (Rating T, fluff, ~2k words)

.

“What even are cookies, anyway”, Dokkaebi muses as she tries and fails to turn the hand mixer on. Regardless of how many times she flicks the switch, nothing happens. “How does this stupid thing work?”

Lesion, already looking like he regrets ever making her acquaintance, condescends to showing her where the cable is concealed on the underside and even plugs it in for her. “Now be careful with the -”

Too late. She’s already jammed the beaters into the bowl and turned the appliance on, producing an impressive cloud of flour and flinging bits of raw egg and butter around when she jumps at the sudden flurry of action. While trying to turn it off again, she lifts the mixer and spatters both herself and her gracious host in various ingredients while yelling about how dangerous this thing is, and then Lesion is by her side once more to finally put a stop to the salmonella carousel.

Accusingly, she asks him: “Why don’t you have a stand mixer?”

He glances down at his ruined jumper and gives her a look conveying very much what he’s too polite to say. “You need to start on a lower speed”, he explains gently. “And don’t lift it before switching it off.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke anymore. Hey, do you think we could go out back and make a flour explosion instead?” By the time the old man opens his mouth to, no doubt, refuse, she’s already waved him off. “Nah, forget about it. I need to win this, so I better practice. How does your oven work?”

She’s awarded with a quiet sigh.

No doubt he’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone, being misanthropic and morose on his own as he wraps himself in five blankets and drinks litres of tea and/or coffee, but fortunately for him, Dokkaebi stepped into his life to disillusion him of that option. She chose him not just because he has an oven at all, it’s also that Hibana merely laughed when she was asked whether she can bake, Mute shushed her in case Smoke caught wind of their conversation (and though involving them would no doubt have ended in hilarity, nothing constructive would’ve come out of it), Vigil silently shook his head and IQ’s expression turned into quiet horror. She didn’t bother asking Echo – he probably would’ve lied and said yes, then watched her clean his kitchen so she could use it before revealing he has no knowledge to offer her after all.

So yeah. Lesion it is. He’s got a well-stocked pantry, a functioning kitchen and the patience of a saint, making him the perfect victim.

For some reason, her cookie batter doesn’t look right but she figures it’ll be fine anyway. After plopping all of it in small portions onto the baking tray, she tosses it in the oven and glances at the prominent wall clock to gauge the time.

“No timer?”

“Don’t need it. I know when twenty minutes are over. Do you think they’ll come out great first try and I won’t have to do anything else for the contest?”

Lesion raises a brow and glances at the admittedly-malformed lumps she just produced. “Sure. It’s possible.”

.

“Second try!”, she announces good naturedly, slamming the oven door shut. By now, she’s grateful for the apron Lesion provided and has made ample use of it. She looks like she butchered a chocolate Santa. “Done. Now to analyse what went wrong with the first batch.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Lesion is perched on the only chair in the small room, doing a crossword puzzle in between critiquing her non-existent talent.

“No. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dom said so himself. And he would burn a salad.”

The old man is judging her, she can feel it in the back of her neck – it’s a skill she’s developed over years of being surrounded by guys who think they know better than her. Even if it’s warranted in this case.

“Why do they look so odd? What’s this white stuff?” She pokes the sad, melted masses of sticky dough she rescued from the oven half an hour ago with a frown. Some of them have weird holes, others are flatter than the rest, and some display streaks of a substance she can’t identify.

“Flour”, comes the exasperated reply.

“Oh. But it’s supposed to be in there, right? You can’t make cookies without flour.”

“You didn’t mix them enough. You’ve had clumps of butter that melted out of the dough in the oven, that’s this brown stuff here. And you didn’t chill them, that’s why they’re so… horizontal.”

Huh. Good to know. “I didn’t chill these ones either”, she points to the glistening balls of dough currently being baked.

Lesion gives her another look.

“You could’ve said something!”

“I’m already keeping you company, that should be enough.”

.

“Weird that it’s so little dough this time”, she wonders out loud while inspecting the cold blobs with narrowed eyes. This time, she feels like she did everything right, she made sure everything was incorporated well and even put the blasted things in the fridge for a good while. “Oh well. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Then you got some time to help me. Who’s the first programmer again? Babbage doesn’t fit.”

She regards Lesion with disdain. “Lovelace. How dare you forget that the first ever computer programmer was a woman.”

“And another, I need the name for the protocol employed by network switches to ensure -”

“Spanning Tree. Also based on the work of a woman.”

“By the way, what kind of cookies are you making again?”

“Sugar coo-” Dokkaebi slams her fist on the table, making Lesion jump. “Fuck! I forgot the sugar!”

.

She doesn’t miss Lesion’s conspicuous glance at his wristwatch. “I’ll be done soon”, she threatens while watching her handiwork, crouched in front of the oven. It’s really working overtime today, she reckons. “This is the last one. Everything’s in, I mixed it well, I chilled it, I gave them a little kiss and wished them goodnight, and now they burn in hell for their sins.”

“What crime did they commit, being sinfully delicious?”, he mutters in the direction of his phone while typing away. Dokkaebi suddenly realises she hasn’t checked her notifications in more than two hours, which is an absolute miracle – normally, her fear of missing out gets the better of her and though she’s been trying to cut down on screen time, she finds herself unable.

“I wish.” Both of them have yet to eat a single cookie and while they’ve nibbled on some, they didn’t dare eat a whole one. Just in case.

She deems the cookies done and gets them out with an oven mitt, poking at the malleable substance with curiosity. “They look good. Don’t you think? They might be fine.”

Lesion, for once, looks vaguely impressed. The cookies are a nice golden-brown colour and have held their shape well, somehow. Dokkaebi cuts one with a knife and lets it cool on the counter for a bit before offering one half to Lesion, putting the other half into her own mouth. Both of them bite down at the same time … and spit it back out at the same time.

“That”, Lesion forces out with a grimace, “tastes bad. What did you do?”

Dokkaebi struggles to come up with an answer before sweeping her gaze over the counter still littered with ingredients, nearly slapping her forehead once she notices. “Oh. I used salt instead of sugar. Oops.”

Another sigh. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to keep trying.”

.

A while later and in the midst of an involved multi-player battle, Dokkaebi hears footsteps approaching. She’s so engrossed in her current game that she doesn’t look up when Lesion opens the door, merely opting to ask: “Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“Not if you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

It takes a second. “Oh fuck!” She nearly drops her phone as she scrambles to yank the tray out, coughing at the smoke emanating from it.

“Looks like someone’s getting coal for Christmas.” Lesion looks and sounds very much done. Just like the cookies. “Please go home now, Grace.”

.

She’s back the next day, undeterred. Lesion may do his best in trying to ignore her, though he thankfully is brave enough to try whatever she shoves under his nose from time to time.

“Not bad”, he rates her first attempt that day before audibly biting on something very crunchy. “Ah. Especially the eggshell. A brave addition.”

Right. Next try.

“This… tastes odd, and it’s kinda dark. What kind of flour did you use?”

Dokkaebi doesn’t really understand the question and shrugs, irritated. “Flour.”

“No, but -”

“It’s flour. It says on the packaging. Flour. See?”

Another look.

“Okay. What’s wrong with it?”

“This is buckwheat flour. It’s not the same as wheat flour, it tastes -”

“Flour is flour, it should do the same thing!”

“It doesn’t though, it will -”

“Flour is flour!”

.

Dokkaebi has never seen Lesion’s place this neat. While she occupies his kitchen, he apparently can’t relax enough to do nothing which results in him pacing about the flat and compulsively cleaning and tidying whatever sticks out. And there’s a lot of things that stick out. In the time she’s produced three more failed batches, he’s made sure the bathroom is sparkling, folded his laundry, put clean sheets on, took out the trash, sorted his books and tidied the living room.

In turn, she has not taken her phone out once.

“Try this”, she pants once she’s finally gotten a hold of him, meaning once she tackled him into the couch because he wouldn’t stop running from her and the cookie-shaped threat in her hand.

With an air of defeat, he bites into it and -

- and doesn’t look like he just drank paint thinner. Instead, he pulls a not bad face. “Surprisingly tasty. Different. What did you change?”

“I bought them at the shops.” For a second, he believes her, and this is even more of a victory than hearing him call them tasty. If he entertains the notion that these are store-bought, even just for a heartbeat, then she’s finally done it. “Honestly, I just did the same thing as always.”

“Everything is the same?”

“Yeah.” He gives her a blank look. “No, really! Butter, sugar, flour… all the same. Come look.” She gets off him and allows him to breathe once again, leading him to the kitchen and presenting her ingredients. “Here. I mean, your white sugar ran out, so I used the packed brown one. But sugar is sugar, it won’t make a difference.”

Lesion just sighs.

.

It’s a testament to the old man’s patience that he doesn’t close the door in her face the next afternoon.

“You were right”, is the first thing Dokkaebi says. “Flour is not flour, and sugar is not sugar. I looked it up. There’s an actual science to this, I thought it was just throwing together the same things with different results.”

“Come in. I restocked, so you can just keep on baking.”

“I actually brought everything I need.” And then some. She holds up her shopping bag and returns the rare smile she receives. “I’ll probably want to use half white, half brown sugar since they do different things, and I’ll try out baking soda instead of powder. Also, I read that browned butter can -”

“You know, I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

Dokkaebi scoffs. “Give up? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I think I’ll keep baking even after the competition.”

“Good.” Lesion gives her a nod of approval, takes the bag and motions for her to go ahead. “So, you were talking about browned butter?”

[squarefriend]

Alrighty how about 14 with Mettaton and 9 with Toriel?

This is a long ass post, so buckle up buttercups >:)

So, if you really think about it, Mettaton IS a robot now. He fused with his body, considering he can die in Stabby Stabby/Nuetral routes. Robots can’t absorb alcohol, therefore they can’t get drunk.

Now, the argument could be made that he just absorbs the magic that makes up the drink then sends it to his power core, like an organic body. The that funky drunky flow intoxicates him.... But that also contradicts my personal head cannons on how Metta’s body works.

I’ll make this brief (if that’s possible in a post of this length lMAO), but how I think that MTT gets his power is either through electricity or, in a worst case scenario, gasoline mixed with magic. While I believe he can eat and drink monster food, it’s stored in an internal compartment before being broken down into manageable magic chunks over a series of several days. So, alcoholic beverages would give him at most a buzz over the course of like a couple of days.

That being said, there’s hope!!!

Remember when I said that I headcannon Metta runs on gasoline if he can’t get any electricity? Well, the means he can switch between which tank he’s drawing from. And, there is a type of gasoline made with a base of Ethanol! Which is the compound used to make drinks alcoholic! Therefore, the alcohol would be going to his core at the rate needed to actually get drunk.

Which means, if he wants to be drunk he can just switch into gasoline mode and slip into whatever tipsy needs he has! As long as he’s filled up on ethanol!

Now I’m not saying that this was found out by complete accident with Alphys testing out a new fuel type but.....

That’s exactly what I’m saying.

But!!! Yall didn’t come here to hear about Mettaton’s autonomy, so let’s talk about his drunken habits!!

I like to think he doesn’t drink often, mostly because of the aforementioned not actually realizing he could till he was on the surface. But, some of the best examples of how he is in a drunken state would probably be back when he was a ghost.

It was probably some rough times back then. Shyren’s sister had just fallen down, and it’s inplied the cousins are rather close with the family. Add in a healthy dose of dysphoria and yearning for a greater audience- no, purpose... It must’ve been rough for Metta.

Mabey to cope, the cousins invested in some ghost ale?

I like to think when buzzed, Mettaton is just a (somehow) more confident and showy version of himself. Just with less motor control and a higher chance of making impulsive decisions.

Once we pass into drunk territory... things start getting more emotional. There will be tears. Probably a lot of them. He’s very emotional and can and will state his mind. Heartfelt confessions might happen, rivalries may happen, or he may just tell you what you already know.

If the cousins cracked open a cold one.... Well.... That may of been the first indications (aside from behavior they’d picked up but not said anything about) of what was really on Metta’s mind. About how desperate he was.

Metta didn’t remember it in the morning. Blookie never told him what they talked about. It was never spoken of again.

Ok!! On a slightly higher note: Toriel!

I’ve always seen Toriel as having a very smooth sounding, mezzo soprano voice. It’s nothing remarkable. She doesn’t belt often, she doesn’t have much of a verbrato, she just sounds like your normal 50ish woman who sings abit too much in the car. But, her voice is warm and soft and perfect to fall asleep too, especially when a smile gets in the way of her vowels.

She sings fairly often, probably the most in the main cast (aside Mettaton and MABEY Papyrus). Be it in the car, or when she has too much to drink, or when singing a lullaby to her kids.

I’ll start with lullabies since I believe they’d be the most personal to her.

We don’t know exactly when the monster human war happened, but I’m of the belief that it happened sometime in the Middle Ages, which would place Toriel’s childhood in medieval times. While she wasn’t born there, I also think both Toriel and Asgore’s families hail from Ireland. Her mother would sing to her every night, sometimes mixing in ancient tales of wild beasts and faeries.

It’s a sentiment she’s passed down to her own children.

Albeit, she changed a few lyrics or scenes in the stories to make them less terrifying, besides when she was caring for some of the older souls. There may also be a touch more happy endings than there were in the older days, and mabey a couple more injuries instead of deaths. But for the most part, they stay the same.

The pieces she dare not change though, are the ones she sings in Gaelic.

Frisk hasn’t learned the language (yet), so Toriel finds no need to change any details to such relics. Plus, they have a lot more of an emotional connection than most of her other songs or stories. Her eldest two children were incredibly fond of them

(Also the song I used for these doodles is called Bó na leath-adhairce (One Horned Cow). The woman who sings it (Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh) sounds a lot like how I imagine Toriel sounding. But like. With a lot more vocal training. She still sounds like she’s singing through a smile and I love it)

On a much more fun note, let’s talk about Toriel’s drinking songs!

So, this doesn’t happen often, but if the moods right and Toriel’s had JUST enough to drink.... She might attempt to start up a drinking song with whatever crowd she’s got around her. She doesn’t know many songs, and she only half remembers the rest, but goddamn it if she’s not gonna try it.

It’s awful. Any recognizable lyrics are either slurred, butchered, or in a language no one else can understand.

But she looks like she’s having so much fun, no one ever tries to stop her.

Hell, some people might even join in, if there’s been enough to drink in the house. If that happens, and if she’s feeling confident enough, Tori might even get up and dance a little bit, dragging whomever she pleases in as well. If she’s drunk enough to start singing like this in public, then she’s definitely drunk enough to do some dances.

Mostly though, she just sticks to lullabies.

As for the second part of this prompt, it’s a lot simpler than all of the rest of this post. Toriel enjoys most music, especially the choral verity. She’ll let anything on the radio, so long as it’s appropriate when Frisk’s in the car.

Her favorite genres though, are Classical, Folk, and Celtic. They were the styles she grew up with and remains fond of to this day. They bring back a feeling of Nostalgia without too many memories, just how she likes it. She also quite enjoys Operas, and plans on taking Frisk to see one once she gets the hang of the internet.

She used to adore ballroom music and waltzes but....

Now they just bring back Memories she’d rather not have.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Daddy - Bucky Barnes

a/n: so this one is a little more... lighthearted? idk but it was based on THIS request!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

masterlist

You totally forgot Peter would have his friends over for the night, so you’re slightly surprised when you find him with Ned and MJ in the kitchen, but it’s a pleasant one. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, being the youngest of the adults in the tower, you developed a great friendship with the youngster and his friends.

“Oh, hello guys! Good to see you again!” you beam at the three of them, Ned greeting you with a little wave and a stunned smile on his face. Peter has recently revealed that Ned might have a tiny crush on you, which you find cute. Though you’re more than a decade older than him, you find it endearing he is crushing on you out of all the amazing women on the team.

MJ nods in your way as she munches on her sandwich, if you didn’t know her better you’d think she is annoyed by you judging by the look on her face, but you’ve learned by now that this is her default expression, almost a happy one.

“Hi Y/N!” Peter greets you smiling. “How was your day?” he asks lightly. He is such a good kid, knows his manners and cares so much for others. The men in the tower like to tease him about his soft behavior, but you think it’s such a great trait.

“A little tiring. Training kicked my ass today, but it was fine. What are you guys up to?” you ask, grabbing yourself a canned soda from the fridge.

“MJ wants to play truth or dare, but only because she wants to make us do embarrassing stuff,” Peter huffs looking at the girl who just smiles with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that game! Used to play it a lot at parties too!” you smirk, remembering the times you played with your friends in the basement of your mom’s house.

“You want to play with us?” MJ offers.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” Peter smiles, happy to have another person join their little group. Glancing at Ned you see that he is now blushing, the tip of his ears turning red as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Poor kid will have to learn how to function around women sooner or later.

The game starts out quite innocent, it’s not even the wild version where you’re drinking, though it popped into your head to pour yourself some wine. But then you decided to keep it PG rated for the kids’ sake.

But as more and more rounds go down, the tasks and questions are getting a little… spicy. When MJ turns to you and asks you the question of the game and you answer before you could even think about it, you know you are in trouble.

“Dare,” you answer and want to take it back right away, but you don’t want to look like such a pussy. But then MJ smirks at you devilishly and you consider just walking out before she ruins your whole life.

“Alright, text all the other Avengers ‘Hey Daddy’ and read the responses out loud.”

The boys gasp as you press your lips into a thin line, knowing well it won’t end good on your side. Especially because there is one person whose response you would rather not read out loud.

You’ve been close to Bucky since day one and though you both were a little ignorant towards your feelings, a few months ago you finally moved your relationship a little further than just being friends. However you both agreed it’s better kept as a secret, at least until you figure out where you really want to head together as a couple.

Now, if you text that message to Bucky there’s no way he won’t write back something that would bust your asses right away, but you can’t back out now, you can only hope he is busy doing something else and won’t pay attention to his phone.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you lean onto the kitchen island as the kids start cheering for you being a badass and accepting the task.

“Just hey daddy, that’s all?” you ask as you open your contacts.

“Maybe add a winking face,” Ned suggests and you shoot him a glare that immediately turns his face red as he shuts his mouth.

“The winking face is a good idea,” MJ nods.

“Thanks, Ned,” you mumble under your breath as you start opening the text threads, sending them all the same message. Tony, Nat, Steve, Banner, Clint, Sam, Strange, even Rhodey and at the end of the list… Bucky.

“And what, now we wait?” Peter asks.

“Place the phone here so we see when you get a reply and you’ll read them, we can move on until then,” MJ tells you, bossing you around like you’re not even a highly trained special agent who could take her out in a blink of an eye.

The first reply comes from Nat who just asks if you’re drunk. Then comes Banner, who sounds offended that you think he could be your father, totally missing the point of the text. Tony teases you about always knowing you had a thing for him, Steve kindly tells you he only sees you as a sister, Clint just reads the text and doesn’t reply. Sam just sends a simple “control yourself” message back while Strange threatens you to block you if you send another text like this again. Rhodey doesn’t even reads it.

You start to feel relieved when about twenty minutes pass by and no reply comes from Bucky. The game moves on and you almost start to forget about the whole task when your phone lights up again and your breathing hitches when you see Bucky’s name appear on the screen.

“Oh, another reply!” MJ beams as she urges you to unlock the phone and read the reply. When you do so and see his text, you almost just hop off the stool and run out of the kitchen. You consider saying something else, pretending like he didn’t write what he did, but MJ doesn’t take the bullshit and her patience runs short so she simply snatches your phone out of your hand and reads the text herself.

“I specifically remember you saying you’re not into that stuff. What else are you keeping from me about our sex life?”

You let out a long and tired sigh as the room falls silent and they all just stare at you in confusion before MJ slowly slides the phone back to you.

“Our sex life? There’s… there’s a you and Bucky?” Peter asks quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. An anxious chuckle slips from between your lips as you try to find a way to get yourself out of this massive trouble, but nothing comes to your mind. You’ve fought aliens, assassins, you were captured, tortured, went on a hundred mission in your life, yet now three kids defeated you with a game of Truth or Dare.

“Well, um… It’s a funny story, you know—I don’t… fuck,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck.

“Are you like… together or is it just a friends with benefits thing?” MJ question, shooting you a curious look.

You don’t get to answer, because just as you are about to open your mouth, the man in talk walks in, a puzzled look on his face, phone in his hand, probably still dwelling on your latest message. His eyes spot you first, but then he realizes that you’re not alone and he freezes. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Peter or his friends, he just feels so far away from people these days, let alone teenagers who are about a century younger than him.

“Oh,” he breathes out, slowly walking closer to you. “Hello guys,” he murmurs shyly, trying to put the picture together as his eyes fall back to you and he sees how uncomfortable you are. Before he could get another word out, MJ speaks up and just as always, her raw style doesn’t disappoint any of you.

“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is not really into the Daddy stuff.”

You almost choke on your own breath as you turn to shoot her a glare, your hand moving to grab Bucky’s arm gently, sensing him growing more and more anxious with each second.

“MJ, I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is the right person to joke around with,” Ned mumbles, avoiding to even look at Bucky as you let out an airy chuckle.

“G-Girlfriend? We are not—“ Bucky starts, but you cut him off.

“No use to deny, Buck. They know it.”

Bucky huffs, closing his eyes for a moment before he moves closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Despite the absurdity of the situation, this small little gesture makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.

“Is there any chance this could stay between us, kids?” you ask with a charming smile, turning to the three troublemakers.

“I don’t know, what do we get out of keeping it a secret?” Peter purses his lips, pretending to have the higher ground, but you already know what’s about to come.

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaps to the counter top as he shoots a death glare over to the poor kid and though he definitely looks like he is ready to kill any moment, you know that it’s all just an act.

“How about I don’t rip your guts out, kid? That enough?” Bucky growls and while all three of them take a step back with wide eyes and dry throats, you just shake your head chuckling, placing a hand to his hard chest.

“Buck, no need to go all winter soldier on them. They’ll keep our secret, right?” you ask with an innocent smile and all three of them start nodding wildly, as if they just saw a ghost.

Seeing their reaction you realize it’s better if the game ends here and you let them be on their own. You thank for the fun time before grabbing Bucky’s arm and pull him out of the kitchen, heading up to your rooms.

“You shouldn’t have scared them that badly, Buck,” you scold him, but you still actually find it kind of funny, seeing their pale faces and fearful eyes at your boyfriend’s tough guy act.

“Well, they scare me too sometimes,” he mumbles shrugging. “Especially that MJ girl… she is just… weird.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, a six feet tall super soldier with a metal arm being scared of a teenage girl with a big mouth, that’s quite an interesting concept.

“Hey,” you stop him before the two of you would part in the hallway. He turns back and his blue eyes soften on you. “Do you want to… sneak into my room?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip as you smirk up at him, sliding a hand up his chest, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We could have some fun… Daddy.”

“Wait, are you really into the daddy stuff?” he asks with wide eyes, making you cackle with your head falling back.

“Just shut up and come to my room,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his as you pull him into your bedroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[nanowrimo]

Organizational Writing Methods for Messy Minds

Long-time Wrimo and soon-to-be published author Anna-Maria Ninnas is a Project Manager with a talent for organizing chaos into coherence. She has been test-driving software to find novel solutions for myriad rampant writerly woes and has put together this comprehensive overview to share some of her best technology-based tips with the community!

Sometimes, you need to put your creativity inside a box.

This couldn’t be more true for writers with a messy mind. The limitless possibilities of a blank page makes me freeze up. However, tell me to create a story out of the magnets on my fridge or using only Cards Against Humanity, and suddenly the limitations of these microcosms give me both a starting point and some rules to activate the brain’s problem-solving function. It takes a shelf to organize your stuff, and the same goes to your writing.

Which is why I love using digital tools and story progression ‘rules’ to find the right crooked mile to weaponize my hyper brain. Today, I’d like to share some of my tricks and digital workspaces with you.

For me, taming my buzzing brain always starts with Trello. I can just move the cards around, like I’m solving a puzzle, which is extremely satisfying and fun. By gamifying the untangling process, I find myself super focused with a visual aid for problem solving. It’s amazing for non-linear thinkers.

Here we have Chapter 6 of my current manuscript, Chamomile. I began the first draft by dumping everything that happens or could happen in this chapter. Just go crazy! If you have more than one subplot going on, you'll love this. For me, Plot A is my young character Chamomile being at war with a vengeful straw doll. Plot B, the village is celebrating a wedding. Later I will ‘braid’ these two plots together, to have the paranormal events of Plot A ruin Plot B by all means possible.

When figuring out the flow, one of my favorite techniques is Therefore/However. It helps to figure the logic and flow of events step-by-step, ensure that consequence always follows, and dictate tension! Sometimes I’ll break the rule with more than one ‘therefore’ consequence, or a ‘meanwhile’ when intertwining a secondary subplot. Keep it as simple as cause-and-effect if you’re still trying to figure out how something could happen and why. Eventually, you’ll have an outline that might or might not look like mine:

You can utilize colored labels for characters, section breaks, or even a green-yellow-red system for every card to track your passive, urgent and action voice.

But let’s say you’re editing or on a #JustFinishIt marathon. Well, your Google account already has all the tools to tame your focus in a single window.

Opening your blessed auto-saving Google Doc, by default you should find the holy trinity of organizing — Calendar, Keep, and Tasks.

I love Keep for its simplicity. If I’m on the go and come up with the perfect line, find inspiration or remember a loophole to edit later, I whip out my phone, save, move on. I use labels only to separate my novels, occasional hashtags.

The beauty of it is that you can use Keep while you’re in Docs. Since you’re guaranteed to get distracted, why not use it to your advantage by choosing what you’re distracted by — like scrolling your own notes in the sidebar instead of Pinterest! Scrolling social media is addicting because with so little movement we get infinite information, barely losing any calories — your brain loves the efficiency. Get addicted to your novel instead!

The search tool is not the only benefit. You can cut-and-paste entire sections that ‘don’t work’, but you like and might adapt elsewhere. Slap them there for safekeeping. You can write down a plot bunny, a topic to research, an important reference to keep in mind for Chapter 23, a new idea or editorial notes. Multitasking is a breeze. Pin the notes you find most relevant right now to the top. Notes you create while in the Doc automatically tags it as ‘related’, so later in Keep you can filter notes related only to that one chapter — which is why I separate my chapters doc-by-doc!

Google Tasks are amazing for editing. You can make the checklist as you re-read after a break, a list for each chapter, so you can later go back and — oh yes — tick the boxes off one by one, knowing exactly what you’re doing, to fix loopholes and add missing elements.

Last but not least is the simple genius of Calendar. If you have multiple plotlines, characters, or maybe even time-travel involved, then the overlapping schedules of Google Calendar—which, yes, you can drag and reorder—is gorgeous. Now, because all these methods are pick-and-choose on a need-to-untangle basis, I wasn’t using it in this chapter much. However, it did come to help when I was trying to figure out the time window just before Chamomile gets into trouble—again—when it was time to leave the bride home alone as a test of patience, to justify how she ended up babysitting instead. (Because you had to go into the storeroom in your wedding dress, Primrose, and now you have to wash the dress. What a convoluted way to break your ankle tonight before your wedding.)

And this is just a recent, as-I-do-it example of some ways I handle my comprehension of my own story! Would you have adapted these tools differently? While it may look over-complicated to some, for me it’s the only way I can tame my head when 'sit down and write' sounds impossible, and I know I’m not alone.

There are many free and subscription apps you can use to organize your writing. Try them, make use of tech! Find your carton ‘box’ that’ll unleash your creativity and help you build forts. Once you discover how that beautiful mind of yours expresses itself and find an analogous method to translate it, trust me, your craft will bloom.

Anna-Maria Ninnas studies anthropology and contemplates humanity through the lens of fiction. A project manager by vocation but extremely unorganized by nature, Anna-Maria tries to hack the art of writing with all sorts of cheats, methods and problem-solving techniques. You can read Anna-Maria’s tips for all the other chaotic creative minds on Medium. The novel Chamomile is coming out April 2022 no matter how messy or unfinished it is! Top photo by Ross Sneddon on Unsplash

[buckyownsmylife]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

The one where Andy seems to have lost everything, but he’s not ready to give up.

A terrible car accident ruins Andy Barber’s idea of a perfect life. But if the love’s still there, why wouldn’t he retrace the steps that led him to his happy ending? After all, the best love stories were made to be written more than just once.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist and if you’d like to be tagged on my following Chris Evans and characters stories, just fill out this form.

Andy’s P.O.V.

The never-ending beeping of the machine had become a constant in my life. It was both a melody and a curse, a relief and the worst of tortures, it truly depended on my mood for the day. Sadly, for the last few weeks, it was hard to remember that this meant a good thing, it meant she was alive, there was still hope for us. 

Hope was dying quicker than the woman on the bed, who I watched with unwavering attention, and that only meant it was getting harder and harder to remember that she was still even there. 

A body isn’t a life, that had never been as obvious to me as it was right then, and although her hand was safely wrapped by mine, she never seemed more distant than in that moment. So close, yet so out-of-reach. Still alive, but seemingly just… not there.

Sighing, I released her hand only to run both of mine over my face, needing a moment to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere else other than this stupid fucking hospital, the only place I ever went to since the accident.

But then, as it happened every time I tried to sleep, flashes of what I imagined had happened to her startled me into opening my eyes again, and sitting up on the chair that was starting to mold into the shape of my body. I really needed her to wake up. Soon.

A surge of anger rushed through me - not the first one I’d felt since this entire situation had happened, and suddenly I was up from the chair, leaning over her, cradling her unresponsive face in my hands.

“Wake up,” I urged, trying to shake her as softly as possible, but still determined to get a response from her. “Wake up, dammit.” 

Unsurprisingly, it was in vain. There was no response, no single movement, no sign from the heavens that the woman I loved was even there at all.

Defeated, I slumped back on the chair and pondered over the same damn details when suddenly, something happened. The beeping had changed. It was quicker now, mirroring my own heartbeat inside my chest.

“Nurse!” I shouted, desperate for someone, anyone to tell me that this was good news, but the second two people entered the room in blue scrubs, I was being thrown out. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need you to go wait in the lobby. Someone will come get you once things are stable again.”

Stable. Again.

That’s not what I wanted. No, it was not. Because nothing about my life with Y/N had ever been just “stable”. That word could simply not encompass everything she was, everything she meant, everything we had lived together. Not the way she woke me up with the smell of pancakes in the morning, only to be singing the softest of melodies when I got to the kitchen to watch her sway and cook at the same time. Not the way she listened attentively to everything I ever got to say, especially when I was frustrated and it took me some time to make any sense at all. Not the way she held me in her arms when the night came and brought horrors from the past to my mind, raising nightmares that seemed even worse while I was awake.

I wanted her back, and not the beeping of the machine that kept her there, but not really alive. That wasn’t alive. That was merely existing, and that’s how I felt that I was doing, too. But how does one find the motivation to even try when the love of your life is just… not there?

I was quickly becoming overwhelmed by my own feelings, I could recognize that. Finally deciding to take a seat in the waiting area, I covered my face again as I struggled to think through the fog of emotions clouding my brain. What the hell was happening back in her room? Could it be…

No. I could not afford to think that. I could not afford to lose her. Looking up to the ceiling in the hopes to control my desperate desire to cry, I prayed to whoever was listening that they gave me my girl back. I needed her. God, how I needed her.

“Mr. Barber?” I almost got whiplash from how quickly I turned to meet the doctor, trying to determine if he was coming to share bad or good news by the expression on his face. Unfortunately, the dominion of emotions came with the profession - I expected that, mostly because I used to have the same skill, developed in the exercise of mine.

The days where legal routines ruled my week seemed like a lifetime away.

“We have some news for you.” I nodded, not trusting my own voice as I got up from the chair to follow the doctor closer to the room where she rested, hopefully still alive. “At last, there was some response to the treatment we had been administering…” I ended up blocking whatever medical terms he used while explaining what had happened as I tried to peek through the curtains into the room, check if she was still there, still unresponsive but there. “...She’s waiting for you.”

That startled me, making me meet the doctor’s eyes again.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

The man had a good heart, that much was obvious, because instead of impatient, he just smiled and repeated, “She’s awake now. We still haven’t been able to figure out the damage that the impact has done on her cognitive functions, but she’s alive and awake, and when we said you had been waiting, she asked to see you.”

I nodded, immediately turning my back to the doctor without any further comments and reaching out for the door, eager to see her again. I knew I’d only believe that she was awake when I saw it with my own two eyes.

Her gaze fell on mine when I pushed the door open, my mouth falling open and tears erupting from the utter relief that I felt. It was really true. She was okay. We’d be okay.

I threw myself on her before even thinking twice about it. Instinctively, I knew how to avoid the wires and bruises she still had, after having spent so long just looking at her, memorizing every inch of her face while she couldn’t move.

When her arms closed around me, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. And then I was crying. Just like she always did the few times I’d done this before ever since we got together, she just held me, hands softly running circles on my back as I let go of all the pain and fear I’d been accumulating these last few months without her.

She didn’t even say anything, just patiently waited as I slowly calmed down, sniffling like a little kid and taking her natural perfume in now that I could bury my face in the crook of her neck. I knew that my unkept beard tickled her, but despite a few chuckles, she never complained.

I was thankful for that. Because I truly needed this. I needed to feel close to her again, in this physical sense, as long as it was the only one I could have until she was able to leave this hospital. I hoped to God that now that she’d woken up, it wouldn’t be too long before I could get her back home.

“How are you feeling, my love?” I watched her eyes momentarily widen, seemingly in surprise, when I pulled away to watch her expression, knuckles grazing softly over her cheekbones. And then she looked confused, maybe even guilty, that deep frown appearing between her eyebrows as she almost pouted at me.

“I’m okay, I swear. I wish you wouldn’t have spent this long waiting for me here.” The sentence was so puzzling it froze me on the spot. What did she mean, I shouldn’t have waited for her to wake up? I should have simply gone home and walked around like nothing was wrong, while she was here alone, possibly dying?

“Why is that?” I finally managed to get out, reaching out to hold one of her tiny, freezing hands between mine, and although she once again looked up in shock at me, she seemed somewhat grateful, the goosebumps along her arms showing just how cold she really was.

“I mean… You just didn’t have to, Andy. I know you’re a nice guy, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on that date with you if I didn’t think so, but I think this is too much, even for you. You barely know me. There was no reason to feel so obligated to keep me company, you know?” And just when I was sure that the pain in my chest signaled a heart attack, she looked down at our joined hands, squeezed mine and said, “Although I must admit, I’m kinda glad you did. I’ve been dreaming about our second date ever since you brought me back to my apartment and gave me that kiss.”

The weight of my wedding ring suddenly became all I could focus on, even if she didn’t even seem to realize the metal was there, warming her cold skin. But it was the burning of the matching jewelry safely tucked inside my pocket since the night of the accident that really made me realize that car crash might have taken more from me than I ever expected.

[robininthelabyrinth]

sequel to A Sick Thought (aka the Mo Xuanyu & Wei Wuxi-cat fic)

-

“Did I do something to make Hanguang-jun not like me?” Mo Xuanyu asked.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t expecting the question, so he reacted as usual – incredulous glare with a side order of ‘who are you to dare talk to me directly?!’ – which to nobody’s surprise was massive overkill for a shrinking violet like Mo Xuanyu, who quailed at once.

“I’m sure he likes you fine,” Jiang Cheng said hastily, trying to make up for it. He hadn’t had much practice at trying to be not scary in years. “What makes you say that?”

He wasn’t really good at making conversation, either, but he was the only one here right now. They’d all been taking shifts to support Mo Xuanyu with spiritual energy per the doctor’s recommendation for treating the mercury poison that was still affecting his mind, and Jiang Cheng usually volunteered to take the late night-early morning shift because Lans simply weren’t properly functional at those hours until their official wake-up time hit.

Also, it was the one time he could generally guarantee Wei Wuxian would be either busy or napping and he wouldn’t have to deal with – any of that.

He knew he’d eventually have to deal with Wei Wuxian, but…not yet.

Right now, he turned to look at Mo Xuanyu, who was lying very still, covered in acupuncture needles to the point that he resembled a pincushion; he had very large eyes that suggested trembling even when he wasn’t, and that irked Jiang Cheng, somehow, when he’d already made an effort not to be scary.

“He doesn’t seem happy when I’m around,” Mo Xuanyu explained.

“That’s not about you,” Jiang Cheng said gruffly. “Hanguang-jun just doesn’t like anyone. You wouldn’t believe it based on his righteous reputation, but he can be a real ass to people.”

Jiang Cheng supposed that the ice-block must like someone, given how often jokes were made about him looking as though his wife had died, but he’d never seen it in person. When they were young, Lan Wangji had already been stern and cold, with occasional bouts of being snappish – especially towards Wei Wuxian. There’d been a few months during the Sunshot Campaign when he’d been a little softer, during the time they were looking for Wei Wuxian together, but he’d gone straight back to asshole right after, sticking his nose into everyone’s business and harassing Wei Wuxian for his demonic cultivation. And once Wei Wuxian had died, he’d gone into seclusion for years on end, only to come back as his current glacial self –

“No, that’s mostly just to you, I think,” Mo Xuanyu said. “He’s very polite to all the juniors, everyone in the Lan sect…even Jin Ling.”

Jiang Cheng really hated that his first thought was at least I’m unique because being the only man Hanguang-jun is consistently rude to was a stupid prize to be happy to win and he knew it. He didn’t even like Hanguang-jun enough to care what the man thought!

“But I really do think it’s something about me in particular. Recently I’ve noticed that he seems to scowl when I’m around –”

“There’s a time when he’s not scowling?”

“…I mean, actually scowl, as opposed to being expressionless?”

Jiang Cheng tilted his head to the side, reviewing instances in which he’d observed the two of them, then nodded. “That might be the case, actually.”

Mo Xuanyu sighed, sounding almost relieved by the confirmation. “I don’t know why! I didn’t think I behaved all that badly when we first met, and I never met him at Koi Tower before –”

Jiang Cheng didn’t like to think of Mo Xuanyu and Koi Tower.

He’d only ever seen Mo Xuanyu distantly, a wallflower even when decked out in Lanling gold, and Jiang Cheng hadn’t been in Lanling for very many visits during the short time Mo Xuanyu had been there – a few years, maybe, half a decade at most, and most of that time Jiang Cheng had been focused on his sect or his nephew to the exclusion of everything else.

Still, his first up-close view had been truly disturbing.

All the more so because Jin Ling clearly hadn’t realize that it was so disturbing, because Jin Ling – his Jin Ling – thought it was somehow normal for what had once been a perfectly ordinary, if shy, man to suddenly become a lunatic, raving with fits and terrified of everyone dressed in yellow…

(He’d have to have words with Jin Guangyao about it, whenever he found the time. Had they done something wrong in raising Jin Ling? And who was it that had so tormented Mo Xuanyu while he was there? Surely Jin Guangyao would know something…)

It was all extremely uncomfortable, and doubly complicated by the fact that Jiang Cheng himself had been driven to the edge of a nervous breakdown when he heard Wei Wuxian’s voice again after all these years. He’d dreamed of his shixiong coming back, back the way he used to be before the war had ruined everything; he’d had nightmares of him coming back, too – not again I don’t want to have to kill him again please no – but somehow the idea that he’d come back as a cat had just been…too much.

They said only the worst sort of people reincarnated as animals.

Later, of course, he learned about the body sacrificing array (he’d nearly been sick at the thought of Wei Wuxian’s familiar gaze looking out at him from Mo Xuanyu’s big trembling eyes, the actual man’s soul gone who-knows-where), and the fact that someone had taught that and only that to Mo Xuanyu, intending on squeezing him dry and then discarding him to use the shell…

It was sickening.

He should have paid more attention.

“- and anyway I can’t figure out what it might be.”

“Well, think over what the instances that you saw him scowling were, and figure out what there was in common,” Jiang Cheng said. Circulating spiritual energy into another person was tiring, but not necessarily mentally stimulating – it wouldn’t be too much to devote some time into the puzzle of the mysteriously scowling Hanguang-jun. “Were you at a particular location?”

“No. Once I was at the dining hall, once walking through the field, a few times in here…”

“Were you doing anything in specific?”

“I don’t think so? I don’t really – do anything.”

That was certainly true. Maybe they should be encouraging Mo Xuanyu to pick up a hobby.

Jiang Cheng thought about it a bit more. “Would you say Hanguang-jun scowls at me?” he asked.

Mo Xuanyu was caught by surprise and failed to hide his smile – it was a surprisingly cute smile, broader and more full-fledged that Jiang Cheng would have expected from such a shy person. It transformed his whole face: his eyes crinkling at the sides, his cheeks dimpling, his nose scrunching up.

Really, surprisingly cute.

Was that what Mo Xuanyu would have been like, if it wasn’t for the poison and the abuse?

“Yes, Sandu Shengshou,” Mo Xuanyu said, his eyes twinkling a little in his amusement. “Hanguang-jun always scowls at you.”

Jiang Cheng felt a stupid little spike of pleasure, which, damnit, he does not care. Stupid prizes were not worth winning – he just had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Well, that’s something, then,” he said, deciding not to think about it. Much like he was not thinking about Wei Wuxian: very purposefully. “That means it’s not you he doesn’t like, because then he’d scowl every time, instead of just sometimes. Is there anyone with you during those times?”

Mo Xuanyu pursed his lips when he thought. “I don’t think so?” he said doubtfully. “It’s usually just me and Wei Wuxian…it couldn’t possibly be Wei Wuxian, though. They like each other.”

“You think so?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprised. “Why?”

“Well, I mean, they’re always together, aren’t they? Unless Wei Wuxian’s with me, Hanguang-jun is always keeping him company – in the library pavilion, in the dining hall, in the cold spring…”

Jiang Cheng was starting to get flashbacks to his teenage days. “Surely you mean that Wei Wuxian is the one keeping Hanguang-jun company?” he said, because that sounded much more likely. “Or, well, pestering him?”

Mo Xuanyu shook his head. “Hanguang-jun brought him a little bit of meat from the town outside,” he said. “He must have gone there especially to get it, since there’s no meat in the dining hall here. And he even let him have a jar of some wine.”

That – did not sound right. Whether from the perspective of what Jiang Cheng knew about Lan Wangji, or about Lan sect rules, or even, well, general guidelines for what was appropriate to feed to a cat.

“You’re sure?”

“Mm. Here, come to the window, I’ll show you.”

Somehow Jiang Cheng found himself on the bed next to Mo Xuanyu, shuffling around carefully so that he could look out the window without being too obvious about it.

Just across the way, Lan Wangji was standing guard at one of the central areas of the Cloud Recesses – judging the time, he would have just finished up the last leg of his patrols, having presumably utilized his considerable willpower to stay awake until this hour. As they watched, a faint wind picked up, ruffling Lan Wangji’s hair and causing the ends of his forehead ribbon to gently flutter.

The picture would have been one of the classic cultivator, lonely but righteous, standing sentinel on behalf of others, except for the fact that Wei Wuxian was crouched right behind him, red ribbon and black tail and all, trying his level best to leap up high enough to catch the ribbon.

Jiang Cheng briefly closed his eyes. “That idiot.”

Mo Xuanyu elbowed him lightly. “Open your eyes, you’ll miss it!”

Jiang Cheng felt absurdly proud over the fact that Mo Xuanyu had apparently gotten over his fright well enough to do as much as that, and opened his eyes.

His eyebrows went up as he watched Lan Wangji – still stone-faced as always, but (and it was perhaps a trick of the light) a little softer than usual – lean down to rub behind Wei Wuxian’s ears, and to pull out a bit of dried fish from his sleeve where he’d clearly been keeping a stash.

He even crouched down to better speak to him, taking in account that Wei Wuxian was, while moderately porcine for a cat, now much smaller than him.

There was a great deal of staring happening.

It took nearly the length of two incense sticks for Jiang Cheng to actually process what he was seeing.

“Hanguang-jun likes…cats?”

“No,” Mo Xuanyu said, his lips twitching. “He likes Wei Wuxian. Isn’t it obvious?”

It was, in fact, a little obvious.

“When you say like –”

Mo Xuanyu reached out his own paw and patted Jiang Cheng’s arm in sympathy. “Trust one cutsleeve to know another,” he said, and then he left his hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“But when did they even start?” Jiang Cheng asked, honestly bemused. “They were always at each other’s throats before! And – and he’s a cat now. Don’t tell me that Hanguang-jun has some sort of – some strange – I’ve heard things about catboys –”

Mo Xuanyu burst out into giggles. “Where did you hear about that?”

“An old acquaintance with bad taste and a penchant for sharing it,” Jiang Cheng said, since obviously Mo Xuanyu wouldn’t know who Nie Huaisang was. “It’s not that, though, is it? They must have – before.”

That would explain Lan Wangji’s decade-long mourning for a dead wife, he supposed. Also his seemingly inexplicable resentment of both the Jin sect and Jiang Cheng personally.

“I think so.”

Jiang Cheng was going to murder Wei Wuxian for not telling him that he’d apparently run off to have a whirlwind romance with Lan Wangji during the time he’d been the Yiling Patriarch – that was the only time when it was possible, since Jiang Cheng had been there all the other times, and he was pretty sure they didn’t get together before that.

If only because Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have been able to resist boasting about it.

In fact, it was a little strange that he hadn’t done so now, cat or no cat – it wasn’t as if everyone didn’t know he was planning to cultivate towards a human form as quickly as possible, so why wouldn’t he –

A horrible thought crossed Jiang Cheng’s mind. “Does Wei Wuxian know? Does he – does he like him back?”

Mo Xuanyu pursed his lips. “You know, I’m not sure?”

“I thought you said cutsleeves could tell.”

“Well, the whole cat thing has been throwing me off a bit.”

Jiang Cheng covered his eyes with a hand. “I don’t think I can deal with this. The cat thing was bad enough…at least it explains your issue.”

Mo Xuanyu, who’d finally removed his hand, blinked. “What?”

“Wei Wuxian is a perpetual headache that exists for the sole purpose of tormenting me,” Jiang Cheng explained because really it was the only logical conclusion at this point. He wished that he loved the man (cat) a little bit less; it would make every bit of it much less agonizingly personal. “But apparently Hanguang-jun like that sort of thing, so whenever Wei Wuxian is spending time with you...”

“…you think he’s been drinking vinegar? About me? Hanguang-jun?”

“Why not? You’re open about the fact that you cut your sleeve, Wei Wuxian is already protective of you, and it’s not as if you’re not cute – it make sense that he’d be worried, especially if he’s been pining all these years.”

Mo Xuanyu had turned pink. “Cute,” he said dazedly, reaching up and pressing his hands to his cheeks as if that would help cool them down. “Uh –”

“Don’t do that,” Jiang Cheng said irritably, reaching up and catching his hands. “You’re covered in needles that you really shouldn’t be moving around – here, lie back down already.”

Mo Xuanyu obediently shuffled back into place, and Jiang Cheng returned to his previous place as well.

“I’ll need to talk to Wei Wuxian about it,” he said mournfully. Even after everything that had happened between them, it was his duty as Wei Wuxian’s only living relative to make sure the idiot wasn’t getting involved in something he shouldn’t. “I don’t want to talk to Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t even like me anymore.”

That was the problem, too.

“Uh, Sandu Shengshou –”

“Just call me Jiang Cheng. Everyone else does.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t even heard his courtesy name without a heavy dose of sarcasm or cringe-inducing toadying at any point in the last five years, and his title was far too formal if the goal was to be less intimidating. “What, do you have an idea on how to make it easier?”

“It’s just a thought.”

It couldn’t be worse than any of Jiang Cheng’s. “I’m listening. What is it?”

“Have you considered…catnip?”

[nicknellie]

@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

*

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

*

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

*

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Diagnosis: Love Sickness!- Chapter 1

In the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, 16 students have been imprisoned as part of a nonsensical dating game in which their objective is to find themselves in a budding romance with another student! Although reluctant to admit so, Shuichi Saihara has had his eyes on another student for quite some time now... Will Monokuma's new motive, the Despair Disease, be the driving force that pushes Saihara to finally confess his love? Or will he stay forever single in this twisted dating game?

Stay tuned to find out!

~~~~~~~~~~

Monokuma introduces the new motive, the despair disease!

ao3

The Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was a rather interesting place, though its facilities were currently being used for a particularly strange purpose. Sixteen students, eight boys and eight girls, were confined within the walls of the academy for some sort of dating game, supposedly for the entertainment of the outside world. The cherry on top of this strange situation was that their captor was a small, animatronic black and white bear who walked and talked as if he were human. Monokuma, as the bear dubbed itself, would appear every now and then to inform the students of the structure and layout of the academy or to introduce some strange motive to encourage the blossoming of romance amongst them, but otherwise left them to their own devices. Having no choice but to mingle and make friends with one another, the students explored the academy and made use of their surroundings.

Speaking of which, the students imprisoned in this academy were not necessarily normal, either. Each and every one of them had an Ultimate Talent, making them special and distinct from one another. Their talents varied greatly from one another, even including something as far-fetched and sci-fi sounding as the Ultimate Robot, but they all managed to get along with one another and cultivate rather interesting friendships.

One exception to this, however, was Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. Being naturally introverted and reclusive, he had a difficult time forming friendships with the other students, at least initially. Seeking to help the young detective out of his shell, two other students named Akamatsu and Momota attempted to befriend him, slowly introducing him to their small social circle and eventually the rest of the students. The two of them were social butterflies, flitting gracefully between the social groups that had formed, providing a nice complement to Saihara’s more reserved nature. Their positive and radiant energies bounced off of each other and onto Saihara, causing him to feel more empowered and confident than ever before. 

It was a gradual process that allowed Saihara to become more sure of himself, transpiring over the course of their first few weeks at the academy. The culmination of said process was when, at Momota and Akamatsu’s behest, Saihara removed the black cap that he desperately clung to in order to avoid eye contact with others. His lifestyle had undergone a complete transformation since entering this academy, changing for the better as a result of the efforts of his new friends. Although his tendencies to doubt himself still persevered at times, Saihara was grateful for the progress he had made to better himself and make new friends.

But there was something missing.

As he spent more and more time trapped in the academy, Saihara noticed an increasing number of students crossing the boundary from friends to lovers. At first it was only Chabashira and Yumeno, followed by Iruma and Kiibo, but when both Momota and Akamatsu entered relationships Saihara couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something. Although he was happy that his two closest friends were in happy, fulfilling relationships, Saihara longed for the intimacy and closeness that came with having a partner. It had been over a year since his last relationship, leaving him finally ready for a fresh start with someone new.

In all honesty, Saihara would be lying if he said he didn’t have his eyes on anyone in particular. But despite the fact that he had grown leaps and bounds in terms of becoming more secure and sure of himself, Saihara knew that he didn’t have it in him to confess his feelings for another person. In the past, it had always been various girls and boys confessing their feelings for him, not the other way around. On the lucky occasion that Saihara had actually returned the other person’s feelings, it would lead to a new relationship for the both of them. But that had only happened once throughout his whole life, and Saihara wasn’t sure if he was ready to enter another relationship and have his heart eventually be broken again. For now, all he could do was admire from afar and pray that the embarrassment when his feelings came to light wasn’t too much to endure. 

~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since the imprisonment of the students had begun, meaning that it was time for a new motive to be announced. In accordance with their schedule, Monokuma had made an announcement instructing everyone to report to the gymnasium bright and early. Having no strong reasons to disobey, the students all gathered in the gymnasium awaiting Monokuma’s appearance. 

Suddenly, Monokuma sprung up on top of the stage at the head of the gymnasium, drawing everyone’s attention. Although it was practically routine by now, there was no getting used to an animatronic bear appearing out of thin air. The murmurs and idle chatter in the room came to a stop, all eyes focusing on the small bear in front of them.

“Gooood morning, everyone!” Monokuma’s familiar voice rang out, chipper as ever. “I hope you all slept well, cuz I certainly did!”

“Huh? Do robots like you even need sleep?” Shirogane curiously asked, a twinge of doubt lacing her words. “I mean… You are a robot, right?”

“Why don’t we just ask the Ultimate Robot himself?” Ouma butt in excitedly, balling his hands into small fists as his eyes sparkled brightly. “Hey, Kiiboy! Is it true that robots don’t need to sleep at night like humans do?”

“I will not tolerate your robophobic remarks, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo fumed, crossing his arms angrily. “While it is true that I do not require sleep, there is a function on my body that allows me to-”

Kiibo was cut off by Ouma audibly yawning, signaling his disinterest in their conversation.

“Boooring! I don’t care about your stupid sci-fi robo functions!” Ouma complained.

“Quit lyin’ you shitty shota!” Iruma scowled, jumping to Kiibo’s defense. “Just the other day you were buggin’ Kiibo about exactly that, so don’t even try pulling that shit!”

“Hmm, was I? I don’t remember…” Ouma lied once more, irritating Iruma even further. “Either way, an ignorant slut like you shouldn’t be-”

“Aaargh, that’s enough!” Monokuma thrashed about, waving his paws in the air angrily. “I didn’t call this meeting for you guys to bicker like little kids! You’re ruining the moment!”

A silence befell them, allowing Monokuma to continue.

“I’m introducing the new motive and that’s final!” He announced, composing himself. “Now, since you idiots were too busy arguing, I bet you didn’t even notice that you’re one student short!”

On cue, everyone began looking around in order to confirm Monokuma’s words.

“Atua says that Shuichi is the one missing!” Yonaga declared proudly, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, yeah! About that...” Momota began, “He wasn’t feeling good when I went to check on him this morning, so I figured it would be fine for him to sit this one out… He looked pretty bad.”

“Did you provide him with any medical attention, at the very least?” Tojo asked, voice laced with concern.

“Err…” Momota glanced to the side, a guilty expression adorning his face. “I might’ve forgotten about that when the announcement was made…”

“So you just left my beloved Saihara-chan to die?! How cruel, Momota-chan! And here I thought the two of you were all buddy-buddy or something!” Ouma cried, crocodile tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“T-That’s not true! We were going to check on him as soon as this was over! Right, Maki Roll?” Momota sputtered, struggling to defend himself.

“...That’s right.” Harukawa agreed, fiddling with her pigtails in response to Momota’s pet name for her.

“Upupu!” Monokuma laughed, lifting his paws to cover his smiling face. “Looks like everything is going just as planned!” 

“...Just as I thought.” Amami concluded, bringing a hand to his chin as he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Saihara-kun’s illness must have something to do with Monokuma’s new motive.”

Akamatsu gasped in surprise, frowning as she processed the implications of Amami’s statement. “Is that true, Monokuma? Did you do something to Saihara-kun?”

“Upupupu! I call it…” He paused dramatically for effect, “the despair disease!”

A wave of silence washed over them, the students carefully pondering over Monokuma’s words.

“Diss-pear duh-seeze…” Gokuhara sounded out, attempting to understand the information he had been given. “Gonta not sure he understand…”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno groaned, voicing her confusion. “Am I the only one who’s lost?”

“Tell us, Monokuma…” Shinguji spoke cautiously, “What is this ‘despair disease’ you speak of?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely I might as well tell you all!” Monokuma grinned, preparing to explain himself. “The despair disease is a highly contagious illness that affects each and every student differently, depending on the strain that they contract! The symptoms can range from physical ailments to complete personality changes, so I’d be careful if I were you!”

“Personality changes…?” Harukawa repeated to herself, turning to address Momota. “Did you notice anything unusual when you checked on Saihara earlier?”

“Now that you mention it, he was acting kind of weird…” Momota admitted, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. “Alright, I’ve decided! Me and Maki Roll will watch over Shuichi until he gets better!” He declared boldly.

“What about the two of you, then?” Hoshi questioned, raising an eyebrow. “If this disease is as contagious as Monokuma just said doesn’t that put the two of you at risk?”

“Don’t worry about that! I, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, am naturally immune to all types of sickness! I could never let something as silly as being sick bring me down!” Momota boasted.

“You’re such an idiot…” Harukawa twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers, a faint smile visible on her face. “But don’t worry about us. After we make sure Saihara is feeling alright, we’ll leave so that we don’t contract the illness.”

“Good luck, you two!” Akamatsu encouraged, flashing them a bright smile.

Momota gave her a thumbs up, heading out of the gymnasium with Harukawa in tow. One by one, the rest of the students exited as well, leaving only Monokuma.

“Upupupu…” He laughed to himself, grinning knowingly. “Let’s see how they deal with this...”

~~~~~

After arriving at Saihara’s dorm, Momota knocked on the door while Harukawa waited.

“Yo, Shuichi! You holdin’ up in there?” Momota asked, speaking loud enough for practically every dorm to hear him. “Me and Maki Roll came to check up on ya!”

Saihara faintly called out to them, informing them that the door should be open. Momota and Harukawa entered, immediately noticing a sick-looking Saihara sitting up in bed.

“Damn, you still look pretty bad…” Momota observed aloud, stepping closer to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m so tired, Momota-kun…” Saihara drawled, flashing him a coy expression. “I was up all night thinking about you…” He smiled innocently, fingers grazing his lips as he watched Momota’s concerned expression morph into one of bewilderment.

“Huh?” Momota recoiled, taken aback by Saihara’s sudden advances. “Shuichi, what are you talking about?”

Before Saihara could answer, Harukawa approached, placing the back of her hand on his forehead in order to check his temperature.

“He has a crazy high fever…” Harukawa stated, moving to pull her hand away.

But before she could retract it completely, Saihara took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“Your hands are beautiful, Harukawa-san…” He gave her hand a squeeze, looking up to make eye contact with her. “Just like the rest of you.” Saihara smirked, a beguiling expression dressing his face.

Harukawa was quick to pull her hand away, wiping it on her sleeve. “And your hands are sweaty.” She stated flatly, shooting Momota a quick look. With a sigh, she continued. “So, let me guess. You have a strain of the despair disease that makes you flirt with everyone you come in contact with. Correct?”

“Despair disease…?” Saihara repeated, “You’ve got it all wrong, Harukawa-san…” Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, the heat of his fever adding to the already prominent flush on his face. “The only disease I have is love sickness.”

“Do you want to die?” She threatened, expecting to wipe the smirk right off of Saihara’s face. But he continued to smile as he averted his eyes, another witty remark hanging off the tip of his tongue.

“Uhh… Can I talk to you for a minute, Maki Roll?” Momota spoke in a hushed voice, pulling her aside while Saihara simply observed. “Shuichi is acting kind of… weird, right?”

Harukawa rolled her eyes, another sigh escaping her lips. It was just like Momota to be this dense, especially when it came to flirting. Nevertheless, she responded, speaking in a low voice.

“Yeah…” She agreed. “Definitely weird.”

“So, what should we do?” Momota glanced at Saihara, who was simply staring down at the bedsheets. “I mean, someone has to take care of him… Right?”

“I don’t think we should leave him alone in this state…” Harukawa admitted. Despite Saihara’s odd behavior, it just wouldn’t be right to leave a sick person all by themselves. “I guess… We can keep an eye on him until nighttime.”

“Hmm… Alright! I trust you!” Momota gave her a small pat on the arm before turning back to Saihara, who seemed to be in a daze. “Listen up, Shuichi! Maki Roll and I are gonna be taking care of you until you feel better, so you better snap out of it!”

“Aha… Snap out of what?” Saihara responded, laughing a bit to himself.

Momota and Harukawa shared a suspect glance, before resigning themselves to their fate.

It was going to be a long day.

[genaleah]

ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible. 

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that. 

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually. 

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done. 

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess?  🤔  I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc.  It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere.  Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM  Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with. 

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite. 

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join: 

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

[aion-rsa]

How Alias Anticipated Modern Superhero Storytelling

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J.J. Abrams’ spy drama Alias, which turns 20 this week, was a lot of things: high-octane action-adventure series, twentysomethings relationship drama, occasional National Treasure homage. It was also, surprisingly, a spiritual predecessor to today’s hyper-saturated superhero movie and TV universes: A preternaturally gifted fighter, Sydney Bristow (Jennifer Garner) inhabits comic-book-esque alter egos to infiltrate secret missions related to ancient artifacts and promised immortality, all while ensuring that her nearest and dearest don’t know how many times she’s saved the world—or which side she’s really on.

Like the series’ MacGuffin-generating Nostradamus figure Milo Rambaldi, Alias has proven to be somewhat prophetic itself about what makes for the kinds of superhero stories that land today. With some 20th-anniversary hindsight, let’s look back at what made Sydney’s story so super and what lessons Abrams’ ridiculous(ly fun) series can still impart to the current crop of superhero sagas.

The Secret Identity as Kiss of Death

The highest priority that spies and superheroes share is that they cannot get made—that is, have their identity as a larger-than-life individual linked to their “normal” selves. They must always keep their personal and professional personas separate, lest they risk losing the people who know both sides of them. Alias establishes this difficult lesson in the first half hour of the pilot, when Sydney reveals her true work (she thinks SD-6 is just a covert branch of the CIA) to doctor fiancé Danny, only for him to blab about it later and get bloodily taken out in their bathtub. It’s the first time that SD-6 treats its sweet protégée harshly, making clear the consequences of her actions should she open up to anyone else in her life. And then she defects to the CIA, which will be a death sentence for her if SD-6 ever finds out.

Yet beyond the specter of grisly assassination, what the series really digs into is Syd’s growing ethical dilemma about being a double agent where it concerns the actually good people at SD-6, primarily her longtime partner Dixon (Carl Lumbly) and sweetly awkward Q stand-in Marshall (Kevin Weisman). It would be too easy if the series were only about her getting long-game revenge on SD-6 director Arvin Sloane (Ron Rifkin); the real conflict comes from Sydney lying to Dixon’s face on every stakeout, knowing that he still thinks he’s working for the good guys and she can’t ruin that fantasy for him without potentially turning him into collateral damage.

Similarly, the moments in which Sydney’s two (or three) lives begin to collide have other heartbreaking consequences: While the scene in which her best friend Will (Bradley Cooper cast as the friendzoned buddy, amazing) gets kidnapped and sees Syd saving him, is one of the decade’s best laugh-out-loud moments, it also leads to Will going into the Witness Protection Program. His life ends, in a sense, because Sydney couldn’t keep everything compartmentalized. And we haven’t even gotten to the awful fate that befalls her best friend Francie (Merrin Dungey)…

What Alias Predicted: The beating heart (or arc reactor) of many a superhero story is this tension between selves—which means that the big reveal of a secret identity has to be carefully timed and deliberately presented. It’s as emotional as Peter Parker’s (Tobey Maguire) mask getting ripped away when he saves the subway car of people in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2, as big as Spider-Man: Far From Home doxxing that Peter Parker (Tom Holland) in a commentary on fake news, or as pure and simple as Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) outing himself as Iron Man in the very first installment of the MCU. You cannot unring that bell, so it better be a memorable moment.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Rev the secret identity stakes back up! Captain America: Civil War ably took on the game-changing Marvel Comics arc of the same name by having heroes collectively unmask, and movies like Spider-Man: Far From Home are still playing out those ramifications. But mostly we see the dangerous ramifications of heroes doxxing themselves, without really digging into the strain for heroes to constantly have to lie about the things that truly matter to them.

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Campy Disguises and Clever Aliases

If you’ve watched Alias or were even vaguely aware of it, no doubt the first thing you envision is Sydney in black leather and bright red hair, a.k.a. her iconic look from the pilot. Her non-SD-6-sanctioned, under-the-radar disguise (impersonating Will’s sister) displays her ingenuity and establishes the series’ brand: attention-grabbing hair paired with increasingly ridiculous outfits, from chain mail waitress ensembles to rubber dresses. She’s played punks, rich bimbos, alluring businesswomen, escorts, and all manner of female personas upon which her marks would project their assumptions—all of which belied her true strength and cunning.

Even when future episodes riffed on the color wheel with teal, magenta, purple, and good old-fashioned blonde wigs, it was still within a clear spectrum established on that pivotal mission, when she channels a silly girl who cares more about the color of her hair than her safety, only to pin her torturer with the same chair to which she’s bound.

What Alias Predicted: I would hazard a guess that Natasha Romanoff’s first appearance in 2012’s The Avengers—a seemingly helpless redhead tied to a chair, about to be nastily interrogated—was a nod toward Sydney’s triumphant pilot mission. What’s more, despite the first ten years of the MCU leaning toward sleek costumes, later phases (like WandaVision‘s cheeky Halloween callbacks) have realized that they can embrace the bold colors and campy designs of the comic-book source material.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Better to lean into the bold colors and campy designs of the comic-book source material than to go for more sleek and cool. WandaVision did this, albeit cheekily and using the excuse of Halloween, but the nod toward Scarlet Witch’s original outfit was well received. Because any superhero can look cool in leather, but only the standouts can rock color.

Rambaldi Artifacts, Immortality, and Clones

While replicating the romantic dramas of Felicity, Abrams was also playing with early iterations of his signature “puzzle box” narrative style: The pilot has Sydney chasing after the mysterious Mueller device, which turns out to be… a floating red ball… which bursts into water the moment she tries to remove it. That head-scratcher of a device is only one of many inventions belonging to Milo Rambaldi, a fictional Renaissance-era philosopher whose sketches and writings all pointed toward the ultimate endgame: immortality. You know, just normal spy thriller things.

The series saw Sydney and co. chasing after all manner of Rambaldi MacGuffins, from a clock to a kaleidoscope to a music box to flowers that either demonstrated proof of eternal life (by never wilting) or amped up human aggression. Through all of this, it becomes clear that Sloane helped found SD-6 in order to collect all of Rambaldi’s artifacts and capture immortality for himself—even and especially at the cost of people like his daughter, Sydney’s half-sister Nadia Santos (Mía Maestro).

Before we get more into Rambaldi’s prophecies about the sisters, we can’t forget the parallel fever dream of the series: clones! Or, rather, secret agents genetically modified to look like anyone—which means everyone is a suspect. This constant paranoia quickly got out of hand on the series, but its first reveal was perfect TV drama: There’s not an Alias fan who doesn’t remember “Francie doesn’t like coffee ice cream” and the complete devastation that followed—the knock-down, drag-out fight that destroyed Sydney’s apartment just as badly as Danny’s death, but also Sydney’s heartbreak upon realizing that her best friend was already long dead.

What Alias Predicted: The Infinity Stones themselves are less interesting than in various superheroes’ personal connections to them: Loki (Tom Hiddleston) tempted by the tesseract in Thor: Ragnarok; Star Lord (Chris Pratt) and the Guardians of the Galaxy channeling their friendship to withstand the effects of the Power Stone; Wanda Maximoff’s (Elizabeth Olsen) stages of grief as she copes with trying to keep the memory of Vision (Paul Bettany) alive even without the Mind Stone. In short: grounding the most out-there plotlines in the personal ensures they will always land.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: Ground the most bonkers of plotlines in the personal, and they’ll always land.

The Chosen One and the Passenger

This is when the Rambaldi business started getting less National Treasure levels of charming and more outright weird. Turns out the team wasn’t just recovering a treasure trove of artifacts, but also Rambaldi’s prophetic writings—including the mysterious “Page 47,” which featured a drawing of a woman known as the Chosen One… who bears quite the resemblance to Sydney herself. That would be easy enough to dismiss as a strange doppelgänger coincidence, but then comes the reveal of “Project Christmas”: When Syd discovers that she didn’t just stumble into the spy life on her own, but was actually trained as a sleeper agent from childhood, it only amplifies her fears that she has no true agency over her life.

Further Rambaldi writings center Sydney and Nadia into predestined roles as the Chosen One and the Passenger: supposed foes who are fated to clash, with one dying. Nadia getting injected with “Rambaldi fluid” in order to tap directly into the long-dead man’s consciousness (contained within another artifact known as the Sphere of Life) only earns her some nasty apocalyptic visions. But despite their genuine friendship that comes from bonding over their fucked-up childhoods, Sydney and Nadia are forced into that preordained confrontation when the latter is injected with a compound that reduces her to a mindless killing machine… all while a giant red ball is hovering over a city in Russia, because why not. Even after Nadia dies, and is brought back to life, then dies again, with her ghost haunting Sloane as he finally attains immortality, she remains a presence on the series.

There are certainly echoes to Black Widow and how it handles Natasha and adoptive sister Yelena’s (Florence Pugh) strained reconciliation after the older sister got out of the Red Room while the younger was still caught in its web. Their bickering banter about vests and poses, their differing memories of their false childhood, and their respective feelings of abandonment are what elevated Black Widow’s standalone outing—and made it even more tragic, on multiple levels, that this was the only time we would see the two of them in a movie together.

What Alias Predicted: Sister stories are gold! The Rambaldi storylines would mean nothing if they didn’t hinge on a tragically preordained confrontation, just as the MCU’s Red Room depiction seemed overdone until it was presented within the context of multiple generations’ differing experiences with its bloody legacy.

What Superhero Stories Can Still Learn: More stories about sisters! With Nat dead not long after she and Yelena had just started to bond again, it’s vital that Yelena’s future MCU appearances show her still grappling with the little time they got together.

After all, the best superhero stories are the ones that can feel just as fresh now as they did 20 years ago.

Alias is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

The post How Alias Anticipated Modern Superhero Storytelling appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[darkpoisonouslove]

I'm offering you an empty salt shaker - asks 2, 5, 6, 15 (go ahead, I know you have something XD), 16, 20, 25 (about Bloom searching for her parents storyline)

Starting this again because guess who accidentally hit the key combination for undo and lost half an answered ask! This bitch right here.

I answered 2 here.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Not that I can think of. It’s usually the source material that ruins things and fandom is tasked with fixing them later.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I didn’t hate it but Bloom x Icy was incomprehensible to me. Fics helped a lot and so did other posts from here and there and I can see it now. Also, I totally couldn’t see Griffin x Codatorta but that changed, too. Though, that was less fandom and more trashcankitty12 with an ask that made me think about it a little more in-depth so it was pretty much me roping up myself into yet another ship. But ooh, I also don’t think I had considered Palladium x Avalon before fandom but, yes, indeed, it is right there in canon. And I was so puzzled over the Riven x Nabu content I was seeing but after watching seasons 3 and 4, I can totally see where this is coming from. The people are right. That is a bromance right there.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t (but you’re right that I have something aka A LOT) so I’ll just list my strong opinionsTM, okay? I will try not to dump on Bloom too much also because it is not a secret that I don’t like her so there is no need for me to go in too much detail.

4kids is the superior dub. That is probably the most controversial opinion I hold. But don’t worry, I’ll try to top it and up the ante. XD

I love Enchantix but it has so many flaws as a concept and even more as an execution and the thing that is really pissing me off is how obviously centered around Bloom’s arc it is. It was clearly created for the advancement of her character and the other girls’ stories came as an afterthought which is why Tecna’s Enchantix was total bullshit. And for having a transformation that is specifically created around Bloom, hers was bullshit as well. I think they should have let her reearn it in order for her to be able to use all of its functions like miniaturizing. Also also, at so many points it totally sounds like Bloom is not upset about the fact that Domino and all of its people were destroyed but about the fact that that means she won’t get her Enchantix. Which btw was a hasty conclusion because at the time Enchantix became a thing, she was still on a mission to find her parents which would have definitely been a way to earn her Enchantix and she had a sign that they were alive. So her angsting over not getting an Enchantix because of what happened on Domino was bad form on the writers’ part.

That spell for good decisions in 1x05 was one of the show’s lowest and most ridiculous moments. It was only included to flaunt in your face how naturally being a leader comes to Bloom because “See? See!!!!!! She can make a good decision without using magic to help her!” So can the majority of the population (note that we are talking about ONE good decision, not an unbreakable sequence of such). She ain’t all that special. Plus, Tecna was written wildly OOC there in order to boost Bloom’s stats so to speak. I’m sorry but Tecna would’ve known that three against four doesn’t give them advantage since they are freshmen and the Trix were seniors at the time. God, that scene was stupid.

Flora is the most boring character in seasons 1-3, fight me about it.

The writers totally had no idea what they were doing with the witches throughout most of season 1 which is why Griffin’s characterization in that season is so inconsistent. Also, wtf was that in 1x06? She straight up tried to kill a bunch of 15-year-old girls. Take a chill pill! I’m glad they figured out a much better balance with her later on.

Not using the fact that Cloud Tower is a living organism more was a fucking wasted opportunity. Especially in season 3 when Valtor took over it. That could have made everything so much better. Also, the witches should have been used more. They were interesting but deserved so much better in terms of development.

Sky should have just fucking died in 2x10. What were these resurrections and Bloom getting healing powers out of nowhere for a total of 5 seconds? You know, that could have been a good setup for a Bloom x Diaspro romance. It would have been so much better if they’d gotten together right after 1x17 and dumped Sky’s sorry ass. Also, Diaspro deserved better.

Riven is the best Specialist but he is especially better than Sky. Remember 1x22 when he was trying to escape CT? He was trapped deep in enemy territory with monsters everywhere and so high above the ground, yet he found his way out. Sky would’ve fucking died out in the open at Magix against one single monster if Bloom hadn’t shown up to rescue him. And the show has the gall to imply that Sky is a better Specialist than Riven is? Please!

The teachers should be fined and sued for emotional and physical damage they haven’t protected their students from. Especially the Alfea teachers who in 1x02 practically admitted that the witches might maim a fairy and they still won’t do shit about it. Nice one!

Griffin and Valtor is canonical subtext and I have nothing more to say about this. It is all there.

Valtor up until 3x18 and Valtor from 3x19 to 3x26 are two different people and the prior is superior in every way. The show ruined him in the last third of the season because there was no other way for Winx to defeat him.

Speaking about Valtor, his whole thing with the Trix is despicable and I hate it so much. It is extremely cringy on their part and extremely underhanded on his and I can’t stand it. Not to mention that it is wildly OOC for the Trix because they are obviously better than that.

I cannot understand saying that Bloom x Valtor is love-hate. I see only hate.

It is ridiculous how easily the Trix beat Griffin in season 6 and how they nearly take control over CT in season 2. And it is also ridiculous that she had to wait for Winx to unspell CT in season 3. She is a teacher, the headmistress of the most prestigious school for witches, a veteran and has been Valtor’s partner (and he himself admitted that together they were unstoppable which means that she has to be pretty powerful and even somewhere close to his level of power). Can the show stop acting like she is defenseless?

The teachers should have been used more. It would’ve been so much better if they were there to at least help Winx if not lead their battles. And it would have made much more sense. Also, how come Ediltrude and Zarathustra literally disappear when it’s convenient and then reappear again (like they did in season 1 when the witches went to Alfea)? That’s just bad writing.

Sky is adopted. He doesn’t resemble Erendor or Samara neither in appearance, nor in character and I hate them enough to headcanon that he was adopted but nobody knows because they don’t want to have claims that he is not an “official” heir of the throne because he isn’t part of the bloodline.

Mike and Vanessa are much more parents to Bloom than Marion and Oritel are, especially when the latter were first released from Obsidian, and the fact that Bloom starts calling them Mike and Vanessa instead of mom and dad after she learns she has other parents is abysmal. Also, they are literally the best parents ever and I love them to death. (I also like Marion and Oritel but Mike and Vanessa are definitely the superior pair of parents if we’re ranking them. I like the idea that the two couples are actually super close and love each other like relatives, in fact.)

What the fuck is up with the magic in this show? There is literally, like, NO FUCKING CONSISTENCY WHATSOEVER! You can’t blink without the rules of it changing in some way. But what am I saying? That would imply that there are any rules which is just not true. Also, there is no clear distinction of how powerful anyone is after season 1. The balance of powers especially between Winx and the Trix is pretty much whatever works for the episode. Same for Winx vs Valtor. The fuckery on that account is unreal. Plus, some of Bloom’s major power explosions happen due to her getting angry. According to the official Wiki - “While practicing or harnessing positive magic, one must keep a compassionate heart, primarily by keeping their thoughts and feelings clear of all negativity, making them capable of attracting positive energy more easily. Thus, if one is plagued with negative thoughts or feelings such as sadness, anger or fear, then their magic will grow   weaker until they may even be left incapable of casting magic until said feelings pass.“ Read that and then read it again, let it sink in. According to the rules of the Winx universe, during some of Bloom’s most powerful moments she was actually using dark magic, not light such because it was fueled by rage. Way to keep it fucking consistent. And that is not just Bloom! FLORA out of all people attacks the Trix in rage in 3x12 when they hurt her sister aka she was also using dark magic at that situation (and then you have Wizgiz scolding Mirta for it in SotLK like it is a sin to use dark magic, smh). In some instances I would argue that it was more of determination to protect rather than anger which I would say would still result in light magic. But The Flora thing, Bloom vs Stormy in 1x09 (Bloom even says she got so angry so that was not a case of protectiveness), Bloom vs Icy in 1x26 and Bloom vs Valtor in 3x14 were definitely rage aka dark magic. And then Bloom is all “fairies don’t have any demons”. Guess again, bitch! Also, writers, you need a dictionary to start comprehending the words you are actually writing?

Now that I think of it, the whole arc in the Resort Realm was bullshit. If it is a magic-free realm, nobody should have any magic in it, period! What is this bullshit that you can use Charmix and Gloomix there because they have higher magical energy? That absolutely doesn’t matter! If there isn’t any magic in the entire realm, having a higher amount of magic in you will not matter because you still can’t use it... because there isn’t any in the realm!!!!!! What the hell! Honestly, the writers can’t comprehend what words mean and that is not the only instance in which it shows.

Someone told me that SotLK is better than Magical Adventure and I don’t mean to offend but that is simply not true. Magical Adventure is leagues above SotLK even if it has some structural problems. Like, literally everything is better. Bloom and Sky are even likable and communicate!!!!!!!! Literally when have you ever seen a better moment for their relationship than in Magical Adventure? If it had been all like that, I would have liked them as a couple.

I think I got everything that comes to mind rn out. Might think of more at some point. I was done and then came back to rage some more because I remembered I had more material.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

I would have them make smart decisions because 99% of the shit they pull is so stupid it is unreal. I literally cannot tell how they are still alive. Oh, no wait! Plot armor. Yep, that’s it.

But if I had to pick something specific? Bring Nabu back. I sure as hell wouldn’t have killed him. That was an asshole move and I have no idea what the hell the writers were thinking when they wrote that.

And my second choice is - implement a magical system into the series because there isn’t one. Magic always works the way the writers need it to work to pull off their bullshit plot even if it contradicts everything that we’ve seen before. Please, for the love of god! Consistency is already dead; stop stabbing its corpse!!!!

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Purest ship? Lmao, asking me this question is underhanded. XD If you mean no drama, then Flora and Helia Mike and Vanessa. But I think my actual answer would be Griffin x Faragonda because they have been through so much that we know of or we can deduce and they still stuck together. Sure, they had their ups and downs but it is obviously a love for life that has lasted through so many obstacles and keeps lasting. The reason why I can’t say the same for Mike and Vanessa is because we don’t really know that much about their relationship with each other. But anyway I love both these ships so much.

If you’re talking about a canon ship, though, then Brandon and Stella (I do not recognize the stupid relationship drama in season 4 as canon). He did lie to her about his identity in season 1 but it was for his friendship with Sky (alternatively, for his job and duty as Sky’s squire). I just love how obviously in love Brandon is with Stella and how much Stella doesn’t care about anything but him. She didn’t care that he was a “commoner” and - one of my fave moments - in 1x08 she only cared about his well-being rather than the competition. It was adorable and they are adorable and I love them so much. Pure serotonin, right there!

25. How would you end the Bloom searching for her parents storyline/Would you change the ending?

I would certainly change the logistics of the whole thing because, boy, did it make no sense at all. As for the actual ending, I’d argue that physically finding them is not the end of that storyline and she needs to “find” them emotionally as well which would definitely take more time than SotLK cared to address. Like, she got them out of Obsidian and boom, everything’s fine! She literally doesn’t know them! Those are her parents and she doesn’t know anything about them! Their touch and their voices are unfamiliar to her even and they have missed on so much that they will never be able to get back and you’re saying that everything is fine? Yeah, right.

I would have had her spend a year on Domino with them before season 4. The school year that started in SotLK? She spends that with them. Possibly even the one that starts in Magical Adventure as well. She learns everything she can about them and the family history. She also learns how to be a proper royal because she is the Crown Princess now and she has no idea what the fuck she is doing. I would have made seasons 4 and possibly 5 about that and added more politics in it. Layla and Stella are also princesses who will run their kingdoms one day so we could have had adventures in political relations with Winx Club. They are pretty famous so I am sure there would be rulers of other lands that see them as threats and don’t like them. There could have been tension about that and the whole thing with Domino being the planet of the Dragon Fire could have been addressed. Who would dare oppose them when they are the most powerful force? Are they the most powerful force after the 17 years the planet spent as an ice block? Are there old alliances to be reforged? What is the political climate in the Magic Dimension? All absolutely fascinating questions that would have helped the worldbuilding and made place for Marion and Oritel in Bloom’s life and in the show. We could’ve gone back to the feel of season 1 when they also had other things going on besides the big baddie of the season and it could have been a little more episodical with a loose theme to connect the season and the overarching story of Bloom finding her parents and her place in the world she was born in. That could have been positively epic... And a great way to retain the cast because the Company of Light were allegedly friends so we could have seen Marion and Oritel reconnecting with Griffin, Faragonda, Saladin and Hagen. There could have been resurfacing debates left over from the war. Kingdoms angry at Domino for something that happened back then in order to include flashbacks with the events. AND that would work out with the fact that the Ancestral Witches were still around and could have led to another epic battle that wouldn’t end with the destruction of a whole planet. Like I said, there were amazing possibilities... and they were all wasted.

Well, this was long... and just what I needed. I hope some (civilized) discussion will spark out of that because I am tired of screaming in a void and I want people to talk to me.

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[CS] 4. Duty

4. Duty

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny, Winter, Xanthic Word Count: 8k

If robots are just tools…

Read on Ao3

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Primary Function: Protector  

Penny learned many things during her few short hours outside her father’s facility. Those with familiar background and status gravitate towards each other. Penny suppose the human variable meant different was of understanding the world. Same behaviors and actions can be used to express different emotions, particularly when people whisper under their breath and avoid looking at others.  

Though Penny still had a difficulty figuring out how May and Winter communicated with just looks. Even sign language used an actual method of communication.  

So far the Military Event was the best day of her excistance. Her true first day out in the world! She got to learn more about her future teammate and possibly made two new friends, Winter Schnee and May Marigold. But… It was odd, that the best day of her excistense could affect someone that was not present.  

Penny was starting to understand how powerful the gaze was.  

She sat at the facility’s kitchen table, head casted down and hands intertwined in her lap. She ignored the slamming keys and hard-light screens. Across from her, Ashley Xanthic furiously typed lines of code. The hacker would run simulation after simulation, until the checks ran red and continued working. Bit by bit, she hacked into Atlas’ network, byte by byte Penny Polendina was becoming an official citizen of Atlas.  

Ironwood wanted her to supervise the hacker. Something that required closer observation but Penny didn’t want upset Ms. Xanthic anymore. She sighed quietly, squeezing her hands. She wasn’t doing a very good job…  

“What’s the point in running the Kingdom if you can’t cut corners?” Xanthic growled to herself. Penny spared a glance up. Her future teammate took a break to sip her coffee but her head just kept tilting back and back before she just groaned into an empty cup.  

“It’s to prevent-”  

“Abuse of power, total dictator ship,” Xanthic droned. She put her cup down, looking at Penny through the gasps of her hard-light screens. "But here I am, in a secure military facility, hacking into Atlas Security with resources the General provided."  

If the public found out General Ironwood manipulated the system, he would be stripped of both his council seats. If the public found out a hacker had done it, the consequences wouldn’t be as dire. Still the General must have other reasons for using her as a scapegoat.  

Penny looked at her hands again, “He cannot make such quick changes legally, the process would take too long. Everything has been signed and approved-”  

“Of course,” Xanthic snorted. After hours of working, the hacker finally stood up. In a few short strides she was at Penny’s side, boxing her into the chair with slender arms. Penny knew Xanthic wasn’t fit, wasn’t a fighter. Her hands weren’t calloused like Aro’s but steady, soft, and precise. Penny could easily win but somehow she felt small and weak under that white burning glare.  

Staring into eyes that were so similiar to her own… but so full of resentment was not pleasent.  

"So why would the General," Xanthic hissed the title out like venom, “Need me to skip the queue?”  

“And why should we tell a criminal, one caught red handed by General Ironwood himself.”  

“Winter!” Penny gasped, hydraulics in her back straightening her posture. The specialist’s voice alone lifted her Aura, but seeing Winter glower back at Xanthic corrected any insecurities the hacker caused. “What are you doing here?”  

“I don’t resume my duties till tomorrow,” Winter said, eyes closed and shoulders tensing for a moment. Xanthic sneered. Penny ignored it because Winter refused to acknowledge the hacker. “I did offer you a tour of Atlas Academy.”  

“How about you don’t make my job harder?” Xanthic asked throwing up her hands. She walked to the fridge, making sure to brush against Winter so the Specialist was forced to acknowledge her. Xan was shorter, but somehow she seemed to have just as strong of a presense. “Marigold gets a pass but you and Glade are aware of the consequences that comes with fame. You really think people wouldn’t look up the mysterious ginger? She is a ginger right?”  

“Penny did not disclose her identity until after we witnesses saw us together,” Winter said with an annoyed sigh.  

“Now you know. Yet you still insist on parading her around?” Xanthic reason. She crossed her arms and glared threateningly at one of the best Huntresses in Atlas. Both women were too busy posturing and trying to intimidate each other to see Penny shrink ever so slightly. She quickly straightened out again when Xanthic lost with an infuriating sigh. “Seriously. Please don’t make my job harder than it is.”  

“Penny’s cover is already ruined, what else would hinder your task?”  

“Research,” Xanthic said opening the fridge. She frowned and gave Penny a disapproving look. “It’s practically empty. Is that why you’re all skin and bones?”  

“I’m not skin and bones…” Penny mumbled under her breath. It felt… bittersweet, a small victory in admitting what she is but what was the point if they didn’t understand it? Predictably Xanthic didn’t believe her. The hacker rolled her cybernetic eyes and peeked into the freezer next.  

“Neopolitan ice cream. I can forgive the lack of food,” she said with a small smile. Penny added the favorite flavor to Xanthic’s notes. “I can do what Ironwood-”  

“General Ironwood.” Winter corrected.  

Xanthic continued without any acknowledgement, “Told me to do, get the legal documents into the system or I can do a good job and actually leave some breadcrumbs for people to find.”  

“Breadcrumbs?” Penny asked.  

“According to Ironwood,” Xanthic started, ignoring the way Winter’s hand twitched in frustration. She looked for cups and spoons. “You’re another SDC orphan.” At that Winter’s composition changed, for a split second she looked guilty. Guilty and sad over a lie. Penny sealed her lips tight and looked down at her hands. She wasn’t lying but her Aura still flared across her system. “I’m editing old security photos and videos too hide a very obscure Penny in it. So it doesn’t look like she just magically appeared out of nowhere.” The hacker finished, looking at Winter. There was a shift between them… Xan’s voice barely audiable to Penny’s sensitive eqiupment, “We don’t want a repeat of last time…”"  

The Specialist hummed, eyes glaring in Xanthic’s direction but not really focused on her until whatever thought left Winter’s mind, “Very well. I’ll inform General Ironwood.”  

“Unnecessary but it’s your energy to waste,” Xanthic said waving her hand. She sat back down in front of her temporary workstation and went back to writing lines of codes.  

“Waste of…” Winter paused, practically growling under her breath. No sound came out but with her facial expression, Penny practically heard it. “And what would be an optimal use of my energy?”  

Xanthic pointedly looked at the near empty fridge. Dr. Pietro’s facility was locked down durng P.E.N.N.Y’s finalization process. There was no reason to stock so much food in the recreational kitchen.  

“I am not doing your grocery shopping!”  

“I’m under house arrest!” Xanthic threw up her arms. Around both wrist was a bracelet with gravity and lighting Dust built in. Once activated it would pin her arms together or send a volt of electricity. Ideally non-lethal. "And I’m gonna be here for at least three days."  

“I’m sure the General wouldn’t mind if we accompany you.” Penny said quietly. The two barely stopped from yelling at each other and looked at her. “The Ace-Ops rudely escorted you here from you’re home. I didn’t see any bags either… so…” Luckily Xanthic was dressed for the day… still dressed from the previous day. Under Xanthic’s unblinking cybernetic eyes Penny’s confidence waned.  

Winter took a deep breath, a finger on her temple. Penny stared, wishing she would unclenched her jaw instead. “Was it Herriet and Elm? Those two are quick and rash.”  

“Herriet and Vine, actually.” Penny said.  

“Figures. Vine has always been to the letter,” The Specialist started to walk down into the living room, “I’ll contact General Ironwood and request your cuffs be synced with my Scroll.”  

“Oh how kind! Ms. Schnee and her girlfriend taking me out for a walk. May I have a treat Mistress?” The hacker asked, her monotone voice alive with sarcasm. She even struck a pose along with batting long eyelashes. Perhaps it would be more effective if her makeup wasn’t so intimidating.  

Winter scowled and the two Atlas elites stared at each other for a minute. The silent challenged ended in a draw, they broth broke eye contact with Winter taking a seat and closing her Scroll. Within a few minutes Xanthic had finished her ice cream and checked the fridge again. With a some excessive force, Xanthic shut the fridge and continued working. Penny watched her hit the backspace more than she should.  

“Alright!” Xanthic yelled, ten minutes later. “I’ll play… nicer than usual.”  

Winter looked too dignified and controlled to smirk but the air around her was far too smug. Maybe it was the lack of reaction that held superiority? Whatever it was it annoyed Xanthic and puzzled Penny.  

The call only took a few minutes. Winter returned to the kitchen and held her Scroll to the gravity cuffs around the hacker’s wrist. It beeped twice, the cuffs flashing green. Outside an unmarked car pulled up. Once Winter opened the door Xanthic’s attitude resurfaced.  

“Are you fucking serious?” She asked staring at the front seat. Their transport was being driven by an AK-200. “I’d like to live.”  

“I’ll drive if you’ll shut up,” It seemed the Specialist was nearing her limit.  

“Again, I’d like to live.”  

“They aren’t that bad,” Penny reasoned softly. She physically stepped between them, even if they could clearly see above her head. That chip of insecurity wedged into her a little. Winter’s patient gaze gave her the strength to continue with a straight spin and even voice, “Safe driving is within their capabilities.”  

“Hm… fine,” Xanthic huffed crossing her arms. “I suppose three VIPs dying will finally help people realize these things are horrible.” Winter quickly got into the car, hiding her face but the door slammed with enough force to shake their transport. Xanthic sneered, a small victory. It would take more than a simple crash to harm a huntress… but her future teammate was a civilian.  

“How terrifying is it to live without a protective Aura?” Penny asked following Xanthic in. This time Xanthic glared at her while Winter sneered. Penny merely tilted her head in confusion, staring at the hacker for an answer.  

“You and fucking Glade,” Xanthic muttered. She looked out the window and the car was relatively silent as Penny tried to figure out how she insulted her future teammate.  

Their first stop was Xanthic’s house. It was big enough for a family and gated, Penny could see some trees growing in the backyard and a garden being tended too by a robot and two Ace-Op members. Before the gate could close behind them, Xanthic swung the door open and jumped out of the slow moving vehicle. Winter was quickly to follow so Penny felt compelled to do the same, even if her steps weren’t a confident march like Winter.  

“Welcome back, Lady Xanthic.” The robot gardener greeted with a bow. “May we prepare a meal for you and your guest?” Xanthic ignored it, pointing a finger at Clover then Marrow. Rude, Penny frowned looking at the robot. It didn’t seem to mind…  

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”  

“I could ask you the same question,” Clover said. His eyes gently swept to Winter and momentarily lingered on Penny. She ducked her head, eyes on the ground and stepping behind her Specialist. “But knowing Schnee, it’s classified.” He smiled but it wasn’t directed at Winter. Her professional mask didn’t recuperate any friendliness but the lack of a negative response was approval, in a way.  

“We’re ensuring you don’t escape a previously hacked into facility, pack your things, and run off,” Marrow answered. By Xanthic’s scowl and huff at a proper answer, the question must have been rhetorical. Penny was realizing most of her questions weren’t actually questions. Marrow plucked an apple from the robot gardener’s basket and took a bite. He hummed at the taste. “Oh and wonderful place! Very hermit and simple.”  

“The singular word would be self-sustaining,” Xanthic growled arms crossed. She finally looked at her butler. It was a different model than the one Penny first saw, smooth and curved, the design and cut in the chassis flowing almost gentlly. “Pack all the leftovers and anything you can prepare in 10 minutes. Not staying long.”  

“Understood, Lady Xanthic.” The gardenerbot bowed a little, then knelt back down and resume working on the garden. Through the window Penny saw two more robots walk into the kitchen. The robot did use we when addressing Xanthic, the robot’s AI must share a network, a hivemind. One of the butlers was definitely the model Penny saw driving the night they first met. Sharp edges, thick layered metal plates, intimidating faceplate, a bodyguard?  

Marrow whistled, “Impressive. For a criminal.”  

“Standard. For a genius.” Xanthic scoffed walking to the front door. She pressed her Scroll to the lock and it slide open. When Marrow moved to follow Clover stopped him.  

“You heard the bots, we can enter the yard but not the house. Until we have a warrant, they are authorized to open fire under the Home Defense Clause.”  

Xanthic chuckled softly, “Good Bobs.”  

“Thank you, Lady Xanthic.” Her butler chirped. Penny frowned staring at it before following Winter. The synthetic voice was flat, could almost past as human if Xanthic wanted it too.  

“Man… how does manage to show us up on her day off?” Marrow mumbled walking to Clover. “And the girl?”  

“Classified,” Winter called over her shoulder. Marrow yelped, a little surprised his loud voice carried that far.  

The first thing Penny’s sensors detected was an increase of temperature. Once she entered Xanthic’s home she understood why. Servers and machines lined the walls, countless of physical monitors mounted onto a surface and displaying news channels across the world. Others had lines of code or blueprints, one monitor occasionally flashed red and ‘Simulation Error. Project: BILLY unable to sync’.  

Xanthic stared at it but glanced at Winter. The Specialist glanced around the room for any weapon, then trained her eyes on the hacker. Xanthic grumbled, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the table. Like Aro’s home there was small electrical components and tools, but only one.  

A broken robot that looked like a ram laid on the table, small enough to fit in a pocket.  

Penny sat down and slowly reached for it. “May I?”  

“I can’t exactly stop you.” Xanthic barked. Penny flinched and recoiled. Xanthic sighed, “Right, I’m suppose to play nice… Yeah go ahead.” Slowly Penny scooped up the broken bits of metal and wire. Cradling it. “It was meant to be a monitoring bot.”  

“You mean spy?”  

“I mean as in a kid’s pet. The current cybernetic pets haven’t been changed in half a decade. It’s boring.”  

“… But a goat?” Winter asked with a raised brow.  

Xan smirked, “Greatest Of All Time.” This time Winter did let out a visible display of distain, along with… some surprise? Penny giggled at the light flush across her face.  

She politely decline the food the serverbots offered. Winter accepted a smaller portion while Xanthic scarfed it down. They continued their neutral banter for a few minute, talking about mundane robots walking around Atlas. Penny tried to focus all her processing power into examining the broken robot, but she kept focusing in on Winter’s voice.  

They were objects, they were supposed to be weapons. Xanthic scoffed and argued, they were flexible tools, with familial potential. The two agreed that robots were things but not on the functions. Penny’s function was to protect, she was a weapon. She was her father’s daughter, family… Her Aura stirred throughout her systems, sinking and sinking like it was trying to unplug her power unit.  

In her palm was a pet… “May I have this?” Penny asked.  

Xanthic looked at her through the glass of her cup and finished inhaling her water. “Sure. I doubt I’ll be able to work on any of my personal stuff now.” She held up her wrist, cuffs shining in the sun.  

The hacker spent the remainder of the 10 minutes packing some clothes and books. Winter looked through both, packing it even neater than Xanthic originally had it.  

The trip for groceries was short and uneventful now that Xanthic was cooperating. Penny almost missed her antagonism. It was entertaining, Penny found herself fiddling with the broken bot, thoughts drifting. The future members of APCX were quiet. Winter had her usual professionalism on but every so often worry would break though when she looked at Penny.  

Robots were tools, not meant to function outside their purpose. According to General Ironwood, she was a protector. According to her father-  

“I lied.” Xanthic said suddenly. Her volume was neutral but after a car ride with soft music it was an abrupt cut in Penny’s thoughts.  

“Surprising.” Winter sneered. It wasn’t as hostile as it was earlier but not as playful as with May or Aro.  

“Me and Glade have… history. That was supposed to be a gift.”  

“Really?” Penny asked. Winter held her Scroll to the facility’s front door and escorted the two VIP’s back to the recreation quarters. “I checked Aro’s files. There was some inconsistences during her internship with my father.”  

“I’ll have to fix that later then.” They were in the same environment nearly five years ago. That was enough confirmation for Penny. She helped Winter put away the food and memorized what they bought. Penny doesn’t eat, Winter isn’t a frequent visitor- though Penny hope that is going to change, so everything is Xanthic’s. She noted a surprising amount of sweets, either mint chocolate or some kind of strawberry flavor. She favored salt and vinegar snacks. The meals her butlerbots packaged was well balanced, most things fresh from her gardens.  

Winter synced the hacker’s cuffs back to the recreational area. Penny pulled the remains of the robot from her pocket… and stared at it. If weapon can’t be intimate with people, what does her time at the Military Event classify as?  

“Penny?” She heard Winter’s whisper shortly before registering a light pressure on her shoulder. She almost jumped. Her Aura ramped her system, nearly triggering a fight response. With concentration Penny was able to calmly look up at the Specialist. “Are you alright? Did the crowds at the store bother you?”  

“No…” It was her and the hacker that troubled Penny. “I’m-” fine. The words stopped in her synthetic vocals. She could feel her Aura swirl in her chest at the lie. “Just thinking. I’m going to gather some tools and materials for this little…”  

“Billy. I’ll send you the software after you fix it.” Xanthic said.  

Penny quickly excited the room, Winter’s hand just hovering there for a few seconds before Penny turned the corner and lost visual of both of them. Weapons can’t be friends. Penny shrank in, hands squeezing tighter and tighter. She ignored the warnings and only focused on the wires tightening in her chest.  

Then the squeezing gave way.  

Six days since her last artificial skin tear, rest to zero.  

Her room was simple, very similar to the workshop back in Atlas Academy. No bed, only an examination table with mechanical arms for maintenance. The drawers were full of tools, parts, or accessories. Things that was on the workbench for weapons. People did not wear artificial skin. The tear was easy to repair, thin layer of sillicone and wires around her index finger was torn clean off.  

A light knock on her door made Penny jump. Xanthic would be stuck in the recreational area, trying to leave would meant a painful shock. Winter… she was Ironwood’s second-in-command, she may have access to most of the facility but-  

Another knock.  

“Y- Yes?” She called out. To her surprised and relief her father opened the door. “You… knocked?”  

“Winter fetched me, told me that you seemed upset,” Dr. Pietro said. His chair slowly walked forward, as if ready to turn on a moment’s notice. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted privacy or not.”  

“Ms. Xanthic is restricted to the living quarters of this facility. Winter would be authorized entrance if allowed here,” Penny said. Pricacy was a human concept. She wasn’t… “My privacy is unnecessary.”  

“That does’t mean you can’t want it,” Dr. Pietro said gently. He looked at Penny’s hands and took a breath. Concern, worry, love. Emotions meant for people. It was easy to read these emotions from her father, yet somehow tiring.  

She was tired of seeing him worry.  

“I’m sorry,” Penny mumbled.  

“Maybe this entire Vytal Festival is a bad idea…” For once, Dr. Pietro’s voice was stern. It wasn’t hard like how the General’s could get but it was so odd hearing him frustrated.  

“No!” Penny yelled. She gasped at her own volume. Dr. Pietro jumped in surprised but he didn’t look mad. In fact he nodded and encouraged Penny to continue. “I want to fight! I want to see Vale.” And after the stories Aro told them during the Military Show, Penny wanted to see Minangire. May told stories about the mountains in Minstral and Winter balked at the heat in Vacuo. She wanted to see the world. Her simulations programs were the most accurate ones developed but nothing compared her own experience.  

Her father looked concern again and Penny made a noise. It was a reflex she hadn’t perform before, that hum of frustration May did so much. Her father looked shocked but smiled and laugh.  

“I’ve never seen you pout before. My, my, one day and you’ve learn so much already,” He said patting Penny’s hand. “And that’s really the General decision to make. And I doubt he’s changing his mind.”  

Penny let him repair the tear in the artificial skin. She made sure to watch, wanting to cherish the moment just as the others cherished their visits to other kingdoms. A moment that was truly hers and not programed into her. A special gel will act as a conduit for the wires and adhesive for the silicone. His hands went to work soothing everything back in place, encouraging the material to bound in a way that wouldn’t leave a mark.  

“I will always worry, my dear,” Dr. Pietro said. “I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself, but it’s just what fathers do.” The word stirred in Penny’s processors, she hoped it would stick. After all, weapons didn’t have fathers.  

“Then… what do daughters do?”  

Whatever Dr. Pietro had to say wasn’t fully vocalized. Instead the smile dropped for a moment and he sighed. “That depends on the girl,” Dr. Pietro said, “Specialist Schnee chose to leave her family… Family company to protect others.”  

“And… Ms. Xanthic?”  

Dr. Pietro raised a brow, “I think it’d be best if you asked her yourself.”  

Penny flinched at the thought. There was a 2% chance of a pleasant conversation. 95% chance Xanthic would yell at her. Penny left the remaining 3% as open-to-human-nature.  

“I… suppose,” She grumbled. There was a 100% chance of avoiding confrontation with Xanthic if she did not ask.  

Primary Function: Protector Daughter

[ratsoh-writes]

My curiosity got me, so here is my submission for a match up.  Sorry it’s so long!  I look forward to seeing your reasoning.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

MOM FRIEND:  I’m the friend that is almost over prepared for any situation and is protective, usually keeping others out of too much trouble or danger, but not stopping them from doing that stupid thing.  Some people will only learn from doing it and so long as it won’t seriously injure or kill them, go for it.  And I mean I am seriously prepared for most situations:  I have fluffy throw blankets and pillows in my car for those who get cold, extra towels just in case we somehow get wet, umbrellas/ponchos for those who need one, snacks/water just in case someone gets hungry/thirsty, first aid kit for small injuries, etc. Ironically, I am the only one without a kid so far.  

Extension of this would be my habit to act as the friend “nurse.”  Willing to spend hours taking care of a friend who isn’t feeling well and give platonic cuddles if needed.

Another extension of this is my need to feed anyone who comes over.  I think my love language is acts of service after typing all this. 

I’M LISTENING:  Always willing to offer an ear, even if I don’t believe I can council you.  Plus, for some reason, people just end up splurging life stories or something that is bothering them to me.  My life is mostly spent as that Naruto meme: “I have no clue what is going on, but I’ll pretend that I do.”  But I’m responsible about it, I won’t offer advice I’m not sure about and will usually refer you to someone else I feel is up to the task.

PATIENT:  Earned after years in customer service dealing with toddlers disguised as customers and also with friends who far exceed my energy levels.  It takes a good bit to anger me or very specific things to set me off, such as when I have asked you to please stop bringing up that stressful memory of mine again and again. 

I am told I am terrifying when I’m actually pissed.  Most times I don’t remember much when I actually snap, just that it happened, but details are fuzzy.  

CHILL:  My counselor once told me if I “Was any more laid back, I’d be on her floor.” And to a point, she is correct.  My house was on fire and my reaction wasn’t panic at the time, it was this odd calm that even when I reported the fire to my sister and authorities, they didn’t believe me until I showed them said fire.  I am reserved with those I don’t know well or are not comfortable around.  Once I trust you or you get me on a topic I love, I’m surprisingly passionate and animated.  

I feel this fits under here, but I also tend to do things at my own pace.  And not much can change that pace, but I will get what I set out to do done.

WHY ME?:  Too many people tell me I’m a natural leader, even got awards for it, but I never volunteer or want to be the leader in anything.  Usually, I just end up in that role somehow, some way.  Most times because I hate disorganized messes and those times the people I am with have trouble making concrete decisions and need some guidance to work out what they really want to do or the pressure to actually make a decision.  I may be an unwilling leader, but I will step up if needed.

WHIMSICAL:  Sarcasm, dry and sometimes cheesy humour, and an attitude to boot, but it’s rarely to be mean.  Most times it is me being playful and if I’m teasing you, that usually is a sign I like you and enjoy your company.  Plus, sometimes people need a little laugh or a spark of different emotion to get them out of a funk.  

INTEGRITY:  I could absolutely despise someone, but like hell I’m going watch them suffer.  In the same sense, if I take a job, I will do it right and not half ass it.  And far too many times I’ve had to step in and explain certain concepts in order to disperse negativity or help others see from another perspective to avoid adversity.  

CUDDLE BUG:  With people I am comfortable with, I am a cuddly person and do not mind a lot of skinship.  I am used to friends hanging all over me.  Plus, sometimes I just want to curl up someone as well.  

  STRENGTHS:  

Observant

Good communication skills & honest

Responsible & reliable

Full Size Human Heater.  I am ridiculously warm and always putting off heat.  Friends and coworkers alike use me as a portable heater.

Surprisingly good at being sly and collecting information if needed, like getting a shoe or ring size without tipping the person off it’s for a gift.  If they manage to call it, I always fess up and playfully make a fuss they ruined the surprise.

  WEAKNESSES:  

Terrible at lying, so I tend to simply keep my mouth shut instead

Willfully oblivious to flirting and absolute flustered mess once I am forced to recognize said flirting

Vast open waters terrify me

Tendency to keep my troubles to myself and try to solve problems on my own (don’t want to be a burden)

Can become despondent if I feel useless at times

  HOBBIES:

ART:  I’ve dabbled in several different medias, but my favorite is just a pencil or pen and any paper I can get my hands on.  I love drawing figures in dynamic poses.  Second favorite is sculptures built from wire.

COSTUMES:  I love Halloween, since it is the perfect excuse to make and wear my homemade costumes.  It also lets me challenge myself by making more complicated pieces like hooves, horns, and even chain mail.

BAKING/COOKING/CANDY MAKING:  I’m the cook in the house and I love it.  Seeing people enjoy my food is my favorite part.  Just don’t ask me for a recipe, I literally don’t have any and I won’t remember what I did.  

ORGANIZING/CLEANING:  I love puzzle games like Tetris and Catherine, and I love a challenge.  Combine the two by having me organize and rearrange a space to make it work and I am in heaven.

STORYTELLING:  When a story needs to be told, I am the one asked to tell it. Specifically I have such an entertaining way of telling it according to others.  Animated and colorful language, plus a few pit stops along the way with some side stories.  

  PET PEEVES:

CONTRARY:  Do not tell me to do something while I am doing it.  That will kill any motivation I had to do it.

BACKHANDED COMPLIMENTS:  It is possible to compliment someone without insulting them or others at the same time.  It just makes the compliment feel empty and negative.  And I tend to just hum and not reward that behaviour.  

TOO MUCH ATTENTION:  I don’t mind attention… from people I trust and are comfortable with.  Feel free to cuddle and coddle away.  But vast amounts of attention from those I feel are strangers or acquaintances will unnerve me (I have literally left functions immediately  where I walked in and was bombarded with shouts and attention aimed at me-sensory overload I guess).

  ODD HABITS:

NESTING:  No, I don’t think I have enough blankets and pillows.  Yes, the giant stuffed animal is needed and his name is Snuffie.  

CRUSH ME:  I’m serious, some days I need one of my friends or my bf to just lay all their dead weight on top of me.  It’s just oddly therapeutic.

NO, I’M NOT PREGNANT:  Just cause I ate that jar of olives in one sitting or suddenly was craving jalapeno juice and crushed ramen noodles.  There are never enough pickles and yes, I am determined to try every kind–I may have a vinegar addiction.

IRONY:  I bake some of the tastiest, sweetest desserts and make pralines and caramels, YET I myself do not favor sweet things. 

HANDS:  One thing I tended to do with nearly every boyfriend and guy friend I had was play with their hands and put their hands on my face/head.  I lived for being pet and having people play with my hair.    

NONVERBAL MOMENTS:  Sometimes words are just too much, so I instead make sounds.  Can be anywhere from a growl to a cat like noise, or the reliable “Nyeh.”

NO NOs:

I think I listed a few as I went through everything else, but ignoring boundaries is the main one.  If I tell you I’m not comfortable with something, do not make me repeat myself.  And usually that something is given a pass the first few times it is done before I say something and explain why I’m not comfortable with it.   

Example:  I have thick, curly hair, a product of my mixed heritage.  Well, sometimes I like to straighten it and I did just that one day.  Well, a coworker decided to make a backhanded compliment, stating I should stick to what works: straight hair over my natural hair.  I had gotten on him about it, but I decided to vent to a friend about what happened as well.  She proceeded to constantly repeat those hurtful words and while I knew she meant it playfully during those times, I had to stop her and sit her down, explain I don’t find it funny cause the words are linked to a hurtful, possibly racist memory that I didn’t want brought up again and again.   Thankfully she understood and stopped.  So, I don’t snap immediately and I understand sometimes a sit down needs to be done.

Ok first of all I gotta say that I absolutely loved reading your matchup!!! It’s so well organized, detailed, and the descriptions are pretty creative!!! Do you do any writing yourself, because you should!!! alright, geek out moment over.

i’ve got three guys you’re perfect for, but let’s go for the obvious one. HONEY!! 

You’ve checked off everything on honey’s list: caring, organized, laid back, and good for cuddling. Now here’s what he has to offer to the table: he will cuddle you back. This guy is the ultimate cuddle slut. You’ll never feel unloved with him. Honey is also a very thoughtful and appreciative guy. He likes caring for his partners. You may be the mom friend, but he’ll do his best to return that love as well.

Honey is a little awkward, but he’s also sensitive and empathetic to how others feel. If he puts his foot in his mouth, just tell him and he’ll never bring it up again. Plus this guy is just so honest and genuine that backhanded compliments aren't really a thing with him. 

Also you like costumes!!! He’s always wanted to try cosplay or theatre. You just might be the person to give him the courage to finally stick to one. 

dating honey includes:

cuddles upon heaps of soft things. He has his own collections of ridiculously soft blankets and pillows that he’ll happily add to your collection. Honey is also a master at pillow forts. 

honey is a good listener. He’ll be happy to just sit back and enjoy the stories you tell. There is start though, who is also the storyteller of the underswap home. Any funny story you give about your time together will be rewarded by star with a funny story from his and honey’s childhood, much to honey’s embarrassment

if you don't really like sweet things but love baking them, then honey and star will happily finish them for you. People are usually surprised about how just how much skeleton monsters can pack away. 

he’s a picky eater and will give you the wtf face when you fufil your weird cravings though lol 

Oh! Also if you’re wondering, the other two would’ve been either oak or coffee

[kpop-zone]

Better Together | Momo x Nayeon

Genre: poly relationship, angst, fluff

Wordcount: 3,627

Request: can u do a namo + fem s/o poly relationship wherein the s/o always feels left out by namo bc namo were in a relationship first before s/o joined the relationship so namo are still used to being just them in a relationship, and because of this s/o grows kind of distant

You came into the dorm to the sound of your two girlfriends giggling in the kitchen. When you rounded the corner, you could see them preparing food together while playfully shoving each other. You could feel your heart twinge, but when Momo noticed you standing there, you didn’t let it show.

“Oh hey, Y/N.”

She greeted you and when you stepped closer to them, both gave you a quick peck on your cheek. Right after, however, they fell back into their chatter, giggling at what the other had said, ignoring you standing behind them.

“Can I help you?”

You asked sheepishly from behind because you felt really useless, watching them prepare your dinner.

“No we’re good. You can go.”

Nayeon answered with a smile and you knew that she was referring to the cooking, but you couldn’t help but think how fitting that sentence was in matters of your relationship as well. You knew that Momo and Nayeon had a stronger bond in the beginning, because they dated even before you were in the picture. But they were really chivalrous, so you thought that this could eventually change. But now that half a year had passed since all three of you had decided to date, you still felt like the outsider in the relationship.

Nayeon and Momo had a lot of inside jokes and memories that they had collected without you, making them constantly talk about something that you didn’t understand. You didn’t mind them talking about those things in general, but you were bothered that they didn’t even try to include you. You had also made some memories together, but they never seemed to be as important as the ones that they had made without you.

You always tried to cheer up though. They had fought for you being in the relationship, you told yourself. You were skeptical in the beginning about starting a relationship that involved three people, but you couldn’t resist their charms. You were simply helpless against them and fell for both girls in no time. And no one ever said that you could only love one person. Your relationship was a proof that you could love two people in the same way.

So you gave in to their pleading eventually. All this time, you had tried to calm your concerns with the knowledge that they had made such an effort to have you in their lives, they simply couldn’t be tired of you. But then again. They were only humans. And humans made mistakes. What if they regretted asking you to be in their life?

They didn’t seem like they needed you. Their relationship was good. Even without you.

“Hey guys, I’m kind of feeling really exhausted today, I think, I’m just gonna head home.”

Your concerns had won your inner conflict today. You couldn’t stand being around them a second longer.

“What? But you only just came.”

Nayeon said with wide eyes and you were relieved that she at least seemed like she was sad that you were leaving.

“Yeah but I don’t want to ruin your mood. You’ll be better off without me.”

You explained while already taking a few steps back.

“But who’s going to cuddle with us tonight?”

Momo pouted and you almost started to regret your decision to leave.

“I’m sure Nayeon will do a great job as well.”

You tried to sound like you were joking, and Nayeon immediately wrapped her arms around Momo, giving her a kiss on her cheek, making Momo giggle.

That’s how it is supposed to be, you thought to yourself, seeing the picture in front of you. They seemed whole together. There was no need for you in this puzzle. You were just another piece that tried hard, but just didn’t fit in.

Without another word, you turned around and left.

-

Momo jumped a little when she heard the door close. Puzzled she looked around, seeing that you weren’t standing at the door anymore.

“Y/N?”

She asked, but there was no answer, so she looked at Nayeon, who looked exactly as dumbfounded as her.

“Did Y/N just leave like that?”

She asked and Momo nodded absentmindedly. Did she just imagine things or were you acting weird?

“Let’s send a text later and ask if everything is alright?”

Momo asked and Nayeon agreed.

So as soon as they were finished eating, they sat on the couch together, sending a text, asking if you were ok.

Y/N: I’m fine

Nayeon read your answer out loud and the two of them looked at each other questioningly.

“Do you think we should go and check up on her?”

Momo asked and they pondered over the question almost half an hour, deciding in the end that they should give you space, if you asked for it. Instead, they opted to send you a cute picture of them with a sweet message.

Nayeon: We miss you! We hope you rest well <3

They hoped that you would be back to normal again after having a good night sleep, but they were wrong. The following week, you didn’t reach out to them at all. You only answered with short text messages and chose to ignore their phone calls.

At first Nayeon and Momo stuck to their plan to give you as much space as you needed and they managed to distract each other, but after a week they missed you so badly that they decided to go to your apartment. You knew that they were clingy people, so they hoped that you wouldn’t be mad.

Dressed in their pajamas and equipped with your favorite snacks, they stood in front of the door, impatiently waiting for finally being able to cuddle into your arms again.

-

When you looked through the spyhole, your body reacted in two ways simultaneously. On the one hand, your heart began to flutter like crazy, because you truly had missed your girlfriends, and they looked adorable in their fuzzy pajamas. But on the other hand, your heart also dropped, because you had distanced yourself to make a decision about how to continue with your relationship.

And you had decided that you didn’t see a future with them. Or better. You saw a future with them, but you didn’t think that they saw one with you and you didn’t want to wait around for them to break your heart. Nayeon and Momo made it clear that they were a well attuned team, any addition to it was a fancy extra for a while, but far from a necessity in order to be able to function.

Before opening to the door, you closed your eyes shortly, taking a last deep breath before putting a smile on your face and greeting your soon-to-be ex-girlfriends.

At the sight of you, their faces lit up and your heart began to twinge. They tackled you into a hug, clinging to your body as if they never wanted to let go of you. You didn’t even realize that you had started crying until Momo pulled back and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

She immediately reached for your hand and stroked the back of it with her thumb lovingly. You just shook your head in response, making even more tears spill out of your eyes causing Nayeon to quickly wrap her arms around you again.

“Sh... it’s alright. We’re here now.”

She shushed you, but you only felt worse hearing her words, because they truly had no idea what would be coming their way.

Nayeon guided you to the sofa where she let you cuddle into her side, running her fingers through your hair, humming a sweet melody for you to calm down. Momo rushed to the kitchen in the meanwhile, making you a hot chocolate, thinking that you urgently needed some serotonin.

When she came back, she sat on the other side of you, laying her arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She asked you softly, but you shook your head in response, so Momo and Nayeon looked at each other helplessly, not knowing what to do now. Hesitantly Nayeon grabbed the TV remote in the end, putting on a random program, letting you rest in their arms for a little longer until you had to eventually talk about your outburst.

You knew that it was unfair to let them think that everything was alright between the three of you, but you just needed to savor the feeling of your three bodies intertwined one last time. When you lost the person you loved, you were half a heart afterwards. But what happened when you lost two persons that you loved at once? You figured that there wouldn’t be a lot of heart left in the end.

Nevertheless, you freed yourself from their embrace after a while, causing them to look at you expectantly. You decided that it would be better to just get it over with.

“I want to break up.”

You blurted out and looked alternately into the faces of Momo and Nayeon that looked at you like they had seen a ghost. You could see that they were processing your words, eventually leading to a look of confusion.

“What?”

They asked equally puzzled and this situation would have been quite funny, if you couldn’t feel yourself ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“I can’t do this ‘three-people-in-a-relationship’ thing anymore.”

You sighted and if you thought about it, it wasn’t even a lie. You were just not telling the whole truth, because after all, you still loved them and didn’t want them to feel bad after the breakup.

“But why? Everything has been going great?”

Momo asked perplexed and Nayeon nodded in agreement.

“It hasn’t. I just didn’t talk about it.”

You answered bluntly and you could see that Nayeon’s shock was slowly wearing down, only leaving agitation behind.

“Then I want you to talk about it now. We deserve an explanation.”

She huffed while crossing her arms and you quickly looked to the floor, because you knew that you weren’t a great liar.

“Um... It’s just weird, ok? I can’t cope with all the dirty looks on the streets anymore and that none of our friends truly understand this relationship.”

You stammered, hoping that they would buy into your lie. Suddenly, Nayeon leaped to her feet.

“So you’re breaking our hearts because you’re ashamed of us?”

She yelled at you and you could see the hurt in her eyes.

“Nayeon...”

Momo tried to calm her down, but Nayeon raised her hand for her to be quiet.

“No, I won’t let our relationship be insulted like that. It was beautiful and I can’t believe that Y/N is just throwing it away because of what small-minded people on the streets are saying.”

Tears were streaming down her face and she stormed out the door, loudly slamming it behind her.

Momo was sitting next to you, fighting an inner battle. She didn’t know if she should stay and try to change your mind or take care of her other girlfriend. So you made the decision for her.

“You should go, Momo. Take care of Nayeon, she needs you more than I do.”

You gave her a small smile, but Momo kept sitting next to you, flickering her eyes from the door to you and back. So you took her hand in yours.

“Thank you for worrying about me Momo. But I swear it’s fine. You can go.”

You lifted your hand to her face, softly stroking it before giving her a kiss on her cheek and leaving her behind. You had always admired your girlfriend’s empathy. She was so loving and soft that you swore that you would protect her. But now it was you that hurt her in the end.

You dragged your feet to your bedroom where you curled up on your bed, waiting to hear the front door shut until you let your tears stream freely, having lost not only one, but two halves of your heart tonight.

-

Nayeon heard Momo entering the bedroom, but she didn’t feel like being around her right now. She was in need for comfort, but it felt wrong to get it from Momo. You had been in the relationship together. So breaking up with you felt like breaking up with Momo as well.

It was like the two of them were two riverbanks and you had been the bridge that was connecting them, but now that you were gone, there was nothing but distance left. So tonight, they slept with their backs turned to each other and the space between them felt bigger than it was. Because it was more than just physical space that only grew the next days.

There was a weird tension surrounding them, making it too uncomfortable to be around each other. Nayeon left as often as possible making sure that she only came back when she knew that Momo was already in bed. She could see that Momo was suffering but she couldn’t get herself to lift her up. She was too broken herself.

Today they both had a free day and they were wordlessly sitting across from each other while having breakfast. Silence was surrounding them like usual, until Momo disrupted it.

“Do you think we can go back to where we were before Y/N was in the picture?”

She asked insecurely and Nayeon furrowed her brow, thinking about the time before they had started dating you. Momo and her had been happy together. But still, something had always been missing. They had been like a tricycle, able to function as a pair but never able to run smoothly. And now that she knew how happy she could be in a set of three, she didn’t want to compromise anymore.

“No, I don’t think so.”

She answered sadly, not wanting to lose Momo, too, but she just couldn’t imagine her life with her but without you. Momo slowly nodded her head.

“Me neither.”

She admitted silently and Nayeon sighted exhaustedly. They both knew what that meant. So she stood up from the table before kissing the crown of Momo’s head one last time and heading for the door.

“I’m going to get my stuff later.”

She said before heading out.

-

Momo felt like she was stuck in a nightmare. She was blankly staring ahead, absolutely in shock that she had lost two of the most important persons in her life in such a short time.

Tears silently streamed down her face and she just wanted to be held, so her head would stop spinning. And there was just one person that she was craving right now. Not caring about her looks, she left the building, letting her feet take her to the place where she wanted to be.

“Momo?”

You stared at her with wide eyes when she was standing at your door with puffy eyes. She knew that it was a terrible idea to go to your ex-girlfriend when you were heartbroken, but she needed you right now.

“N-Nayeon and I broke up.”

She stuttered while a fresh set of tears started to stream down her cheeks. Without hesitation you wrapped your arms around her and Momo grabbed the back of your shirt desperately, finally letting go of all her bottled-up emotions.

She felt your hands at the back of her thighs, lifting her up and causing her to wrap her legs around your body. You carried her to the couch where the three of you had been sitting not too long ago. Momo buried her face into the crook of your neck and wished that she would be waking up from this nightmare.

What had she done wrong? The question played in a loop in her head since you had left her and she blamed herself for not being a better girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

She sobbed over and over again while you stroked her back in circles, trying to calm her down.

“Baby, it wasn’t your fault.”

Momo heard your words, but she couldn’t believe them. How couldn’t it have been her fault when she was the one that had been left twice?

You pulled back to be able to look into her eyes.

“I’m serious, Momo. Stop blaming yourself. This one was on me.”

You assured her with sincerity in your eyes while you were cupping her face.

Momo was about to object, but a knocking on the door, beat her to it.

You looked at her in shock, showing her that you both had the same idea about who was standing in front of the door. Softly you put her on the couch, rushing to open the door.

“Nayeon?”

Momo could hear you ask, and she buried her face in her hands. Funny how destiny had its way of working.

-

You were staring at Nayeon in shock, not knowing what to do because of Momo sitting in the living room.

“Momo and I broke up.”

She sobbed before tackling you into a hug. Hesitantly you rested your hand on her back, closing the door with the other. You pulled away slightly before taking Nayeon’s hand and guiding her into the living room where she stood like glued to the spot when she saw Momo sitting on the couch. She stared at you in shock and you couldn’t hold in a chuckle, because this situation was so absurd that it was funny.

“Well and this is how the story repeats itself.”

You remarked before sitting next to Momo. You could see that Nayeon was torn about what to do, but eventually, she dragged herself to the couch sitting next to you. Both of them were avoiding your gaze when you looked at them and you sighted, knowing that it was your turn to break the silence.

“Why did the two of you break up?”

You asked truly curious and Nayeon massaged her temples before answering.

“Because we’re not complete without you. It felt like a piece was missing, making this relationship not functionable.”

In shock, you snapped your eyes up to look into Nayeon’s. Their relationship was not functionable without you? This couldn’t be true. You had broken up with them to save their relationship. You grabbed fistfuls of your own hair in frustration.

“Oh my god.”

You mumbled before leaping to your feet and walking up and down in the room.

Nayeon and Momo looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Momo asked you in confusion and you had to laugh at your own stupidity.

“I’m an idiot.”

You stated without context, confusing the two girls in front of you even more.

“Do you know why I truly broke up with you guys?”

You asked them rhetorically and they shook their heads in unison.

“Because I felt like I was expendable in our relationship. I thought you were tired of me meddling with your relationship.”

Both of them looked like they had seen a ghost after your words until Momo finally spoke up.

“What? How could you think that?”

She sounded truly dumbfounded and you stopped your pacing to be able to choose your next words warily, not wanting to hurt Momo even more.

“You just seemed so happy together when it was just the two of you. And you talked so fondly about your relationship before I joined it. It just felt like you only held on to me, because you didn’t want to hurt me.”

Both of them were taken aback by your words.

“So you thought that we didn’t love you all this time?”

Nayeon, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke up while tears started to stain her cheeks.

Not being able to be apart from them any longer, you made your way over to her with big steps, cupping her cheeks to be able to wipe away her tears.

“No. I mean yes. I mean... I can’t really say. I just thought that you didn’t really necessarily need me in your relationship.”

You stuttered, not being able to express your feelings in words.

“But we did need you. We still do.”

Momo suddenly chimed in, grabbing your hand to kiss your knuckles softly.

As you were kneeling in front of the two girls, holding the face of one in one hand and the hand of the other in your other, you realized that you had been wrong. You had never been only an extra in the relationship but the glued that had held everything together.

“I’m so sorry.”

You mumbled while you let your head fall to your chest.

“It’s ok.”

Nayeon shushed you, while lifting your chin to kiss your forehead.

“I think we all made mistakes.”

She added, grabbing Momo’s hand to make her look at her.

“Can we work this out?”

Momo asked shakily and both of them fixed their gaze on you.

This time there were no insecurities playing with your mind, making you immediately nod in response.

“Of course. We’re better together, aren’t we?”

Nayeon sighted in relief and you pulled both of them into a hug, feeling them simultaneously bury their heads into the crook of your neck.

When you pulled back all of your faces were stained with tears and you laughed at each other, because it turned out that you had all been big idiots.

“Can we cuddle and watch TV now?”

Momo asked sheepishly, making Nayeon and you laugh even more.

But without losing another word you sat in between the two of them, letting them cuddle into your side while you turned on the TV before laying your arms around their shoulders.

Looking down, you could see that both of them were already looking at you and you smiled softly.

“I love you.”

You said to both of them and they leaned up to give you a kiss on your cheek.

“We love you too.”

They answered together and you pulled them impossibly closer, knowing that this was the only way it was meant to be.