#Glum feeling rearing its head again

[edeldoro]

Doubting my hearing so much because it's probably a coincidence when something resembling a fragment of a Bach partita plays a few seconds in Kafka's trailer theme. Feeling conked

[pseudofaux]

Hi Sue, thank you for opening your askbox 😘 may I plz request praise kink Ray & Lancelot? Like, MC is chubby, she's too shy and very insecure but they were always telling her she's beautiful and gave up after some few touches, kind words and kisses 😅 thank you

YES! I know they would love her and take such good care of her. 🖤♥️ I’m sorry that I am not quite sure how far you wanted to go into sensual content when you mentioned praise kink (this ask is very cute), or how to parse “they were always telling her she’s beautiful and gave up after...” so I’m going to write this the way I hope you meant it, and I very much hope you will enjoy it! Long live these praise-ing kings!

(Requests are open through May 1 if you’d like to get one in!)

When she sits between them, she’s already stressed nearly to tears. She has no sense of self worth today, and the way her belly curves behind the high waistband of her skirt when she sits makes her feel even worse. She tucks her hands together in her lap and tries to hide the way her fingers look wide and inelegant.

Ray scoots closer, and he and Lancelot each take one of her hands. “Hey now,” Ray says gently. “You look like you’re feeling down again.”

She doesn’t feel like talking, really, but she nods, glum as she has ever felt. Lancelot gently squeezes her hand in both of his. “Can you tell us about it?” he asks.

She shakes her head, and if she wasn’t worried about being unkind she would pull her hands back from both of them. Ray tightens his hold on her as though he can sense it. Maybe he can, he’s good at reading people.

“Can you tell us if it’s what we’ve talked about before?”

She nods and finally looks up, guilty.

“Well. Let’s talk about it again, okay, and listen close,” he says. “You go first, Blondie.”

Lancelot sighs heavily, but clears his throat and does in fact go first. “I think you are perfect just as you are,” he says. “I can’t imagine even wanting to be with anyone else.” Ray clears his throat and Lancelot repeats “Anyone else.”

“I see how it is,” Ray mutters.

“Good, then,” Lancelot says. “It’s your turn.”

Ray makes a taunting face at the other king, then gets serious. “You know I think you hung up the moon, right? You’re wonderful.”

Nice words. They are both so kind and saying nice things, but she doesn’t feel worthy of them at all, and their attention on her, even though it is gentle and even though they would never hurt her, makes her shyness rear its head, makes her feel trapped.

“I know you are kind,” Lancelot said softly. “Never doubt it.”

It’s hard not to doubt. She doesn’t know how to say that, though. They are being so sweet to her, and she just knows these nice things won’t stick in her mind, won’t be there for her the next time she feels like she’s not good enough to do anything.

“It’s a very rare virtue,” he adds quietly. “I think... it is something to be proud of.” He tucks her hair behind her ear and leans in close.

“If you need me to show you that I desire you, I can do that,” he whispers. “I can do that any time, because I am always desiring you.”

“Yeah!” Ray says loudly. “That goes double for me. Any time. Now?” he asks with a grin. It’s the first thing to make her smile all afternoon. “Hey, look at me,” Ray says. “You know I’m sweet on you, but I’m no liar. When I tell you you’re great, I mean it. And when I say I want you, I mean that, too. I’d never put up with Kingsley if it weren’t for you.”

And that finally makes her laugh. Just a little, but it is a laugh and it feels so much better than being a ball of worry and unhappiness.

“I heard that,” Lancelot says mildly. That makes her giggle again.

“Thank you for trying to cheer me up,” she tells them. She looks from Lancelot to Ray and they are both smiling encouragingly.

“Sooooo... now?” Ray offers. She feels shy about it, but she nods just the same.

“That’s very, very good,” Lancelot says under his breath. It sounds so high above her. “You look-- this is-- ...incredible.”

“Isn’t it?” Ray sounds smug, but he is the one doing most of the work so she supposes he’s earned it. She’s kneeling on the floor, and he’s behind her with his hands on her breasts, gently pushing them together and moving them over Lancelot’s weeping cock. “Couldn’t do this with another girl,” He says by her ear. “Wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t,” Lancelot agrees. “Don’t get distracted, Alice.”

She had been completely distracted, but at his reminder she starts to stroke her hands over her naked thighs again, light touches that draw her awareness to her sex.

“Don’t get distracted, Alice,” Ray singsongs in her ear. “Get yourself ready, because we’re going to be praising you all night long.”

He is sweet on her, but he is not a liar. They do exactly what he says until it is hard for even her to doubt, if only for a few moments before sleep, that they love and desire her.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: j u y e o n

Genre: drama with chaebol/lawyer juyeon

A/N: I’m investing way too much feelings and emotions into this i might cry when it ends. this chapter is more serious i guess i can’t be writing angst and smut every chapter LOL

Link to other parts: 

I Never Wanna See You Again

Frustrated (light smut)

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut)

~

“i’m playing with fire.”

all you wanted to do was have breakfast, but you walk out along the hallways of the second floor only to watch an entire crowd of staff members push and pull countless of racks across the living room. 

the female staff member who recognised you from the previous week notices you standing awkwardly behind the wall, struggling to process the crowd at the foot of the stairs. 

you watch her say something to another staff member, before she strolls across the living room and heads up the stairs to greet you.

“i’m going to hope you don’t have any clothes of your own,” she smiles at you, eyes flitting to your neck for a split second and looks at your bare legs. 

“uh--” you stumble on your tongue, having trouble finding any words to say. you completely forget about the marks on your neck, and you were only in his underwear with the large pullover barely covering your rear. 

“i’m gonna get you a robe while you choose your clothes for today and i’ll run you a bath before you have breakfast.”

you watch as she walks away into the bathroom, and again, you wonder why it was so difficult to think of anything to say. you had expected the house staff to be judging you for sleeping with him, but they all seemed so nice and candid, it was a little difficult to believe. 

you just couldn’t get the idea of juyeon being such a kind, relaxed boss out of your head. 

she returns from the bathroom with a robe, the water now running and a rose scent begins to waft through your nose. “here,” she hands you the robe and waits for you to put it on. 

“mr lee wanted you to pick out as many clothes as you wanted, and he wants you to know not to worry about the price.”

you reach the bottom of the stairs with her standing right next to you, and you see at least three racks of clothes surrounding the living room. there were at least two full-body mirrors next to the sofas, and a separate mobile shelf with shoes. 

“uh... do i have to? where are my clothes from yesterday?” your hand unconsciously reaches up to your neck to cover your skin. 

“in the laundry! we’ll get it steamed and ready for you by lunch, but right now, he’s told us he wants to see you in something from any of these racks. he didn’t exactly give us much choice either,” she gives you a look that comforts you, gently patting your arm to encourage you. 

you choose out exactly five different sets of clothes, which included shoes. you suddenly feel like you went on a splurge and your credit card would’ve exceeded by now, judging by the brands the clothes were from. 

you soak yourself in the bathtub, the light from behind you illuminating the white, black and golden surfaces. you couldn’t help but to let your head replay the memories from the night before as the rose scent pulls all the knots in your body apart. 

it felt like you were on vacation, when you were really just... feeding off your boyfriend’s wealth. you felt guilty, and frankly, a little worried that people were going to start thinking you were with him for his money. 

you haven’t done anything for him besides curse at him, take the credit for his workings for the case and sleep in his bed. 

you shake your thoughts away, deciding that it was time for you to get your due breakfast before working on the case. 

you were pushing the last few bites of the strange looking pudding around in the bowl, and the female staff from before was in the dining room with you, arranging the cutlery and utensils away from sight.

“hey, uh--” you call out, looking at her while mrs jung comes out of the kitchen. you wonder why it took you three meals before you notice that you could see into the kitchen. the dining table was right next to a black counter where mrs jung would leave the food right after it was prepared, and the kitchen itself looked extravagant.

“you called?” the female staff lays down the plate and walks over to your side. 

“yeah, uh...” you scratch your temple, slightly pulling on the turtleneck you chose to hide the bruises he left. “you don’t-- happen to think that... i’m with mr lee for his money... do you?”

the female staff blinks in surprise at you, and before she could respond, mrs jung does the honor. 

“oh, my dear, definitely not! you’d be surprised at how good juyeon-nim is at picking out who’s genuine and who isn’t.” you turn and watch mrs jung carry some leftover food back into the kitchen. 

“we were very surprised when he asked you to stay last friday, past the time where the house staff gets off work. he doesn’t like guests over, unless they are his parents... so it was nice to see him bring someone back.”

you let a small laugh escape your lips, feeling the blood rush up to your ears and cheek. 

hold on. 

‘someone’?

“you mean he’s never brought anybody home before?” 

“not willingly, no.” mrs jung responds from the kitchen. “juyeon-nim is only friendly to people he trusts and even then he’s extremely cautious, though sometimes a little dense... but now that we know how comfortable he is with you, and we’re all just happy for him.”

you feel a second wave of embarrassment wash over you, your hand now wrapping around your own neck and pulling up the material to hide any possible marks that were peeking out from under. 

“you don’t have to hide those as long as you’re here. everybody knows what happened,” the female staff member teases you, clearing the plates that you literally licked the crumbs off from before. 

“awh... nooooo,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. 

the staff member laughs at your embarrassment, encouraging you to finish your dessert before she tells you where his office was. 

you get the door open, and the first thing you notice was the similar L-shaped glass windows like his bedroom had. the desk sat on the right side, with a main leather seat back facing a large shelf. the levels were alternated between files and small, expensive-looking statues and souvenirs. 

right before the glass panels were two single-seaters with a small coffee table between them, and your eyes took awhile to notice the little fridge under the table. 

you log into the computer with ease, surprised that there wasn’t a password required. you remember mrs jung saying that he doesn’t have anybody over, and you figure that nobody else has been in his office anyway. the worry about someone hacking into his files was non-existent. 

your suitcase was already placed by the table, and you wonder when did it get here. did he leave it in here last night? this morning? or did he get a staff member to do it?

the online system was perfectly synced with the system you had in the office, and all you needed to do was log in with your information before your case displays itself on the screen. 

you get to work almost immediately, every now and then looking past the computer screen to look out the large glass windows. 

the clouds were so fluffy against the bright blue sky today, and you couldn’t help but imagine chanhee, eric and sunwoo’s reactions when they notice you didn’t clock in today.

oh. chanhee, eric and sunwoo.

you reach over to your suitcase and pull out your cellphone, noticing the nearly ten missed calls you got from them starting about five minutes before the supposed reporting time. 

chanhee: where the hell are you? its 7.55am!

eric: did she oversleep

chanhee: she doesn’t oversleep

sunwoo: not with that annoying ass alarm she’s got

you smile to yourself, unable to contain your happiness as you scroll down.

chanhee: why do we have to hear about your absence from our manager?

sunwoo: wait

eric: OH MY GOD

sunwoo: mf WAIT

eric: DID THE BOSS TELL OUR MANAGER THAT YOU WEREN’T COMING IN TODAY

sunwoo: DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM AGAIN

chanhee: but he’s in office! 

sunwoo: so? he could’ve just left her at home and came to work to reduce suspicion cause it’ll too obvious if the both of them are absent

eric: unless...

sunwoo: i’m betting on that and OTHER REASONS

eric: i was thinking about other reasons

chanhee: whatever the reason, call us during our lunch break!

eric: yeah we want details

sunwoo: fucking disgusting

you snort to yourself, ready to keep your phone away and finish up the case. 

but the aggressive vibration from your phone stops you just as you laid it down, and you sigh heavily when you see the caller ID. 

“yello,” you put the phone down on the table, keeping it on loudspeaker. 

“why do you sound so glum? i return from a two month trip and this is how you greet me?”

you roll your eyes, laying your hands right at the keyboard. “hi mom, how was your trip to san francisco?”

“oh, it was gorgeous!” she says with a strange accent. must’ve been the american air for two months. “i was pretty sad to leave, but nothing can stop me from coming back to see you!”

“when have you ever needed to see me?” your tone was unenthusiastic, and you resist the urge to hang up altogether. 

“aw, no, honey,” she whines. “are you still mad about last year?”

“just so you know, i’m gonna stay mad for quite a bit, so don’t expect anything different.”

“aw, but you did say you wanted swavroski--”

“yeah, a swavroski ring! not the damn brand!” you huff, burying your face into your hands. your eyes were on the screen, staring at the case document, but all you could hear was the heavy breathing over the phone. 

“i take it that you haven’t signed the contract to claim ownership of the brand.”

“of course i didn’t! i left home so i could build a life for myself. you promised me that you’d leave me and my finances and my life alone. you know i don’t want you or dad’s help but you go ahead and buy a whole jewellery brand?!”

silence. 

“i’m never signing that contract, just so you know. it’s been sitting at home since you had it mailed to me while you ran off to canada.”

“are you still living in that tiny flat by the lake outside of town?”

you pick up a pinch of contempt in her voice. “yeah, what’s so bad about my 'tiny flat’?”

“nothing,” liar. “i just want you to have the best we can afford.”

“again with the ‘we’. how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t want you or dad’s help?”

“but--”

“no,” you snap into the phone, picking it up and hovering your thumb over the hang up button. “i’m gonna go now because i have work to do. don’t call me unless it’s to tell me that someone else already owns swavroski.”

you finally hang up and you throw the phone back into your suitcase, hands on your forehead as you return your attention to the screen. 

needed me? what a load of bullcrap. 

maybe if she didn’t treat you like some kind of trophy when you were younger, you’d believe that she genuinely loved you. 

you were called to lunch when the sun was at its highest, the blinding rays bouncing off windows and the metal from buildings that it heated up the room like a toaster. 

mrs jung’s food never fails to deliver, and the female staff from before struggles to tuck your napkin into your clothes so that the gravy doesn’t fly about. 

you were mindlessly praising the hell out of mrs jung’s pasta when you hear a staff outside the dining room shout. you turn at the sound of the doors swinging open, and you find yourself standing immediately at the sight of a lady who looked like a million bucks. 

“what do you mean he’s in offic--” the lady finally turns her attention from the staff outside the dining room and to you. “and... who are you?”

so much for that lunch phone call to your friends.

you find yourself sitting awkwardly opposite her, carefully watching as she swirls the wine in her glass. you feel her eyes pierce right through you, and your hands reach up to your turtleneck in a bid to pull it upwards.

“there’s no need to hide,” she nearly scolds you, and the harsh tone strikes a chord in you. “i know who you are.”

what?

“you’re the reason why my son’s fiance is in shambles right now.”

his what--

“i’m sorry, who?” you squint your eyes at her, for a split second forgetting that she was the mother of your now-boyfriend.

“he didn’t tell you?” she offers a smile of disbelief. “and here i was thinking he changed for the better.”

“’for the better’? he wanted to leave the country to do charity work, not run away.”

“he was running away from the responsibilities he was born to shoulder. we do enough charity for him to stay,” she leans forward on the table, one palm pressed flat on the surface. 

“but he didn’t even want the damn law fi--”

“mother!” 

the both of you turn to the door of the dining room. every staff member within your line of vision looked like they were scared shitless, which was a strange sight, considering how relaxed and candid they were in the absence of this... crazy lady.

who might be my mother-in-law? ugh. 

“you should’ve told me you’re visiting,” juyeon walks in the doors and the staff members shut them behind him. he grabs a seat next to you, and it visibly stuns his mother. 

“i wouldn’t have bothered if i knew you weren’t even at home,” she watches in slight disgust as juyeon leans into your face and plants a kiss on your cheek. your eyes widen and your heart feels extremely heavy. “care to explain what is going on?”

juyeon carefully sits his suitcase next to his chair as the kitchen staff serves him a glass of wine. you remember the only food that was prepared was only for you and the staff members.

“what’s there to explain? i never said i agreed to marry anybody i was told to.”

you watch anxiously, eyes switching between juyeon, who was calmly sipping on his wine, and his mother, who was so angry that you could almost see the steam escaping from her ears...

“and so you run off and sleep with some random girl?”

ouch.

“will she still be ‘some random girl’ if you knew what she was capable of? she’s closed more cases in six months than i did in a year, mother.”

“i didn’t think a lawyer would let someone leave such savage marks all over her body like this!” she berates you, hand carelessly gesturing to all of you.

“which year did you walk through a portal from? it’s not the 1800s, mother.”

wow, so she blames me and not the one who made these marks?

“girls nowadays.”

you could feel juyeon’s frustration hit the roof, and the atmosphere in the dining hall gets heavier as each second passes in silence. 

“what are you here for, anyway? just to ask me about me dumping my fiance who i never even loved? i don’t even like her face, mother. she’s an incapable princess who does nothing but sit around and gets waited on.”

“forget about that, you’ve gone ahead and spent your weekend breaking off the engagement anyway,” his mother glares at the two of you. 

didn’t he spend his weekend with his family--

“but i do want to know why you’re back in the office.”

juyeon locks his jaw in odd angles, and if you didn’t know it was his mother who was pissing him off, you would’ve thought he was going to throw a punch across the table. 

“what do you mean ‘why i’m back in the office’? doing my job and accepting my responsibilities like you wanted to!” 

“and you didn’t have the decency to at least inform us? we were ready to re-sell it to the bureau director!” 

juyeon sucks in a deep breath and stands up, eyes tightly shut as you watch him collect his feelings. his mother remains relaxed in the seat opposite you, arms tightly crossed over her chest but her face still brimming with anger and dissatisfaction. 

“okay,” he leans downwards, pressing his palms flat against the surface of the table. “if you’re so upset then i assume a contract has already been drawn up, yes?”

his mother doesn’t respond. 

“alright, i’ll contact the bureau director and i’ll explain the situation. it’s you the bureau director has a problem with, anyway. it’ll be easy for me.”

your face was turned to juyeon, but your eyes couldn’t resist the temptation to look at his mother. she had just been outspoken by her son, and you felt so proud of him for standing up for himself. 

his mother finishes the win, visibly angry. she gets up and leaves the dining hall, and when you hear the lift ‘ding’ followed by the sound of its gears shutting its doors, you heaved a sigh of relief.

the entire room relaxes and begins helping to clear the table. juyeon was the only one who looked like he was about to burst from anger and frustration. 

you stand up and wrap your arms around his torso, leaning your chin on his shoulder.

“hey.”

“i’m sorry you had to see that.”

you shake your head, pulling away and hugging his arm instead. 

“i’m sorry that i lied about what i did over the weekend, and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was already engaged.”

you let the pain of the realisation sink in for a moment, before giving him a weak smile. “well, it wasn’t really a lie. you said it was something to do with your family... and besides, you broke off the engagement.” you reach over his chest and find his arm to pull him to face you, looking up at him whose eyes were filled with remorse. 

naturally, a shitty feeling swamps you when you lose sight of his prideful, authorial self, so you pull his face down to meet yours and you feel him melt into the kiss. 

“do you need to go back to the office?” you let him go, his hands now resting on your waist.

“yeah,” he sighs apologetically. “i only came back because the lobby called to tell me my mother was here.”

“aw,” you grin in attempt to shake off the tension that was still hanging in the air. “nice to know you came back to save me from your mother.”

a smile appears on his lips, and he pulls you in all so suddenly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“maybe i shouldn’t leave my marks so high up your neck next time.”

you sigh with your lips in smile, pressing your head into his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

THE NEXT DAY

your arm was linked tightly with juyeon’s as he walks you up the stairs of the grand hotel, the ends of your gown dragging along the marble surface to the restaurant where he would meet the bureau director. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off him, though the simple suit was nothing compared to the dress he had prepared for you within a day’s notice. you reach the restaurant entrance and the lady immediately recognises him, turning to lead you two into the restaurant and in the corner where the private rooms were.

“so just to be clear, ignore your mother and be nice to the bureau director, right?” you giggle as the restaurant staff knocks on the door. 

juyeon laughs and pecks you on your temple. “maybe if you ignore her enough, she’ll start wanting your attention.”

you snicker to yourself, watching the door pull open and the light from inside spills out. 

you trail behind juyeon and look into the room, and your heart stops in your chest.

the world stops revolving around the sun and your breath hitches in your throat, your grip on juyeon’s arm tightening instantly when you see the two people in the room. 

“mother,” juyeon awkwardly starts, only noticing your sudden grip on his arm. 

mother. 

she looks at you with wide, surprised eyes before they dissipate into a wide smile. 

“this is the bureau director, mrs--”

“it’s alright,” she stops juyeon. “i know who she is.”

you gulp and your chest collapses in on itself. 

of all people, THIS bureau director just had to be your mother?

Part 6: Bourbon

[1p2p-heta-imagines]

Apologies that this has to do with my headcannon that the 2ps represent the armies and that this is 10/10 angst. Because there is now only one Italian army and Luciano crossed over to the allies, he is supposed to die. Luciano prepares himself for death and asks his brothers to treat him the same as they always have. But Flavio gets sick instead and it’s revealed that Flavio pulled some strings to switch the roles. How do his brothers react both when he’s sick and when he passes? Scenario pls!

(This is a based on a war that isn’t real, it’s entirely made up. I promise that I’m not basing it on any real ones.) (I’m not too happy with this, I feel like it’s missing something but I can’t figure out what else to do and this is the best I could make it so I hope you enjoy it!)

(Please do not continue reading if anything in this ask seems like it would be triggering! Take care of your mental health, proceed with caution!)

Silence. As overused as the pin falling phrase is, it holds true in such a situation as the one the family had found themselves in. Shock. Not a word was uttered when such a shocking secret is revealed, the secret of death’s sweet kiss agonizingly falling upon a loved one. To treat someone on death’s door as they would have if not was a tantalizing task, but the knowledge that their untimely end was being passed to the person they considered themselves closest to was torture worse than the death he had been expecting.

“You’re leaving us?” The only words Romeo managed to muster left the air heavier than it was when it was silent.

“Come on, no need to make this sound so glum, Romeo, I’m saving you, both of you. I was never going to live forever, was I?” Flavio struggled to say, a lot of his strength had already diminished.

Romeo stumbled his way over to the elder sibling, conflicted feelings washing over him all at once. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to even think. He was never taught to deal with loss, he never expected to have to suffer through such tragedy in his life. He found himself kneeling beside Flavio who rested on a couch, trying his best to keep his consciousness through his suffering, so he could calm the others down.

“This can’t be happening, it just can’t be happening. There’s too much we haven’t done, so much I need to tell you and you said you’d see me turn into a country and you’d help me and you promised me! You promised me!” Romeo denied the very thought of loss.

Tears managed to find their way flooding down Romeo’s cheeks as he tried his best to pull Flavio off the couch. He thought that if he could make him stand up, make him move, get some blood running then maybe it’d all sort itself out, Flavio always got up and got better. But all it did was make Flavio’s suffering more apparent.

“Romeo, Sebby, calm down. It’s ok, it’s all going to be ok.” An attempt at consoling was made, only for it to do nothing.

“It’s not ok! I can go instead. Pull some more strings, make it me instead. I’m not even a real country yet, no one would notice if I were to go missing, I could just go poof and make it all better!” He attempted to bargain. He thought of it as the right thing to do, it was the only thing he could think to do.

“Listen to me, Romeo. People would notice, Luciano would notice, I would notice. Luciano, back me up here, I can’t do this on my own.” Flavio’s pleading words broke through Luciano’s previous silence.

“This isn’t how it’s meant to go, Flavio.” Luciano stood there, he hadn’t moved since realizing what was happening. He couldn’t. He was frozen to the spot, unable to move or cry or do anything. He hated it. “You aren’t meant to be the one dying.”

“Luciano, you can do so much more good than I can. You’ve grown so much, I believe in you and I always have. I mean, we both knew this was how it was going to end and-”

“No! We didn’t ‘both know’, Flavio! Maybe I thought that we were going to all stay a family for a few more centuries! Maybe I thought that you would stay for Romeo’s sake, maybe I thought that I deserved this death, maybe I thought that I could save you as a thank you for every single thing you have done for me. Don’t give me this bullshit of ‘we both knew’, because I sure as fuck didn’t.”

Rage. Boiling rage seeped through the cracks of a breaking man. The room went back to silence, no one wanted to be the one to say something. The only cracks in the returning silence were Flavio’s occasional chokes and gasps as he could feel himself slipping away.

“Both of you need to promise me that you’ll take care of each other, this is no one’s fault. I love both of you so much, and taking care of you were some of the highest points of my life. So please, please do not stop just because I am no longer going to be here.”

“You’re not going to be here... I’m never going to see you again after this...” Realization seemed to hit Romeo like a truck, his brother was never going to come back from this.

Luciano felt himself being drawn towards the others, he lifted Flavio’s head up before sitting down and letting the said head rest on his lap. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, wasn’t even sure what he was doing right now, but this felt right to him.

“You’re not going to die on me, goddammit. This isn’t right, it’s not going to happen, I swear on my fucking life that I will not allow this to happen. I love you, ti voglio bene, whatever language there is to say it in, for fuck’s sake!” Anger was still clear in his voice but it seemed to crack at certain points, sorrow rearing its head.

Flavio found himself unable to speak, it was getting too hard to, he ended up choosing to use the last of his energy to do what he always had. Care for the two. He hummed a song, he always had while he was putting them to sleep. It was always the same tune, it was special to them all.

As he hummed, it was clearly strained, not as melodious and carefree as they all once knew it to be. It paused at parts where Flavio needed to gasp for breath only to start again, it felt forced and full of misery, a side to the song that they had never heard before. Until silence greeted them both once more, no more music.

“Flavio? Flavio, are you ok?” Romeo turned to face his brother, only to be met with slowly emptying eyes. “No, no, no, no, no, no!”

“Shhh, he’s sleeping. He has to be sleeping, I swore that I wouldn’t let him.” Luciano’s voice cracked. He held the body in his arms, keeping it close to him. “He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s just sleeping.”

“Luciano, he’s not breathing! We need to-”

“He’s sleeping!” Luciano snapped. Romeo didn’t know what to do or say in response and chose only to nod his head.

The tune started up again, this time by Luciano. He was stroking Flavio’s hair, occasionally stopping to tell the body how proud he was or how much he loves him. Romeo sat there, back facing the other two, he couldn’t accept that this was happening but not to the point of Luciano’s denial. He knew what happened, he didn’t want to know but he did.

“I need to sleep.” The words stumbled from Romeo’s voice as he got up.

“Goodnight, Flavio will be up to wake you up later. He’ll wake up, wake you up and we’ll all go and have coffee at some cafe or something.” Luciano nodded, convincing himself that these lies were fact.

“Sure he will, Luciano. He’ll wake up.” Romeo knew better than to feed into his brother’s thinking when it wasn’t stable, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say. What is there to say? Silence found itself returning, perhaps it had found it’s permanent home in the Vargas residence.

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

Of Tunnels and Light Fic #6, Zestiria - AtlA AU

[Read on AO3]

In order to avoid the ever-encroaching Fire Nation, Sorey and the gang need to sneak out of the valley surrounding the mountaintop city of Omashu. Luckily, the Sparrowfeathers know intimately well the songs and tales of the "Secret Tunnel" that cuts straight through the mountains.

o - o - o

“Ohhhhhhh my gooooooooshhhhhhh! Would you look at him? Would you just wook at ‘im! He’s adorable, yes he is!”

“You probably shouldn’t get too close, Rose.”

“Aw, he’s harmless!”

“Right now. Atakk isn’t known for being friendly to anyone else that isn’t Lailah or Sorey.”

“Oh, but I think we can make an exception for me, right? Because you’re just so cute and friendly! Aren’t you?” Rose deepens her voice and puffs out her cheeks as if she were talking to a baby as she squeezes the sides of Atakk’s snout. From where Mikleo stands a few feet away, it looks more like she’s hugging his giant nose. 

“Aren’t you sweet, you big, adorable, scaley, big, winged, big dragon, you?” 

Mikleo fists his hands at his side and huffs. “Rose!” 

“Lighten up, would ya, Mik?” The merchant-turned-ally turns to toss a grin over her shoulder. Her hands rub all over the snout of a very happy, contended black dragon. Atakk rumbles, a sound not too unlike a purr emanating lowly from his chest. “He’s like a little pupling. He’s fine.” 

Atakk rolls over and kicks his claws into the air. The surrounding forest shakes under the toss of his weight; trees shudder and shake loose idling birds. Leaves flutter slowly to the earth. Mikleo blows off the one that fell on his nose and rolls his eyes. 

Rose squeals.

“Then again, maybe it’s just Fire Nation assholes he likes,” he mumbles and, despite what Sorey and Lailah said about keeping watch as Rose was finally introduced to Atakk, turns around to wander back to camp. 

o - o - o

“We’ll have to cut through the mountain.”

“What? Are you kidding me? That’s the last thing we should do. You’ve heard the stories about the tunnel, right?” 

“We only sing them twenty times a year--”

“--and whenever the spring comes because spring brings romance and romance brings paying audiences,” Eguille finishes, his voice overlapping with Dezel’s dry tone. He turns to Dezel and shakes the map in his hands so that it rustles very loudly in the forest clearing. “That tunnel is a tunnel of death. We’re not guiding the Avatar through a place that could potentially kill him.”

Sorey turns the instant he hears a rustle of leaves. A broad and relieved smile breaks out on his face. “Mikleo. How’d it go?”

“Well, Atakk seems to have a new best friend.” Mikleo tries not to sound too glum about it. He plops down on the log next to Sorey and props his chin in his hand. “But I think I traded one annoying situation for another. Doesn’t sound like things are going too well over here either.”

“Yeah…I hope Lailah is having better luck than us with the twins and getting food.” 

Dezel sighs as if this conversation is taxing him. “He’s going to die anyway if we take the main or back roads. There was a reason we had to leave Omashu.”

“I know it as well as you do. If the Fire Nation takes Omashu…”

“So you don’t actually disagree with me.”

Eguille sighs and rolls up the map. In lieu of an answer, he turns behind him. “What do you say, Sorey? You’re the one we’re trying to smuggle out of the way of the Fire Nation’s raids. Do you think this entire crazy venture is worth risking the tunnel?”

“Tunnel?” 

As Eguille walks over to unroll his map before them, Dezel mutters, “There’s a secret tunnel, known only through legends and folktales, that cuts through the mountains surrounding Omashu. As occasional performers--at Rose’s behest--we’re well familiar with the songs and tales.”

“Does that mean you sing?”

Dezel’s mouth quirks at Sorey’s question. Mikleo’s pretty sure he saw Eguille’s eyebrow give a funny twitch. 

“I want to hear the song!” Sorey asks with fisted hands. Mikleo’s pretty sure those are stars he sees in his friend’s eyes.

“No.” Eguille shakes his head and quickly rolls up the scroll. He straightens to a stand and turns around. “Besides, that has nothing to do with determining our way out of this spirit-forsaken valley. If we want to get away from Omashu and the encroaching Fire Nation, then we need to decide how.”

“Well, you know what my vote is.”

Sorey and Mikleo turn around. Rose stands behind them, her feet shoulder-width apart, with her arms crossed proudly over her chest. She winks at them and then with a flourish of miming a guitar solo, belts unceremoniously, “SECRET TUNNEL!” 

Eguille slaps a hand over his face. Mikleo stifles his snicker behind his hand.

Sorey gasps excitedly. “Is that the song?”

“You bet it is!” Rose grins. She makes a dismissive gesture. “I mean, more or less. Usually I make Eguille sing; he’s got the much better tenor. But that’s besides the point!” With no warning, she squats down behind Mikleo and Sorey and loops an arm around each of their necks, sticking her head in the space between them. “With you two along, it’s practically a no-brainer for us to take that Secret Tunnel, because we’ll be out through that labyrinth in no time!”

“Labyrinth?” Mikleo asks at the same time that Sorey wonders, “How’s that?”

“Uh, duh, ‘cuz the legends always say that if you trust in love, then you’ll make it through okay.” 

“Trust in--” Sorey looks to Mikleo immediately.

At the same time, their faces burn bright red. Mikleo looks away first, stuffing his hands in his lap.

“See?” Rose straightens up and claps her hands in the center of their backs. “With you two dorks around, I think we’ll be just fine.”

“It’s not--” Mikleo tries to say but Rose has already stepped around the log, her attention on Eguille and Dezel as they talk about travel plans.

In the awkward silence that follows her departure, Sorey risks a glance at Mikleo’s profile. His eyes fall to his bare neck. 

They still hadn’t talked about what happened that night in Omashu.

Sorey doesn’t think he knows what he wants to say of the bubbly, twisting feeling in his gut. He doesn’t know what he wants to say about, “Hey, sorry I freaked out and went all Avatar state when you got hurt,” or “Hey, do you want me to make you a new necklace? Would you even wear a new betrothal necklace? We aren’t eight anymore, but I think maybe my feelings about you haven’t changed so much as deepened, but now I kind of wonder: does a necklace even encompass everything I feel about you now?”

The words never come.

“It’s just a legend. Right?”

Sorey blinks, eyes snapping back up to Mikleo’s. His friend’s eyes seem lost in the shadows of the trees far beyond their camp. “What?”

“Nothing.” Mikleo stands up with a heavy sigh, not meeting Sorey’s eyes. “We’d better get everything packed.”

“Right…”

o - o - o 

Atakk is afraid of the giant, gaping tunnel. Sorey isn’t sure what to do to calm him down, especially when even Lailah seems to be at a loss. They both walk with one hand on either side of the dragon’s belly, bringing up the rear of their wandering group as they stride deeper and deeper into the tunnel’s maze. Floating above their free hands, palm-up, are small balls of fire.

It’s Mikleo’s idea to use a map and mark the directions they came from. He borrows a blank scroll from the Sparrowfeathers’ cart and scribbles furiously at every turn. Every once in a while, his tongue peeks out between his lips when his face tightens in confusion.

Sorey thinks it’s adorable.

When they find their tenth dead-end, Dezel sighs. “This isn’t working.”

“Course not.” Rose doesn’t sound the least bit surprised; with both hands clasped behind her head, she seemed to be the epitome of relaxed. “The legends don’t say to uh, try and create a map of the tunnels’ twisting labyrinth and maybe you’ll find your way out.”

Mikleo spins around and glares.

Rose shrugs. 

They retrace their steps.

When they arrive at the previous intersection of tunnels, Mikleo gets into a heated debate with Rose and Eguille, one in which Dezel occasionally throws his two cents into. Sorey straightens the same instant Atakk does--a thing Mikleo chalks up to the strange connection the two have--until Sorey worryingly mutters, “Hey. Guys, you hear that?”

Atakk grows more agitated. He wriggles and backpedals, eyes scanning the many surrounding dark tunnels. 

Felice cups her hands around the back of her ears. Her twin answers for her, quiet and frowning: “No.”

Sorey’s eyes snap to the same tunnel Atakk’s does. “I think there’s--”

With an ear-piercing shriek, a giant mole-bat launches itself out of the shadows with mad flaps of its two, veined wings. Its mouth is open as it flies for their faces, teeth gleaming sharp in the dark. 

Rose yelps and squats low, covering her head. Eguille throws up his hands in front of his face. 

Dezel throws up a gust of wind that buffets the mole-bat, knocking it up and away before it can sink its teeth and claws into anyone. As if he had stirred a hornet’s nest, a dozen more mole-bats immediately drop from the ceiling and flutter together in a swarm. The mole-bats form a cloud of unearthly, cacophonous screams, gushing out from the tunnel and over their heads.

Atakk freaks.

Roaring loud enough to drown out the panic of the mole-bats, Atakk darts away from Lailah and Sorey’s hands, backpedaling in a mad haste.

“Atakk, wait--!”

Atakk thrashes against the walls, squirming and screaming. The bellows rising up from his chest augment the moment he realizes, beady eyes wide, that there’s no escape. There’s no sky. There is only the earth and this tomb and already, Atakk had been uncomfortable in this underground tunnel; now, it is suffocating and terrifying and Atakk wants out--wants out--wants out--

Sorey presses the heel of his hand to his temple with a quiet groan.

In a flash, Mikleo is at his side. “Sorey!”

“Calm him down!” It is perhaps the first time they have ever heard Dezel raise his voice beyond a murmur. “That damn dragon is going to bring down the entire ceiling if he--”

A sudden crack drowns out the rest of his words. It booms, reverberating throughout the underground cavern. Two more thunderous cracks follow, and then giant, lumpy chunks of rock drop. 

In a brilliant spin that fans out the ends of his black coat, Dezel jumps. 

It is the last thing Mikleo and Sorey see before they are flung to the side by a mighty gust of wind.

Dust fills the chamber.

o - o - o

Atakk’s screams have quieted into pitiful whines. His claws scrape and pull against the piled stone in front of them. Mikleo and Sorey hold onto each other with wide eyes, fingers fisting tightly in the dirtied blue other’s water-tribe wear.

It is so, so quiet on this side of the cave-in. It would be so, so dark without Sorey’s fire.

“Should we help him?” Sorey murmurs.

Mikleo can still taste a filmy, grainy layer of dust on his tongue, coating his mouth and drying his tongue. He shrugs weakly. “I’m not sure what good it would do.”

“Sorey! Mikleo!”

Sorey jerks up to his feet. He stumbles over to the mountain of rocks. “Lailah! Lailah, we’re here! We’re both here and okay!” With one last, meek wimper, Atakk collapses against the stone and slides down to the earth. Sorey swallows and bends to put his free hand on the side of his head. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried!” There’s a pause before Lailah’s muffled voice reaches them again. “Yes! We’re all fine, thanks to Dezel’s quick thinking. I imagine you’ll learn that trick yourself sometime, Sorey!”

“Y-yeah…”

“In the meantime!” Rose’s voice drifts over. “It’s no use trying to dig through this. We’ll meet you on the other side of the tunnel, all right?” 

Mikleo’s presence is warm as he joins Sorey’s side. “The other side?” he sputters. “How?! How, exactly, are we supposed to find our way out when the tunnels themselves keep on changing! This is impossible!”

“No, it’s not! You just gotta trust in love, my dude!” Rose calls back. “Sing the song if you want! You know the words by now!”

“I’m not singing!”

“Then that’s Sorey’s loss!”

Sorey’s ears burn bright red. He thinks he sees Mikleo’s face tinged red, too--or maybe that’s a trick of the firelight still burning above the palm of his hand.

“You guys will be fine! Trust me! Or rather…” Rose pauses dramatically and then adds, “Trust in love.”

Mikleo groans and shouts, “Rose!” but Rose’s laughter grows distant. When he grabs at the stone and calls for her again, there’s no answer. “This isn't funny!” he adds and with a huff, he pushes away from the pile. “Fine. Whatever. If she’s going to be like that and we’re on our own, then we’ll just…we’ll…” 

“Mikleo?”

“C’mon, Sorey. I don’t think we’ve tried this tunnel yet.”

“O-okay. C’mon, Atakk…”

Atakk makes a pitiful sound but lifts himself from the ground to slunk after them.

o - o - o

The tomb is the last thing Sorey expects to find in these Secret Tunnels, but the one thing Mikleo was most anticipating. With help from Atakk, the heavy round stone blocking the entrance is shoved aside and immediately, eras-old, undisturbed dust wafts over them.

“Eugh. Gross.” Mikleo scrunches his nose up and coughs.

“But so, so cool,” Sorey breathes and when Mikleo looks to his friend’s profile and sees the wonder in his green eyes, he starts to smile.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess.”

Sorey turns to Mikleo to give him one bright grin, before he bounds down into the crypt. Mikleo follows.

In the antarctic tundra of the South Pole, Sorey and Mikleo have had little exposure to underground tombs and crypts and dusty rock walls covered with hieroglyphs. This feels like hallowed ground: two sarcophagi in the center of the chamber and two giant statues carved into the wall at the back, bent into a tender kiss. The ancient stones whisper stories to anyone willing to listen. Mikleo and Sorey have never seen anything like it.

“I think I want to keep this close to my heart,” Sorey murmurs, voice lost as if he were in a happy dream. “Y’know?”

“You want to keep close a tomb?” Mikleo chuckles. 

“You know what I mean!” Sorey huffs and when Mikleo has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing more, Sorey turns away with a sheepish smile. “I just think there’s something so neat about this. We were so, so afraid of being lost forever in these tunnels and then, all of a sudden, we found something incredible. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Well, the timing surely is convenient.”

“Yeah. And maybe it’s silly, but I think if I weren’t the Avatar, maybe I would like to find more cool, forgotten things with old stories. I think I love exploring,” Sorey whispers. Mikleo watches him, something tightening in his throat as Sorey’s fingers trace the tragic romance of Oma and Shu on the cavern wall. “I think I love this.” 

Mikleo doesn’t know why his chest feels tight and at the same time so warm. Why is he, in turn, so happy to see Sorey so happy? Shouldn’t they be frustrated and hungry? Afraid? Why, of all things, is he only glad to hear Sorey talk about something he loves?

Because I think I--

Oh.

Mikleo’s breath hitches in his throat.

Oh.

Sorey doesn’t notice. His hand not occupied with keeping a fire going continues to trace the tragic romance of Oma and Shu. 

Mikleo’s fingertips brush his bare neck.

“Sorey.”

Sorey lifts his gaze from the wall. “Yeah?”

“I think…I think you should let the fire go out.”

“What?”

Mikleo turns around, violet eyes burning in the firelight like iridescent burgundy. Sorey can’t take his gaze away, not when his childhood friend looks at him with such intensity and certainly not when Mikleo presses himself so close to his side. Sorey feels his heart flutter high in his throat. 

“It’s okay,” Mikleo breathes. He gently takes Sorey’s hand holding the flame. Sorey turns bright red. “Let it go out.”

“Mikleo--”

“It’s okay.” Mikleo feels a thrill of pride at managing to sound so calm and so sure, so steady, despite the fireworks show his nerves are putting on at their close proximity. “It’s love. Right? The only way out is love. We have to trust it.”

“Okay.” Sorey swallows hard.

And there it is: the smallest tense of a slender eyebrow--a bend just near the curve of his eye--that probably tells Sorey a million things about what Mikleo is really feeling in this moment. Sorey has known Mikleo his entire life, far long enough to recognize what that flicker probably means, what that crack in the careful mask of his cool composure reveals:  that he is afraid, that he is nervous. That he isn’t sure about what is to come. Uncertainty has always put Mikleo at his most uncomfortable; he is a young man of careful planning and thoughtful action. Not spontaneity. He is not Sorey.

And yet, if he could be just as brave… 

“Sorey,” Mikleo begins, his voice soft and small. He can feel his own cheeks begin to burn. “...do you…love me?”

There’s a beat.

A brief snapshot of time where Sorey stares at Mikleo and Mikleo hesitantly raises his eyes to gaze back.

And then--

The fire goes out the same moment Sorey leans forward.

o - o - o

“Hey! You guys made it! See, I know you would!”

Sorey and Mikleo turn away from the dry valley ahead. Up in the sky high above, Atakk happily curls and uncurls, a slender, dark string sailing through the thick clouds at his leisure. His shadow passes over them as Sorey lifts a hand and jogs over to hug Lailah once she has slipped down from the giant badger-mole’s back. Over Lailah’s shoulder, he smiles at Rose and her Sparrowfeathers as they, too, descend from the back of two other badger-moles.

“You guys made it out okay, too!” Sorey passes a glance over them once the badger-moles have retreated into the tunnels. He can’t see any signs of injuries. “How did you get those badger-moles to help? That’s amazing!”

“We sang,” Rose says and puts her hands on her hips to sneer at Mikleo. 

Mikleo rolls his eyes.

“How about you two?” Lailah’s hand cups Sorey’s face. She tilts his head left and right and Sorey laughs. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? How did you get out of those tunnels?”

Sorey’s face reddens. “Well…” He looks to Mikleo.

After a long moment, Mikleo shakes his head. “That’s our secret.”

“Yeah, right. Ha! I bet you two--” 

Immediately, Eguille plants a hand over Rose’s mouth, dragging her by the arm ahead of the group. The bottom of Rose’s boots leave twin divets in the dirt as he marches along. “Let’s just all be glad we’re finally free of that spirit-forsaken Secret Tunnel and get on with our lives, yes? Yes,” he says.

“Agreed,” Dezel rumbles. He stops in front of Sorey. “Now that we are out of the valley, we should begin making our way for the Northern Air Temple. I will teach you airbending as we travel, but you should know that it will do you well to learn among your predecessors.” 

Sorey looks up to Dezel. “My predecessors?”

Dezel nods as if this is the end of their conversation and what he has said makes complete sense. He strides ahead. Lailah giggles and follows on his heels, motioning for Sorey and Mikleo to hurry.

Sorey looks to Mikleo.

Mikleo shrugs back and smiles. After a moment, he sticks out his hand.

Sorey takes it slowly and intertwines their fingers easily. Perfectly. Finding every space in between the other to weave and to hold. 

When they walk forward, it's together.

[carol-effing-danvers]

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe) part two

More Teacher Steve and Soft Billy!

Part One 

Prefer Ao3 Format? Click here!

Angie is left to wail with around the living room with increasingly frustrated hunger, because Steve needs to spend the first thirty minutes after he comes home screaming into a pillow.

Had Billy seen him staring?

He was so sweet with Lauren, so gentle to her that Steve couldn’t help his smiling, but he’d seen the annoyed expression on Billy’s face from the corner of his eye when he’d turned away. Could he tell that Steve had been checking him out earlier? Maybe he just didn’t want to call him out in front of Lauren and the other children? Maybe he loathed Steve just as much as ever did?

Steve hugs a pillow to his stomach and rests his cheek atop it, feeling glum. Figures. Figures that the first boy he’d ever been attracted to would roll back into town ten years later (looking finer than any person has a right to!), while Steve spends his days with children and his nights alone.

He can’t even get a girlfriend anymore – after the big bisexual breakdown, no girl in Hawkins will date him, but he wished he had a boyfriend or at least a hookup he could call.

Robin gets dates, but he concedes that it’s probably easier when the entire town doesn’t know you’re a queer.

He can’t date any woman within ten miles of the town – even if she somehow doesn’t already know the whole stupid story yet, someone will happily and gleefully open their mouth to enlighten her. And no man will date him either, because agreeing to that is basically agreeing to let the whole town know who you are. There’d be no hiding it.

Flopping his face back down into the pillow, Steve screams some more, before jumping off the couch with a sudden burst of motion. No, no. He promised himself, he promised Robin, he promised Dustin, that he wasn’t going to make himself feel bad about this anymore. The past was the past, and he couldn’t change it.

So what if his dad never spoke to him and his mom only called twice a year? That was about the amount of contact they used to have! So what if the parents tried to stop him from being hired? They hadn’t been able to succeed and Steve got the job of his dreams anyway! So what if he still had a crush on Billy Hargrove? He’d survived it the first time and he’d survive it again.

God knows he’s survived worse.

“Uh, Steve-o?” Robin asks, looking around the kitchen. “Wanna tell me what happened to you today?”

“What do you mean?” Steve responds absently, without looking up from the pan of mushrooms on the stove.

“Steve, you’re making beef wellington, honey,” she says carefully, as though making Steve aware of this might make him explode or something. “I mean, please don’t stop, because your beef wellington is fucking amazing – but you also only make it when you feel like shit. So. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He stares down at the pan. “Did you know that Billy Hargrove was back in town?”

“Billy – Max’s brother, Billy?” Robin asks. Steve could almost feel her bristling. “He didn’t start threatening you again, did he?”

“No, Max was right,” he says, in the soft stilted tone that tells her he’s actually very upset. “He’s much calmer now.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Then you need to tell me why you look like someone killed Angie in front of you.”

Woodenly, he replies “Remember how I said I had a crush on a straight boy, back in ’86, when all the shit was going down?”

“Oh my god, Steve-”

“But he wouldn’t give me the time of day, unless it involved his fist and my face? Billy was that boy. Is that boy. Man. Whatever.”

“Steve,” Robin says seriously, grabbing onto his forearms and holding her eyes open wide as she tries not to laugh. “Billy isn’t any straighter than I am.”

---

After leaving Lulu with Steve fucking Harrington, holy shit, Billy feels the urgent need for a cigarette as soon as he leaves the school parking lot. He fishes for a lighter before whispering “Fuck” because of course he can’t smoke in the fucking car anymore, Lulu rides in this car with him now.

Cursing, Billy pounds on the steering wheel and pulls over to furiously smoke a cigarette outside, standing on the side of the road because Steve was there, and how the fuck has he gotten even prettier in the last ten years?, and Billy wanted to fuck him on that desk so bad something was wrong with him, and Steve’s smile for the person Billy loved most in the world was absolutely devastating.

Easy as that blinding smile, Billy could feel the old ghosts of his yearning – if not laid to rest, then at least peaceful in their haunting – live and howl again.

Getting back into the driver’s seat involves a whole new chorus of swearing, but he needs to get into work, mental breakdown or not. The bell over the shop jingles as he steps inside, accompanied by the intoxicating smell of sugar, flour, and vanilla.

The woman standing behind the counter of the bakery display finally manages to break his bad mood and he cracks a smile for her. “Hey, Trouble.”

Eleven leans over the counter, palms flat on the glass, her curls pinned to the back of her head. There’s flour smudged across her face and raspberry jam on her apron. “Who, me?”

He hugs her over the counter and kisses her flour-dusted cheek. “Yeah, you topple any major government conspiracies lately?”

Loftily, El says “I like to take the winters off.”

“Is that right?” he drawls, turning the hand-washing station onto hot after hanging up his jacket. “Then I’m just in time.”

She stares at him from her spot leaning against the pastries display, chin resting on her small fist. “Yes, you are,” she says in that eerie tone that means she isn’t talking about herself anymore. “Welcome home, Billy.”

Drying off his hands, Billy says “How come you ain’t tell me how bad things had gotten with her, huh?”

El stands straight, arms protectively folded over herself. “She was already mad at me for…the whole…”

She waves her hand around ambiguously, but Billy correctly interprets that as ‘spilling the beans on that asshole she married’. “She ain’t mad at you,” he soothes. “She’s mad at herself.”

When Eleven still looks unconvinced, he adds, “Don’t tell her I said so, but I know she misses you. Misses all of the nerd herd.”

“We may not be together anymore, but we miss her too,” she says sadly.

Billy’s gaze sharpened upon her. “You tellin’ me Wheeler just left you out here in this backwoods town all by yourself?”

She shrugs. “We grew up. He wanted to go to MIT and I didn’t want to follow him.”

He wants to tell her that Mike Wheeler was insane to leave her, but honestly, staying in Indiana for a teenage girl and giving up MIT was way more insane.

El nods. “Yeah, that’s what I told him.”

He glares at her. “No peaking, Ellie.”

She lifts her hands in surrender. “Stop thinking at me so loud, then.”

Steve, Steve, Steve – has she seen about Steve? El’s eyes widen. Shit. SHIT. SHIT.

“Uh..” She chews at her bottom lip.

“We are not talking about this,” he informs her flatly, pushing the door to the back room open. “You’re gonna pretend you didn’t…hear…see…whatever.”

“Billy…” she says hesitantly.

“What I literally just say?” he demands.

“Yes, okay, but…” Her eyes search his expression intently. “Um…Max didn’t tell you what happened during Spring Break in ’86, did she?”

He swore he was ‘bout to get whiplash from this girl. “Noooo,” he says, drawn out. “Why? What happened back in ’86?”

“Um…” El’s face turns red and she scratches nervously at the nape of her neck. “Steve, um…oh, never mind! Ask Max if you want to know.”

---

“What do you mean, Billy’s not straight?!” Steve demands, practically standing on the kitchen counter as he yells the question at her.

Robin is still trying very hard not to laugh. “Uh, okay…how do I put this…I want you to look back on your memory of Billy Hargrove when we were in high school, Steve. Think really, really hard. Did you ever actually see him kissing a girl? Dating any girls, back in school? Can you name a single girl he dated?”

“Everybody knew he was a total horndog,” Steve scoffs, feeling that old belated jealousy rear its ugly head.

“No, I don’t care about what everyone knew. What did you see, Steve? Remember the way Billy dressed?”

He rolls his eyes. “He was from California, Rob.”

“I visited Disneyland when I was sixteen. I did not see anyone in California dressed like that. He wore eyeliner and curled his hair, Steve. And if I’m remembering this correctly, that boy flashed his tits like he was starring in his own fucking porn video.” She smirks at his steadily reddening cheeks. “Your boy? Is gay, Steve-o.”

Robin pauses and squints a moment, as though staring at something in the distance. “Wait, Billy was a lifeguard that summer, right? Red shorts, came into Scoops and ordered…”

“Double strawberry,” Steve mutters, feeling bitchy and depressed.

“Oh my god.” This time, Robin couldn’t hold the laughter in.

“What?” he asks, annoyed. “I mean, I know the mustache wasn’t really working for him back then, but you should see-”

“No-no-no,” she cackles, holding her sides. “Oh my god, boys are so dumb. Steve-Steve, back then? Billy wanted to choke on your dick real bad.”

He stares at her blankly.

“Real bad, Steve.”

“What are you even talking ab-no! No!” Steve snaps. “Billy hated me! He beat my face in and tormented me from the moment he stepped into town, Rob!”

It’s Robin’s turn to scoff. “You’ve never heard about that trite old adage about boys who pull on little girls’ pigtails, Steve? Except that his little girl was another boy – a boy who already had a girlfriend when he got into town.”

“No way,” Steve snaps.

“And he wants this boy’s attention really, really bad, Steve. But this boy had just got his heart broken and didn’t know he also liked boys, yet. Billy’s boy won’t give him the attention he wants and he’s got a lot of anger management and self-control issues. We see that in the classroom every day, Steve. What do you think Billy would do?”

“That’s a pretty picture you’re painting,” Steve says flatly, rolling their wellington into its blanket of puff pastry. “I have a much simpler explanation – Billy was an egomaniac who thought I was at the head of the Hawkins food chain and decided that he was going to be the new apex predator and humiliated me to accomplish that. Him being gay or not doesn’t factor into it.”

Robin pours them both a glass of red – she’ll have to drink a lot of water if she doesn’t want a headache, but she needs it tonight. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” she says airily. “I bet you a full year of grading tests that Billy Hargrove would totally suck face with you.”

“Okay, hold on a fucking minute!” he sputters. “Even assuming this bullshit your on about him having the hots for me ten years ago is true, that has nothing to do with right now!”

“Steve, you look like a nerd,” she says gently. “And nerd really works for you, dingus. If he doesn’t want to at least make out with you a little, the man has no taste and you need to move on.”

“How about I skip the whole question and move on regardless,” Steve says dryly.

“Then you forfeit the bet and you’re marking all of my quizzes for the entire school year next year.”

“Goddamn it, Robin.”

---

“Uncle Billy, what are those silver thingies on your tummy?” Lulu asks, poking at the scars covering his torso where her uncle is in the middle of washing the dishes.

Very seriously, Billy says “That’s where I got bitten by the werewolf.”

He hears Max mutter “Oh my god, Billy”, but she doesn’t attempt to dissuade him from telling the story the way he pleased – after all, what would she tell her? That Uncle Billy was possessed by an interdimensional alien being that had come to Hawkins through a hole in the world beneath their feet and fought a monster made of pulverized corpses with his bare hands? Werewolf it is, then!

“Nooo, Uncle Billy, you’re not a werewolf!” she protests with a little giggle.

“Yes I am. Uh-oh, Lulu,” he says somberly. “Oh, no – it’s-it’s the full moon!”

She vibrates with anticipation, giving a loud shriek when Billy lets out a wolf-like howl and lunges for her. “RAAAAAAAAAH!”

“NOOOOOO!!!”

He wears her out good, chasing her around the house for nearly an hour before he convinces her it’s time to go to bed now. He lets Max relax and talks Lulu through bedtime himself. Feeling like a dickhead as he plops down onto the sofa, where Max is watching a rerun of Friends, Billy just sucks it up and says “So, what’s up with Harrington and Spring Break of ’86?”

To his complete surprise, Max’s jaw gets tight and her eyes flash. “Jesus fucking Christ, the people in this town really can’t keep their mouths shut, can they?” she says angrily. “So who told you, huh?”

“Uh…what?” he says blankly, feeling really far away all of a sudden. “Ellie-Eleven told me I need to ask you about Harrington and what happened in ’86, she never said why I need to ask.”

Yeah, he was still very unclear about why this was a story he had to hear.

Max gives him an owlish stare. “She…she wanted you to know?”

“…’s what she said, man.” He shrugs.

“Wow. Okay. Uh…so during Spring Break, one of your old classmates came home from college and threw this really big party,” Max begins, puffing her cheeks out with a sigh. “Steve and his friend Robin – you remember Robin? Blonde, used to work with him at Scoops? They were at this party, and the longer the night went on, the more that shit got out of hand. Like people were passed out on the front lawn. Someone broke into the neighbor’s house because they were too drunk to realize they knocked on the wrong door. Todd Grace took the riding lawn mower from the garage and crashed it somewhere on the golf course down the road. So, naturally the cops showed up.”

“Naturally,” Billy says neutrally, still wondering exactly where in the hell this story was going.

“Everybody freaked when they came in and Robin couldn’t find Steve, so she assumed that he’d hooked up with someone and forgot to tell her that he was leaving. She didn’t realize that he was still there, and he had no idea that the cops had come and were already in the house.”

She stops and stares at the ceiling. “If anybody in this town could keep their mouths closed, that would be the end of the story, but some of the officers blabbed, and now the whole fucking town knows that they found Steve Harrington in a closet on his knees, sucking off two high school seniors.”

Billy’s brain starts floating on ‘Steve Harrington on his knees’ and launches itself into outer space at ‘sucking off’. Immediately it becomes critical that he try not to picture that – young Steve, still doe-eyed and pretty, but brattier, the stuck up ice princess, with his soft sweet mouth wrapped around-

Max’s jaw tightens up with rage again. “I find it really interesting that whenever someone tells that story, they never mention Mike Tentiss or Zach Cooper, but they were the ones standing there with their pants around their ankles.”

Billy stares at the television without really seeing another on the screen. “Why you never tell me that story, Maxine?”

She’s known he was gay since just before she got married. She kept making jokes about getting him a nice girlfriend or hooking up with one of her bridesmaids, until Billy had just snarled over the phone “Maxine, I am a FUCKING queer!”

Softly, Max says “Cause it started this whole town-wide drama and it almost ruined Steve’s life, Billy. Darlene Cooper tried to have him arrested for molesting her son, but obviously Zach was only a year younger than him. She went around to our house and the Wheeler’s and the Sinclair’s and Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Byers and tried to get one of us to say Steve had…done something to us.”

“Jesus Christ.” That sounds like something out of Billy’s worst nightmares.

She dips her head into a nod. “Uh-huh. It didn’t work, obviously, and Mrs. Byers – I never saw her that mad, Billy. She screamed at Darlene something awful. Some of the parents threw a fit when the school hired him, said he didn’t have any business being around kids, but I think his mom pulled some strings. She and his dad have basically disowned him. He thought none of us would want to speak to him ever again – I mean, the boys got a little weird for a bit, but Erica was…Erica, and they came around. It’s really sad, though. He’s one of the nicest men I know, but no girl in town will go out with him.”

Confused, Billy says “Uh, ain’t he…?”

She shrugs. “Robin says he likes both, I guess. Anyway, no woman in this town will go on a date with him, and no man will so much as be alone in a room with him. Like if Steve sneezes on them, they’ll suddenly want to suck a dick or something.”

Oh, I’d do a helluva lot more than be alone in a room with Steve Harrington. And there wouldn’t be any ‘suddenly’ about it.

Billy realizes that Max is looking very suspicious right now and narrows his eyes. “Max. Maxie. Maxine. Maxine Roberta, please tell me that you and Eleven aren’t trying to set me up on a date with Steve Harrington.”

His baby sister looks even guiltier. She picks at her fingernails, staring down at her lap. “You don’t-you’ve never talk about any guys that you’re going out with, you’ve never even told me that you were interested in a guy,” she mumbles. “I just…don’t want you to be lonely. Dustin thinks Steve is – lonely, I mean. You’re the same age and you can both…y’know. Handle all the weird shit around here.”

“Mad Max,” he sighs, and tucked the wisps of red hair behind her ears the way he had for Lulu this morning. “I was not nice to Harrington. I was never nice to Harrington – and I don’t just mean the night I nearly killed him. There was a whole bunch of shit you guys weren’t around to see. The fact that we’re both willing to suck a dick doesn’t change anything, Max.”

“But you apologized for that ten years ago!” She pleads with her big blue eyes. “Please? I’m not asking you to go on a date with him, just be nice to him when you see him, okay?”

Gruffly, he says “That why ya didn’t wanna tell me who Lulu’s teacher was?”

---

Saturday morning means going to the 11th Hour, because Robin has a hangover and going to the 11th means that they don’t really have to get dressed because El has seen them both covered in mud, blood (their own), blood (others), blood (alien), and puke – all at the same time.

Also, Steve is a grown ass man who can’t be bothered to put on real adult clothes unless he has to teach and today he’s just fucking given up on his hair because the only people who are gonna see him are Robin, who still calls him dingus after ten years of knowing him, and El, who still seems to think he’s Prince Charming after ten years of knowing him (god help her).

Steve and Robin both think it’s very cute that Eleven the Eggo Queen decided she wanted to open a bakery when she grew up. And she’s really good at it, too. She makes this spiced tart thingy with pears and cherries that he would hold someone at gunpoint for. He loves it so much that she makes a big one on his birthday every single year.

Her eyes light up when they walk through the door, looking so pleased that Steve has a guilty thought that they may’ve been neglecting her a little. “Good morning!” she greets, wriggling with excitement as she leans over the counter. “Christmas galette for Steve and for Robbie…?”

“Tart au citron,” Robin says decisively after a moment’s thought. “And coffee.”

“Lots of coffee,” Steve adds with a grimace. The half a bottle of wine was a mistake and he’d known it was gonna be a mistake even as he was pouring their glasses. “El, can you pretty please with chocolate chip Eggos on top make your hangover sandwiches for me? I’ll watch the counter for you! Please?”

Even more pleased, El says “Oh that’s okay, I can make them. Hang on.”

The swinging robin’s egg blue of the backroom door opens, a voice behind it murmuring, “Lulu, skip to my lou. Lulu, skip to my lou.” A distracted Billy walks in carrying Lauren one-handed, half sleeping across her uncle’s shoulder, and a Styrofoam cup in the other. “Lulu, skip to my lou, my darlin’…”

His cheek rests on her head and the forearm supporting Lauren’s weight bulges with muscle beneath the skin and Steve’s fucking knees feel like water.

“Can you watch the front for a few minutes?” El asks pleasantly, ignoring the shell-shocked look on Steve’s face and the intense scrutiny Robin is giving her employee.

“Sure…boss…” Billy says slowly, eyeing his former classmates suspiciously. He wants this boy’s attention really, really bad, Steve.

He suppresses a snort. In Nancy’s very succinct words – it’s all just bullshit.

---

Who let this man walk out of the house that way? Was it Buckley? Was she trying to cause a goddamn riot? Wasn’t there a law against being such a fucking tease? Malicious seduction or something?

Still mostly dressed in pajamas with his glasses hastily shoved on and his hair looking like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket, Steve looked tired and fresh from bed, even softer and sleepier than the cardigan and khaki look at school yesterday. Billy wanted to push him down on a bed, straddle his waist and kiss him for ages. Kiss him until those heavy eyelids went from surprised to dark and glazed with lust.

“Hello, Mister H,” Lulu, his sweet saving angel, mumbles into his shoulder.

That sunny-warm smile brightens up his face again, and Billy’s heart gives a painful squeeze. “Good morning, Lauren. Are you helping Billy at work.”

“Uh-huh,” she grunts, eyes closing again. “Woke me up.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he says, all sympathy and sad eyes.

God, this is fucking torture. And Maxine had to go and like…give him fucking hope and shit. Jesus.

“You wanna go back and lay down in Miss Hopper’s officer, Lulu?”

“Uh-huh,” she repeats, still clinging to his shirt.

He makes his very hasty retreat, not looking at El as he passes her in the kitchen. Unfortunately, when he returns to the front counter, Steve is still there, but Buckley seems to have disappeared and he’s blushing now, maybe because the whole universe fucking hates him and then Steve is right up in his face and says “I’m just gonna get this over with, please don’t hit me-”

And then-

-his mouth, still tinged with the minty clean taste of toothpaste, so fucking soft against Billy’s lips, his long fingers lightly touching Billy’s jawline. Steve’s cheeks are cool where Billy touches them, but his mouth is burning hot. The erection he was just managing to get under control before surges to painful, insistent life in his jeans when Steve sighs and moans, large curling around the back of his neck.

Billy answers with a low groan, fingers twisting through the silky strands of his hair to hold him there – not that Steve seems keen to escape.

Breathing is a tragic necessity, though.

“Oh,” Steve exhales as Billy pulls away reluctantly, and his eyes are just as dark, just as sloe and heavy as Billy always dreamed they’d be. He’s still clinging to the front of his shirt and his mouth looks wine-red from kissing, which only makes Billy wanna kiss him more. “I’m gonna grade quizzes for a year.”

[eternaljouska]

Redamancy, Chapter 6 - Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Husband!JihoonxReader

Genre: Angst, the tiniest amount of Fluff

Chapter: one | two | three | four | five | SIX | seven | eight | nine | end | epilogue |

Word Count: 1.8 K

A/N: Again, another short chapter that I’m not really proud of (?)

Recommended Song: Linkin Park ft. Kiiara - Heavy (I’ll have a different song for the next chapter. I have one ready, I promise.)

–

You send Jihoon to the door with another lunchbox. And he bids his goodbye with a tight smile on his lips.

Last night, you barely got any sleep. One was because Jihoon suddenly moved to his original side of the bed, and two was because you couldn’t get rid of the wasps in the wake of your flashback. It had you replaying those scenes over and over again for you to finally understand that the woman you heard is you. And with the fact that Jihoon left the house at the end of the flashback, you can tell that the two of you just had a fight. A major one, that is, seeing that you’re never the one to resort to aggressive behavior.

You pace around the living room with your nails on your mouth again. You want to go to the Haven in the hope of getting another flashback, but you are afraid that if you do, it would be as intense as it was yesterday. And you doubt you’re ready for it. Your eyes flicker around the room aimlessly until you catch sight of something familiar from the corner of your vision. You turn around and gasp.

Lily of the valley.

The flower you hold in your wedding picture. Your wedding bouquet, it’s white lily of the valley.

You run upstairs and slam the door of the Haven open, rushing to the place where the pot struck the wall. You plop down in front of it, mind going to hundreds of different locations at the same time.

Why have I done that?

The fury, despair, and grief that were mirrored through yesterday’s flashback, you don’t fully understand them. You want to understand.

Why, why, why, why?

“I love you.” You hear Jihoon starts, and your breath hitches.

“I’m sorry that I’m being selfish, but… I want you to wait for me. I- I hope you’ll wait for me. Here”—he extends his hand, offering you a posy of flowers—“you know, it’s hard to choose a flower for someone who knows flowers.” There’s a sound of laughter that reminds you so much like a tinkling bell, a sound of which allows you to see the warm color spreading on Jihoon’s cheek, mimicking the sun who’s ready to set behind him. “So, um, I googled it. You know, hanakotoba, the language of flowers. I, um, there are a few versions, but… you know… just, here”—he clears his throat as he grabs your hand and shoves the flowers to you—“promise me you’ll wait for me, and this is my promise to you.”

The vibration of your phone in your pocket pulls you out of your head.

It’s Soonyoung.

“Hey, why do I still see that prick over here? I gave him a piece of my mind yesterday, and it offends me that he didn’t listen.”

You blink your eyes a few times before answering, “Huh? What is it, Soonie?”

Soonyoung’s heart skips a beat when you called him with that nickname. It did the same that night he and the other members visited you in the hospital. He hadn’t worried about anything else besides your wellbeing. He and Seungkwan have been your best friend since forever. He was nervous, but he knew you’d remember him. Yet when you actually called him Soonie instead of Soonyoung or Hoshi, relief washed over every inch of his body, and he swore that was one of his happiest moments in life.

“Um, I’m sorry. It’s just, Jihoon’s at work again. I told him yesterday not to go. At least, not yet, not until you’re better. How- how are you? I should’ve asked you that first, but—“

“Soonie, it’s okay. I’m okay, and you can’t chain Jihoon away from his job. None of us can, not you, not me. Or at least, not forever. He’ll get back to producing eventually, and I don’t mind. Really.”

Both of you are silent, your thought traveling back to the dusk on Jihoon’s face, and an idea pops up in your head. “Hey, are you free?”

“Why do you want to go to Han—hey, at least wear a hat, will you?” Soonyoung groans as he sees you exiting your house without any disguising elements on your head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still famous, you see.”

You laugh at that, this boy, you think. Soonyoung himself wears a beanie and a mask that is lowered to his chin as he speaks. He stands from his previous position leaning on his car to open the passenger door for you.

“So, my question, why suddenly the Han River?” he continues once he hits the road.

“I… I had a flashback.”

“A flashback?”—his lower lip protrudes slightly, forming a little pout, a sign that he’s currently thinking—“Oh! You do?! What is it?”

You nod. “I’m not sure. I was hoping that maybe I’ll get some more if I visit the place.”

Soonyoung feels the atmosphere getting heavier by the second that follows. So he quips, “Why me, huh? Usually, you’ll go to Seungkwan first.” He looks at you teasingly, but frankly, he’s curious and nervous for your answer. 

“You called me right after the flashback.”

“Oh, I did?”—his voice turns glum—“You’re saying that it’s by chance? And that it’s gonna be Seungkwan if I hadn’t called?” You whip your head at his morose inquiries. You were about to say something when he beats you to it. “I’m only ever your alternative, huh?”

“Soonyoung, I…” you trail off your words as you try to swallow the lump that’s starting to form in your throat.

“Shit! I���m sorry, Y/n. I don’t mean to—“ Soonyoung blurts out his apology when he sees that your eyes have become watery through the rear-view mirror. But you immediately cut him.

“No. No. I’m sorry. I- I don’t know that you feel that way.”

The silence between you is heavy even after both of you exit the car and walk together on one side of Han River. Soonyoung is busy lecturing himself for his outburst in his head when you stop on your track and raise your hand to point at something. “Is that familiar to you?”

Soonyoung looks up to see that you’re pointing at a big tree planted in a ground rather higher than its surrounding. He shakes his head. “No, just some normal tree for me. But if for you it is, we can walk there.”

“Hey, um, I’m sorry for earlier. I really didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m just… You know what I’m like,” Soonyoung says once you arrive in front of the big tree.

You turn to him and smile. “It’s okay, Soonie.”

“Did any of them talk to you?” he says after a few more minutes of silence, a comfortable one this time.

“Hm?” You look at him, making sure that you’re thinking of the same group of people as he is. “All of them did actually.”

“Good.”

You spend some time with Soonyoung, leaning on the tree and talking about the good old days. You clap your hand together and rise from your position, ready to go home. As it turns out, getting a flashback is not as easy as you wish it to be.

The sun is still high in the horizon when you leave, walking away with the heart of an ember that still burns for the same person.

Lily of the valley, you whisper to that heart.

Lily of the valley: sweetness or the promise of happiness.

The night is young when Jihoon arrives home. He wears an expression that’s quite far from amicable, lines etched on his forehead.

“Hey, you’re home!” you gush, standing from your spot on the couch in an instant that you hear the sound of the door.

He doesn’t say anything back. Nor does he respond to anything you say to him all that night.

To say that he is pissed is somewhat an overstatement. He is not angry, just slightly annoyed—yeah, but greatly hurt.

On his way out he was stopped by Soonyoung. The man skidded to a halt in front of Jihoon, chest heaving and shirt drenched with sweat. It seemed that Soonyoung paused his dance practice abruptly to run for him.

“Hey, I was out with Y/n to Han River today, I thought I’ll let you know. She said she had a flashback or something and asked me to take her there.”

Soonyoung was busy controlling his breathing to realize how his words were affecting the younger man. Jihoon’s body stiffened, and his eyes darkened. There’s a fire of anger burning in his chest, but it’s quickly washed away by the wave of hurt that followed. Why hadn’t you called him instead? Even if you couldn’t talk to him, why not tell his other members? Seungkwan, for instance. He’s like your best man, your best person, best whatever. Why Soonyoung?

He could barely keep himself from driving over the speed limit. His head was filled with tons of questions he was ready to ask you as he burst through the door. But then he saw your face beaming. And he couldn’t help the second wave of hurt that washed over him. He couldn’t help but wonder what you’re so happy about and question if it’s because of your little afternoon rendezvous with Soonyoung.

You were persistent, trying to make a conversation with him while forgetting to mention the fact that you’ve been away all afternoon when he’s not home. But he’s drowning in his questions. Why didn’t you say anything about the flashback, if not about Soonyoung? He’s supposed to know when you have any progress with your memory, right? He’s your husband. And he didn’t even ask or need to be the first to know, just that you’re the one to tell him.

You tried to bring up the Han River and the memory you’ve acquired, but alas, your poor heart’s easy to discourage. As Jihoon walks to your room, you rush inside to claim his side of the bed before he can, so you can sleep while facing him. He stops in the doorway to see what you’re doing and proceeds to occupy the remaining space on the bed, too tired mentally to argue or clean himself up first. He faces the dim lamp on your bedside table, eyes wide awake from it and some other reasons.

He gives you his back. You call him, but he doesn’t turn around. You know that he’s still awake. So you wait, teeth biting down your lower lip, willing yourself not to make a sound as you silently cry. When you’re sure that he’s asleep, you pull the cover away from you and walk out the room to the Haven. You plop yourself down at the hammock outside, ignoring the cold wind that stings your eyes.

You stare at the spot on the wall where the pot broke, and look down to the diamond circling your ring finger.

Lily of the valley, you repeat bitterly.

The promise of happiness.

--

Another A/N: HAPPY PRINCE HOSHI DAY!!!!!! I feel like it’s only fitting to upload this chapter on his birthday. Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this. I’ve been progressing through chapter seven very slowly, but I’ll get there. Thank you so much for reading!

[sunfirekid]

@karismatickitty said:

" Don't look so glum! " Followed by her words, is a a gift, a pretty wrapped package of cookies in a transparent bag with a red bow. " Valentine's day is a day of love! "

Was he looking glum? He didn’t feel sad though, far from it actually, he was quite excited for the day of love as she so rightly put it. Maybe it was the face he was making while thinking who he should give a gift to first that made her think he was down in the dumps. He was so happy to be giving small tokens to brighten up the day for others that his overthinking problem probably reared its head again.

Regardless, her gift to him was two-fold. He was very appreciative to be receiving it so a wide smile curled his lips upward, but also her gift allowed him to also squash the issue of who was getting one first from him. 

He chuckled as he took the small bag in one hand. “Thank ya! I really appreciate this. I’m looking forward to eating these! And you’re right! It is! So, here! Happy Valentine’s day!”  He handed her a medium sized heart shaped box of chocolates. “Hope ya aren’t allergic to chocolate, if ya are, I have a few other gifts I could give ya instead!”

[cygnetofthesea]

The Fight In Us: WA AU Fic

A fic I started writing exactly a year ago but never posted for some reason. Hope you guys enjoy it! On AO3

High school-WA

There was a loud crash of what sounded like bodies colliding that jolted Iris out of her thoughts.  She looked over to the source but a crowd had already formed, blocking her view of what she imagined was yet another fight at Central City High.

With a roll of her eyes, Iris looked away and resumed picking at her lunch.  It was a beautiful day out in the quad and she was feeling a little peeved that some idiots decided to settle scores with their fists.

"Holy shit, Iris, that scrawny kid is pummeling the big dude," Linda exclaimed.  

Linda was new to the school and didn't quite know everyone's names yet but Iris knew exactly who she was talking about as her heart thudded in her chest.  She looked over and sure enough, as the crowd spread out, Iris caught a flash of thick brown hair and pale hands before disappearing from view again.

"Who is that?" Linda asked.

Iris sighed deeply and rolled her eyes even as her heart fluttered.  "My ex."

"Wait, what?  You dated that guy?"

Iris didn't answer, watching as the crowd cheered, her legs suddenly bouncing up and down anxiously.  She wrung her fingers, contemplating, before letting out another sigh that sounded more like a groan and getting up.

She marched up to the crowd her jaws set, eyes flashing in irritation.  It was that anger and frustration that fueled her strength as she manhandled bodies out of the way, ignoring the cries of "Hey!"

By the time she made it to the front of the crowd, her ex-boyfriend Barry Allen was straddling Tony Woodward, his fist raised, rearing back to land another punch into him.

"Barry!"

Barry's fist stopped abruptly halfway toward its target, his head snapping up to look at her.  And like a switch flipping, his eyebrows relaxed from their previously furrowed state and a wide grin formed on his split lips.  There's a bright red splotch on his cheekbone where she knows a bruise would be blooming by the end of their lunch period.  Her stomach twists at the sight.

"Iris," he said breathlessly.  "Hey, baby."

The endearment slipped past his lips so effortlessly despite the fact that by conventional definitions, she was no longer his, just as he was no longer hers.  Iris hates the flutter in her heart at the sight of his happy smile, that smile that was reserved just for her.  But, she ignored it as she crossed her arms and looked at him sternly.

It took great effort to keep the scowl on her face and to ignore the flutter at his starry gaze upon her face. He was looking at her as though he was in awe of her and it simultaneously frustrated and thrilled her. But thankfully, she was able to shove aside her treacherous heart and use her brain.

"Barry, what are you doing?  Get off of him."

Barry clumsily got off of Tony, his eyes on her with that same damn heart-melting smile.  He steps over Tony's prone body as he made his way toward her while the crowd around them dissipated with disappointment. He trips over his own feet before straightening and Iris absolutely hates how that makes her heart squeeze in a way only Barry could.

(She actually really loves it.)

"Iris hi," he breathed, his eyes dazed and taking her in, flickering across her face.

"Barry," she said airily.  "Up to your old antics, I see?"

His eyes widened as he looks behind him where Tony Woodward lay, groaning.  His buddy was crouched over him, sending a glare Barry's way.

"No, I-that's not, that's not what it looks like, Iris."

"No?  Because it looked like you were pummeling Tony Woodward.  That's not what happened?"

"I mean, it is," he relented anxiously, "but it's not-what I mean to say is that I haven't been in a fight in a really long time. The whole time you were gone, I've been good, I promise."

Iris looked at him skeptically through narrowed eyes. "Ok, so do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

Barry fidgeted under her gaze, fiddling with the hem of his plaid button down as he shuffled his feet nervously. He glanced around before taking Iris's wrist softly in his hand. Iris had to suppress the gasp that threatened to slip out at his touch. It was the first time in too long that she had felt his hands on her skin and her heart ached at just how much she missed it.

"Um, is it alright if we talk somewhere else? I have a feeling Tony's going to be pissed and go for round two when he comes to."

"Yeah, sure," she said shakily, failing to sound nonchalant. She slips her wrist from his hold and ignored the hurt look on his face even as it cut through her.

They walked quietly side by side away from the loud cacophony of the courtyard as they made their way inside the school. After what feels like an eternity in which Iris had to fight the urge to burrow herself in his embrace, he finally spoke.

"Um, it's really good to see you.  You look great."

"Thank you, you do too." And he did.  He didn’t look much different since she last saw him seven months ago, but there were small changes like the thickness of his hair, the slight stubble that apparently was finally appearing.

Iris remembered when Barry would complain about being a late bloomer in the ninth grade while fellow male classmates were already sporting scruffs and his face remained baby smooth. She had giggled and slid her palms across his soft cheeks, telling him how much she loved his face anyway as she punctuated the words with kisses on his skin.

It was strange to see the stubble now, months later. It felt like years had passed instead of mere months.

He blushed at her compliment and looks at her with a smile. "How was the program in France?"

For a moment Iris forgot all about the awkwardness between them as her eyes lit up in excitement.  "Oh, it was amazing!" Iris exclaimed. "Seven months was definitely not enough. But, by the end of my stay, I was able to speak to the locals in almost perfect French, so I’m pretty happy about that."

"That's amazing. Now you can curse at me in French and I'd never know," Barry laughed.

"I wouldn't do that.  But, Barry it was just unbelievable and my media studies teacher was incredible. So smart, so witty, and funny. I swear, everyone should aspire to be like her." And before she could think about it, the words slipped out. "I wish you had been there."

He stopped abruptly in place and looked at her with an unreadable expression. After a moment of hesitation, he took her hand and pulled her closer to the lockers away from any passerby.

"Iris, there's something I need to tell you."

"Bar—"

"Allen!"

Barry and Iris looked to their right in unison at the sound of the voice, only to see the school's security guard walking toward them.

"Hey Mr. Albert," Barry said sheepishly.  "Guess you heard, huh?"  

Mr. Albert planted his hands on his hips, making him appear more imposing than he already did. He always had a snobby attitude that most students hated, but somehow over time, Barry and Mr. Albert developed some kind of camaraderie. Although, at the moment, it looked like Mr. Albert wasn’t in the joking mood.

"Yup and so did the principle.  He wants to see you in his office.  You too, West, you're a witness."

Iris furrowed her brows.  She had barely seen anything, but as she took in Barry's glum face she sighed inwardly, knowing there was no way she'd be able to ever turn her back on him in a time of need.

Barry sighed and glumly nodded his head walking toward Mr. Albert who ripped out a slip from his notebook and handed it to Barry.  "Come on, Allen, I thought you knew better than this."

"I know, I know," he mumbles.

“You were doing so well. What the hell happened?” Mr. Albert asked.

Barry shrugged and simply looked down at his feet. Mr. Albert looked at him in pity and nodded toward Singh’s office. “Off you go. There’s only so many times we can let you off the hook, Allen.”

Barry nodded and took the slip before heading toward Singh’s office. Mr. Albert looks at Iris with raised brows before huffing out a laugh and walking away.

As Iris followed after Barry, she couldn't help admonishing him. "See, this is what fighting gets you.  How many times have I told you, using your fists in not the way to solve problems, Barry. People are assholes and will always be, but it doesn't mean you start pummeling them to prove a point. You think Tony's going to suddenly see the error of his ways after gaining a couple of bruises? That he's going to suddenly go 'Ah Barry, man you were right, I'm going to stop being a dick'?"

Barry brushed his hands against his hair with anxious fingers, a tick Iris recognized as a nervous habit.  "I know it was wrong. And Iris, I really have been working on controlling my temper.  I just…" he sighed before letting out a groan, scrunching his eyes shut. "He's just…what he said, he's just fucking scum."

Iris watched as he balled his hands into fists, his hall pass crumpling in his hands. She put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it soothingly. "Hey, Barry, just take a breath. It’s ok."

Barry inhaled deeply before slowly letting it out, his fingers relaxing.

They finally made it to the principal's office and braced themselves. Principle Singh looked up with a bored expression.  

"Barry Allen, the star student with a temper." He turned to Iris. "And our other star student who intervened is what I hear through the grapevine."

"Hardly. I didn't get in the middle of the brawl if that’s you're thinking."

"No, not at all," he said with a smile. "But, maybe you can add to Mr. Allen's story."

"I thought I was here because I'm in trouble," Barry said.

"Oh you are, but I'm a believer of hearing all sides of the story. So why don't you start and tell me just what went down?"

Barry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sneaking furtive glances at Iris.  "Uh Tony was um, just mouthing off and it…made me angry?" he finished lamely.

Iris shot him an annoyed look at his pathetic excuse.

"Well, Allen, judging by the fact that Mr. Woodward is currently in the nurse's office with a black eye, yeah I'd hazard a guess that he made you angry. What was it that he said to provoke you?"

Barry stammered, "It's-it's nothing, it was just stupid stuff that he always says. I mean it's Tony Woodward, he's a bully."

"Well, some would say you're the bully in this case."

"What?!" Barry exclaimed. He sat up in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.  "That is not true. How is self-defense considered bullying now?"

"Yeah, I'm failing to see how when pitted against Tony Woodward, Barry would be considered the bully here," Iris interjected. "That kid has a reputation that precedes him and Barry is actually someone who stands up to him."

She felt the tension rise on her back at the thought of Barry being accused of being a bully. Barry Allen may be a little too quick to throw a punch, but he was the sweetest guy she knew. If only he knew how to get his temper under control.

"Now, I'm not accusing you of being a bully Barry, I'm fully aware of Mr. Woodward's history.  What I'm trying to say is that if you stoop to the level of bullies, how are you any different?  How are you going to set an example of what the right thing is?" Singh asked giving him a knowing look. "Answer me honestly, who threw the first punch?"

Barry's leg bounced up and down rapidly before he finally sighed and relented.  "It was me."

"Why?"  Singh opened a folder on his desk and brandished a sheet of paper. "See this? You've gone nine months without incident. Nine months and no fights. What was it that backtracked that progress?"

"Look, I understand the error of my ways, do we really need a play-by-play? Can we just skip to my punishment?"

"Why aren't you telling me what he said?"

Barry's eyes flickered to Iris and she furrowed her brows in confusion as Singh looked between them. His own face cleared and he nodded in understanding.  "Ok. You can take it up with Ms. Horton in guidance, but don't let it happen again, Allen. You're too good of a kid to have his permanent record be tarnished by suspensions. You've got detention for the next two days."

Barry looked up in surprise.  "Whoa, t-thanks Principle Singh."

"Don't mention it.  Just," he lets out a sigh and looks at Barry meaningfully.  "Look, Barry, you're a good kid and I know if you channel that energy and anger into helping people like I know you want to, you're going to achieve great things. I see a really bright future for you and that makes me all the more disappointed when I see you getting into these kinds of trouble. If Tony gives you trouble, come to me and we'll deal with it. That's my duty, just as it is yours to get the most of this school and set a positive example for your peers. Do you understand?"

Iris turned to look at Barry and it appeared he was just as surprised by the meaningful speech as she was.  She knew Singh was one of the good ones, but she never saw him as expressive as in that moment.

Barry nods in jerky movements. "Yeah, of course. Thanks, Principle Singh.  I-I'm going to do better."

"I know you will. You're both free to go."

Iris led the way as a dazed Barry followed behind. She looked at him and could see the shame on his face and felt her heart clench in her chest.  She took his hand in hers.

"Hey, you ok?"

Barry cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. "Yeah, I'm ok." He was quiet for a moment. "Just reminded me of dad for a moment there."

She looked at him in concern and pulled him into an empty classroom. "You know he would have been so proud of you."

Barry scoffed as he leaned against the teacher's desk, looking away from her. "Dad was happy I knew how to stand up for myself and others, but he wouldn't exactly approve of this. Multiple detentions and almost-suspensions? Not exactly a star of a student as Singh thinks."

"I mean, yeah the fists need to stay down," she said, watching as his lips curl the tiniest bit. "But come on, Bar, you always, always have the best of intentions. You're always looking to stand up for people and it's honestly why I fell in love with you."

He looked at her hopefully.  "Yeah?"

She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. "Oh you really didn't know that?" she teased, hopping onto the desk beside him.

Het let out a light laugh as he straightened and moved closer to her, the clouds in his eyes fading.  

"I miss you, Iris and I have changed. I know I didn't do a good job of showing it by getting into a fight on the first day of school, but I was mad that you had heard what he said and I just…" he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "I couldn't stand it and I know that's not a good excuse, but Iris, I really am trying."

Iris looked up, her legs swinging back and forth as she took in his words. A soft, warm glow filled her heart at the sight of his earnest face. That sweet face that was hard not to love.

"I know you are," she said quietly. “Even before I left, I saw it."

"Because you were right, Iris. I wasn't dealing with what happened to my dad, but I'm working on it."

"Yeah?"

Barry nodded, playing with his fingers. "Yeah, I've um...I’ve been seeing someone. Mom found this therapist a year ago and I finally decided to go."

Iris looked at him, her heart filling with happiness."Oh, Barry, I'm so happy to hear that.”

She reached over and placed her hand over his fidgeting ones until they stilled.

He let out a deep sigh. “I think I was scaring mom. I finally saw it when I caught her crying over the family album. I knew she wouldn’t want me to see but I couldn’t leave her that and we finally talked. I realized that she was trying to spare me and it hurt me to see her hiding her grief and I imagined she felt the same about me. "

Her heart clenched in her chest thinking about Mrs. Allen. She always had that beautiful smile on her face for as long as Iris knew her and when Mr. Allen died, the smile dimmed. She put on a great act for her and Barry, but Iris could see that it wasn’t as bright as before, like a light had been turned off. It broke her heart to see Barry broken, but it hurt just as much to see the woman who had become a maternal figure in her life lose her soulmate and try to raise an angry boy on her own. But Iris was determined to be there for Mrs. Allen just as much as she would be for Barry.

“I’m really glad for you both.”

Barry looked down at their joined hands and slowly laced his fingers with hers. "Iris?"

She held her breath, savoring his touch. She hadn't realized how she had been starved for his touch until that moment. There wasn't a day that went by she hadn't thought of him, but in the midst of exploring France and keeping up with her classes, she couldn't think about being in a relationship. While her classmates gushed about meeting French boys and wishing for romantic evenings, Iris only allowed Barry to invade her thoughts for a brief moment before she scolded herself about getting distracted.

But sitting there so close beside him, his soft, warm hands against her own, Iris felt her heart ache as she let those feelings wash over her.

"Yeah?" she finally responded.

"I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too."

He hesitated before gripping her fingers tighter. "Do you…do you think that maybe, I don't know, that we could maybe…go get some ice cream tonight? Or I don’t know, we could go to that Thai place we like instead of ice cream, or we could do both. I mean, that's if you're in the mood for either or there's that Turkish place too. I haven’t had kebabs in ages and they have that great spinach pie you like, I mean we can do any of it or all of—"

He broke off at her gentle laugh.  "Ice cream would be good. Mom already made her famous spicy chili so I can meet you after."

He nodded agreeably before slowly shrugging his shoulder.  "Or I…I could pick you up?" he asked tentatively, looking at her from under his lashes.

Iris nodded with a soft smile. “I’d like that,” she said. “Can you promise me something, Barry?”

“Of course,” he said eagerly.

“Can we make a promise to each other to be open and always communicate with one another? I love you, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself and not talk to me about what you’re going through. No one is invincible and we should be able to talk to each other. Deal?”

He brought her hand to his chest and rested his forehead against her while keeping his gaze steady on her. “I promise you, Iris. I’ve hurt you and my mother enough and I’m done with that.”

She closed the distance between them, her lips touching his. She can feel his gasp against her just as well as she could hear it.

“Ok,” she whispered.

“Ok”

[ironwebbs]

Geniuses and Genius Bars

Sorry @iamirondad for taking so long to get to this one. Please enjoy. 

AO3 LINK 

Tony was giving a speech to the Midtown School of Science and Technology. Naturally Peters excited, until he isn't, and Tony finally meets Flash Thompson.

Peter was excited.

Tony couldn’t understand why, but the kid was all smiles and jittering legs, bumbling at a million miles an hour about how great this was, how this was a historic moment, a life changing event, a once in a lifetime opportunity…

It was just a speech about the different grants and scholarships and work opportunities with stark industries. But for some reason, every damn kid in the school had been hyping it up for weeks, months even.

Including Peter.

Tony just didn’t get it. Peter saw him every week, more than once a week, and they spoke about college and further opportunities all the time? Why was this one insignificant talk to a bunch of teenagers getting him crawling up the walls?

Nonetheless he entertained the kid. Let him ramble and gasp ideas and nonsense about the things Tony could talk about.

“What about the suit Mr. Stark? What if you demonstrated the nanotech? The school would go wild for that! Can you imagine it?” he had laughed. Tony had just rolled his eyes in response, refusing to admit it would be kind of fun to have hundreds of awe-struck nerd kids admire his hard work. If anyone were to appreciate the complexity of nanotech, is was the Midtown school of Science and Technology kids.

“I don’t see the big deal kid, you could watch my TED talks on YouTube if you are such a fan” he teased. This time it was Peters turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not a fan” he blushed, “It’s just… it’s so amazing what you do. There’re so many kids at the school who are there for their intelligence alone you know? They come from not so great homes, or really struggle financially… this kind of opportunity you’re talking about, it gives hope to those kids… I was one of those kids Mr. Stark” he shrugs his shoulders in a façade of nonchalance, but his excitement is still surface level, gleaming in his eyes.

Tony sometimes forgets his privilege, forgets his brains came with an influence, and never in his youth did he have to think about whether or not he could go to college. It was only how many degrees and doctorates can I get to shove it up Howards ass. He feels pride wash through him at Peters declaration, at the kid’s faith in him, in everyone.

“Plus, means I get a free ride into school so that’s great too” Peter smirks smugly, his cheeky grin pressing at his lips.

Tony mocks a shocked expression, “If you think I’ll allow you to treat me like your uber driver kid, you have another thing coming.”

Peter exaggerates a whine “Common Mr. Stark! The train smells like a sewer! I’ll even give you five stars” he laughs, ducking as Tony ditches the closest rag at his head.

Tony preens at the domesticity, at Peters comfort in the lab environment.

Not for the first time, he vows he would protect that kid with every inch of his life.

“But seriously Mr. Stark, what you do for all those kids in need is pretty awesome, I don’t know if you see what I see, but you’re like the Oprah of the science and tech world” he says with all sincerity. Tony scoffs at the reference to Oprah. He would never be as cool as Oprah.

“Yeah well, someone’s got to keep monitors on all your nerds, who knows what world ending machine you might end up creating” he smiles coyly, reaching out to ruffle the kids unruly hair.

Peter thinks for a moment, Tony can already tell the kids conjuring up dangerous one liner by the glint in his eyes “You mean like Ultron?” he smirks.

Tony drops his jaw “You little shmuck!” he throws another rag, and when Peter ducks away from that he throws a spanner too, groaning as the kid catches it and grins even wider.

“Admit it Mr. Stark! You’re a nerd just like us!” he laughs with glee. Tony shakes his head. “Never young buck. Never. Give me back my spanner, nerd”

“Admit it!”

“Not happening”

“Admit it!”

“Give it back or I’ll call May”

“That’s something a nerd would say” Peter snickers, ducking in anticipation at the look Tony throws him.

“I’ll call myself a nerd, when you admit you’re one of my fangirls.” Tony throws back, raising an eyebrow, hiding his smirk.

Peter huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “You already know I’m a fangirl, Mr. Stark…” he pauses for comedic effect, Tony already knows he’s got another one liner in him “of Ironman, that is. Couldn’t care less about the dude in it” he’s giggling before he’s even finished the sentence.

Tony made a noise of protest before charging at the now running away teen. Peters laughter bounced off the walls, excitement in his mischievous eyes. Tony snags one of Peters web-shooters off the table, grinning in pleasure at Peters haltered step, the widening of his eyes.

“DUM-E” he singsongs, watching as the robot whirred its way happily over to him. Peter eyes grew even wider.

“You wouldn’t” he gasped.

“Oh but I would. DUM-E, you want to check if these are fireproof for me? I know how much you love-“ he’s cut off by a spanner clattering at his feet, Peter following quickly behind.

“Truce! Truce okay! You’re not a nerd, I’m a fangirl, please give them back!” he yelps. Tony taking way too much amusement and pleasure in Peters agony, raises his hand towards DUM-E, web shooter dangling dangerously, watching Peter cringe as the claw moves in on its target.

Waiting a final moment, revelling in Peters puppy dog eyes, he tosses the shooter back, Peter catching it effortlessly with a relieved smile, slipping it back on his wrist.

“Jerk” he laughs, “Nerd” Tony snipes back.

He ruffles the kid’s hair again, just because he can. Peter ducking away and grinning wide. “I probably should head home anyway, getting kinda dark.” Peter smiles, moving to shove his bags back together, leaving his station messy and cluttered. Tony rolled his eyes. Teenagers.  

“Need a lift?” He asked, moving to shut down his own station.

“Oh, now you want to be my Uber driver.” Peter smirks, darting out of the way of Tonys attempted head smack. “Yeah keep it up and you can walk on Friday.” Tony puffed.

It was Peters turn to roll his eyes. “You can’t stop me from catching the train Mr. Stark.”

“I can cancel your Metro pass, maybe put you on the teenage deviants watch list. Would love to see you try outrun those guards during peak”

Peter winces, “Fine, you are the best mentor, I owe you my life, please pick me up at 7” he rushes out the door before Tony can protest, not that he would. Tony can hear his giddy laughter all the way down the corridor, can almost see the skip in his step.

Which is why it is so wrong when he picks the kid up, three days later, and Peter looks like he wishes he was anywhere else.

The teen sits slumped in the passenger seat, eyes downcast, lip pulled between his teeth. A nervous trait that Tony had noticed he did when he was stressed. Not just stressed, but stressed.

“What’s up kiddo? You not feeling too good?” He asks, trying to swallow the excitement he himself had been feeling on the drive over. He thought Peter would be the same, vibrating with energy like he had been in the lab. Now Peter’s a shell of that kid, worried and jittery. Not the good kind.

Peter shakes his head, he goes to respond, but his phone pings, taking his attention for a moment. Tony sees as the kids face scrunches up, jaw clenched, before he tosses his phone carelessly back into his back pack and slumps back again with a sigh.

“Seriously Pete, spill. What’s on your mind? I thought you would have your head out of the sunroof by now” The joke doesn’t even register on Peters glum face.

“I’m just not feeling it today.” He replies softly. Tony frowns. “Is it something at school?” Maybe the workload was building up again, or the decathlon team… he had practice for that yesterday afternoon, maybe something had happened there. “Something like that” he gets in a mumbled response.

Peter kept his eyes glued out the window. Not bothering to engage in any more conversation. Tony frowned harder, nervously tapping at the wheel. Had he done something to upset Peter? Was there something he had forgotten?

He’s about to ask, when Peter cuts in quietly. “Could you please drop me off here?” Tony looked at where Peter was referring, confused. “Pete we are still three blocks away? I can drop you off closer?” but Peter shook his head determinedly, already pulling up his bag and reaching for the handle. Unsure of what to do, Tony pulled over, allowing the teen to jump up and scatter over to the side walk, quick to blend in with the other pedestrians.

It took Tony a few more seconds to remember to drive, his heart sinking as he watched Peter get smaller and smaller in his rear-view mirror. Should he have stopped him? Should he go back?

Surely this was just another teenager thing, embarrassment about their parent dropping them off… not that Tony was a parent, definitely not. Unless Peter wanted him to be.

But this was behaviour Tony hadn’t seen before. This was more subdued than he had experienced. And he had experienced a lot.

Trying to shake of the unnerving feeling, he pulled into the staff parking lot, ensuring he was tucked away, not wanting to risk some kids vandalising the paint. He gathered his thoughts, finding them continuously running back to his sad kid, mentee.

He slipped through the staff entry, greeting the flustered star struck admin team, gracefully allowing them to guide him into the teachers common room. All heads shot up, some more awe struck than others. Here we go he thought dimly. Time to work the crowd.

He plastered on his best paparazzi smile, allowing all the questions, how many scholarships are you giving away, what kind of talent are you looking for, are there any job prospects, we have a robotics competition coming up would you be free to judge? Tony smirked, Peter would definitely be entering in that competition. And he would win. No son of his No protégé of his would lose that.

Surprisingly, no one asked him about Peter. He was sure those kinds of questions would come, given one of their students had scored the only high school interning position that had ever existed in the history of Stark Industries. He had made the title official (name badge and all) at the beginning of the year, telling Peter that it had nothing to do with Spiderman, and everything to do with his genuine intelligence and promising future in the industry. Peter had taken a while to properly accept, worried he was taking the opportunity away from someone more deserving. Tony had scoffed. As if that person existed.

He was about to ask his own set of questions, wanted to hear just how good his Peter was doing, even though he already knew the kid was the best, but one the teachers took his arm and informed him the students were all seated in the main hall and ready for his address.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at not only his lost opportunity to hype up Peter, but also at the woman’s clear excitement to escort Tony to the floor, he lets himself be led, fighting the need to pull away and walk himself. He didn’t want to be a douchebag here. He needed to be on his best behaviour for Peter.

The cohort erupts into screams and booming clapping as he steps onto stage, his smile half genuine, half reflex from his decades of practice. He begins the spiel, the one Pepper wrote, the one he promised not to deviate from. He seeks Peter out quickly, hoping to see that excitement.

He doesn’t.

Peters eyes are mostly downcast, focus on his shoelaces. He can see Peters friend, Ned, beside the teen, looking excited like the other kids, but constantly throwing worried glances to Peter.

Tony tries not to let it bother him now. It could bother him later, when he could give Peter his full attention and get to the bottom of what was making him so upset. Right now he had to focus on the speech.

He finished up with an inspirational quote, not as great as his usual go break some eggs, but age appropriate and obviously affective with the way the students were standing to clap and cheer, loud excited chatter erupting amongst them all. Peter had been right, these kids were ecstatic.

The woman that had led him over before stood back on stage, moving to the microphone to settle the group. “Mr. Stark has been kind enough to allow questions today. Remember your manners, and only appropriate questions.” She warned. Tony didn’t want to answer questions. He had forgotten that this was a part of the package. He wanted to scoop Peter up and drive him to the nearest parlour and fill his sad stomach with every ice-cream flavour available.

The questions start immediately, Would the scholarship guarantee a job at Stark Industries, When would the winners be announced, Would he announce any more scholarships during the year, Did he have his suit? He laughed at the last question, eyes catching Peters, hoping the kid would share the amusement. But Peter was still looking down, not listening.

It hurt, just a little bit.

A kid stands up confidently. He hadn’t had his hand raised, and he hadn’t been chosen to ask, but he was standing anyway, his face coiled like a snake with a grin. Entitled brat, Tony thought immediately. But then he saw Peter shrink even further, and his confusion was quickly turning to anger. He didn’t know why, but this kid was trouble.

“Mr. Stark. There’s something I think you should know. I respect you enough to give you this information, for the sake of your reputation.” The boy started. There were sniggers, some turned laughter around the proud teenager. Some teachers begun to throw some worried looks between each other, even the woman from earlier ready to step in. “Okay… and what might that be?” Tony asked cautiously, unbothered that it came out with a little bite.

The teen, unfazed, continued, smile plastered on his face now. “There is a student here, that is going around and spreading horrible lies about you, which is frankly just sad, but he has been claiming to work for you, which, as I’m sure you can agree is preposterous.” A teacher steps forward, looking to intervene, but Tony stops her with a hand.

“And who might that be?” he asked. What kid was making things up? Were they trying to compete with Peter? Was this douchebag actually telling the truth? Either way, this teenager was a bully, so he knew he was going to have to approach this differently than he would with adults. There was no need to put another student down for wanting to work with him.

The teens smirk grew even more menacing, the laughter of the classmates rising. He reached down and came back up with a handful of blue sweater.

Attached to Peter Parker.

Tony lost his ability to speak. A thousand thoughts rushed through his head at once. But he quickly realised what was going on. Tony was that kid the bullies held up and refused to believe a word that came out of his mouth when he was in high school. These students didn’t believe Peters internship. Which would assume the teachers didn’t either, given their staff room behaviour.

“Mr. Stark meet Peter Parker. Now as I’m sure you are just as mortified as the rest of us, that this subpar student thinks he could score a position alongside you, let alone as a janitor for your catering staff” the class laughed louder, Tony could see Peter cheeks swell red with humiliation, eyes downcast but surely full of tears.

Hot burning rage filled in Tony’s gut. This teenager. This prick was humiliating his kid.

“So, I’m giving you the opportunity to set the record straight, and I should hope, put in place a punishment for this act of fraud and deceit.” The smartass concluded. He pushed Peter forward, and hard. Unexpected apparently, because Peter went sailing to the floor, hitting it with a loud thud. The crowd burst into laughter, only softening with the teachers mortified shushing.

At a loss and in a pit of rage, Tony was almost speechless. The prick hurt his kid.

The prick was going to die.

The teacher rushed to the microphone. “Flash Thompson! Enough, you sit down right this instant” she hissed. Tony took that moment to pull his phone out, blood boiling, hands shaking.

“Eugene, was it?” He asked loudly. The crowd was silent now, the teenager still standing, smug as ever. Peter was moving to sit back down, but Flash was quicker, grabbing the sullen teens forearm and wrenching him back beside him.

“That’s right Mr. Stark.” He said proudly, probably ready to receive his praise. He was going to receive something alright.

“Interesting, Oh here we go” he smirked. The projectors on either side of the room flickered on, Tony quick to bring up the assholes files. At least that got him paling.

“Oh look at that, GPA of only 3, that’s disappointing isn’t it. Won’t be able to apply for my scholarships” he laughed humourlessly. The teenager had the audacity to make a noise of protest, but Tony got in first.

“Oh my, look at this, a C in Physics? That must be hard for you. Can’t get into those Ivy league schools with a C can we?” He was carelessly letting the sarcasm roll in. The teachers look antsy, he has no care for them.

“And look what we have here! Intern applications Mr. Thompson! What do you have to offer, I wonder”

“That’s private!” the teen interjects hysterically. Eyes looking for support from other staff members.

“Not that private apparently. Oh my, are we really going around and calling ourselves a genius? I think that’s far from the truth. And here you are talking about fraud and deceit”

“You want to see a real genius Mr. Thompson?” he drops his voice lower, anger slipping in hard. He fiddles with his phone, the projection quickly changing to the next profile.

Peters.

“Perfect GPA, Perfect candidate for all the scholarships, and you know what else he has?” He waits to see Flash’s face tense. “He has an internship at Stark Industries as my mentee. You know why he has that? I’ll tell you, I’m sure it would be too hard for you to work out anyway. Because he is intelligent, he is respectful, and he is a damn good kid.” He spits.

The room is shocked into silence. Peters head has lifted, a blush on his cheeks.

“The only time you will call yourself a genius will be at the genius bar of Apple” he snarls. The teenager looks furious, entitled and obviously not used to being the butt of the joke.

Tony cuts him off before he can protest, “Peter will go on to be one of the greatest minds of your generation, and you only ever be good enough to work as the salesman for his products.”

There’s a lot of slack jaws in the audience. Even Peters.

He said what he has to say, and now he was through. “If any of you have any questions about Peters internship, you come through me.” He presses one of his smiles for good measure before storming off the stage, leaving the dumfounded crowd behind.

They were laughing at Peter. They were hurting him. Peter was upset because his peers couldn’t see how fantastic he was. Were they blind?

The teachers try to gush apologies, try to assure him that discipline will take place, that they don’t stand that behaviour. But he just scoffs, and leaves as soon as he can, jumping into his car and resisting the need to slam his hand into the wheel.

He grabs his phone, shooting a message off quickly to Peter.

TS: Do you want to take the rest of the day off?

He would, if he were Peter. But Peters better than him, always has been.

PP: No thanks.

And that’s all he gets. Nothing else. Nada. Zilch.

He drives away feeling even worse. Had he aggravated the problem? Did he go too far? Was Peter mad at him now?

His head was in shambles, both pleased that he was able to set the record straight, and maybe avoid Peter getting bullied, but then Peters being bullied? How had he not known? And given the amount of students laughing at Peter, and not shocked at one bullies behaviour, it was happening a lot. And then he was stuck thinking he had made it even worse. He doesn’t even realise he’s been pacing the lab for hours, unproductive and fulminated.

At least today was Friday, which meant Peter was coming over after school anyway. They could sort this out. Tony could get his answers.

But when the clock his 4.00, and Peter still hasn’t come through those doors, he starts to lose hope that the kids not angry with him. That the he was still coming for lab.

Tony slumps into his work chair, grouchy and fired up. Should he write a letter to the school about their anti-bullying schemes? Should he employ that Eugene kid to publicly fire him?

Should he mind his own business?

He’s torn from his thoughts as he hears the ding of the elevator, the familiar pads of steps approaching the lab doors. He throws a glance to the clock above the wall, frowning at the hour, past 5.00pm. Not enough time for Peter to have been on patrol, and he had no extra-curricular after school, which means either the kid was avoiding him or…

One look at his face gives him the affirmation of the alternative.

He chokes as he shoots up, rushing over to the downcast teenager. “Peter, Jesus Christ, your face”

Peters face was an array of colours, from the smears of blood, to the dark blue above his cheek, the purpling around his jaw, and the vacant black of his hazel eyes.

“Was this that Flash? Did he do this?” he growls, stepping closer to the dejected kid, still standing in the doorway. Peter looks up, Tony can see the tell-tale tear tracks that had once rolled down his ruddy cheeks.

“Why did you do that?” Peter asks quietly, almost inaudible. Tony stops in his tracks, wary of moving even closer, despite the magnet drawing him in hard. He recognises the emotions on Peters face, he knows they mean stay back. So he does.

“Pete, I didn’t mean for you to be” he gestures openly to the bruises and the bleeding.

“You didn’t need to be so mean.” He mutters, dropping his back pack to the floor. He remains in the doorway, unsure of himself, eye brows creased and tense.

“Didn’t have to be so mean? Kid, that boy was humiliating you! He pushed you! I could have been a whole lot worse” a sudden rage coils in his gut again. Be it him remembering the debacle, or his own entitled persona clawing its way to the surface, furious at the lack of gratitude. “You are going to explain yourself mister. How long has this been going on?” He crosses his arms, eyes hard and stern. He hopped that was enough to get through to the resisting teenager.

“Long enough for me to be able to handle this on my own” Peter responds defiantly, jaw set and eyes down.

“Can you stop being a goddamn saint for five seconds Peter! Jesus Christ. You don’t have to put yourself through a meat grinder just because you have superpowers you idiot!” He hates that he’s yelling. He hates himself so much. But Peter was hurt, and Peter needed to hear this.

Peter tenses harder, he turns his face up, staring Tony down. “That’s not why. These kinds of groups want to hurt someone! If they hurt me, I heal. Do you understand? I heal. The other kids? Not so lucky. So yeah, I go through a meat grinder but that’s my choice. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”

Tony blanches. Self-sacrificing idiot teenager.

“Yeah you really looked like you could handle yourself out there today. Really great show Parker” he scoffs. His hands itch to wipe the blood off the boys temple, to hold him close.

“Why do you care? What I do at school shouldn’t matter to you” he shot back, cheeks reddening with the shame of todays events.

“Why do I care? Dammit Peter, of course I care. You’re goddamn brilliant, you’re better than every single person in that damn school, not just in your genius, but everything. Jesus, even the last words out of your mouth you’re putting yourself last. Those kids don’t deserve to stand next to you, leave alone belittle you” he blew out a frustrated breath of air before continuing.

“I was that kid Pete. I was the kid who was different. I was 3 years younger than everyone in my class, I was the son of a billionaire, I was a smartass. Came home every day with a new bruise or a split lip, and I was told to toughen up. To fend for myself. Do you know how much I wished for once someone else would stand up for me? Someone else to kick those assholes in the balls” Peter huffed out a hesitant laugh, Tony joining in.

“What I’m trying to say kiddo, you’re not alone. You don’t have to fight this one on your own okay? Bullies are bullies. Their hits hurt, and their words hurt even more. That doesn’t mean you have to endure them so someone else doesn’t. That means you get to be the hero and stop them from hurting someone when you’re not around to be their punching bag.”

Peter slumped visibly. “I just, I was so excited about today, and they ruined it. They made me feel so embarrassed Mr. Stark. I preferred the afterschool special over that auditorium.”

Tony nodded in understanding. The humiliation was always worse than the shoves. “I’m sorry I went overboard. It just makes me so mad that people don’t see what I see. They don’t see how damn great you are.” Tony closes his eyes. Startled when he finds himself suddenly with an arm full of teenager.

Peter clings to him tightly, Tonys arms wrapping around the smaller boy just as tight. “I’m sorry too. I was embarrassed” Peter mumbles into Tonys shirt. Tony nods, enough for Peter to be able to feel the movement.

“But did it make you feel a little bit better when that dweeb got, what do you kids say, dragged?” He can feel Peters full body cringe, “oh my god” the kid groans.

Tonys just happy to feel the imprint of the smile. “It was pretty funny” Peter laughs breathily. Tony chuckles, “His face was so shocked. I think he thought I was going to thank him and offer him the internship. Dumbass”

Peter laughs again, it’s louder now. Tony pushes the boy out of his arms, taking in his battered face. “Can we clean this up now? And then have a nice long chat about round two tomorrow when I drag that tool by his manicured nails?” Tony smirks, watching as Peter winced. “We’ll talk about it” the teenager pleads.

Tony takes pity, wrapping and arm around the boys shoulder, leading them both out and towards the kitchen where his first aid kit was stored. And his chocolate. This felt like one of those occasions.

“I’d understand. If you had to deny it though” Peter says softly after a moment of silence.

Tony frowns confused. “Deny what?”

Peter sighs sadly. “I know I’m just a poor orphan kid from Queens. If you needed to deny our internship for the image, I’d understand.”

Tony swings them around so fast Peter almost loses his balance. He stands in front of the kid, hands on his shoulders, ducking to force the eye contact.

“Peter. Listen to me. I will never be ashamed of you. Kid, in a couple of years I won’t be ‘Tony Stark’, anymore. I’ll be Peter Parkers first mentor. You are going to rewrite the history books. I know it. I’ll eventually be a small detail in your biography of the greatest minds of the century. And you know what? I’m going to be a proud parent watching from the sidelines, cheering you on every step of the way. Nothing would ever make me prouder of you Peter Parker.”

Peters eyes are filling with tears, Tony doesn’t think they are ready for crying in front of each other just yet, so he turns on his heel again, pulling the dumbstruck kid towards the kitchen counter.

Peter wipes his swollen eyes when he thinks Tony isn’t looking, hissing as Tony begins to dab away at the open cuts.

The kid looks lost in thought, deep in his own mind. Tony decides to pull him out before he gets too down. “Want to tell me what that big brain of yours is thinking right about now?”

Peter thinks for a second more, face curling into a semblance of a smirk.

“I wouldn’t have taken you to knowing the Apple customer service positions” he grins,

“unless you were a nerd.”

[codylabs]

Chapter 14: Cabin in the Woods

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

The hot midday sun beat down on two teenagers, who were working hard with their wire cutters and improvised prybars to clear off the top of the buried flying saucer. They’d set aside most of their armor by this point, just so that the heat wouldn’t kill them. They figured that since they were near the center of the clearing, nothing could sneak up on them very easily. And just in case, their weapons never left their sides.

Inch after inch of the small vehicle was revealed below them. Even past the barnacle-like moss and the dirt and the mud, they could see its hull remained smooth and seamless. Evidently, in all the thousands of years it had been sitting here, the drilling roots of the metal plants hadn’t been able to breach it.

“Say…” Wendy stood up with an exhausted sound, and scratched her armpit. “You don’t suppose this thing is still, like, working?”

“I don’t know.” Dipper set down the wire cutters, and put his hands on his hips. He looked down at the machine below his feet. “I doubt it.”

“That’d be cool though.”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Wendy considered the ship. It was about 60 feet in diameter, a bit bigger than a fighter jet, maybe the size of 6 RVs all parked side-by-side. Small enough to fly around. Small enough to take off and land on runways, in parking lots, sports fields… You could actually use it to get around. Wendy got an idea. “Dibs.” She said.

“Huh?” Dipper looked up at her.

“Dibs.” She repeated. “I just dibsed it. Now nobody else can take it from us. Now it’s ours. International maritime law.”

“You can’t dibs a spaceship.”

“Just did.”

“Maritime law doesn’t apply to spaceships.”

“Dibs. See? I’ll do it again. Dibs. It’s official now. Don’t worry, I dibsed it for both of us. We can share it.”

“Well… Huh?” He looked down at it. “What would we do with it?”

“Well… What do you want to do? We could abduct farmer Sprock’s mutant cows and put them on his roof… We could take it to the Woodstick festival… We could take it to football games… Everybody would freak out and it’d be hilarious… You can use it pick up chicks, I can use it to terrorize Thompson or Poolcheck or Stanley or whoever…”

“Pick… Pick up chicks…?”

“Or we could take it to the drive-in movie theater… Or we could use it to take vacations to… Like, the beach or something. Or… Or to Alaska if the beach is boring… Ooh! Or we could fly it real low over Washington D.C. or North Korea, and see if we can outrun all the missiles they shoot at us…!”

“UH!”

“Yeah, the last one was a joke. Kinda. But… I don’t know. If we could get this thing running again… Man, we’d be the kings of this place! Come on, man. You gotta admit, it’d be cool to have a spaceship just lying around.”

Dipper blinked. Wait a minute. He thought. That actually does sound fun. “You know what? Sure!” He laughed nervously. “I… Yeah, sure! I guess…Yeah! That would be… Well, we would have to be careful and everything, but…”

“But yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!” Wendy turned back to her tools, and began prying more plants up off the ship’s hull. “Now if we could just get inside the stupid thing…”

“Yeah…” Dipper bent down toward his own shadow, and began to work again. He felt the sun burning the back of his neck, but all over his body he felt the progressing aches of weariness. In his scrawny arms, the tools were starting to seem dull and ineffective. He began to move slower.

Wendy noticed his exhaustion. “Hey, didn’t Ford call you a while back?” She asked. “You should call him back and check in.”

“Uh…” Dipper stood up hesitantly. “Well, we still have to do this…”

“Oh, leave this to the lumberjack, bro.” Wendy took the wire cutters out of his hands. “Go talk to Ford. Tell him we found a UFO fixer-upper… And also that we dibsed it. It’s very important that we dibsed it.”

“…All right.” Dipper fished his phone out of his pocket. As it booted up, he walked over to the shade of a nearby tree, and wiped the sweat from his hair.

With all his might, Robbie gave the fully-loaded backpack one final heave into the back of his van. The rear suspension bounced just slightly. Now that the burden had been lifted from his shoulders, he sagged over with his hands on his knees, and took a deep, profanity-laden breath.

“Wow, funny words!” Mabel half-ignored him, and skipped over to the passenger-side door with her pig. “All right Waddles, you have to go in the back seat. No, don’t worry, it isn’t that long of a drive. You’ll be fine!”

As Robbie climbed in the driver-side door, he thumbed over to ‘maps’ on his phone. But with cell service so patchy out here, it took a long time getting an image. And even when it did, it just showed them as a blip in the middle of the forest. The logging roads weren’t on the maps. “Well darn.” Robbie growled at the phone.

“Well… There’s only one road…” Mabel shrugged toward their surroundings. “You don’t need a map if there’s only one road…”

“Yeah, well… Well… Yeah.” Robbie started the van, and attempted to turn around in the narrow area.

Suddenly, something jarred into place in Mabel’s own memory. “Oh darn-poopy-darn!” She slapped herself. “I forgot to turn on my phone…”

She’d killed it this morning because she heard that the robot predators could track electrical signals. Now, as the screen blinked to life, she was rapidly flooded with everything she’d missed: text message after text message pouring in from Ford, Stan, Grenda, Candy, and even one from Dipper, asking where she was, what she’d been doing all day, and with whom.

Oh dear… She probably should have made up something this morning before she stowed away. She felt a little bad about worrying them, so she should check in now… Who to call first? How about Dipper.

He picked up on the second ring. “Mabel?” His voice came through in a scratchy way, since they were both almost outside cell service. “I was just talking to Ford, and you’ve been gone all day! Why wasn’t your phone on? Ford was worried! Stan was worried! Soos was worried! Heck, the goat was worried! Where are you?!? Are you--?”

“Oh, I’m in Robbie’s van!” She blurted with a hasty smile. (She hadn’t had time to make up a convincing lie.)

There was silence over the line for a few seconds. Mabel glanced at the phone, wondering if Dipper had hung up, or if the limited cell service had finally given out. But Dipper hadn’t been disconnected, only confused. “…What are you doing in Robbie’s van?” He finally asked, and she could hear the bewilderment in his voice.

“Uh... Oops, uh…” She scratched her head, and realized that her story needed a little extra something. She racked her brain. “Well… Uh… We’re on a date!”

Dipper yelped. “WHAT?!?”

Robbie stomped on the van’s brakes, and brought them to a sudden halt. Then he spun to fix her with a death glare. “WHAT?!?”

Wendy scoffed from Dipper’s end. “What…?”

Miles away, Tambry’s head jerked up from her phone for no conscious reason. “WHAT?!?”

Robbie stared at Mabel incredulously for a few seconds. She stared at him for a few seconds. Then she held up the phone in one hand, a 5-dollar bill in the other, and whispered. “Make it convincing!”

Robbie growled and snatched the cell and money from her hands. “Yeah!” He said into the microphone. “Yeah that’s right, I’m dating your sister, punk! We’ve been making out for an hour now!”

“Eww! No!” Mabel covered her ears.

“Making out?!?” Dipper asked.

“…An hour…?” Wendy said.

“I’m, like, totally wigging out right now for some reason…” Tambry tweeted. “I can’t even.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Robbie continued. “Just kissing! Kissing as much as we feel like, because it’s romance or true love or, like, whatever! How you like that, bub?!?”

“Robbie you stay away from my sister!!” Dipper snapped.

“Yeah, well it was her idea!” Robbie snapped back.

“WHAT?!?” Dipper repeated. “Mabel! Why would you do this?!?”

“Well… Uh… He was the hunkiest guy!” She smiled.

“Mabel, he’s 17! You’re 13!”

“Yeah?!? WELL! That’s kind of a weird thing for YOU to say given certain recent events and certain people who may very well be standing very close to you and hearing the words I’m saying right noooooow!”

“Leave me out of this.” The sound of Wendy’s voice walking away.

“GAH! Wendy!” Dipper gasped. “Mabel you can’t just say…! Look…! Yeah…! I…! Look…! Mabel look, you can’t date him! He’s a minor antagonist! He’s like… My nemesis! He’s a jerk!”

“You dated Pacifica and she’s kind of my nemesis jerk! But did I throw a hissy fit?”

“I thought you and her were cool now!”

“We are! I thought you and Robbie were cool now!”

“Mabel!”

“Dipper!”

“Mabel!”

“Dipper!”

“Stop yelling my name!”

“You stop yelling my name!”

“Why are you doing this?!?” He demanded.

“Because it’s funny and I’m an impulsive person and opposites attract and Robbie is an edgy jerk and I’m an adorable glitter angel so we’re attracted and plus he was also looking kind of glum this morning so I wanted to cheer him up and also because we both wanted to spite you just a little or maybe more than just a little so THERE!”

Dipper tried to follow her logic, but he wasn’t used to using that side of his brain so hard. Finally he sighed. “Mabel.” He said. “I need to talk with Robbie for a minute, and it might get a little rude. Give him the phone.”

“Oh… Kay…”

Robbie took it while Mabel covered her ears.

“Step away from the van.” Dipper told him. “Some privacy.”

Robbie got out, and took a few steps down the road. “What?” He growled at the younger man, once he was outside Mabel’s hearing range.

Dipper was silent for a few seconds, while he gathered his thoughts and calmed himself. Then he sighed. “Robbie.” He said, as calmly as he could. “What’s actually going on?”

“I’m going steady with your sister. Just like we told you, you nosy snot.”

“…No you’re not.”

“Oh… Oh yeah? How do you figure that then, genius?”

“Well.” Dipper said. “First of all, it takes more than hunkiness to attract her.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“…Okay. Fine. You’re right. It doesn’t. But… But she did set you up with Tambry last Summer, and she would never think of undoing her own twisted creation. And secondly: I’m thinking of how I left Mabel at home today when we went on our expedition… Same as how we did with you…”

“Oh really?” Robbie frowned, feigning ignorance. “Oh yeah… That’s right… You did, didn’t you?”

“And so I finally put two and two together.” Dipper said.

Robbie glared into the distance.

Dipper’s voice dropped to a low, menacing tone. “You went to the metal forest today.” He hissed. “When you did, was Mabel wearing armor?”

Robbie glanced back at the girl’s cotton sweater. “No…” He shrugged.

“AND.” Dipper said. “Were you armed with a deadly weapon?”

“No… What’s it to you?”

“Listen to me very closely.” Dipper growled. “Mabel is my sister. She means more than the world to me, and more than she ever will to you. Do you understand that?”

Robbie had never had a sister, but he began to get the idea.

“Now.” Dipper said. “You’re obviously not romantically involved at all, but the thing is: I wouldn’t really care, even if you were. You can date, you can hang out, you can even kiss, and I wouldn’t throw a fit. But. BUT. BUT. Robbie. If I ever again hear that you’ve accompanied my sister into danger, and haven’t protected her… I will find you. And I will beat you up.”

Robbie took this in. He knew the kid on the other end of the phone line, and he knew how small and wimpy he was. But right now, he heard the tone behind the child’s voice, and strangely, he believed him.

He nodded.

There was silence for a moment.

“We didn’t do anything dangerous.” Robbie finally said. “We didn’t go very far in, and didn’t see anything cool even. Your sister… Took pictures… And… Played with all the robots she could find. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

Robbie glanced at the backpack full of stolen live samples. “That’s it.” He lied.

They were silent for a moment.

“Okay.” Dipper said.

Robbie sighed. “Look.” He said. “I gotta be honest with you kid, I can be a real jerk sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Dipper agreed. “You can.”

“You need to suck it up and deal with it.” Robbie told him. “This is the real world, not some kindergarten fairy tale where you deserve to be treated like a dainty little gentleman.”

“Yeah…” Dipper sighed. “…You know, I can be a real butt sometimes too.”

“Yep.” Robbie agreed. “I hate your guts and I want to pound a nail through your skull.”

“Yeah…” Dipper scoffed. “Grow a set and come at me then. And in the meantime? Shut up.”

“Yeah.” Robbie sighed.

They hated each other in silence for just a moment more.

“So…” Robbie said. “Are you and Wendy, like…?”

“Like what?”

“Dating, or whatever?”

“HUH?!? No!”

Robbie nodded. “Oh.”

Dipper considered this. “…Earlier.” He said. “When I brought up the hypnotizing thing, you said ‘the winners write the history books’… Is that what you meant? You thought I ‘won’ Wendy?”

“Well yeah…” Robbie said. “Didn’t you? I mean, kinda?”

“That’s not the way it works… At all. She yelled at me that night too, and… Told me I was too young, and… Yeah. We’re friends now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

“Like… You sleeping with her?”

“Uh… Yeah, we slept in the hospital the other night. What does sleeping have to do with anything?”

“I mean--”

“OH! AGH!” Dipper realized. “DUDE! We’re not even married!”

The boy immediately hung up.

Robbie frowned down at the phone, then slouched back over to the van.

“Sooooooooo…” Mabel smiled expectantly, and took her hands away from her ears. “Is everything non-rude again?”

“Yeah.” Robbie growled.

“Did you both apologize and be cool? I mean, I want you to be happy and him to be happy and it would be too bad if he had a brother-in-law he couldn’t stand…?”

Robbie slammed the door a little too hard, and tossed Mabel her phone back. “We had a discussion.” Robbie said. “A heart-to-heart, the way guys do it. We’re cool now.” He stuck the transmission into gear, and started the engine again. “Now listen, kid. I have a girlfriend, and a concert tonight. So could you STOP with the phony romance thing and tell me where we’re going already?!?”

Mabel blinked her eyelashes slowly and adorably. “Phony…?? Was it really so phony, my love?”

“Where. Are. We. Going.”

“Alright alright…!” She giggled, and pulled out a map. “We’re going… Here! The woods by the Mystery Shack. There’s some… Equipment we need.”

“What kind of equipment?”

“Like, this sort of a… Cave. And it has tubes of… Cold? Yeah, tubes of cold. Big freezy-frozen tubes.”

Robbie searched his mind for some kind of translation. “You mean, like… Stasis tanks? Like a sci-fi game?” He clarified.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Mabel smiled. “Stasis tanks…”

“Hey Dipper!”

“What?” He put the phone away and stood up, eager to talk about literally anything else.

“I think I found the way in…” Wendy gestured to a small patch she’d cleared on the side of the ship’s hull. There appeared to be a circular seam in the glass surface, as if the section could slide open like a hatch. “But there’s something reeeeeeally weird going on here.” Wendy said. “Look at this…” She pointed to a certain part of the seam. There was a blackened burn mark, surrounding a place where the glass had been chipped. “It looks like somebody came through here and unlocked it for us…”

Dipper scratched his head, as he remembered seeing a similar blast mark on the male lion.

“You mean… There’s some kind of… Third party?” Dipper asked. “Something with laser beams?”

“Could be…” Wendy shrugged. “But something? Or someone?”

“Does… Does anybody else know that this forest is here?”

“Do they?” Wendy asked. “My dad knows, and my oldest brother, but that’s all… Who have you told?”

“…I don’t know…” Dipper ran through a mental list. “There’s… Mabel… Robbie… The Stans… And McGucket. I guess Soos and Melody too, but they’re… Oh, and I guess Bill knew ‘lots of things’ too, but we killed him…”

“Right… But does the government know about it? Or anybody who would use, like… Bombs? Or burning-hot death rays? Or…?”

“I don’t know…”

They glanced uncertainly about the surrounding trees. Of course they saw nothing, but that did little to calm their paranoia.

“Well…” Dipper looked back down at the vehicle. “Whoever broke this seal… Do you think they could still be inside?”

“No, they never opened it…” Wendy said. “See, in order to get a grip on this, I had to spend, like, half an hour cutting away vines and stuff. Plus there’s still plants growing across the seam, and undisturbed dirt. So all they did was get it started. They didn’t go in.”

“As if all they were doing is opening the way for us…”

“Almost like that, yeah…”

“…Think we should we go in?” Dipper asked uncertainly.

“I don’t know…” Wendy shook her head. “Should we?”

“Should we?”

“SHOULD WE?”

“Will we?”

“WILL WE?”

Dipper shrugged.

Wendy shrugged.

“Let’s go.”

“Why not?”

They got as good a grip as they could on the glass panel, and strained for all they were worth. Eventually something below them creaked, the surface shifted, and the left side of the seam spread apart by about half an inch.

A fine cloud of dust puffed up around the broken seal, and a few loosed clods of dirt tumbled down the dark crack, to thud and shatter on the floor below.

The teens put their fingers into the crack now, and Wendy braced against the other side with her boot, and they pushed and they pulled some more. The panel creaked and squeaked and eventually opened up to about 20 inches wide. Wide enough to fit through.

They paused to replace the rest of their armor, weapons, and protection. Wendy thumbed on her headlamp, and Dipper pulled out a flashlight.

They shined their beams down into the opening, and saw nothing but a small, round room.

Seemed harmless enough.

Wendy tied one of the metal vines around the trunk of a nearby tree, and then dropped the other end down the hole, so they could climb back up again once they were down there.

Dipper gripped the vine in his gloves, and lowered himself into the darkness, with Wendy right behind.

Their boots contacted the floor with a dull ringing noise, and raised 4 tiny clouds of fine dust.

The room was empty except for a few pipes and vents, and a cluster of confusing controls on one wall. Dipper opened the translation app on Ford’s tablet, and began to decipher the controls’ markings. “Outer door… Inner door…” He read. “Pressurize, depressurize… Emergency lockdown… Okay, it looks like we’re in the airlock right now… Maybe this will work?” He flipped a switch.

The airlock’s outer door hissed back shut above them, severing the vine and sealing them below.

Wendy scoffed. “If I had a nickel for every time I was locked in a tiny, dark airlock with you…” She mused. “I would have 2 nickels.”

“SORRY! Sorry, uh…” Dipper flipped the switch that said ‘inner door’.

The room suddenly sprang to life around them. The space reverberated with a shrill beep, and dim, turquoise lights flickered to life around the walls. An incomprehensible alien voice announced. “Stand clear of opening door!” In a language that was most certainly NOT English. And the wall next to the controls hissed and creaked open, and then everything immediately fell deathly silent.

In the larger room beyond, more turquoise lights came on. Only about a third of the lights were still working, and of these, about half were flickering on and off sporadically, like some cheap movie effect that the director threw in to make a place seem shabby, aged, and eerie… Well, it worked.

Dipper and Wendy stepped into this room slowly.

At first, it looked like the inside of a spaceship. There were a few flight seats beneath the dome in the ship’s center, surrounded by levers and controls. The room itself was circular like the ship, and there were computers, pipes, and cargo containers built into the walls.

But…

It wasn’t a ship.

There was a homemade bed tucked into one corner, its sheets tattered and pale. Something like a baby cradle sat next to it, and the two were separated by a curtain. On the other side of the room, pots and pans were stacked atop some manner of makeshift stove. Water pipes had been disconnected from the wall, and hooked directly into a shallow washbasin, which sat near the airlock. Wooden cabinets and chests were erected here and there, each one stacked with small items. Items like tools, utensils, bowls… Baskets… Photographs…

This wasn’t a ship.

Once, in some far departed time… This had been somebody’s home.

Wendy walked hesitantly over to one of the chests. It was made of alien metal wood instead of normal wood, but it wasn’t too heavy to pry open. Inside it, she found clothes. This one seemed like heavy pants, but too wide. That one looked like a light shirt, though too tall across the back. And these two must be socks… Right?

Dipper approached the bed. The bedframe was wood, but not earthly wood. The sheets were cloth, but not earthly cloth. The center of the mattress was stained with blood, but not earthly blood: oil and burn marks more like…

Wendy inspected a basket lying on a shelf. It was handwoven. Handwoven out of steel cables…

Dipper turned to the cabinet next to the bed, and picked up one of the small, framed pictures. It was blurry with dirt and grime, and almost entirely faded, but he was able to make out a faint silhouette: the shape of two people, standing together holding hands. One tall and wide, one short and wider… They had glowing red eyes…

He turned the photo over, and recognized the symbols.

ƉN::ᶌ and Ɖg@}Nᶌ.

Betty and Barney.

“Hey.” Dipper said.

“Huh?” Wendy turned toward him. “What?”

“Betty and Barney.” Dipper said. “They were… It looks like they were alien robots… I guess… I guess they lived here…?”

“Oh…” Wendy glanced at the bed, with its ‘blood’ stain. “So… What happened to them then?”

Without warning, the airlock door suddenly slammed shut, sealing them in the ship.

As one, they spun to face the door. Wendy pulled out her axe, and Dipper the magnet gun. They didn’t see anybody nearby who could have worked the controls, but that didn’t mean there was nobody there…

“Hey!” Dipper snapped. “Who’s that?!?”

“Yeah, come on out!” Wendy tried to help. “We just want to axe you a few questions…!”

“Ask.” Dipper corrected her.

“That’s what I said.”

“What you meant, maybe.”

“I meant what I said.”

“You said ‘axe’.”

“…I did?”

Suddenly, all the ship’s interior lights began to flicker and flash. Even the ones that had seemed fine before. Even Dipper and Wendy’s personal lights began to waver. Then, just to accompany the flashing, their walkie-talkies somehow turned themselves on, and began making scratchy, warbling noises. The sudden hubbub startled them both, and they found themselves back to back, with their weapons pointed in opposite directions.

“What’s going on?” Wendy asked.

“I don’t know!” Dipper said. Then he noticed something else: a few of the smaller items around the ship: the bowls, baskets, pictures and things on the cabinets, books and tools as well; all suddenly began to levitate. Then they began to accelerate, swirling around the room about chest level. “Maybe the ship’s coming back online?” Dipper guessed, as he ducked to the floor. “The gravity drive must have been engaged! Everything’s becoming weightless…!”

“Wait… No, no it’s not the ship!” Wendy ducked down low, to avoid a metal basket which would have hit her head. “I’ve seen this once before…”

“You what? Where?” Dipper frowned. “Oh… Wait…” He recalled a certain night spent in a convenience store… And a certain other night spent in a mansion. He looked down at Betty and Barney’s photograph, still clutched in his hands. The two silhouettes in the picture had vanished. “Oh.” He said. “Yeah… I’ve actually seen this twice before…”

They backed into a corner, and Dipper dumped out his backpack on the floor behind him. “Ghost stuff, ghost stuff…!” He muttered, and poked through the pile. He’d packed a magnet gun, a tablet, a radio tracker, a Geiger Counter, even a wrench set and a poster that said ‘this sentence is false’… “Dang it!” He hissed. “I packed all my sci-fi stuff today! Didn’t expect to run into magic…”

“So no ghost stuff at all?” Wendy frowned.

“No, no P.K.E. meter, no holy water, no silver mirrors…”

“Dang it!”

“Well. Guess we’re ghost-harassing the old-fashioned way then.” Dipper stood up suddenly, and removed his helmet. “Attention alien robot ghosts!” He bravely announced. (This was a string of words he never would have expected to say.) “We are human; native to this planet Earth!”

Wendy stood up too, and removed her own helmet. “We mean you and your kind no harm, and our intentions are honest!”

A small jar lifted off the floor, and accelerated right for Dipper’s head. He ducked just in time to save his skull. The jar shattered on the wall, and the broken fragments rained down around them.

One of the shards happened to scratch Wendy’s cheek. A single drop of blood fell from the wound, and dropped to the ground. Red, human blood.

As soon as the liquid touched the floor, all the lights in the ship suddenly turned off, all the levitating small items dropped suddenly and clattered to a stop on the floor, and their walkies fell silent.

“Ow.” Wendy said.

“What is it you want?!?” Dipper asked.

Then, at the other end of the room, a single computer screen winked to life; its soft blue glow the only light in the ship.

They hesitated for a moment, weighing their options. But, since there didn’t seem to be anything smarter to do, their curiosity won out and they cautiously crossed the room. Dipper picked up Ford’s tablet and the interface cord, and searched around the screen for a place to plug it in. Wendy glanced about the rest of the room, her eyes straying across the bed, kitchen, tub… All these relics of former life, now empty. Her eyes strayed over the walls too. The ship was haunted, and the invisible souls of the dead fixed her with their gaze. The souls of Betty and Barney?

Who were they?

Dipper found the terminal’s port, and plugged the tablet in. Its circuits thought for a brief moment, then began to spit out a long stream of text. Wendy bent down over his shoulder, and together they read…

-date: 13/20/2094-46’\

Hello.

My name is Ɖg@}Nᶌ.

As one of the survivors of the crash of colonial vessel 46.18’\, I am starting this journal to document our experiences on this planet. In the event that we are rescued, or survive long enough to reestablish contact, this log will serve as a record on our experiences. If you recover this and we’re not here to give it to you… Then I guess we’ve failed.

And this is our story.

[justaramblingromantic]

Beware of Cat

Characters/Pairing: Tsukasa Eishi, Kobayashi Rindou /EiRin

Type: Aristocats!inspired AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 1366

A/N: Whenever I come across cat videos on tumblr (impossible not to), I think about what to do with this verse...!

The huntress had found her target. She was crouched low, completely silent, her slit pupiled eyes focused sharply on the back of her unwitting prey. Her prey was not an elusive quarry to hunt, but still a certain amount of expertise was required...or it would not be fun now, would it? Her tail twitched back and forth with intrigue and anticipation as she silently bid her time, waiting for the best opportunity to strike. Slowly, unnoticeably, she slunk forward, little by little, inch by inch, her claws carefully sheathed, her paw pads making nary a sound-

Her target straightened suddenly, looking warily around, and she stilled, hunkering down until her belly was touching the ground, out of sight once more. Minutes ticked by, and she held herself so motionless that not even a twitch of her furry ear or a blink of her gold eyes betrayed her presence. Her careful effort paid off, for eventually, her previously spooked prey slowly relaxed, sitting on its haunches and blinking tiredly-

She started to stalk forward again, her shoulder blades rising and falling in pronounced, deliberate tandem as she picked up speed. She was in top form. She was deadly grace. She was killing perfection. The hour was now. The time was ripe!

With a powerful, uncoiling stride, the mighty huntress leapt into the air and stretched out to her full length with a triumphant roar, agilely springing upon her target with a precise glee. Death from above!!

“Gotcha!!!”

Eishi nearly jumped out of his skin at the victorious meow that had abruptly cut through what had (previously) been a quiet afternoon. The skittish Turkish Angora instinctively twisted around with lithe, reactive speed, rolling onto his back in surprise, claws coming out to defend himself from the incoming ball of red fur…though it wasn’t him in particular that she had jumped on.

Correction; it wasn’t all of him, at least.

The Somali happily pounced on the furry white tail of her housemate, pinning the fluffy, cloud like appendage down with her paws, and then she went on swiftly ‘murder’ it by sinking her sharp fangs into the tip.

“Ow! What are you-” Eishi hissed and scrambled to get away from the crazy feline. This was not the first time she had stalked his tail – it was only a few days since he had joined this strange clowder of cats but now he was very quickly realizing just why everyone sat around with their tails wrapped very neatly around themselves.

There was a serial tail biter on the loose.

“Rawr!!”

“Will you stop that?!”

He managed to knock her aside before she could really dig in and make him bleed. Again.

Eishi was not a happy camper. All he wanted to do was be left alone to contemplate his recent circumstances and feel sorry for himself but this other feline in particular was refusing to leave him be to brood. He sputtered when the cat in question recovered easily from being pushed away and bounced back at him with undeterred enthusiasm. She bumped into him and sent him careening onto the ground again, and she tripped over his flailing limbs and flopped on him. She also trod all over him, still determined to capture her elusive prize that was coincidentally sticking out of his rear end waving about like an enticing flag. He meowed unhappily.

The two cats scuffled and rolled across the floor, and it quickly became obvious which was the one more use to roughhousing; the red Queen was very much dominating this ‘friendly’ tussle. She chirruped and did a small little pounce onto his tail again, and then she finally caught it deftly between her forepaws and stilled it by putting it between her fangs, not exactly biting down, but holding it in her mouth and keeping it captive, looking very proud of herself for having caught her prey.

Tucked safely away in various favorite nooks around the café, the other cats watched the commotion with varying levels of interest, some relieved that the rambunctious Somali had found herself a new toy to bother, while apathetic others could hardly care less what was going on.

Eishi glowered quietly at the other feline holding his tail hostage.

“Are you done?” he asked her. “Please give my tail back.”

She tilted her head at him, as if she didn’t quite understand him. She shook her head at him.

“Sh’mhine!” she told him in a muffled mumble around the fluffy, tufty mass in her mouth. “I kaud’eet! Orr ohn myne ohwn!”

He was very nonplussed by her ridiculous reply. He tried tugging his appendage back, but no. She had it sandwiched very firmly between her jaws. “Are you still a kitten?” he demanded to know, and she just gave him a prim look, radiating smugness in a way that silently implied that she knew that she was in the right and that nothing he said could change her mind. He was very tempted to swipe at her just to get her to let go, but also knew from precious experience as well as observations of her interactions with the other cats that she had a way of rolling right over you (sometimes quite literally) and still doing whatever she wanted in the end, so it was quite futile going against her. They were at an impasse.

And the new cat really did not have energy or the spirit to fight her, upset as he was.

Rindou watched the other feline literally wilt into a depressed puddle in front of her. She looked very bemused by his change of state (both physically and emotionally). Whitey sure was quite a funny guy, if he wasn’t so glum and moody all the time.  

“Waii dyu wook sho unhwapphy?”

“…”

It turned out that ignoring her was just the thing to get her to stop her wild shenanigans. She dropped his tail at last, curiosity once again dictating her responses. She stood up and pattered closer to him, nosing him and lightly batting at him inquisitively. He had reeked of misery and antsy anxiety from the very first day he had been put here, and even though he was calming down a lot more now, he still leaked with distress every now and then. Most of the other felines in the compound instinctively kept their distance, but that was not so for Rindou. She really, really really wanted to know what was up with him.

“Why are you so sad?” she nosed him some more, nudging him a bit when he still refused to respond. Was he hurt somewhere? But there was no smell of blood, so that did not seem to be the case… She circled him once, twice, and then she finally settled down beside him after her third circuit. “It’s no fun ‘ta be sad all the time, ya know.”

He looked at her dully. “…Please leave me alone.”

He was homesick for a place that he could no longer return to, grieving for a master who was no longer of this world. He did not expect this weird, crazy cat to understand the trauma that he had gone through the last couple of weeks, and neither was he in any mood to expose the rawness of his pain for the sake of satisfying the idly curious. He wanted to go home, but had been made to come to terms with the stark understanding that home was…here…now, amongst all these strange felines he did not seem to have any affinity for…

But this oddball Somali, she was a bit different from the others. Instead of giving him space like he obviously wanted, she had put herself right in his personal bubble instead, being very annoyingly distracting and making it very difficult for him to be one with his depressing thoughts.

“…Why are you doing this?” he asked her blankly, uncomprehending.

Because now she was making herself quite comfortable beside him. In fact, she was even starting to groom herself…and then, as if in afterthought…she started grooming him, too. She peered at him with her bright gold eyes.

“Huh? Whaddya mean ‘why?’ ‘Coz being alone when you’re sad really sucks, of course!”

[someonelookingpretty]

If I remember correctly eclipse edward being angry was more about because werewolf could be dangerous and because jacob didn't respect Bella and kissed her without her consent

i need to reread, but i feel like he was mad before the kiss thing kicked off.

and lbr, the vampires are way more dangerous than the werewolves. Edward is a literal mind reader, he SAW that his own brother wanted to snack on Bella. He knew a drop of blood being spilled could end bella’s life. He also saw Jacob’s mind, and saw that he was gentle and kind. He saw that when Jacob realised the girl he liked was with another guy, he wasn’t angry or jealous or any of the things Mike or Tyler, or even Edward had been, he was just a bit glum. And then he got over it, because he valued Bella as more than a potential girlfriend.

I dunno, I’m still super mad about Jacob’s character assassination in Eclipse, and it seems really obvious to me that smeyer sabotaged her own character because she was worried that people liked him more than the “hero”. (although its worth noting that i’m honestly not even sure she realised how wrong the lack of consent thing was because she seems majorly messed up about that)  And reading MS and actually getting to see inside Jacob’s mind a bit, jsut makes eclipse seem even more out of character to me?

ALSO we wanna talk about lack of consent? literally everything edward does. He stalks Bella. Actually stalks her. Sneaks into her room at night, and justifies it by saying it’s ok because he doesn’t ‘leer’ at her. He can’t help reading other people’s thoughts, but he doesn’t have to use them against them. He controls Bella’s entire future, and hates that she wants an opinion on it (again, i feel like that’s smeyers upbringing rearing its ugly head again, she seems to think it’s normal for men to act that way)

basically, kissing someone without their consent is disgusting, and bella was absolutely right to defend herself; but also that kiss was completely at odds with everything else smeyer had written about jacobs character, and she completely changed his character in eclipse deliberately so we wouldn’t like him, because she hated the idea that we weren’t all swooning over her brooding gothic romance white boy with his terrible fashion sense 

I have a lot of feelings, i wish i could express them better (and shorter!)

[henrybrasco]

Champions Trophy 2017: Memories of a Pakistan fan

Pakistan losses aren’t as annoying or painful anymore. I say that but those two games still linger in the memory. In case you’re wondering, I’m talking about the 2007 World T20 final loss and the 2011 World Cup semi-final loss, I’m a relatively young fan who started watching properly in 2003. Coming into this years Champions Trophy I like many fans didn’t have high hopes for the team. Nor was I really “hyped” for the competition. Attending the Bangladesh-India warm up game stoked my excitement slightly for the coming Pakistan-India game but my expectations were at an all time low, so much so that I didn’t even bother to pull out of my club cricket match on Sunday to watch the game.

                                                    ***** Anyhow, the day of the game arrived and me and my family sat down together to watch the game. Within a few moments of Mohammed Amir bowling his first delivery, a nicely angled delivery which Rohit Sharma tentatively poked at like baby Giraffe taking its first steps, my anticipation began to build again like years gone by. Maybe I should have pulled out of my game. Those thoughts quickly disappeared with the next over. Misfields occurred, a defensive opening partner in Imad Wasim was chosen and resignation quickly reared its head again. India cantered to 136-1 and off I went to play some Cricket. While scoring during my teams innings I decided to pull up the game on my mobile. Catches were being dropped, Yuvraj was stroking big shots to the boundary as if he was batting with a bat the weight of a toothpick. No balls were bowled. Perhaps the shot of the innings came against one of Pakistan’s brightest prospects, Hassan Ali, an inside out cover drive for six in which the power seemed to emanate from Kholi’s wrists. The promising spark had been reduced to a battered ember during the course of this innings. Then came the killer blow, the final over the innings in which three sixes were hit. India had reached 319-3 off their allocated 48 overs. Pakistan resembled Frank Bruno after the Tyson rematch.

I managed to get home in time for Pakistan’s innings. My own team had been bowled out for 81 batting first so it was a bad day on two fronts for me. I came to the glum faces of my father and brother. They didn’t have much to say which wasn’t surprising. PakPassion duly informed me of all the wrongs and mistakes I had missed. Wickets fell from one end, another bright prospect Babar Azam slapped one straight to Jadeja. Azhar Ali fought to a valiant half century. Pakistan’s haphazard day was perhaps epitomised by Shoaib Malik’s dismissal. Pakistan would reach 164 all out. The gulf in the sides were evident and there was little hope for the coming games.

                                                      ***** The day of Pakistan-South Africa arrived. There was a positive straight away, Fakhar Zaman a hard hitting opener from the PSL had been selected. Pakistan bowled first once again but there was a new intensity that wasn’t present against India. This time Imad Wasim came on and got the big wicket of Amla second ball. Imad can always be used as more of a wicket taker against non-subcontinent sides. Then Hafeez does what Hafeez does. He got the left hander out LBW and De Kock was gone. Would you believe it? Another one! It’s de Villiers first ball. His first golden duck in ODIs. Things are swinging Pakistan’s way but by no means was the game over. Then came for me the moment of the tournament for Pakistan. The Shahid Afridi catch against New Zealand in the 2009 World T20 moment. Hassan Ali around the wicket to Duminy gets one to move away beautifully, reminiscent of the Flintoff to Gilchrist deliveries in 2005, and knicks to slip. Pakistan hold a slip catch. Then comes the real explosion. Around the wicket again, to Wayne Parnell, Hassan Ali gets one to pitch on a length just outside off, its tailing in, tailing in, then at the last minute the ball changes its mind straightens and swerves in the other direction. Wayne Parnell is playing down the Victoria Line but the ball is on the Central Line. The top of off stump is pegged back. I sit up straight because of what I’ve just seen. Pakistan’s bowlers are turning it on. Pakistani bowlers bowling in rhythm will always give the side of a chance. Pakistan restrict South Africa to 219-8 but can the batsmen finish the job I wondered?

In came Fakhar Zaman. A clear uncluttered mind. If the ball is there to hit its going. Gaps in the offside field where found like Sourav Ganguly, the latter was one of the best at piercing the off. He would eventually fall for a bright and breezy 31 but the hope had been installed. A new hope. Despite a bit of stuttering Malik and Babar would ensure that Pakistan remained ahead of the DLS requirement. The rain came and off the players went. I had wanted Pakistan to finish off the chase “properly,” but I won’t lie that as I went out to join my friends for Iftar a part of me was slightly relived when the game was called off and Pakistan won on DLS. We had just beaten the number one side in the world, now only Sri Lanka stood in the way of a semi-final berth.

                                                    ***** By the time of the Sri Lanka match the game had increased in magnitude to a virtual quarter-final. The Sri Lankans could not be underestimated especially after their magnificent chase against India. The Sri Lankan batsmen were playing fearless Cricket. They justified these fears as they strolled to 82-1. But then that spark would come again. The tournament changer you could call him. Hasan Ali, bowled a sumptuous balled that nipped back in sharply against the inform Mendis and left his stumps shattered. For a moment it was like watching the great Pakistan fast bowlers of yesteryear. Most specifically Mohammed Asif. The ever so talented Mohammed Asif. The bowler they said could have been greater than Glenn McGrath. The bowler who personified the supposedly saddest thing in life according to Robert De Niro, a wasted talent. Yet here I was watching a bowler doing the exact same thing Mohammed Asif could do. Now by no means am I saying Hasan Ali is better than Mohammed Asif but what I am saying is in that one delivery he represented everything that was truly great about Asif, the movement, the bite, the panache and the exuberant celebration. Then came a truly satisfying moment. Mohammed Amir getting the wicket of Angelo Matthews. You could see the relief in Amir’s celebration. The wicket of Dickwella was a special moment too, a special catch by Sarfraz. The wicket taking capabilities of Amir and Junaid portrayed the Pakistani bowling attack as the reverse swinging Tigers they were. The cornered Tigers had come together like a pride of Lions and restricted the exuberant Sri Lankans to 236.  

As Pakistan went out to bat, I turned to my brother and remarked surely Pakistan can’t lose this in hope of reassurance. He nonchalantly said Pakistan would knock off the runs easily. Fakhar Zaman would support these hopes as he found the offside fence three times in an over against Malinga. He was becoming a sharpshooter with his drives and cuts. By the time he got out for a wonderful 50 Pakistan were 74-1. No reason to panic. Such was the mood at home that I didn’t pay as much attention to the next few overs and browsed PakPassion and CricInfo. Then it happened. The oh so familiar story. The Pakistani collapse. Babar, Hafeez, Azhar, Malik, Imad all gone quicker than East Asian states falling to Communism during the Cold War. Eisenhower’s “Domino Theory” had manifested, though not in the manner or context he had envisioned. 74-1, 137-6 and then 162-7. Yet my brother still maintained Pakistan would win, “they’re gonna win man Insha’Allah,” is what he kept repeating with the confidence of someone who knew a secret no one else did. 43 runs to win and Sarfraz hits one straight to mid-on. For all my money I thought it was gone, in that split moment I thought oh no its over. Then Michael Slater screamed and the ball trickled to the floor. A dolly by international standards. I could certainly emphathise with Perera as I had dropped an even easier catch a month or so ago. It’s the worst feeling in Cricket. But one mans misfortune is another countries gain. Perhaps this was the actual turning point of the tournament for Pakistan rather than the symbolism of Hasan Ali against South Africa. Sarfraz would offer yet another chance, this one much more difficult, but a chance nonetheless. Edge of the seat stuff. Getting to the semi-final seemed to become even more of an allusive joy. Then boundaries came more easily. Mohammed Amir particularly showed mettle offering a chance less innings amongst the chaos. Then elation as Sarfraz genuinely uppercuts the ball to the boundary sending Pakistan into the semis. Pakistan had punched well above their weight to get this far. I never said so aloud, but this felt like 2009 all over again.

                                                       ***** Then came the semi-final against England. Again the general consensus was that England should win handily. The night before the game I received a WhatsApp message from one of my friends asking if I wanted to go and see the game as he had a ticket available. I had to decide whether to go University or go watch the game. I think you know which I chose. As we drove to Cardiff the first news we had was that Mohammed Amir was out. A big blow. By the time we got to the ground England were 119 for 2 and doing well but hadn’t got away. The ground itself was dominated by Pakistani fans and the atmosphere was amazing. Morgan would fall to that man again, Hasan Ali. From there it was all Pakistan. You could feel the buzz, excitement, expectation and sniff of a wicket throughout the ground. Osman Samiuddin has previously written an article about Pakistan cricket and its connection with the haal, a supposed state of ecstasy in Sufi folklore in which everything seems to happen in a rhythmical natural trance like motion. This period of Pakistan in the field resembled Samiuddin’s sentiments as direct hits occurred, fielders flew like a planes to take running catches and the bowlers completely befuddled the batsmen. This was Pakistan cricket in its zone. A zone and mood not reached everyday. This was a special Pakistani performance in which the cornered Tigers encouraged by the ecstasy they found themselves in, surrounded and pounced on the English reducing them to 211.

The feeling at half time in the ground was one of subdued excitement. We all knew about Pakistan and its collapses. But a better start could not have been asked for. Zaman flayed his bat like a Zorro the sword master pulling through midwicket violently with disdain treating the English fast bowlers like spinners. Azhar Ali just the man you want when chasing a middle to low target. While Zaman swished and swashed from one end Azhar played much more traditionally. A crisp back foot check through point, a punchy straight drive, a beautifully placed square drive and a text book pull shot were among some of Azhar’s many highs. A great opening partnership. In came Babar and Hafeez. Babar played a textbook cover drive. Hafeez was Hafeez. Sublime boundaries through the covers and a couple of sixes to boot. He then finished it with a crunching pull through square leg. Euphoria flowed throughout the ground and Dil Dil Pakistan blared for everyone to hear. Pakistan batted like kings of the jungle and devoured their prey disdainfully and clinically. Against all the odds Pakistan had reached the final. India awaited. I jokingly congratulated my Indian friends, keeping the feelings of 2009 close to my chest.

                                                    ***** Then came the big day. Our Sunday team had forfeited our match to watch the final. Pakistan batted first. I was dismayed. My father reassured me with the age old saying runs on the board in a final. Zaman’s out. Could this get any worse? The player we had relied on all tournament to counter attack had been dealt with with a tranquiliser. Then as if a he was a performer given the go ahead for an encore Zaman returned courtesy a no ball. And did Zaman make India pay with the encore. This time it was the spinners, Jadeja and Ashwin, who were swept aside quiet literally. One shot in particular where Zaman charged and Ashwin threw it out wide only for Zaman to go through with the shot and swipe it straight down the ground as if he was whipping debris off of the pitch stays in the mind. Zaman went on to make a century full of such audacious, magnificent and adrenaline fueled shots. One of the best innings you’ll see in a final. The contribution of Azhar in taking the initial pressure can not be forgotten either. Hafeez would come in at number five and first ball pumped Jadeja back down the ground for four. The cornered tigers were no longer cornered. They were well and truly the hunters. Hafeez went on to play one of the most clutch innings he has played. He took the Indian bowlers apart with such ease, his bat like a wand purchased from Olivander’s in Diagon Alley. Pakistan had reached 338, you couldn’t have asked for more.

Then came one of the best bowling spells I’ve seen. Mohammed Amir’s first ball angled across Sharma and the latter once again repeated the new born Giraffe maneuver. Second ball angles away again. Then it happens. The inducker raps Sharma on the pads and jubilation. Everyone is on their feet at home. Amir’s first ball to Kholi is a peach, coming in and a play and a miss. Then a series of events occurs which I have, and possibly many others have, replayed countless times over the last week. Amir bowled just the right ball for Kholi, fourth stump line angling across and a big edge to Azhar at slip. Everyone rises in anticipation. Then the dismay and anguish is shown. The ugly head of Pakistani Cricket has reared its head again, dropped catches. I stand, hands on my head walking in a circle pondering if that was the one chance. Amir runs in again and bowls a ball the same line but this time a touch fuller and Kholi goes for one of his flicks. If ever a flick shot was bread and butter, meat and drink to a batsmen it was to Kholi. Flicks are second nature to him. But this time the angle and slight movement pushes the ball further away from the middle of the bat and towards the leading edge. The ball is flying and it flies to point, Shadab Khan, who catches it and is flying. The whole of Pakistan and Pakistan fans everywhere are flying. Just as Zaman flew against England, Pakistan are flying again. Never have I celebrated more for a wicket in my life. My voice was partially gone. The range of emotions felt in those two balls sums up the beauty of Pakistan Cricket. One minute down one minute up as Nasser Hussain said on air. You couldn’t ask for better drama. Amir then followed this up with a brilliant cross seamer against Dhawan who undone by the extra bounce and knicked off to Sarfraz. 33-3 and Pakistan are more than flying, they are soaring.  That man again, Hasan Ali, destroyed any real hope of a rearguard from India by getting Dhoni with a ball that got to big on him too quickly, Dhoni resembled an old Larry Holmes trying to avoid Mike Tyson’s hooks. Despite some lusty blows from Pandya, Pakistan wrapped things up with ease to complete a decisive victory. Never have I had a bigger smile on my face while watching Cricket.

                                                       *****

A brilliant team performance. One of the great cricketing comebacks. After all the bad press the Pakistan team received after the first game against India, I’m sure the team could resonate with Kevin Keegan’s famous words, “I will love it if we beat them, love it”. Judging by the well deserved celebrations it seems we all loved it and in the process some of the wounds of the past have been healed.