#I miss the silly community made just from those chats

[kairithemang0]

Ngl, really missing Tin Can Tuesgays right now

[prolix-yuy]

Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!

Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.

(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)

So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.

As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.

All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:

"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."

If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.

Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.

Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.

Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!

WHAT'S NEXT!

The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!

As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:

Series:

I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.

SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!

Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.

Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.

One Shots in Progress:

Decoherence Follow-Up

Incubus!Dieter Ask

You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.

This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!

[box-off]

ok do it talk about tf2 and postal

You asked for it.

Okay, let's start with tf2. Tf2 is one of the best games EVER in my opinion, and it's not a really trustworthy one, but it's an opinion. I love everything from character design to the community to the game itself. The comics which make me want to explode from how well the character design goes both for 3d and 2d, and the silly world that the characters live in. It's like some kind of wonderland, but it's made for a fps gamer. The first thing that made me interested in tf2 was my friend talking about it, he sent me the "Meet the spy" video and a fan made animation. I remember seeing it and thinking "Wow, those guys look cool", and when I started learning more I REALLY wanted to play as scout (who I still main to this day). I obviously knew about tf2 before but never got too interested in it. But when I started playing oh wow it sucked me in. Tf2 made me have a big standard for character design, thanks to tf2 I never watched Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss (no matter how hard my friends tried to make me watch it), because oh how distracting those designs were for me. Whenever I think about good character design it's the tf2 mercs, they made me realize that the characters don't have to have 300 cool guns on them to point at the character and say "THIS GUY IS COOL!", you can make simple characters that are still catchy and easy to remember and recognize, and even get to understand their main purpose from just a glance. It's even better to make them simple in some cases! (In general valve games have good designs, but tf2 stands out a lot, at least for me). The game itself always makes me feel good, surprisingly it can be relaxing if you don't get too into the competitive mood and have the luck to get normal teammates. Yes, I might be a casual player, but I'm free. Don't get me started on the amount of playing styles tho. I'm not really good at them, I always go with scout, hop around and do my shit. I do play medic in MvM tho, I just really like to have a huge shield and be like "I'll protect you", idk, it's probably the furry alpha wolf speaking in me. But in normal game, oh what a blessing it is sometimes to have a really skilled demoknight, or a good rocket jumper in your team. Or a good spy who saves the day when the engineers build their nest right over the corner, or a medic that manages to heal everyone and not die 100 times in the process. I barely talk in chat in the game (because it's distracting), but know that if you play good and I'm in your team I'm thanking you constantly in my mind. Let me add that I joined the fandom when the bots where still there so I played with them a lot. Now that this is getting fixed it's even more fun! But I managed to fall in love with this half broken game and I'm sorry, that's a big fucking gold medal for a game, if it can still pull fans while being abandoned (hopefully that changes, but it's still impressive).

Now about Postal. I am edgy. Let me be real, if you saw my art you can probably tell that I do like myself some guts and blood from time to time. And I like humor, I like to laugh, to chuckle, to snicker if you will. So me liking Postal was just a matter of time. First game I played was Brain Damaged, and oh boy, the humor was good (even tho some things I missed because I didn't play the other games). As I got deeper into other games I was so IN. Those games are just so much FUN. I like fps games if you couldn't tell, and this? This is the fps game ever, it has some fun stuff to do, you of course can shoot, you can just walk around and explore in postal 2 and 4, and it's worth it! I love exploring those games, they always have some silly stuff here and there. And what they did well in Postal 4 is that they made you explore, they hid dolls, gnomes and all that stuff all over the map, and you can explore it, not just because, but you can actually get something for it. And let me be honest, Postal Dude? Hot. He's hot, and as a dirty stinky gay man myself I appreciate the representation. But jokes aside, HE'S A GOOD CHARACTER. I love him, it's interesting to watch what he does, to hear what he says, in all the games btw, yes, even postal 3. The character design again? Really well done. Postal Dude is simple, Postal Dude is cool, he's not your stereotypical "Cool guy who kills people with huge armor on" or "The buff guy who fights everyone with bare hands" (except Shtopor, that guy is fucking RIPPED.) When I look at Doomguy? I think "Damn, you're cool." when I look at Postal Dude?? I think "Damn man, you're probably stink", and you know what? THAT'S THE CHARM OF THIS CHARACTER. He sucks! You know where he sucks even more than in the game? The movie, and you have NO IDEA how much I love it. The movie is bad, like, not just because "it doesn't represent the characters as they are in the game" but because it's a bad movie. Just as a movie it's not really well done. But! I still love it. It's a movie that is fun to watch with your friends, you laugh at how bad it is, you just have a blast, at least me and my friends did. And I have the bluray disk, so I have the behind the scenes and all that cool stuff, and you know what? It made me like this shit even more. I really wish I could play more Postal with people, and not just that, I'm also waiting for Postal 4 co-op, and some of my friends getting the game as well. Because in my opinion Postal is that type of game that has to be shown to your friends in a "Hey guys, look at this stupid game I found, isn't it so random??" way. I talked a lot about Postals funny part, yes, but I do have to also mention that Postal 1 is rally good. And yes, postal redux is just Postal 1 with a bit better graphics, but I do like it in a way (mainly because of the better quality of the loading screens, because those are just so good. I really like the artistic part of this game). Funny postal? It's good, I love funny postal. But without creepy postal there wouldn't be some stuff in the funny postal that we like so much. Other Dude? The head wound making everything look strange? I don't really think we would have that in newer postal games without postal 1!

[bbfeelings]

My contribution to the first day of Kazuki Week 2023: grief/acceptance. Sorry double posting, but I figure it's more accessible to post the entire fic here on Tumblr. You can also read it on AO3.

Title inspired by this song. And for your vibe considerations.

Your Mess Is Mine

QPR or mlm KazuRei. Post-finale, Pre-Time Skip. Family fluff.

Summary: Kazuki, Rei, and Miri attend Karin's wedding in France. Before this, Kazuki and Rei's relationship was largely undefined because they were both fine with whatever that is going on.

────

When Karin flashed her engagement ring over video chat a year ago, Kazuki didn’t imagine he’d be in the French countryside, walking her down the aisle, with Miri tossing petals just steps before them. Karin clung to “Kazu-nii” all those years ago; and just now, she hooked her arm around his again.

Yuzuko’s death once separated them. Parentless and raised by her elder sister, young Karin went to live with a distant relative up north, while Kazuki remained in Tokyo. He believed that she resented him for taking her only family away. Then they reconnected again, and she fitted right into his newfound family. Miri and Karin adore each other, and Rei warmed up to her quickly, too.

Kazuki feels the tears well up. Don’t cry, don’t cry, they’re taking photos. He looks at her; Karin is beautiful in the gown she designed herself. She looks right back at him, the way she squints when she smiles, the same quirk Yuzuko had. I’m walking her down the aisle, Yuzu. Can you believe it? He presses his lips together, but a blink lets the droplets fall.

“Aw, come on, you’re such a cryer,” Karin says, with a smile so dazzling that he almost misses her misty eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry, too.” The two giggles at how silly they look trying to fight back tears.

────

After retiring from their previous careers and moving out of the city to a seaside town, Kazuki and Rei (mostly Kazuki, really) made local friends and were invited to weddings a couple of times. But this particular wedding is unlike anything they’ve experienced. For starters, the celebration is hosted at a chateau—or what Miri excitedly called a castle. Karin’s husband is an award-winning chef specializing in Japanese-French cuisine, so the food is bound to be exquisite. Not to mention, French weddings are an all-day affair, as they’ve been warned that dinner will be served at 9 pm, and the party after will last till dawn.

As her first trip outside of Japan, or perhaps just as a 9-year-old, Miri is having the time of her life. “We’re staying at a castle!” Their room is furnished with one king-sized bed. Kazuki and Rei looked at each other and shrugged.

In the four and a half years they’ve left their old lives behind, the family of three had had a few living situations. After the loft apartment, they moved into an old unit with a tatami floor in the only bedroom. Much to young Miri’s delight, the three of them slept together for an entire year.

It wasn’t an easy year; stuck in a shoe box, between assimilating into civilian life, parenthood, and Rei’s disability, Kazuki and Rei had disagreements. Many. Never fighting in front of Miri was the one thing they could agree on from the start.

But it was also that year when they grew much closer. The reality forced them to communicate, and to face issues head on. Ultimately, Kazuki and Rei wanted the same thing: a safe, happy childhood for Miri. Every time they fought, it was to protect that vision. In that same year, they began to truly mold and fit into each other, consciously or unconsciously. From Kazuki walking on Rei’s right side, Rei’s ability to maneuver in the kitchen alongside Kazuki, to the way they sleep in the futons on tatami.

────

The day of the wedding, Kazuki stood before the armoire; a black suit for him, a navy suit for Rei, and a satin and tulle dress Karin had made for Miri in a shade of sage green that flatters her eyes and hair. She’d even hand sewed her name, in cursive, on the inside of the dress.

“Reminds me of the night before her first day at daycare,” Kazuki said in a tone reminiscent of something like nostalgia.

“A much better job than we’ll ever do,” Rei took a glance then chuckled.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Kazuki zipped up the dress then fluffed up the wrinkled tulle skirt. Miri twirled excitedly. “Can I go? Can I go?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Don’t run too far, be back here in 10 minutes, okay?” She nodded then disappeared behind the door. By the sound of her heels, she was skipping down the hall.

Kazuki combed and tied Rei’s hair into a sleek low ponytail. Rei had kept it at mid length, after discovering his strands form loose waves with the right haircut, instead of a puffy, frizzy mess. Though Kazuki never called it a mess; he’d say it was fluffy while ruffling through it.

“I can do it myself,” Rei said. Kazuki fastened the necktie just right, then smoothed down the collar. “I know. But I like doing it.”

“Hmm.”

────

After the ceremony, it’s the cocktail hours. When the blonde man finally returns with a plate of hors d'oeuvre and two flutes, Rei snares. “Done harassing your brother-in-law?”

“This is the time! A real, living Michelin star chef. I had to.”

“So what did you steal from him.” Rei takes a sip as he watches Miri playing with other children across the room.

“He said we should try using baguette instead of milk bread for French toast.”

“We could test with baguette on the next day off. What else?”

“Something about olive oil… I’m not sure. His Japanese isn’t fluent. And a lot of the food terms were in French,” Kazuki pauses to enjoy the finger food. “You have to try this.”

Rei studies the little piece of toast with various toppings, “Nah. It has olives.”

Kazuki picks out the olive, eats it, then offers Rei again by shoving it directly in front of his face. Rei reluctantly eats off Kazuki’s hand.

“Not bad.”

“Right?”

────

The dinner was a feast. Multi-course, modern Japanese-French cuisine with wine pairings. Rei swears that Kazuki was nearly brought to tears, again. “The miso? The miso in the sauce? Brilliant. Gosh. I wish I was Karin.” Kazuki gushes.

“Don’t even think about stealing my husband, Kazuki,” the tipsy bride waltzes over with a wine glass in hand. Her pretend stern face turns into giggles as soon as she sees Rei. “I don’t think Rei-kun would be happy with that either!”

“Why wouldn’t I be—“

Karin shushes him. “Stop it. Stop. It flew right over you again and I’m not explaining.” Rei closes his gaping mouth in confusion.

“Go get Miri! I’m doing the bouquet toss in a bit!” The giddy bride says before hopping away towards the groom, who waits to take her hand with the fondest look on his face.

“What was that?” Rei asks. Kazuki puts a hand on his back and shakes his head.

“Figured.”

────

Kazuki and Miri wait with a group of women who are participating in the bouquet toss.

“This is so fun,” She says as she yawns. Too much fun, perhaps. It is getting late. “When you and Rei-papa get married, can I be a flower girl again?” She looks up at Kazuki and asks nonchalantly.

“Eh? Why—“

“Kazuki! Get outta there! You’re not getting this bouquet!” Karin shouts and swings her arm dramatically. Her cheeks are flushed and her steps are slightly unsteady. She looks so happy.

“My bad, my bad…” Kazuki holds up his hands as he moves out of the way. The guests laugh at their sibling banter.

The excited crowd gathers. This is where the real fun of the night begins. Karin turns around and does a couple of swings before her toss; the guests watch attentively in anticipation.

“Three… two… one!” The bride jumps and hurls backward, sending the bouquet across the ballroom. In front of the group, Miri realizes the bundle of flowers isn’t coming their way. It’s going completely sideways, towards the wine table. Everyone’s eyes follow the flying bouquet.

Rei flexes his left arm and catches it backhandedly. He turns around, prosecco in one hand, flowers in the other, utterly flabbergasted. The guests go wild; several women swarm him. That man wasn’t even looking!

Miri weaves through the traffic, throws herself at Rei, and squeals. “That was so cool!” She beams and hugs his waist tightly. “My papas are getting married!”

“Eh? What do you mean—“

“Congratulations!” The guests cheer, making him even more flustered. What is Miri saying? He scans the crowd in a panic, but couldn’t find a single familiar face.

Then he sees it. Strawberry blonde, a pair of bright, tea-brown eyes, and a crooked grin. Kazuki swims through the crowd and makes it to Rei and Miri.

“Rei-papa and Kazuki-papa are getting married!”

“Wow, haha, um, nice catch!” Kazuki says awkwardly. Damn it, my nerves! Rei doesn’t say anything, eyes wide like a deer in the headlight. “Um, you all right? Rei?”

“I saw something in the corner of my eye and… this.” He holds up the bouquet, “That wasn’t very normal people of me.” Rei mutters, ears still hot from all the attention.

Kazuki chuckles slyly, “Sure was very assassin of you.”

Rei dishes a side eye and chucks the flowers in his face.

────

They finally coaxed Miri into going to bed. The condition: she gets to hold on to the bouquet when she does. The two men step out to the garden for some fresh air. Rei takes out a brand new pack of cigarettes in French packaging.

“Haven’t seen you smoke in a while,” Kazuki commented.

“Well, it’s for the occasion.” He lights it up, takes a drag, and promptly coughs.

“Can’t handle it anymore?”

“Shut up. I just wasn’t expecting it to be this strong.”

The lively music flows out from the chateau, a stark contrast to the serene and sleepy countryside.

“…would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the papers.”

“Sign what papers?”

“Gosh, Rei, do I really need to spell it out?”

“You know the answer.”

“Fine.” Kazuki sighs, wishing he’d had a drink before this. “Like, getting married or whatever. Hypothetically, of course.”

Rei takes a long drag and exhales. “I mean, you’re the one who was married.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

Kazuki pictures the day he and Yuzuko got married at the city hall. She was in a sundress, and he was in a shirt and tie that were sold as a set. But that wasn’t really it, was it? Marriage is… what comes after. Though their marriage barely lasted, and it wasn’t their fault. Kazuki reaches his hand over, Rei passes the cigarette.

Kazuki coughs.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning.” Regaining composure, Kazuki continues. “You know she died six months later.”

Rei remains silent.

“But it was easy—the decision to get married. It was just the thing to do, you know? If I could do it over, I’d marry her again. She was what I needed. At the time. I… loved her. I really did. And I still do, I think.” He pauses, looking back at the chateau. “Like how I love Karin and Miri. I’d do anything for them—I’d die in their place, if I could.”

The thought of Miri or Kazuki dying sends a chill down his spine. Rei turns his head away. “That’s grim. We’re at a wedding.”

“I know. But—and then there’s you. And I’d do the same for you, too.”

“I can handle myself.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Kazuki? You asked me a hypothetical question and went on about… about the people you love. What’s that got to do with each other? I can’t understand you when you go roundabout like that.” Rei pauses, filling his lungs with brisk air. “I need you to tell me exactly what it is.”

Kazuki traces the outline of the man before him, then puts his arm around his slim frame. Rei leans in and rests his head on his shoulder. “We’re not fighting though, are we?”

“Of course not, dummy,” Kazuki says softly.

“Idiot.”

“Jerk.”

“…it’s warm.”

“Hmm.”

“I like you.”

“What did you just say?” Kazuki pulls away, “What are you, a teenager?”

“I didn’t like anyone when I was a teenager.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” he fixes Rei’s crooked tie, “I love you.”

Rei brings them back together and burrows his face in the strawberry blonde.

“I love you, too.”

────

The guests circle the newlyweds as they open the dance. Kazuki and Rei watch from a safe distance, sipping on drinks.

Rei finishes his dessert wine. “This is delicious, why do they serve it in such a small glass?”

“Probably because only an ant like you could drink it,” Kazuki scrunches his nose, “It’s sickly sweet.”

“No, it’s not, it has… layers.”

“I think it’s too sweet.”

“Can we stock these at the diner?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You suck,” Rei pouts, “I’m going to get more.”

10 minutes later, Rei is visibly tipsy. “I learned,” he says as he puts his hand on the small of Kazuki’s back, “these are called dessert wine.” His eyes twinkle. Oh no. Kazuki knows this look.

“Let’s go!” Rei tugs on the lapels.

“You don’t even like dancing!”

��Yeah, but, Karin says we have to.”

Kazuki glances over, Karin is in the middle of the dance floor, picking up her floor-length skirt, laughing and twirling to the poppy music. Kazuki hesitates. He can’t dance to save his life. A happy drunk Rei is mesmerized by the joy spilling over from the dance floor.

Then the music changes. It’s a slower instrumental piece; anyone can tell that it’s a love song. The crowd slows down. Then the groom waltzes in, Karin takes his hand. Cheek to cheek, they step and sway to the rhythm. The guests pair up and follow their lead.

Rei looks at Kazuki, eyes twinkling. He gives in. Then Rei smiles the only way he can: a thin-lipped, strained smile. But Kazuki knows better than anyone else. This is Rei’s happy face. He takes his left hand, and he places his right on his heart. He pulls him in with an arm around the waist.

“Is your arm okay like that?” Kazuki asks, in a voice only Rei can hear. Rei hums. They move with the music; knowing nothing about dancing, they just follow their instincts. Rei puts his head down on Kazuki’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Hmm.”

────

Daylight breaks into the ballroom, the partied-out guests sit around, nibbling hot onion soup.

Rei’s glossy, wavy, raven-colored hair is down, draping over his shoulders. Kazuki’s shirt is stained with wine. Their ties are missing. The two huddle together, eating soup.

“If it’s possible, it’d be nice.”

“What?”

“To get married. To you.”

“I see.”

“Tsk. That’s it?”

“You want me to propose now?”

“Maybe.”

“Then I propose to—add French onion soup to the menu.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s delicious.”

“That’d be nice.”

“Hmm.”

“To get married. If it’s possible. That is.”

“Okay. What about dessert wine?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Kazuki warps Rei into his arms and rests his chin on his left shoulder. Their cheeks touch; slightly sticky with sweat, wine, and maybe a little bit of happy tears.

[ The End ]

Thank you for reading! Fun fact: the baguette French toast is a secret menu at this little cafe run by a French couple near where I used to live. The best French toast hands down. I want to thank the anon who sent in the lovely idea of a KazuRei story at Karin’s wedding.

Check out my other Buddy Daddies fics in the pinned post, if you'd like!

[zerozeroren]

Hi! Bunny heard you wanted OC questions? Bunny has OC questions!

Regarding Tony, you mentioned his family moved to Canada when he was a child, what was that like for him? Was he excited to go somewhere new or did he dread it? And after, was it like he expected or did it hit him and made him change his mind? Before Sophie, did he ever consider moving back to Italy? What was the thing he missed the most that first year in Canada? Is there something specific from Italy that he still misses, all these years after?

For Sophie, tell me about her siblings! How often do they talk to with her since she moved out? Texts, video or phone calls? Do they like Tony? What about favorite memories with Sophie and each of them individually instead of all three together?

About Nana, tell me more about her aspirations for the future! Impossible dreams and hard working expectations, and how they vary from what she thought as a child. And on the opposite side, back to the past, does she think her younger self would be happy or proud to meet her current self? What would she tell kid Nana?

Oh, yeah, before I forget, let's ask about Ella and Ume too! Let's see… Something holiday themed! What do they most enjoy doing during the holiday season?

Okay, those are enough questions. Hope you enjoy them! *bunny hugs* Love you! 🐰💛💛

Thank you for so many lovely questions ^^

Let's start from the beginning

1) Changing continents was incredibly hard for Tony. He was about 6 or 7 when it happened, and as it was happening, he wasn't able to fully grasp it, so when their family finally settled in the new place it hit him like a brick. He was no longer able to hug his Nonna or talk to his uncles, the people he knew from birth were so far away, and the new people around him were incredibly different in every aspect. His mom is Canadian so at least he is bilingual and didn't struggle with the language, but putting himself in this new culture was super difficult. As I've mentioned previously, Tony was already kind of focused on his immediate family instead of trying to find friendships elsewhere, so moving to a completely new country only exacerbated this tendency in him. He was basically hiding from life at home with his mom and dad. He was also devastated because his cat Vitello stayed in Italy. Tony couldn't fall asleep without cuddling a toy cat for about a year. As for moving back.. Yes, he indeed considered it, but only after finishing his higher education, and by the time he actually did he was already happy to be where he was, so he stayed.

2) Sophie always keeps in touch with Adam and Levi. They have a group chat for memes and bullshitting, and they facetime as often as they possibly can given their very busy schedules. They can just randomly call each other in the middle of the night if they so desire. They also have more dorkier ways of communicating. Like Sophie would print out their favourite meme and send it via physical mail just because why the hell not. Or call a pizza place, order her brothers a pizza and ask the pizza guys to write a silly message on the box. So yeah they're very much in touch.

Sophie's brothers tease her over Tony relentlessly. They wouldn't leave her alone about him whenever they're physically around. She gets flipping ROASTED (because she's so """tough""" and he is so """soft"""). But it's a stark contrast to what brothers were like when they were around Sophie's abusive ex. They were so afraid of her that they wouldn't even dare to speak. So.... Sophie does find being roasted quite endearing, given the circumstances.

Adam's favourite Sophie memory: the first time she brought him ice skating. Skating became his entire life, he would win awards and compete on multinational level, and the fact that it was his sister who encouraged him and made it seem so much fun never left him.

Levi's favourite Sophie memory: she took the blame for a broken lamp. Adam and Levi were playing chase when Levi dropped the lamp on the floor and shattered it, and when their father, furious, entered the room, Sophie confessed to dropping it instead of Levi (Levi already was on thin ice with the dad by that point and another misbehaviour would definitely be the last straw and end up really badly for Levi). Levi is forever grateful that his sister is ready to stick it out for him.

3) it's difficult with Nana and future, because by the time attitudes start she's rather disillusioned. When she was younger and more naive, she dreamt of joining the police to protect citizens and be a symbol of safety and justice. And then she actually joined the police force... Soon she burned out, hardened and developed quite a cynical outlook on life. During Attitudes, she constantly ponders whether the things she does are worth it, and what she'd rather do instead. She feels more lost than she'd like to admit.

Kid Nana would probably be in awe of current Nana because she is (on the surface) all that kid Nana ever wanted to be. Nana Old would tell her younger self that waiting is worth it. Hang in there, kid, things will change for the better.

4) Ume's not mine so I'm not answering that. But Ella is absolutely a Christmas junky. The kind who has their house fully decorated by November 2nd. She's all about that hot-cocoa-gift-wrapping-shopping-spree-carol-singing time of the year, she drips Christmas cheer and she dreams of living in a Hallmark Christmas movie. So... For at least 2 months of the year, she's incredibly annoying XD

[dilesxpressions]

Welton Czhang

1. Name, Year, Major, and Hometown

My name is Welton Czhang, I’m an Animal Science major, and my hometown is San Gabriel!

2. What’s your roman empire?

My roman empire is thinking about cats and how complete my life would be if I had pets, how I can constantly adapt and improve my boxing stances and punches, and finally how frequently I can plan hangouts with people around my schedule while also leaving to study. 

3. What is the best compliment you have ever received?

The best compliments I have ever received are from my friends stating how I do the most for other people, and give away so much love.

4. If your life was a movie what genre would it be (comedy, horror, drama, etc.) and what actor would play you?

If life was a movie the genre for mine would be a dramedy! David Tennant would play me and absolutely crush my role.

5. What is something on your college bucket list?

Something on my college bucket list is to bike all around Davis from night until morning with myself, a friend, or a group of friends, and to not check our phones for the entire duration of that time. Only until morning would we check where we’ve been, and track the amount of miles we’ve biked, and then bike back home! 

6. What’s your guilty pleasure? (song, movie, food etc.)

My guilty pleasure is spending a LOT of screen time on Instagram sending silly reels or memes to my friends. 

7. What are your bad habits?

I do not make my bed every morning, I sometimes do not wake up on my first, second, third, fourth, or fifth alarm because I am a heavy sleeper, and I enjoy my long showers. (~40 mins) 

8. What are your favorite song lyrics?

One of my favorite song lyrics is from Last Kiss, “I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets, How you’d kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something, There’s not a day I don’t miss those rude interruptions. And I’ll go, sit on the floor wearing your clothes, all that I know is I don’t know, how to be something you miss. “ I love how Taylor can tell stories in a song, maybe it’s romantic, maybe it’s bittersweet, but the way the lyrics rhyme and be catchy as well as paint a picture in your head is why I love Last Kiss, as well the rest of her music!

9. Defend your unpopular opinion/ hot take

In n Out is mid, the bread tastes like sandpaper, McDonald’s is better in literally everything, Cane’s is also mid, it tastes so plain, if it wasn’t for Cane’s sauce, they would be nothing. KFC is the best fast-food place for chicken because I grew up with it, and the oil, skin, and chicken they make has the best 1:1:1 ratio. Drake only knows how to make catchy, popular songs but is not a good artist. I like some of his songs but he is not good. 

10. Describe a time where you had to step up and be a leader?

One high challenge situation that really put me in a leadership position was the time that I was placed into a group project where we had to create a song about DNA, and I was a freshman who had just recently transferred into high school. In my group were sophomores and juniors who were uninterested in cooperating with me in completing the project, rather, they much preferred each other’s company. They spent most of their time joking and chatting with each other, and initially it was so hard to get anything serious and project-related done. They also ignored me or glossed over what I, a freshman, had to say. With a deadline a couple weeks away, I spent a good chunk of my time first setting aside my own differences from the group so that I could bond with each one of them personally before bringing them all together so we could achieve the task that loomed ahead of us. If they wanted to have fun, we had fun, we just made the project fun in our way! It wasn’t easy, the communication aspect and team-bonding part was already not a part of the assignment, taking up so much time for effective planning. Regardless, our final product was something that we all collectively put our heads together for, and we ended up really happy with the outcome. When it came our turn to present our song, my teacher loved it, and the class cheered us on afterwards with a standing ovation.

[strelitziareginaee]

MEET THE MUN!

name — Ghost/Ghosty

pronouns — she/her

preferred comms — Discord (Ask for Discord!) and Tumblr IMs

name of muse —

Main Muse: Strelitzia Side Muse: Cinderella

experience in RP — A long time. I've been rping since the Myspace days! Then I bounced around a lot. Left Tumblr for a few years and recently came back.

best experiences — I used to be a part of the Kingdom Hearts community back when Tumblr was really thriving (in the early 2010's), when rping in groups rather than independently was a big thing. I roleplayed Vanitas and made some really awesome friends in that group! We called ourselves the KH Crack Crew, lol. We would all talk every day on Skype! Those were good times and sometimes I still think about all of them. We just sort of drifted apart when we started to explore other fandoms, and yeaaaaa.... I still miss my KHCC squad sometimes, though we're all still friends on Facebook!

pet peeves / dealbreakers — Godmodding. I can't stand it. Even if it's something as small as assuming what my character is going to do next. If you want to have the scene go a certain way, there's a way you can write it and if my character does deviate from your original plan, you can take the story elsewhere. That's what can make rp really fun! The only times I'm willing to let it slide is in drabbles, lol.

My other pet peeve is taking what my character does way too personally outside of character. Like, ya'll know this is fake, right? lmao. At the end of the day, we're just writing our silly little characters in our silly little worlds. If it's ruining your day that badly, please go outside and touch some grass.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — So I'm actually a huge sucker for romance plots. Romance, fluff, smut, slice of life. Also omegaverse, hehehe. I'm also a huge historical romance nut (think Bridgerton, lol)!

I've sort of moved on from fandom muses and now focus more on OC's (I really only rp on Discord these days, and 9/10 times it's M/M. I do have a F/F historical romance plot that I adore rn tho). Strelly and Cindy are the first muses I've picked up in years, and started rping on Tumblr again. So sometimes I feel rusty playing an established character I didn't make myself. But I'm trying! 〒▽〒 Anyways, give me that romantic nasty shit!! And make it gay as hell!!

plot or memes — Both! I think it's fun to meme and get into a character's mind that you normally wouldn't get a chance to play out. Or just being silly gooses. But I'm also down for always plotting and making something deep and personal!

long or short replies — Either, or! It depends on the plot, the situation that's happening in the story, or what length my rp partner sends me. I'm pretty good about matching the length of a partner's. Unless I got nothing else to say, then it'll be on the shorter side. Like, if our characters are just chatting and there's no action involved, of course it's going to be short.

best time to write — In the mornings! I do rp replies in between slow periods at work. I work from home, so I can get away with it, lol. Which is why you'll see me online for a good part of the day. It's also when I have the most energy. I'm an early bird and I'm burnt out by the time the evening rolls around. Sometimes I can write in the evenings, but that's very rare. So I try to knock out as much as I can in the mornings.

I'm rarely RARELY available on the weekends. That's when I'm the busiest~

are you like your muse —

I'd say yes. Although I don't have a green thumb like Strelitzia. I can't keep plants alive for the life of me. I have a lot self doubts like her too, and I struggle to make friends since I'm incredibly shy and struggle to connect with others on a personal level. ಥuಥ Me and Strelly be fighting for our lives out here!

Cinderella though, I resonate with her a lot. I grew up in a household where I was the cleaner and cook, and I just... know exactly how she feels, LOL.

tagged by: No one! Stolen from Litoredeem. Tagging: Feel free to steal!

[tobesobri]

Nervous

the one where Y/N might be insane but Harry is definitely a shy nervous idiot. (~7k) 

thank you @ anon for requesting this! I tried to do it justice, but I’ve honestly never written Harry this way so 😬hopefully it’s decent. Apart from this being probably the only request i’ve ever done, this is also my first piece of one-off writing i’ve posted in a long time, so I do really hope yall enjoy it as much as I do! Thank you to @fromyourstrulyh​ @aileenacoustic​ & @smokeinherperfume​ for beta reading and just generally being incredible ❤️As always, your feedback, thoughts or just a reblog are super appreciated!!

The busy conversation could not overpower the way the sun felt on Y/N’s skin. Sometimes it burned a little too hot, but other times it felt just right and she found herself basking in it, ignoring all her friends a few times too many. She knew if they were any further inland from the beach, the hot L.A. sun would be completely unbearable, but the breeze that swooshed through the courtyard every so often was enough to make the weather practically perfect. 

She no longer regretted going for one of her summer dresses that had straps and a shorter hemline. Her other options had been one with sleeves or a midi skirt, but either of those would have left her boiling, even if she only had her bathing suit on underneath. The last thing she needed when seeing all her friends again was to be sweating buckets. 

Especially in front of Harry. 

She couldn’t remember when he’d first joined their ever-growing group, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. He was nice to look at, which was just about all she ever did because he wasn't a man of many words. All of their conversations burnt out within a couple minutes. She never had any idea what to say to him because frankly, he intimidated her. All of her friends had various connections to Hollywood, but he was most definitely the most famous person she knew. So knowing what to even say to Harry was a whole other obstacle than just simply being acquainted with him.

But she did like to look at him whenever she could get away with it. Particularly when he was chatting with someone else and she obsessed over the way his dimples went in and out of his cheeks every time he smiled. If she wasn’t staring at his face and admiring the freckles or how green his eyes were in the sun, she shamelessly watched his hands. Whether it was while he articulated them in conversation, or while he picked up his sandwich to take another bite, she couldn’t take her eyes away from them.

She wanted nothing more than for him to just have a normal fucking conversation with her like he did with everyone else.

“Hey.” Mel nudged her elbow into Y/N’s side, forcing her eyes away from Harry for the first time in the past three minutes. “Do you want to share a slice of chocolate cake?”

And for the first time since they’d sat down, something other than Harry piqued her interest. With enough sparkle in her eyes to blind someone, Y/N nodded eagerly. “That shouldn’t even be a question.”

Mel shrugged and looked over the dessert menu again to pick out the right slice of chocolate cake between a plain one, one filled with fudge in the middle, and one packed with triple chocolate--whatever that meant. 

Trev, who sat beside Harry and right across from Y/N, folded his arms and leaned onto the table, “So Mel, how’s it going with that guy, uh… Alan?”

Mel rolled her eyes but kept them glued to her options of chocolate cakes, “It’s Adam.”

“Does it matter?”

Y/N bit back a smile and sat against her seat, waiting for the typical show between Trev and Mel where he let his jealousy spew out like boiling hot lava and made fun of whatever dude she was seeing all because he was too up his own ass to just ask her out. It was entertaining for the whole table, though, and especially for Y/N.

It was then, in the heat of Mel’s insults about Trev’s own miserable love life, that Y/N and Harry shared a glance, and only a glance because it was so quick, she thought she was imagining things. Just the familiar green of his irises burned into her eyelids was enough to know it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. She’d been snickering at the two in front of her when she blinked over at him, possibly because he had already been looking at her. As soon as she did, however, within less than a second he’d looked away. She would take it, and the way it made her entire insides feel like they were being electrocuted, and run with it though. He’d looked at her for the first time all afternoon and she just might gain the courage to try and talk to him again. If he would let her of course. 

She thought about their last conversation and how it seemed like centuries ago, but also may have been the reason he hadn’t said a word to her today yet. A smaller portion of their group had gone to LACMA on an off day so it wasn’t as busy. She tried to talk to him about the Diego Rivera painting he’d been standing in front of which he had humorously mistaken for Frida Kahlo. Looking back on it though, she cringed at the way she’d laughed at his mistake because he probably didn’t find it all that funny. He had still laughed right along with her, as his cheeks reddened with embarrassment and he tried to find a quick escape to avoid interacting with her again on their museum trip--which he had done, successfully. 

He knew Diego Rivera from Frida Kahlo, though, he wasn’t stupid, but whenever she was around and he had to communicate with her, he turned into a big dumb pile of mush who wouldn’t be able to tell his left foot from his right. He had never been so fucking nervous around someone in his entire life, and so naturally, he no clue what to make of her.

The bickering between Mel and Trev died down when their waitress returned to take dessert orders as a busboy collected dirty dishes. Although dessert was Y/N’s favorite part of every meal, she found herself pouting at the thought of their afternoon passing by a lot quicker than she expected it to. 

The topic of discussion shifted once the sweets all arrived and suddenly they were all going on about Tiger King conspiracies that Y/N knew jack shit about, but still listened intently as if she did. She asked a dumb question every once in a while, which made everyone at the table groan in frustration. Eventually, though, they got onto more topics she didn’t understand the references to so she gave up. 

Instead, she found herself eyeing Harry’s sampler of various cookies, particularly his painted fingers as he broke off pieces and popped them in his mouth. He had had black nail polish on at some point, but most of it had chipped off by now. The rings he usually wore to excess had dwindled down to just one on his middle finger. She missed them, even though she was sure his poor hands were in desperate need of a break from all the jewelry. His tattoos were on full display now, soaking up all the sun they could after being under long sleeve sweaters all winter. The black ink stood out against his slightly tanned skin, and especially against the red, floral print flowy button up he wore. She felt like it’d been ages since she saw him in something so casual, but they were all headed to the beach soon after all.

“Do you want some?” When she heard his voice, her eyes shot up to his face, realizing she’d been caught. Realizing he was looking at her and speaking to her because she’d been staring at his fucking hands not the cookies.

Since she couldn’t let him know about that, she nodded, “Uh sure.”

She felt even worse about taking a half of a chocolate chip cookie from him when he reached across the table and his poor, beautiful hand collided with her half-full cocktail glass that instantly dumped all over the table. It caught everyone’s attention when the glass broke and quickly Y/N and Trev grabbed napkins to soak up the liquid before it reached their laps while Val saved their plates. 

Harry hid his face in his hands after placing the half of a cookie down on his plate again, utterly embarrassed by himself. “I’m so sorry,” He mumbled between his fingers after dragging his hands down his face dramatically to see the mess he’d made.

“Literally the clumsiest fucker I know, you know that?” Trev said while sopping up the rest of her drink and discarding the used napkins on an empty plate. Val called over their waitress once she was close enough to help deal with the broken glass.

“Can I buy you another one?” Harry asked, his cheeks flushed red when she looked at him again and it was definitely not from the sun. He looked embarrassed and apologetic and she was positive he felt stupid because she knew she would in his place, but it made her sad that he thought any of that when it was just a silly mistake.

Harry definitely would not have minded sinking into oblivion right there and then.

“No it’s alright, wasn’t that good of a drink anyways.” She shrugged, easing his nerves just a tad, but he still felt horrible.

“I’ll pay for that one then.” He concluded, not giving her a chance to shoot him down this time, however. And when the checks came long after Harry’s incident that gave him plenty of time to recover, she didn’t have much say in it either when he snatched up her check before the waitress could even hand it to her.

Y/N could easily pay for herself, but if Harry insisted she wasn’t going to argue. It was his way of feeling better about the situation and she’d leave it be, even if it did bug her that he said he’d pay for her drink, not her entire bill. She kept her mouth shut, however, and just gave him a mean look so at least he knew she wasn’t happy about it, even if she had no intentions to stop him.

She escaped to the restroom while everyone wrapped up, knowing she’d have to go the second she got near the ocean later and she did not want to use the disgusting public bathrooms at the beach. They were always full of sand, salty water, and smelled ten times fishier than normal.

Her confidence was at an all time high when she looked in the mirror, wondering if it had been the sun or Harry to do it to her, but either way it really didn’t matter. She felt like she was on a cloud and like nothing could touch her or bring her back down.

Except, of course, when she walked back out to reality and realized everyone had already made their ways to the Malibu coastline. Sighing, she pulled her phone from her little crossbody bag and walked towards the main entrance. Before she got too far into her Uber app, she glanced up at a familiar shade of bright red floral print standing near the doors and instantly floated back up to the clouds. 

“Did everyone leave?” She asked once she walked up to Harry. He held onto a cardboard box of leftovers in one hand and his keys in the other. His sunglasses, that were previously perched on the neck of his shirt, had made their way to the top of his head, pushing his hair back from his face.

He nodded. “I, um… I didn’t know if you had a ride, or...?” He stumbled and she wasn’t sure why, but it was cute nonetheless, especially since she initially had the impression that Harry would be a little more self-assured than he was turning out to be. That was what she liked best about him though, that he tripped over his words and confused artists and spilled drinks. 

She held up her phone in her hands and smiled, “I’m getting an Uber.”

He furrowed his brows, but she didn’t notice when she resumed picking out the cheapest option on the app to take her down PCH as she maneuvered around him and stepped back out into the warm summer afternoon.

He followed quickly, nearly tripping over himself and then cleared his throat, “Well, um, I’ve got a car.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder while she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What kind of car?” 

He had no clue why she’d asked him that, but given the little smirk on her lips, he had an inkling that if he didn’t have the right kind of car, she’d prefer to stick with her Uber options. What he was positive about, however, was that he’d never liked her more than he did right there in the parking lot as she planned on roasting his choice of transportation.

“Uhm...” He glanced around the lot until he found his car and then pointed it out, “that one.” 

Her eyes fell to a bright yellow, convertible 1972 Ferrari Dino and she tried her best to not let him see the way her jaw practically hit the asphalt beneath their flip flops. Instead, she swallowed, stood up straight, faced him, and put her phone away.

“That will do.”

The surface streets were quiet, even though she’d forced him to put the top down while they drove. They were boring, too. She wanted to throw her hands up and feel the air between her fingers and flowing through her hair. Instead, they were stuck at every single red light imaginable on the short trip it took to get to the highway.

“How long have you had this car?” She asked once they’d stopped again, making herself at home in his passenger seat as she rested her elbow up on the door where the window would normally be if she hadn’t rolled it down the second he started the engine.

“Mm,” He thought, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger while his other hand clung tightly to the top of the steering wheel, enough so that she could see the whites of his knuckles. Was he nervous? Did he not like to drive with the top down? Or did he just not like to drive with her constantly staring at him?

“Couple years probably,” he answered finally while adjusting the radio to turn some music on and she took that as her cue to leave him alone. Maybe he was nervous because he liked to focus on the road while driving and not on her silly questions. 

They got up to about twenty-miles-an-hour now while he flipped through stations, his eyes bouncing between the console and the road. He tuned the radio until she wrapped her hand around his forearm.

“Sorry, I just,” she let go of him after he gave her a look, one that she couldn’t quite read. He could have been mad at her for touching him for all she knew. “I really like this song.”

He moved both hands to the steering wheel as he sat back into his seat. He’d never heard the song before, but if she liked it then he’d leave it on. They drove for a bit longer until he heard her softly singing along and glanced over at her. He’d only meant to look for less than a second, but when she met his gaze, he got a little too distracted. 

Her eyes darted out the windshield and her sudden, “Harry!” caused him to slam on the breaks, luckily just seconds before he managed to rear-end a Honda Civic. He was positive his hunk of metal would have done quite some damage.

“Shit,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair to shift it back into place as his heart raced a million miles.

Then, of course, it was racing for other reasons when he heard her giggling from beside him and once he was done freaking out, he joined in. He was such a fucking idiot but it apparently had made her laugh, so… silver lining?

Once they were on the highway, he no longer felt as tense. The wind from the ocean beside them blew his hair in every direction as he got up to the speed of traffic and she watched his hands as they shifted gears. She let her eyes, and her mind, wander while staring at his tattooless arm and the way the muscles flexed under his skin. It gave her that dangerous self-confidence all over again. 

He heard her seatbelt click and immediately shot his eyes over to see what the actual fuck she was doing taking it off while he was going over sixty miles an hour. An all new reason to be anxious filled his entire nervous system as he watched her, through various quick glances, standing up in his passenger seat with no care in the world about flying out. As if he hadn’t already nearly caused an accident, here she was trusting him enough not to do it again.

Her skirt flew up in the breeze but she didn’t really care too much about that either, and neither did Harry. When she finally managed to peel her hands off the windshield, she threw them up and shouted at the top of her lungs, forcing nothing but a huge cheesy grin onto Harry’s face even though he wanted to pull over and kick her out for doing what she was doing and nearly giving him an aneurism.

She sat back down within seconds though, and his blood pressure settled at a more normal pace when she had her seatbelt secured around herself again.

“Wouldn’t have offered you a ride had I know you were going to do that!” He shouted over the sound of the wind.

“I’m in a Ferrari on PCH, you should have expected it!”

He shook his head at her as he glanced over his shoulder to switch lanes and make his off-ramp. She was fucking nuts. And he was a fucking idiot.

They sat in the parking lot together for a moment, staring out at the ocean, after he put the top up, closed the windows, and cut the engine. She was still coming down off of whatever high possessed her to stand up mid-freeway and he was trying not to act like a complete fool being alone with her again where it was quiet and they weren’t moving anymore. 

“How come we never talk much?” She asked him before either of them could even think about getting out of the car and joining their friends down on the sand.

He stared straight ahead at the waves for a moment as he thought about why they weren’t as close as he wished they were and that it might be his fault. He just never knew what to say to her to not completely embarrass himself. Within the past hour, it was clear he still hadn’t figured it out.

He sighed, “Probably because you stand up in cars and make me nervous.” He didn’t realize, however, how his words would be twisted until she did so.

“Oh, so we don’t talk because I make you nervous?” She teased with a smirk but she clearly had no idea how right she was about that. Or maybe she did have some idea about it. 

Either way, he tensed up realizing he had, yet again, said some dumb shit and went and embarrassed himself again.

“I’m kidding,” she assured when he remained quiet, “I just think we should talk more.” She fidgeted with the hem of her dress and it most definitely did not go unnoticed by Harry. “Then maybe one day you’ll let me drive your Ferrari and you can stand up.”

The breeze dropped several degrees as they walked through the sand to their friends, who were already set up with a few chairs and an ice chest full of wine coolers. It was a nice relief from the burning afternoon sun, but Y/N still regretted not packing a sweater.

As they walked together, someone made a whistling sound at them as if suggesting something had happened with her and Harry between the time it took them to get from the restaurant to the beach. It made him uneasy when everyone looked at them like they were amidst a walk of shame, and even more so when he glanced down at her to his side to see she was also slightly uncomfortable. 

“What took you two so long?” Trev asked the second she and Harry reached their little set up. Everyone was already either taking their clothes off to run into the ocean, or securing their spots in the warm sand, nursing a bottle or two of alcohol.

Y/N squared her shoulders, “Harry almost caused an accident.” 

His head whipped towards her so fast, he was sure he pulled a muscle in his neck. It was one thing for her to know about his dumbassery, but everyone else didn’t have to be in on it too. 

A couple of their friends giggled, making Harry scratch at the back of his neck nervously, shaking out his curls and hoping they didn’t all think he was the biggest imbecile alive for not knowing how to drive a car like that. Especially since he did know how to drive, his brain just didn't function the way it was supposed to when Y/N was around. 

“Or maybe,” Trev leaned in suggestively glancing between the both of them before settling his eyes on Y/N, “Harry finally won you over with his Ferrari.”

She scrunched her face, trying to figure out what the fuck Trev meant by finally? Harry never tried winning her over at any point in the past. Hell, before today she had been afraid that he hated her, wondering tirelessly what she did to get on Harry Styles’ bad side. 

When she glanced at Harry, she was relieved to find that he seemed just about as confused as she was. So it was just Trev being a slimy asshole as per usual.

She rolled her eyes and shoved Trev’s shoulder as she walked past him, eliciting an overly dramatic response as he held his shoulder like a ginormous baby and called her a bitch under his breath.

Both Harry and Trev watched as she lifted her dress over her head, tossed it and her purse into a chair full of other people’s clothes, and flashed Trev her middle finger while she glanced over her shoulder at him. Before she ran off to the water, however, her eyes found Harry just in time to see the way his eyes flickered back up to her face. She smiled knowingly at him just before taking off, hoping his gaze would find its way to her backside again as she did so.

And frankly, her bathing suit didn’t leave too much to the imagination. It was all held together with strings that could come undone with just a single tug from Harry’s hands. Her bottoms were definitely cheeky and her top… Harry should not be looking.

But he was, he constantly found his eyes gravitating towards her as he sat beside Trev on land while she played in the water with the others. He also found his fists clenching whenever one of the other guys in their group got a little too close. He should also not be jealous. 

“You know,” Trev began, sitting back against his seat and resting his wine cooler on his knee, “we all know you’re infatuated with her…” Harry turned to look at Trev like he was insane, “except for her of course. Probably because you act like an idiot around her and she thinks there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

Harry really couldn’t disagree. He did act like he only had a handful of brain cells sometimes, but in his defense, he didn’t do it on purpose. He had no clue why he couldn’t operate properly whenever she was around. No one had ever done that to him, not a single person he ever found remotely attractive turned him into a helpless ball of nerves the way she did.

Sighing, Harry stared out at the horizon through his tinted sunglasses and mumbled grumpily. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Knew you were too good to be true,” Trev teased, assuming Harry was referring to there being something seriously wrong with him rather than being maybe a little bit infatuated with her.

Harry shook his head with an exasperated smile on his lips, “You’re a cunt.”

“Listen man,” Trev sat forward again, taking a swig of his drink, “She’s fucking insane sometimes, but if you like her…” He shrugged.

“How insane is she, exactly?” Harry asked, although he already had an inkling given her earlier actions in his car. 

Trev snorted out a laugh, “Not like that. She’s just like… I don’t know. Does crazy shit. She was the first one to jump off this huge ass cliff when we went diving a few summers ago.” Trev reminisced fondly before laughing again when he recalled something else Y/N had done. “She got drunk off her ass at New Years and did a handstand in the middle of Gasolina.”

Although Harry didn’t know what Gasolina was, he still imagined how fucking hilarious that party must’ve been. She was the good kind of crazy, he assumed, not the kind that might chop off his fingers in his sleep.

“Besides, all she does is work and hang out with her dog.” Trev added, leaving Harry to wonder profusely about what kind of dog she had. He considered a dachshund at first, but maybe a chihuahua was more her speed. 

“Anyways,” Trev sighed, settling into his seat again, “I just think you should stop acting like a twelve-year old and ask her out if you like her.”

Harry’s brows furrowed again, “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

He watched as Trev’s eyes landed right on Mel, who had her arms around Y/N’s shoulders as they descended further into the ocean, and he sighed even deeper this time. “That’s way more complicated than the two of you.”

He never would have offered her a ride, no matter how much he liked her, when she’d first came up from the water and threw her dress back on. She was a wet, hot mess for a long while until they all packed up after they watched the sun set and it started getting dark. There was no way he was leaving her there to wait for an Uber by herself, however, once they’d gotten everything packed up into the back of Trev’s Jeep. 

Not that she was pulling her phone out to scroll through the app or asking anyone else for a ride. 

So, she wound up in his passenger seat again, staring at the sky as it mixed through various shades of peaches and purples until it turned a dark blue color and the stars started coming out as he drove. They listened to some oldies station while heading north on PCH and she never stopped looking at how beautiful the world was around her, especially the part of the world that sat right next to her as he drove silently with his sunglasses on top of his head again. He was cute when he focused, she thought.

When he reached her driveway, she really didn’t want him to leave yet. She’d even considered taking him the long way to her house and hoping he wouldn’t notice just to spend more time with him. She stared up at the stars still while they sat idly in her front yard until she looked over at Harry with a smile and he met her eyes curiously.

“Do you wanna meet my dog?”

She shivered as she closed the door behind Harry, locking it before returning her attention back to him. Seeing him planted into the familiar backdrop of her house felt weird, but it also swelled her stomach with a million butterflies.

“I’m gonna change real quick. The living room’s through there,” she pointed and he followed, “you can make yourself at home.”

While she disappeared up the stairs, he wandered hesitantly, removing his shoes before he walked onto the carpet in her living room. He sat down in the corner of her loveseat, taking in all the surroundings. Her house was nice and he thought about what she did for a living, trying to remember if it had ever come up in conversations before. He didn’t get too far lost in his thoughts and his wandering eyes when there was a sudden bang on the back door behind him followed quickly by loud and incessant barking.

When he looked out the windows that faced her backyard he realized she did not, in fact, have a dachshund or a chihuahua. She had a fucking pitbull.

Possibly even more fitting, and slightly less scarier than the chihuahua. 

“Sorry,” she ran in the living room just then, in a pair of lounge shorts and a loose-fitting long sleeve, and went straight to the back door, “I promise Patrick’s not as mean as he sounds.”

“Patrick like… from Spongebob?” Harry asked as she unlocked the back door to let him in.

She grinned like Harry was the first one to automatically get the reference without her having to explain it, “He was a little bit dumb as a puppy.” She shrugged and opened the door and the tan-colored pitbull ran straight towards Harry, jumping on the couch and into his lap like they were already the best of friends.

Patrick got about ten licks to Harry’s poor face before Y/N got a hand in between and tried pulling the stubborn dog away. She apologized again and even though Harry assured her that it was okay, he still seemed highly uncomfortable. When she moved, hoping Patrick would stop molesting Harry with his tongue, she’d been horribly wrong and he went back in for more and Harry was far too polite to do anything about it himself besides making feeble attempts at pushing Patrick away awkwardly.

So, instead, she ran around the couch and pulled him off of Harry, squeezing herself between him and her dog. While Harry wiped off his face, she turned toward him once Patrick had settled down, “I swear he’s trained, he just… forgets boundaries sometimes.” She said the last bit through her teeth, directed specifically at Patrick while petting the dog on the head. He just continued to stare past her at Harry, panting and wagging his tail.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Harry assured her again. He really didn’t mind. Maybe a little, but it wasn’t the end of the world to have too much attention from a dog. Especially if it was her dog. 

It was quiet for a moment before she perked up like she’d just remembered something, “Oh, do you want something to drink? I forgot to ask before.”

Harry didn’t really want her to leave just yet, but on the other hand, he desperately wanted her to. He could feel the nervous sweat on his forehead and his clammy hands and he just needed a moment to collect himself. So he nodded, “Sure,” and she bounced back up onto her feet and left him alone with Patrick.

While Harry had successfully wiped the sweat from his face on the back of his shirt and his hands on his jeans--and cupped said hand over his mouth to check his breath-- Patrick scooted right up to Harry’s side, curled into a ball, and rested his head on Harry’s lap. Which was the exact sight Y/N returned to moments later with a couple glasses of water in her hands.

“Guess he likes you, then.” She laughed lightly while handing one of the glasses to Harry and sat down on the other side of Patrick. It was a gap bigger than the one between them previously, but Harry was okay with that. Maybe he’d stop sweating so profusely from just being in her presence. 

They were quiet again, but not for too long that it ever got awkward. Harry was sure, at this point, that Y/N was a professional at avoiding awkward silences with the way she said the most random shit right out of the blue. 

“Do you like stand up?”

He looked at her like he had no clue what the fuck she was talking about, but in hindsight he should have known. In the moment, though, when she caught him off-guard, he literally could not fathom in his brain what she meant by stand up. So he just shrugged and mumbled, “I guess?”

She didn’t seem to notice his enormous brain fart when she reached forward to grab the remote from the coffee table a little too excitedly. And once she turned on Netflix and searched for John Mulaney, it clicked in his head. Maybe Trev had been right. Harry might just have something slightly wrong with him.

He’d never personally seen any of Mulaney’s stand up, but he’d heard the name and when Y/N mumbled that he was one of her favorite comedians, that’s all he needed to know about the guy. Harry would sit through hours of his stand up if it meant spending more time with her.

John Mulaney had already gotten a few giggles out of Harry within the first five minutes of The Comeback Kid and every single time it happened, Y/N glanced at him proudly as if she were the one telling the jokes and making Harry laugh.

She felt even more full of herself when John’s punchline about exes came seven minutes in and Harry nearly laughed his entire ass off at, ‘Anyone who’s seen my dick and met my parents needs to die.’

Actually, she was certain he’d done some damage to his body when Harry laughed so hard that he held a hand to his stomach, doubled over on the couch and choked on his own spit. She tried not to laugh at his reaction as she sat forward and grabbed his glass of water off the coffee table to hand it to him.

Her movements caused Patrick to get up and jump off of the couch, settling for a cool spot on the hardwood floors to stretch out on as he panted. Harry sipped on his water until he could breathe properly again.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, “the dick jokes get me every time too.” Although she intended for it to make him feel better, his cheeks just burned twice as hot from the way she said dick so nonchalantly. 

“Are there more dick jokes then?” He asked.

“There’s always more dick jokes to be made.” She confirmed, making him chuckle again. “So you’ll stay and laugh at them with me?”

He wasn’t sure at what point she’d gotten so close to him on the couch, but when she laughed and he felt her shoulder shake against his own, he quickly tensed up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her closer, he just didn’t want to act like a complete fool again. And his reaction to just her touching his shoulder was enough to tell him foolery was on the horizon. 

He also wasn’t sure when it became a given that he was staying to watch all of the John Mulaney specials on Netflix with her, but he wasn’t complaining. As long as he got to hear her laugh and imitate some of the jokes and weird voices John did, he was happy staying exactly where he was all night and, in fact, when she announced they’d burned through all of them, he was disappointed. 

Even more so when she flipped the TV off and he wondered how much longer until she planned on saying goodbye and then who knows how long until they’d see each other again. 

It was quiet, apart from Patrick’s snores, but not for long. 

“I’m sorry I stood up in your car and made you nervous.”

He turned and met her eyes and she was very clearly not sorry about it, but he didn’t want her to be either. “S’alright.”

They stared at each other for a moment while he thought about what else she was going to say, if anything at all. But he should have known better than to assume she didn’t have anything else up her sleeve.

It was just that the next time she spoke there wasn’t the perpetual cute little grin on her face. Instead, she met him with a frown. “To be honest, Harry, I kinda thought you hated me before today.”

He scrunched his face, absolutely detesting that she ever thought that at all. “I don’t hate you.” He said it like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

She tilted her head to the side while she looked at him and then gave him a reason why it wasn’t that ridiculous of an assumption on her part. “Then why do you always avoid me?”

He felt bad about the way he acted around her, especially since she had the wrong impression about it. He didn’t avoid her, he just didn’t know how to talk to her when he always acted like a neanderthal around her.

Sighing, he shuffled a bit in his seat as the anxious sweats really made themselves known. “You were right when you said we don’t talk because you make me nervous.”

She grew more confused by that, “You’re literally Harry Styles, how do I make you nervous?”

He shrugged, “Been trying to figure it out myself.”

Although he’d been avoiding her gaze like the plague, sure that he’d never be admitting any of this to her while looking right into her eyes, she still smiled sweetly at him. He was Harry fucking Styles, who got up on a stage more times than she could imagine and sang in front of thousands of people, but she made him nervous.

She took him off guard again. “Are you seeing anyone right now, Harry?”

His eyes quickly panned to her, wide and puzzled by her question. “No… wh--”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish after she’d gotten the only answer she wanted out of him and suddenly she was a lot closer than she’d ever been. In fact, there was no longer a single gap between them as she reached her hand up to his jaw and pulled his mouth down onto hers. Even though he didn’t know how to react at first, feeling her on his lips, his brain swelled with all the good kinds of chemical reactions and he kissed her back, wiping his hand on his jeans again before he touched it to the side of her face, cupping her cheek in his palm softly.

Normally, he’d be the one making the first move, but he didn’t really mind it being the other way around with her. Who knows if they ever would have gotten to this point if they’d waited for him to make the first move, after all. 

He definitely didn’t mind it when she swiped her tongue across his lower lip and positioned herself into his lap. His head had fallen back into the cushions while she straddled him and got a little too carried away, but, again, he didn’t mind it. He fed off of her energy until he was slipping hesitant hands down her waist and on her backside, making her moan into his mouth that both felt and sounded like heaven. 

Heaven. He was in heaven and this completely bizarre angel was in his lap, making out with him on her couch and rubbing herself all up on him in ways that were so very unheavenly.

Neither of their dopamine infused brains registered the sound of Patrick’s collar when it was vastly more important to focus on the way she giggled around his mouth and how his tongue felt swirling around with hers. 

However, when he jumped up on the couch beside them and began licking Y/N’s face, she snapped back to reality for a moment. Pulling away from Harry with a whine, she sat back on his knees and wiped the slobber with the back of her hand while she stared over at Patrick.

“Can I help you?”

Patrick did some whining of his own while he dug his paw towards her, begging for attention. So she gave it to him, petting his head and scratching his ears while Harry watched, still very aware of his hands on her hips and her free hand leaning on his shoulder.

“Crazy dog,” she muttered mostly to herself while Patrick laid down next to them.

“Like his owner,” Harry teased, mostly just to bring her attention back to him.

It worked too as she pinged her eyes back to Harry as fast as humanly possible and faked offense, “You think I’m crazy?”

“You asked me to meet your dog and then somehow hooked me into staying for three hours to watch John Mulaney specials and then completely out of nowhere… ended up here.” He nodded his head down at their current positioning with her still perched on his lap.

It took her a moment, but she fully realized what she had done soon enough. And once she did, she was quick to apologize. “Shit, Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to--”

Before she managed to get much further away from him in failed attempts of removing her foolish self from his lap, he grabbed hold of her wrists and brought her hands up to either side of his head, pulling her as close as she’d been before with just an inch or so gap between their lips this time.

“I think that’s why you make me nervous,” He admitted softly and after glancing between both her wary eyes, his gaze landed on her lips just moments before he stretched upwards to meet them with his again. 

They fell back into place completely, except this time, she’d gone as far as to undo all the buttons on his shirt while she made out with him on her couch. Once it was open and she had full range of his chest, she pulled away from him again and watched his body rise and fall quickly as he caught his breath. She traced her fingertips over his butterfly tattoo, and like magic formed a few of them in his stomach while he watched her through heavy eyelids. 

When their eyes met again, she smiled excitedly. “Does this mean I can drive your car now?”

[hrtiu]

I saw your post about wanting to write for rexsoka! I love your fics btw! I would like to request some fluff involving laughter and maybe teasing someone.

Thank you so much! Here’s what I got. It gets a little sad at the end, but hopefully it still counts?? Thank you for the prompt!

Rex knocked on the durasteel door frame, announcing his presence to the ladies chatting in the Ghost’s mess beyond.

“Ahem, Ahsoka? I could use your help with something.”

“Wait a second, you’re not going to steal her away for the rest of the day, are you?” Hera said from where she sat across from Ahsoka at the table. “She was my spymaster first.”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” Rex said.

Ahsoka chuckled as she got to her feet, waving her hands in a placating manner. “Alright, alright. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of me to go around. I’ll be right back, Hera, and we can go over those bomber schematics you somehow managed to get your hands on.”

Hera eagerly agreed, waving goodbye before getting distracted by an irate Chopper beeping something about the hyperdrive and teenage boys.

“What is it?” Ahsoka asked as she walked by Rex’s side out into the dusty, organized chaos of Chopper Base. 

Rex scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Well, there’s this broadcasting beacon, see? We use it to communicate with other cells off-planet, but its motivator was damaged in a recent dust storm. I wanted to replace it but it’s really high up and hard to get to, and I figured since you’re here…”

Ahsoka stopped walking, placing a hand on her hip as her eyebrow markings rose into her headdress. “You want me to throw you?”

Rex flushed, turning away from her and shaking his head. “Never mind, it’s a stupid idea.”

“No, no, it’s just not something I ever expected you to ask me to do.”

“Well, I never really liked it, but if you could control the throw and land me on the maintenance platform I wouldn’t have to risk my neck on that sorry piece of scrap we call an extension ladder.”

“I knew it. For as much as you complained about Anakin throwing you around, you liked it when we did that.”

Rex rounded on her, unable to resist defending himself in the face of such slander. “I did not! It was terrifying, unnecessary, and demeaning!”

“But you want me to do it again. Just admit it, Rex. You’ve been missing excitement in your life,” Ahsoka said, that smug look she’d perfected in her teens on her face.

Rex couldn’t help but laugh. Since they’d been reunited she’d seemed so changed—so solemn and galaxy-weary. It was good to see her back to her cocky, impertinent self, if only for the moment.

“I’ve been missing you, that’s for sure.”

Ahsoka laughed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Rex could have sworn that her lekku shifted to a darker shade of blue, but that had to be his imagination.

“Alright then, where’s this maintenance platform you were talking about?”

Rex led her to the long metal pole several stories tall upon which the broadcasting beacon perched, and she waited while he went to get his repair tools. By the time he came back their little stunt had gained a small audience, Ezra, Zeb, and several pilots gathering round to witness Rex’s embarrassment.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like to be tossed about!” Zeb said, apparently still smarting from his turn as joopa bait.

“Is this even a proper use of the Force?” Ezra asked. “Isn’t it sort of… disrespectful?”

Ahsoka held her head high as she glided over to Rex, her more mature demeanor back now that she was in front of others. “The Force is a tool that is best used to help people. Nothing is beneath the Force, so long as it’s for a good purpose.”

“Hmmm, I guess that makes sense.”

Rex cinched his tool belt around his waist, a little alarmed that he had to loosen a notch further than he used to, then stood at the ready. He bent his knees and braced himself, glowering at Ahsoka as she noticed his nerves and smirked again.

“Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ahsoka raised her hand out to Rex, then jerked it upwards. He flew into the air much faster than he’d envisaged, though just as he feared he’d overshoot the maintenance platform his velocity slowed. He breathed a sigh of relief as, from far below, Ahsoka landed him gently onto the platform.

“All good?” she shouted up at him from the ground.

He leaned over the edge and waved down at her. “Yep! I’ll just be a minute!”

He got to work replacing the motivator, his fingers working quickly from many years of experience holding the rusting AT-TE he called home together. The hot sun beat down on him and he wiped his brow, though he could do nothing about the sweat trickling down his back. Eventually he finished his repairs, taking out his transponder to double-check that the beacon was working before leaning back over the edge and waving to get Ahsoka’s attention.

“All done up here!” he yelled. “Care to lend a hand?”

Ahsoka looked up at him, blessedly alone now that their audience had grown tired of waiting, and waved back. “Just jump down. I’ll catch you!”

Rex had known this was coming, but he still wasn’t looking forward to it. He may have only lived 27 years, but his body was well into his middle age. It wasn’t quite as forgiving to him of dangerous stunts and constant misuse. 

Ahsoka kept waving from down below and Rex dismissed his fears. Ahsoka knew him and she wouldn’t let any harm come to him, even anything as minor as a twisted ankle or a sore knee. He gritted his teeth and took a leap of faith off the platform.

Air rushed past his ears and his beard flattened against his chin, but soon enough his fall slowed. By the time he reached the ground he was floating gently, his feet barely registering when they met solid ground in front of a grinning Ahsoka.

“Enjoy the ride?” she asked.

Rex laughed. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I guess.”

“See? You can trust me, Rexter.”

Rex’s grin grew at the old nickname. He’d never really liked it, truth be told. What young man with aspirations for martial greatness wanted such a silly nickname? But after not hearing for so long, and coming from the friend he’d thought long lost? He’d take it any day.

“I knew I could trust you, I just wasn’t looking forward to getting thrown around like a rag doll in front of my colleagues. I’m trying to look good in front of them, you know?” he said with a laugh.

Ahsoka started walking back to the Ghost, no doubt to resume her conversation with Hera. She looked back over her shoulder as she walked, her burgundy lips quirked upwards in a devious smile. “I don’t know, I like a man I can toss around.”

She turned her head back around and sauntered off, and Rex’s jaw dropped.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t have meant… Was she flirting with me?

He stared after her retreating form—he could swear her hips were swaying—his brain uncomprehending. They’d known each other for so long, and there was nobody he trusted like Ahsoka. And she was obviously beautiful, and funny, and kind. Was it possible…?

Rex looked down at his hands, the wrinkles and sunspots seeming deeper and darker than normal, the callouses thick and the scars numerous. No, she was just teasing. She was young and vibrant and had her whole life ahead of her, it wouldn’t make sense for her to waste it with an old soldier like Rex. Not to mention he didn’t even know what her stance on the Jedi’s rules was anymore. Any kind of romance might not be an option for her, which was probably why she was so comfortable making silly jokes. No chance they could be misconstrued. Right?

Rex made his way back to his quarters in a daze, his surroundings registering as hyper-realistic even as he barely noticed them. It really didn’t make any difference, since he and Ahsoka would continue as friends just as they’d always been, but now Rex’s interactions with her would be colored by this new knowledge. The knowledge that, if there ever was anyone for Rex, it would be her.

[nessarolla-in-constant-flux]

Alright these are my thoughts on @dreammirmir post on the Yato situation.

🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛

°The aging up characters stuff.

You may disagree with me which is fine but I don't see it as a problem. They are 2d fictional characters with no self awareness what so ever. I am able to separate fiction from reality as I am not attracted to teenagers who are actual human beings who can be hurt and taken advantage of.

On this stance I've held it for a long time.

Not to mention My Hero Academia is a Flash Back from Izuku's perspective as they are all adults now, as well as for Haikyuu characters where they actually get to be in their 20s and in college in canon. Cece in her audios never mentions Highschool and always mentions how they are Pro Heros (for my hero) and in College (for Haikyuu) and I know this because I have been a listener since almost the beginning.

I find it silly that people harp on stuff like this with Cece, when fanfiction is a thing. On this I will not change.

I myself am almost reaching 30 and I am still in love with characters from my teens. Does that make me wrong? Does that make me disgusting? I don't think so. I will continue to age and they will stay forever the same which is why I feel the way I do about this. It doesn't matter because they're 2d. A piece of media and nothing more.

°On Cece disapearing.

Try to put yourself in her shoes for a moment. You're a tiny youtuber in a niche market for a year and then suddenly BOOM you explode in popularity over the course of 2020! Your Patreon is taking off, people are looking up to you, your in charge of a whole community, the moneys coming in, things are nuts! On top of that you have people taking advantage of you, fucking up the discord, making drama here and there and people who come over just to hate on you for what you do and all of this happens in one year. I would want to dissappear for a bit to and get my thoughts together. Not to mention her own mental health, her own depression. Thats a lot for one person to take on. Just because she's an adult doesn't mean she's immune to hate.

°Now the a.k.a. grooming and victim

Those discord chats don't look like grooming. They look like two people, that if you didn't know they're ages, would just be shooting the shit.

Now I might be wrong to some people but I am also of the mind that if the person thinks something is shady they should have known better. I'm not victim blaming, I'm just saying it's common sense. And sure every teen is different but I would like to give the benefit of the doubt that they are smarter than I was at their age.

To me these allegations look like a twisting of the narrative presented.

Again just my thoughts.

°And lastly her content

As long as I've been listening Cece's gone out of her way to educate herself when something she does or says on her audios triggers her listeners. She's never malicious with her content and goes out of her way to post trigger warnings in her descriptions. Now if people ignore those it's on them. They can't order a jalapeno pizza and then complain that it's too spicy.

On top of that she made the patreon to keep her spiciest audios behind a pay wall as well as age restrict her content against minors. She can't police the entire community and putting that sort of responsibility on one person is ridiculous.

If under age people are getting to her things it's on them not Cece.

Yes they should be careful on what they watch and listen too because they be too young but you can't hold that over someone like it's they're fault when they've done what they can.

Is it South Parks fault that I watched them at 12? Nope. Maybe my parents but certainly not South Park on their end.

°Random thought

I personally didn't find anything wrong with the Fatgum audio and I'm not saying this because I'm biased. If it made you personally uncomfortable than I'm sorry it did.

I don't know how old you are but we don't know anything at 20 let alone 30. People can make mistakes and she apologized for them. Her changing her name and discreetly apologizing to the "victim" is her business and as much as we want to know about it thats not up to us. They're allowed privacy on both ends and anyone trying to dox either of them is an asshole.

💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡

I may have missed a couple of things here and there but over all these are my thoughts on everything I have the brainpower to think of right now. Call me naive, call me blind but I believe in Cece. I'm not trying to change anyones mind because sometimes people's minds are made up and that's fine. I just want people to see the different perspectives is all.

Thank you for reading. Stay safe, love you lots and hope everyone has a nice day.

Also feel free to message me about anything anytime.🧡💛

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Save Me, Please!

Chapter 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  ...

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰:

Stalking, gaslighting, phycological manipulation, anything that has to do with the yandere trope.

Months later, you were lonelier than ever. Each day was the same. Work, home. Work, home. Work, home. After that God awful experience, you were utterly uninterested in dating. The only other human you ever communicated with regularly was All Might, and those conversations were so one sided that you couldn’t get yourself excited to see him. He’d never let you get half of a word in before asking another question, or giving another compliment.

You had to admit, though, he was sweet, and he did certainly brighten up your day at least a little bit.

What began as an occasional sighting before work became a daily walk with you. It was almost as if he was your personal escort. 

“I just don't want you to get hurt! You’ve seen the news, haven’t you?” is what he’d say, before whisking you away. You couldn’t really protest all that much in the end. 

One day, as you were leaving from work, you saw him waiting for you. He looked different, and you could definitely tell that he had gotten ready to see you. 

He had his hands behind his back, hiding some kind of surprise. You approached him semi-hesitantly, not sure what he had in store.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I got to see you again!” he beamed. You forced a laugh. He saw you literally every single day. This morning, even.

He presented the gift to you: a comically large bouquet of flowers, of all different kinds, but the most prominent ones in the middle were your favorite. 

How did he know that?

You were shocked, looking up at him for reassurance. He met you with a sweet grin.

“So, um...y/n... I’d like to ask you something,” he mumbled, bending down to meet you at your level. 

“What is it?” 

“Um...would you like to...have coffee with me? Or...something?” 

You spoke before you could think.

“Yes, I’d love to!” 

His face lit up even more than usual, which you didn’t even think could be humanly possible at this point. 

“Are you free tomorrow? In the morning? Or maybe tonight? Or, what about right now? Can you do it right now?” 

“Um... can we do something more like Saturday? It’s only like 3 days away,” you offer. His eye twitches a little.

“Why not tomorrow? I know you get off early. Come on, it’ll be fun!” 

“How...how did you know I got off earlier tomorrow?”

“Oh, you mentioned that to me once! Don’t you remember?” 

“I...I guess I do. Okay, I’ll meet you tomorrow after work, then.”

The day came and went peacefully. You retreated into the restroom right after clocking out to tidy yourself up a little before your...date?

 I guess that's what you could call it.

All Might was waiting for you outside, wearing a completely unnecessarily extravagant suit. This heavily contrasted with your business casual attire, and it brought many unwanted stares.

"Oh! There you are! You made me worry that you may not show up!" He grinned, gripping you in a too-tight bear hug.

It'd only taken you an extra 5 minutes to get tidied up. Maybe even less.

"Um...where are we supposed to be going?" You asked, trying to figure out why he'd be dressing like that.

"I thought you picked out a place!" He laughed. You sighed, shaking your head.

But eventually you both settled on a nice-ish restaurant down the road.

You took your seats and began chatting as usual. Everything was fine, nearly perfect, really, until the waiter came to take your drink orders.

He was around your age, his face soft and kind yet handsome. He was totally your type.

"What can I get for you, pretty lady? Oh, and for you, sir?" He asked, pen in hand.

The hero's eyes flashed.

"I'll just have a soda, please!" You smiled. All Might broke out of his internal monologue for a moment at the sound of your voice.

"I will have one of those as well."

You stupidly didn't notice anything was wrong.

"Alright, here's your sodas, and what can I get for your lovely daughter, sir?"

"my...what?" He slammed his fist on the table.

"Calm down! It's not a big deal!" You scream-whispered. He clenched his teeth, sighing. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you'd never seen All Might ever act like this. Frankly, you were scared.

"I deeply apologize, miss. I didn't mean to assume anything."

"Oh, it's fine! People tell me I look young for my age all the time."

"oh? How old are you, then?"

"That's enough,” All Might gritted. His knuckles were white at this point. 

All Might slammed a few bills on the table, grabbing you by the arm and basically dragging you out.

"Hey, what the hell?! What's your problem?" You spat, crossing your arms.

"My problem is...ugh!! You don't know?"

You balled up your fists. Of course you didn't know.

"Why can't you just tell me? Why do you always need to act so fucking weird around me?!"

His eye twitched. But he remained strangely, unsettlingly calm.

"Oh, y/n... I just want you to stay safe. Surely you can understand that, can't you?" He purred, petting you gently on your head.

You swallowed.

"I...I get that..."

He smiled sweetly, as if nothing was wrong just moments ago.

You spent the rest of your date walking in the park, which was even more ridiculous considering he was still donning the extravagant suit and the weather was much too hot for anything like that.

That night, you flipped on the TV, but stopped as BREAKING NEWS flashed on the bottom of the screen.

"There is currently an 8pm curfew out after the third incident this year of a seemingly spontaneous murder. The victim, 2X year old Martin Grey, is the third victim in a series of seemingly connected murders. Officials Are urging all citizens to stay inside, and to report any suspicious activity."

You sighed, flipping off the television.

I'm so sick of hearing all this negative bullshit news...

It took you much longer than usual to get to sleep that night. Something just felt... incredibly wrong. You tried to convince yourself that you were totally safe, but the darkened corners of your room reached out to you, drawing off of your panic.

Finally, after taking way too many melatonin, your eyes shut and you drifted away.

When you woke up from your not so peaceful sleep, you couldn’t move. You were experiencing sleep paralysis, and no matter how much you fought, not a single muscle even flinched.

In the corner of your room, you saw him.

It was a familiar face, but you couldn’t pinpoint who exactly it was. He was huddled at the head of the bed, silently staring at you while he was bathed in the black inkiness of night.

He noticed your fluttering eyelids, frowning. Yet he said nothing. All you could do was helplessly watch as he retreated out of your room.

You were still fighting the paralysis even after he was gone, as well as the pure terror that came with it.

As soon as you got control of your bodily functions, you immediately shot up and googled what just happened.

“Sleep paralysis is a fairly common occurrence that doesn’t signify any mental or spiritual unrest...” a website told you. You sighed.

It wasn’t real. It didn’t happen.

...Right?

You began your day, and since it was a weekend all you had to do was make a pot of coffee and get going.

When you entered your kitchen, you noticed something.

The window was wide open.

———

“All Might... I think someone broke into my apartment last night,” you whimpered into the phone. You didn’t even say hello. You just had to tell someone, anyone about what happened.

He remained silent.

“I...I saw him,” you mumbled shakily, “but... I don’t know why he didn’t... do anything. I don’t know what he wanted.”

“This is why I’m so concerned for you, y/n. You’re always making mistakes like forgetting to lock your windows, and-“

You cut him off.

“How did you know he came in through the window?”

He didn’t even hesitate, replying, “You just said your window was open. Don’t you remember? You’re so silly sometimes, you know.”

You sighed.

“Can you just come over and help me change my locks? I... don’t feel safe anymore.”

He agreed to stop at the hardware store and come over right away.

He'd never been to your apartment before, so he did have to ask for directions. However, it wasn't hard to find you.

Before you could text him the final turning direction, he was already knocking at your door.

In his hands was a kit for new door locks as well as window locks. That afternoon was filled with lots of unscrewing, questions, googling, and troubleshooting, but once he was finished, you admittedly already began to feel safer.

"Thank you so much. It means a lot to me. Seeing that man was just...really scary." You sighed, eyeing the kitchen window. You imagined him sneaking in ever so quietly, standing in the darkest recesses of your room, silently staring at you.

"Like I told you, I want you to be safe. If you weren't...I think I might just go crazy, you know?" He joked.

"I do have something to ask you, though, y/n," he began, "what did he look like?"

"Well, I didn't get a good look. Really, I was convinced he wasn't real until...the window."

All Might didn't pry. He really didn't want to make you remember something you didn't care to think about.

[kadeuxhyeonju]

KADEU: INDIVIDUAL TASK

; FOR THE RESISTANCE, FOR LOVE, OR FOR MYSELF? An Interview with Vega Gem Owner, Lee Hyeonju

Tell us about Hyeonju’s involvement with the resistance! Did leaving for six months affect his standing?

Hyeonju taps clawed hands against the wooden meeting table that is situated in the secret meeting room of the Vega Gem. His eyes are narrowed in thought as he reminisces his return from overseas three years prior.

“Hmm. A bit, I suppose. I left a notice of my departure with some of my trusted informants. Told the leaders I’d send word of my return when I found what I was looking for. I was hardly missed, though. There are plenty of informants and financial backers for the resistance. I was one of many and I’m not wounded by that knowledge. Six months is a long time to be away, to not be out of the loop. It’s only natural that my standing had fallen a bit by the time I returned. But it didn’t take me long either to reach that original standing.” He smiles wickedly. “I might have been gone for a time, but I assure you I was still very much in contact with many of my connections. And connections are everything if you want to be a good informant.”

How does he feel about Mallick leaving as a leader?

At that, the smile slips from Hyeonju’s lips. He stares down at his hands and is silent for far longer than is comfortable. The ice in his whiskey clinks against the glass as it melts. Finally, the hybrid answers:

“I’m happy for him. Truly. He’s a dear friend, him and his brother, Devjay. He’s responsible and cares for the Clubs in a way no other Clubs Ace has. I’m sure he’s needed as an Ace far more than as a resistance leader. Is this not the change the resistance has been seeking and fighting for for so long?

“Nuisances the both of them for leaving like they did, though. There’s a whole in our leadership…but I can hardly blame that sad, little kitten for that. What happened in Clubs was…unexpected. Mallick isn’t perfect. With that said, I suppose I’m a bit disappointed that we can no longer run in the same circles. Not with that Ace of Heart watching for any connections to the resistance. It’s a shame that everyone knows Mallick was a leader for our group. Now I can’t tease him alongside Devjay.”

Does the Vega Gem sell enough for him to maintain his status as a financial backer?

Hyeonju scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I suppose you’ve heard those silly rumors about His Aceness no longer visiting my shop? Contrary to widely held belief, Joui’s patronage does not make or break my business. I earned my title as best jeweller in Kadeu long before His Aceness came around. And I’ve kept it, I’ll have you know. When I returned from my trip, Alexei bustled in with six months worth of inquiries as to when I would be back and when I would be taking on commission again.

“Sure, I used my savings I stalked away for the resistance to go on my impropmtu trip, but the last three years of non-stop work have more than made up for the sudden loss of funds for those six months.”

Is he more or less involved than he was before he left?

This time Hyeonju leans back in his chair, head tilted back as he answers, as if bored by the question.

“I wouldn’t be much of an informant or backer if I sat on my ass, now would I? I still gather information through my network. There’s ways to pass on those kinds of things without being caught, you know. And the money? I’m a Heart. No one thinks twice about someone like me ’squirreling’ away money. It’s easy to to pass on funds when the entire continent thinks your faction is full of nothing but theives and greedy bastards. Though…” He pushes forward and leans against the table, arms crossed, a furrow between his brows.

“I haven’t been able to communicate much lately with the leaders. Not after what happened in Club three years ago. Not after Mallick came out as a former resistance leader. In fact, unless it’s one of my regualr informants who doesn’t raise any red flags, I don’t see much of anyone from the resistance. It’s almost like I’m communicating with ghosts…”

Did he apprise Idris of his involvement with the resistance?

Worried, contemplative expression twists into one of suspicion and…protectiveness, perhaps? Hyeonju answers, but his flash of fangs is almost threatening. His eyes glint with something dangerous.

“How do you know about Idris? I suppose it doesn’t matter if you won’t be able to speak of it later.

“Yes, I told him. I told him of everything I’ve been up to these nearly 50 years since I last saw him. I told him things I never would have told him when we first met. I told him of my life. What is spoken to Idris will never leave that Fae’s lips. I trust him. So I told him.”

Hyeonju leaves it at that, refusing to answer any more questions about the Fae.

How does he see his position changing or evolving in the future?

The hybrid, wound up tight from the previous question, relaxes just a bit. His eyes take on a curious look.

“Changing? Evolving? What could I offer that I haven’t already? I certainly won’t offer my life. I joined this cause so I could keep it, thank you. The only way I could see any type of ‘change’ or ‘evolution’,” he mocks, “is if they decided to appoint me as a leader. And I assure you I have no interest in having so many lives under my care. It takes all my effort to look out for myself. I leave that work to those like Mallick and Fallon.”

Do any of his personal goals relate to the resistance itself or the movement?

Ah, this is a tried and true question Hyeonju has no problem answering. He speaks without hesitation.

“The movement. The resistance is simply a tool to get what I want. Isn’t that what it is for everyone else? If I put my goals into an entity of such impermanence, I would lose sight of my goals the moment the resistance fell apart. It’s a fool’s belief to think your goals are what make up the resistance. It’s the unspoken agreement between us all to work together to achieve our individual goals.

“What are my goals? The same as always. Freedom. Not the kind that requires you to run away to attain it. The kind that lets me rip out the throats of those who would dare strip it from me in the first place.”

With that, the interview concludes. Hyeonju holds out a hand so suddenly it startles the interviewer.

“A horribly invasive chat that was. Let’s never do it again shall we?”

The interviewer nods quickly, not liking the look in the hybrid’s eye. They make a beeline for the exit. A manabeast appears before the interviewer suddenly, sending them sprawling across the floor. The scramble back, trying to get away from the large, vicious beast. Behind them, claws sink into their neck, drawing blood. They can feel it running down their back, soaking their shirt. Hyeonju’s voice murmurs pleasantly in their ear even as the manabeast growls only a few feet away.

“Did I not say earlier that I wouldn’t allow you to speak of any of this? Letting you live is too much of a gamble. I apologize, but I’ll make it quick.”

Chills go up and down the interviewer’s spine, their heart beating in double time. A deep chuckle rumbles in their ear.

“What a shame, sending a human into a fox’s den.”

[tooomuchtofu]

It’s denial at first, Tubbo thinks in retrospect, that kept him upright where he sat. Denial, along with a healthy dose of the same sort of emotional vacancy that’s gotten him through the past few years in this fucked up world. 

He sees the message on his communicator—of course he does, so does everyone—but his eyes skim over it. It’s just another accident. A bit too long of a fall. A friendly spar. An argument gone sideways. It didn’t stick, surely; whoever’s name he just read in chat felt the death slither down around them like a shed layer of snakeskin, stepped into another life just as easily as taking another breath. Whoever that was is probably sitting up in bed right now. 

It’s fine. It’s alright. Never mind the buzzing that’s started at the base of his skull. Ranboo cracks a joke and he laughs. Jack pokes his head out the doors of the Big Innit Hotel, shooting Tubbo a wary look. Tubbo nocks another arrow and the door slams shut. He puts the bow away. 

His hand drifts back to his communicator, because of course it does. He picks it off his belt, flicks it on and glances at the messages. Did he see that right?

Tubbo has to blink before the screen focuses, his eyes blurring. He’s never been a great reader, really. Even after he’s picked his way past every letter, though, the message above Jack’s most recent death blurs still. The words have flipped themselves on their heads, twisted into monstrous glyphs. Maybe Ranboo sent something in enderspeak. Maybe he’s asleep. 

“Guys, I think Tommy just died,” is what he hears himself say.

Maybe he did read that wrong. Maybe he did. Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder—out of nowhere, wasn’t Ranboo just on the other side of the path?—is the only thing aside from the letters. He still can’t make them out. He blinks again. That might help. 

“Oh my gosh,” Ranboo says, and for a breath, the death message might be real. He can feel his fingers shaking, can feel the cold edge of the communicator where he holds it. 

“Wasn’t he like, your best friend or something?” It’s Jack Manifold. Tubbo doesn’t know when he came outside. 

Tubbo stands, then, from where he’d, at some point, sat on a stray piece of scaffolding. Everything is all bright colors. All of it. There’s sun in his eyes. He thinks it might hurt. He’s looking at it. The white is better than the red or the blue or the green or the tawny, rough oak beneath his feet, because all of that is real. And this isn’t real. 

Ranboo is in front of him. He’s taller. Tubbo can’t see the sun anymore. A shame. It was nice and bright. 

Ranboo is real, too. Black and white like a panda or a cookie or something. Red and green, black and white, rumpled suit and prickly ears. Tubbo giggles. Maybe Ranboo isn’t real; his whole face is speckles with black, swimming and swirling. That doesn’t usually happen. 

“Tubbo, are you okay? Tubbo, why are you laughing?” Ranboo’s brows are all drawn and furrowed. He looks so worried. But that’s okay. That’s okay. 

“Ranboo, you silly… silly man…” Tubbo reaches up, lets his hands find his husband’s, his friend’s, ears, feels the weird fuzzy spots at their bases. 

Ranboo flinches back, grabbing Tubbo’s wrists and pushing them down. “No—Tubbo, why—” He makes a weird hissy sound. Silly funny enderman. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, it’s fine! I’m alright, big man.” He rubs his hands down his face, pulling at the scar tissue across his nose and jaw. He remembers when he got those scars. Tommy was there. He sat in Tubbo’s room in Pogtopia every night after for weeks. He always woke Tubbo up whenever Tubbo started screaming. That was a permanent death, the festival was. Tubbo is one slip away from dying. So is Tommy. But they’ll be okay, because Dream is in prison. It’s all okay now. Tubbo’s palms are sweaty and sticky, so he takes them off his face. 

“What the hell happened?” Ranboo mutters, fiddling with his communicator. Tubbo isn’t sure he’s ever heard Ranboo say “hell” before. That’s kind of funny. They’ve pretty much spent the entirety of the past few weeks together. Ranboo doesn’t seem to swear much. Tubbo hasn’t done anything but hang out with Ranboo since Tommy finished his hotel. They’ve barely left each other’s sides. Ranboo and Tubbo, Tubbo and Ranboo. 

“Tubbo. Hey, Tubbo.” Ranboo’s hands are on his shoulders again. “Tubbo, where are we?” 

Tubbo hums under his breath. “We are on the Prime Path, big man.” Outside the Bee and Boo. It’s very bright today. Everything looks a little blurry, though. 

“Sam says he’s at the prison,” Ranboo says. “Do you want to go talk to Sam?” 

“Sounds good.” Tubbo looks over at the prison. It’s just past Skeppy’s mansion. The prison, where Dream is. Something… something is wrong. He thinks. 

As he follows Ranboo down the path, he frowns, trying to remember what it is. Something… wrong. At the prison. 

“Wait, but Sam hasn’t died,” he says. “Sam is still there. Dream is still in Pandora’s Vault.” As long as Dream is in prison, they are all safe. Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. They won. They have the discs. It is okay now. 

“Yes,” Ranboo says. 

The approach is long, with the path he walks stretching into infinity. It seems forever that they spend walking towards the prison’s hulking shape. Sam is waiting for them when they get there. 

“I made a mistake,” he says in a shaking voice. “I’m so sorry. Tommy is… Tommy’s dead.” 

And Tubbo is seventeen years old. He is standing in the world he calls home near the path his best friend built out of oak, standing next to his friend-husband-business partner, and he is not crying, because Tommy cannot be dead. Because Tommy does not die. Because Tommy survives. It is what he does. 

And Tubbo did not spend the last week his friend spent in prison falling in platonic love, building a hotel, playing chess, singing and cracking jokes and making pancakes and playing his ukulele. Because Tommy is not in prison, because there is no reason for him to be, and if he is, there’s nothing Tubbo can do anyway, is there? What is there, really, for Tubbo to do, aside from forget what has him curled up in his bed some nights, hugging himself as tight as he can so his stomach will stop eating itself out of helpless guilt? And now everything is fine, because the time is up, and Tommy is fine, because Tommy is always fine, even when there’s lava and holes and fireworks and Dream. 

Tubbo is not crying. That is not a lie, but maybe it is wrong nonetheless. 

xxx

To Tubbo, Dream has not taken all of Tommy’s lives until Tommy is standing outside the hotel the next morning. 

He does not remember falling asleep, but it must have happened somehow, because he has just woken up. He has a splitting headache and an aching heart and dry, blurry eyes, and he thinks he’s seeing things at first. 

Tommy is staring up at his own hotel, but he turns around when Tubbo opens the door, grinning when he sees him. 

“Big man!” he shouts. “You seen this thing yet? Pretty proud of it, I am.” Tommy’s grin is glinting white, his face greyish, his hair silvery pale. He is soft and fuzzy and not-all-there. Tubbo blinks once. Twice. And then he is crying. 

Sitting on the path, crying. His face is in his hands and Tommy’s touch on his back is cold and staticky. Tubbo remembers when Tommy’s touch was warm, like fire, glowy and bright and wonderful for a cold winter’s night.

“Tubbo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

Tubbo gasps in a breath, chest spasming for air. His face is drenched and raw. There is a gaping hole in his chest, his ribs shattered into jagged knives. It is Technoblade with withers and fireworks and TNT laying waste to his heart. Tubbo does not move when someone cold and full and real picks him up, cradles him in too-long arms, and lays him on a bed. Tubbo does not move. Tommy is not fine.

xxx

“I didn’t come,” Tubbo forces out one day when everything is numb again. He’s sitting in the Big Innit Hotel’s lobby, slumped in a chair beside the front desk. He’s still wearing his Snowchester jacket, fiddling with the strings of one of the buttons. He’s vaguely aware of red concrete stone bricks and Tommy’s faint form somewhere in his periphery, but it’s mostly just the button and the string. “I’m sorry. 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks. He’s sitting behind the desk, ready for customers. He’s usually ready for customers these days, when he isn’t committing arson or wandering up and down the Prime Path or sitting on a bench on a hill, hands fidgety and unsure, like he’s missing something. That is, if he’s to believe Ranboo: Tubbo hasn’t left the Bee and Boo much. Ranboo says that’s what Tommy’s been doing, though. 

A few people have even stayed in the hotel. People will stop by to visit, to see if it’s true, to say hi to Tommy or to talk to Tubbo or just to gawk, even, and usually end up staying in a room at Tommy’s insistence. 

Tommy always acts like he’s going to charge them for it, but he never actually does. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t need money. Maybe he just forgets. He forgets a lot of things. 

“In prison,” Tubbo mutters. “Sam might’ve let me in. I didn’t even try.” There are tears at the corners of his eyes, suddenly, but he rubs them away. He’s sick and tired of having a wet face. It’s sticky and awful and he always ends up with a headache and a stuffy nose. 

“...What are you on about?” Tubbo glances up. Tommy is giving him an odd look. “Prison? Dream is the only one in prison. We put him in there, remember? I kicked his ass with the—with—” He frowns, making a swinging motion with his hands. “With—with that axe. You know?” 

Tubbo sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He goes back to his button. 

xxx

Ranboo comes for him later that evening, when the sunset has just begun to filter through the windows. Tubbo hasn’t moved from his chair, even though Tommy went somewhere below the desk a while earlier. 

The vest’s button came off. It’s still on the floor where it fell, and Tubbo’s started on a new one. 

“Tubbo,” he says when he walks through the double doors. Tubbo glances up at him. “Tubbo, can we go home now? You’ve been here all day.”

Tubbo doesn’t say anything. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe they can just leave. 

Ranboo walks over. Sinks down in front of Tubbo. He looks away.

“Tubbo.” He takes Tubbo’s hands in his own. “Hey, Tubbo. Can you look at me?” 

Tubbo does not look at Ranboo. Tubbo squints his eyes shut and ignores the prickly wetness. It is not there. It has already been there too many times in the past however-long-it’s-been.

Ranboo sighs. “Tubbo, you can’t do this forever.” He squeezes his hands. A tear trickles down Tubbo’s face. “I know it hurts. I know it hurts. It’s going to hurt. It always will. But you’re not alone, I promise. He might not be here anymore, but you’re not alone.” 

Tubbo breaks the breath he’s been holding to gasp in a new one. It shudders against his lungs, painful and loud.

“Can you talk to me?” Ranboo asks. “Please, Tubbo. It’s been weeks. Please.”

And that’s where he breaks, where all the air comes out in a fragmented sob, where the tears are back again, and he throws himself at Ranboo, collapsing into his chest and tucking his face into Ranboo’s shoulder. He must be startled, Tubbo notes absently, because his hands take a moment to find Tubbo’s back.

“I’m sorry.” Tubbo gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s okay to be sad.” Ranboo is rubbing circles. It’s an awkward, stilted motion, but there’s heart.

“I can’t—” He blinks hard, swallowing a knotted lump. “I can’t. I can’t. He wasn’t supposed to leave me. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who left.” 

Tommy was the queen, and Tubbo the pawn. This directionless pain that festers at his core isn’t supposed to be here. Maybe if Dream had just killed him none of this would have happened. Tubbo would be dead and Dream would be free and Tommy would be in prison but he’d be alive, and maybe Tubbo could visit him as a ghost and keep him company. And neither of them would be this confused because Tommy always knew what to do. He’d get out of the Vault and he’d tell Tubbo what they needed to do next to take down Dream, and it’d be them against the world, the two of them, together always, Tubbo and Tommy, Tommy and Tubbo. 

Ranboo has always ran a little cold, which Tubbo found unnerving at first, but right now, his cool skin is soothing and better than anything else could have been against Tubbo’s face. His head is aching and it feels like it’s burning from the inside. 

“It’s okay,” he’s murmuring. “I’m here. I’m here.”

What am I without you? Tommy asked one day, in a vault swamped in glimmering darkness. And Tubbo said, yourself. It’s an easy solution to the question that leaves Tubbo paralyzed now, but one that hurts and aches and doesn’t help at all. 

He’s been here before, back when he was still president. Back when there was still a nation to be president of. Back when nothing was okay and Tubbo was a monster, the next Schlatt, a tyrant who had only doomed a nation that was doomed from the start. Back then, nothing was okay. 

Everything was supposed to be fine now. And it isn’t. So Tubbo cries.

xxx

A few days later, Tubbo goes out. 

Ranboo is with him, at his side, holding his hand. Tubbo is wearing a green button-down shirt that’s only a little bit green at this point, holey and worn. Tubbo is hazy-headed with tears. Nothing is okay. But today, he has decided to try. 

The sight of the prison made him break down once before, a week or so ago, so when they walk out of the hotel, he fixes his gaze firmly to the right. Stares at the planks of the Prime Path, puts one foot in front of the other. They’ll maybe go to the Community House. Stop by Captain Puffy’s place, or visit Eret, or something. Both of them have a sort of calming presence Tubbo can’t deny wanting to feel again, and Ranboo mentioned something about Puffy wanting to talk to him. He isn’t really sure. For now, it’s easiest just to walk. 

Step by step by step. Tubbo watches the edges of all the builds on the path scroll by. A pattern of blood vines webs its way across the grass. He’s glad there’s none on the path; he’d probably trip. 

The Targay is somewhere on the edge of his vision when he hears it. Plattering, bouncy notes, dancing through the air. He hasn’t heard this song in a while. He isn’t even sure he’s hearing it now. But each step up the staircase has weight, suddenly, as he makes his way towards the embassy. 

He sees it when he crests the hill, of course; it’s hard to miss. Someone cut down the trees that used to stand in the way a while ago, and now it’s just grass and flowers and the bench. That and Tommy, sitting there, staring out at the view, with one arm over the back of his seat just like always. Cat is in the jukebox, spinning just the same as it always has. Tommy must hear him or something, because he turns around, face lighting up when he sees Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” he cries. “Ranboo! You’re here! Come sit with me!” 

Tommy. On the bench. Waiting for him.

Breath caught somewhere in his head, Tubbo stumbles over, feet only kind of there. The grass is soft and the sun is bright and the view is beautiful and he sits down and Tommy is there and there’s music and oh, he thinks he might be crying again. Ranboo sits in the grass to their right. 

Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s neck.

“Hey Big T,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.” It’s almost easy to pretend like everything is the same. “You doing okay?” 

Tubbo looks over at him, blinking hard and mustering a smile. “I’m fine,” he says. “How have you been?”

“Good, good!” Tommy says, flashing a grin. “It kinda sucks being dead, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tubbo swallows. “Why’s that?”

“You never hang out with me anymore!” Tommy complains, kicking his shin. “And when you do, you’re always so mopey. I know you didn’t want me to die, but like… you could at least spend time with me, eh? There’s no point in just forgetting.” 

Tubbo remembers a muttered rant a few months back, something about Jack Manifold and a trident accident and a joke that turned real (count from ten backwards, don’t let this ruin your life), and he exhales. Leaning into Tommy’s touch, he tries again at a smile. “You’ve gotten a lot wiser, haven’t you?” 

“Nah, I’m just dead,” he says. “Seriously, though, Tubbo. It sucks, really, it does. But you can do this. I believe in you. You are—quite possibly—the coolest person I know. And you will be okay.”

Tubbo can’t see past his tears. “I—I just—” He stops. Takes a deep breath. “I feel so lost without you. It was always for you, all of it, I don’t—”

“No, no, Tubbo—” Tommy catches his hands where they’ve flown up to rub away the tears— “Thank you. Please. Thank you. For everything. I would have never made it half as far without you. So please. Keep going for me.”

Cat ends, the final note ringing out into the midmorning air. Tommy stands, grabbing the disk from the jukebox and giving it a spin on his finger. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright, Tubbo?” he says. “I’m gonna go put this away. And then I’ve got to go make sure I haven’t missed any cli-enteys.”

“Okay,” Tubbo whispers. “Okay, Tommy.” 

Tommy starts off down the Prime Path, whistling a senseless tune to himself. Ranboo wraps his hand in his cool grip. Tubbo takes a deep breath.

“And Tommy?” he calls.

Tommy looks over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“I love you.”

“Ew.” Tommy squints at him, but he’s grinning. “That’s gross. You’re gross. You’re really—you disgust me sometimes, Tubbo, you know that?” 

Tubbo laughs, then, for real, for the first time in weeks. And he thinks, then, that maybe, maybe, it’s going to be okay. 

[andromedasummer]

alright, here we go:

i obviously hate the guy now, but back when i used to really like and respect ryan, i still never found him as funny as everyone else. there definitely are bangers and iconic moments he had, but most of what i remembered fondly was because of the people around him.

personally, i believe gavin is great, both on his own, and when he bounces off of other people to get a laugh from them and the audience. jack of all trades and shit. ryan's humor worked for me almost solely due to how the others reacted to him. you know how he played up the whole "wholesome dad with slightly edgy/creepy humor" persona? i laughed my ass off when someone like jack or geoff was like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" when he casually said something off-putting.

when ryan did the same thing during, say, a solo twitch stream, it just didn't grab my attention as much unless i was looking at reactions from the live chat. it didn't hit the same, but it was the closest i could've gotten to that feeling. what i felt when watching his solo streams is something i can put in another, Much shorter ask, but basically, i felt that the vibes were Off, so i didn't watch his streams as much as many other fans in the community did.

because of all of this, i miss the collaborative jokes, like that pubert thing, that ryan played a larger part in. with other stuff, i can push ryan out just fine, but if it's something he directly started or contributed a lot towards, it feels much more awkward for me to listen to, knowing all the nasty shit he was doing when the cameras turned off.

I really liked Ryan way back when. He was the favorite AH member of a best friend of mine, hell I knew a kid who named themselves after one of his characters names. His dark humour seemed like a kind of silly act and that the real guy was the open family guy who was explicitly supportive of the queer fans. Hell a lot of the fans he especially attracted were the queer AH and RT fans because of this. He built this image if himself perfectly. Its only now in retrospect that any of us can see what was wrong, what wasn't really a joke and happening behind the scenes.

Like I would get annoyed by Ryan (especially when he bullied Matt I would sit there and think of what I would have yelled at him while watching Galacticraft and often have to replay bits from 5 mins earlier okay i got MAD) but I never saw outward criticism of these patterns until after because, as a fan favourite, those perceptive people who noticed something offncouldn't speak out without being silenced.

Like his whinyness, his entitlement and argumentative ways seemed like a joke or a bit back then so I could put up with it but now we know it wasn't a joke, that it was tiring for the other AH members, that he'd do the same thing to get what he wanted from those girls. It makes my skin crawl knowing what we know now.

Streams especially make it obvious looking back. But I never watched and still don't watch AH members stream as I need a LOT to focus on live stuff, so I never noticed the disconnection. I thought them not streaming together was a rule like the one that made Ray leave. Ryan's deliberate disconnection ftom the others in streams, where he found a few of his victims in chat, made sense because AH had no way of seeing chat or his behaviour and his mods were essentially powerless to do anything because if he wanted them to not know something, he could do it easily. It was the perfect area where he had ultimate control

Hell I could have easily have been in the same position of many of those girls. At the height of his behaviours I was completely isolated from friends and family, at the lowest point in my life using content to fight away depression qnd had latched onto an unhealthy relationship. The only thing that stopped me from joining the community was that I found Ryans streams boring as shit. And thats because I have adhd and autism that makes my viewing tastes and times incredibly specific.

[noonachronicles]

The End of the F**king World Pt. 2

Byun Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Language. Character death. Smut(ish) - Masturbation/descriptive sexual fantasy. 

Genre: Apocalyptic/Alien Invasion AU. Slow Burn (ish?). One pining pup and one idiot in denial to eventual lovers.

A/N: This is a lot. I went through this about a hundred times but guaranteed I missed something that needs to be edited anyway. So sorry about that but enjoy regardless!

During the first few days after Chanyeol and Baekhyun found Cordially the five of you spent your daylight hours securing the premises before taking up residency. In what you found to be a startling turn of character for you, you were one of the more fearless members of the family and were quick to take on Lurkers. With Irene still shook up and Seulgi having to take care of her, it ended up being you and the boys that killed any unwanted residents and cleared out the building. After that it was you and Baekhyun who took on the roles of scavengers. You searched nearby buildings for supplies that you needed for survival like food, water, and weapons. You also looked for items on a list that Chanyeol had curated for a special project he wanted to work on.

Seulgi and Irene stayed in the building at first. They really cleanied things up. They found and barricaded all of the exits except for the front door and also created a list of needs. It was all things they needed in order to really turn Cordially into a home. They hung curtains so that everyone had a private area to themselves, made beds out of cushions. Irene even set up the bathroom so that it felt nicer, and attached a showerhead to the sink faucet so getting clean didn’t have to mean having to shove your soapy head under the faucet.  

With both lists constantly growing you realized pretty quickly you’d have to expand your search area. Even if the idea was a little scary considering that you had no idea what was out there. Back then there were still plenty of unsavory people hanging around the city on top of the even less savory creatures. There had been a few groups of people, truly lawless men, that you’d run into who seemed to feel entitled to more of you than you wanted to give them. It was situations like that where Baekhyun really stepped up and you felt lucky to have his protection. There were a couple of times that things could have been much worse than they were if it weren’t for him. It was also because of those situations that he was always on high alert and overly cautious when it came to strangers. Especially strangers that showed any extra interest in you.

He almost took off Taemin’s head when the two of you found each other. It had been nearly three weeks since that last morning together. He had sped towards you out of nowhere, not much more than a blur, before crashing into you. The hug you’d gotten from him wasn’t one you’d ever forget. As you tried to assure a panicked Baekhyun that you were fine and that you knew him, Taemin cried into your shoulder. He kept saying how he thought he lost you and how grateful he was that you were alive. It reached right to your chest and squeezed your heart. Of course you were friends but you hadn’t realized that you were so important to him, he’d never told you before. That afternoon Taemin officially introduced you to Jongin and also to Hyunwoo who they’d met by chance.

The more you got out of your comfort zone the better things ended up getting. It was only then that you met Sehun, Baekho, and Seungcheol. Sehun had been a weapons specialist with the army. He’d come to the city with his squad on the first day of the invasion but things went south fast. Within the first week he’d watched each and everyone of his fellow soldiers get torn to shreds. If it wasn’t for him it would have taken you much longer to figure out the Lurkers weak spots. Before he told you where they were you, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol had just been beating them relentlessly and hoping for the best.

On the day you’d met, Sehun had found you using a baseball bat as a weapon. He’d said it was fine but only useful in close proximity. Seeing as close proximity combat was not ideal, he spent a few hours everyday teaching you how to throw knives until he’d decided you had sufficient accuracy. He taught Baekhyun proper sword techniques and how to throw axes. Every new survivor that he met got a lesson from Sehun in weapons and self defense.  

Baekho had been a personal fitness instructor and wellness coach which proved to be invaluable to the Community. Once all of the Family’s began working together he was in charge of managing the food supply that others scavenged and planning meals that would not only make the food last the longest amount but that would keep everyone from becoming too malnourished. And Seungcheol had been a medical school student before the invasion. He did what he could, while still learning himself, to teach at least one member of each family first aid and some basic medical skills so that no one was ever too far away from help. For your family it was Seulgi that ended up taking quickly to that role.

As time passed everyone learned how to do something. Everyone in the community had a role to play, a valuable skill set. All the members of the Community knew that working together would be the only way to survive. Anyone who didn’t want to contribute was welcome to leave the city, try their luck and make it on their own somewhere else. It seemed harsh at first, pushing people out, but everyone’s lives were already balanced on such a slippery slope that you couldn’t afford the disruption of a member that only thought of themselves. There had been a few in the beginning whose selfishness had gotten good people killed. Making rules and banishment necessary.  

Ultimately working together so closely meant that everyone became close. Partially because after three years there were so few of you. Partially because you all shared a major common interest in survival, the great equalizer. Every time someone died or disappeared it only strengthened that bond and your need to protect one another grew stronger. There wasn’t a single person in the Community that you didn’t care for or enjoy being around but your family always came first. And that was a fact that seemed true for everyone.

A week had already passed since your birthday and you were mostly grateful to have things fall back to normal fairly quickly. In just a few days there was the trip to the Farm and everyone seemed to be getting ready for that. It wasn’t a huge deal, not anymore at least, but it did take some preparations. Once again Chanyeol chose Baekhyun and Irene to be the two people from your family to go.

The last time you’d taken the trip out to the Farm there’d been an accident. It was a simple misstep. Anyone could have made the mistake but not just anyone had. You did, and it left you stranded alone just outside of the city in the middle of the night with a sprained wrist and possible concussion. You made it back home by the next morning, you never once thought you wouldn’t. Humble enough to never say it to anyone's face, you knew if anyone could come back from that, it was going to be you. Regardless, after that trip Chanyeol never asked you to go again.

It seemed silly and you weren’t sure how or why it happened, but after the invasion Chanyeol had become an important figure in your life. You respected him more than anyone, which meant that his approval had become your goal in almost everything you did. When he was proud of you, you were proud of yourself, and he almost always was. So when he didn’t choose you to go on trips or missions it made you feel like he didn’t think you were capable and it crushed your ego every time.

That morning, after finding out once again that you wouldn’t be going, you were pretty frustrated. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye to anyone before heading outside. You’d left so quickly you even had to stop just across the street to sit on the curb to tie your boots the rest of the way before going out on your scavenge. It shouldn’t have upset you so much, it was such a petty, insignificant thing to be bothered by but the more you thought about it the more it riled you up. Almost finished lacing up, you didn’t say anything when you saw Baekhyun walk out of Cordially, you weren’t really in the mood for chatting. You thought maybe he hadn’t seen you because he started to walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction but before he got too far he stopped and turned around, hurrying over to where you were sitting.

“Hey,” he said quickly, “I wasn’t going to say anything…”

“So don’t.”

He grinned down at you, “You seemed really upset about the Farm, just checking to see if you’re good.”

“I’m fine.” You sighed and pushed yourself up to your feet.

“I was just thinking, if you want, we could go out together. We haven’t done that in awhile.”

“Honestly. I’d just rather be alone right now.”

“Look, I get that. It’s just… when people go out and they’re upset mistakes happen.” He shrugged, “You’re looking pretty tense. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You scoffed, “I said I was fine but clearly you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself too. Nice.”

“You’re the best we have in the whole community. You’re fearless. No one thinks you can’t take care of yourself.”

“Really? Is that why Chanyeol refuses to trust me with the simplest of tasks?” You asked, feeling the heat rise up your neck. “I fucked up once. Now he doesn’t even trust me enough to sit in the back of a truck for a couple of hours without killing myself.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “That’s not why he doesn’t let you go on Farm runs.”

“What other possible reason could there be?”

“You weren’t here that night.” He sighed, “Seulgi was inconsolable when you didn’t show up before lockdown. She sat by the door for hours just crying and praying you’d show up. She had Yeol on the walkies with the other leaders all night trying to figure out what happened to you. It was a disaster. When you came back she made him swear he’d never put you in a situation like that again.”

“She what?” You were a little uncertain how to feel.

Part of you was furious that she would do that, treat you like a child. The rest was crushed that your friend had been so worried and never told you. When you arrived home the next day she had barely even reacted. She had only helped you get your wrist bandaged up and told you to rest because she was concerned about your head. At most you remembered her telling you she was happy you were okay but beyond that she said nothing.

“They don’t know I know she asked him for that.” He admitted, “But bedrooms with walls made out of sheets aren’t great for a lot of privacy.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, grabbing your walkman out of your backpack before throwing the strap over your shoulder. “I’m fine, Baek. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not trying to be, I swear. I honestly just want to make sure you’re okay out there.”

“Listen,” you said as kindly as you could. “I can take care of myself. I do it all the time. Trust me.”

“Okay.” He nodded, “If you need me, you know how to find me.”

“Thanks.”

You put your headphones in and pressed play on before heading off down the empty street. Baekhyun wasn’t wrong. You were tense and annoyed which kept you off guard. He was only trying to be nice, but you also knew what you could do to relax and it didn’t require him. In fact spending the day with him probably would have only made it worse. You headed down the street to where you knew you could be alone.

Baekhyun might have agreed to trust you, but that didn’t keep him from worrying. People got themselves hurt going out on scavenge on good days. Going out when your head wasn’t totally in the game was a bad idea. He wasn’t going to willingly let you go off and get yourself killed. He’d rather you catch him following you and be pissed off at him than have you hurt. So that’s exactly what he did.

Around the corner and down a couple blocks, around another corner and down another block. He had no idea where you were headed. He wasn’t even sure what quadrant you were in anymore. As he followed you he wondered how you’d ever know what was going on around you with your headphones in all the time. It was now surprising to him that you ever made it home alive with how easy it was to follow you. God forbid you were ever in a building, deaf to the sounds of the Lurkers.

Finally after about twenty minutes of twists and turns you ducked inside a building that used to be a high rise bank building. It had been about sixty floors tall, but now it sat around twelve. A crashing plane wing had sliced through one side of the building. The top of the building had toppled over crushing several other buildings in its wake. He thought it was a little weird that you’d scavenge over here, as most the buildings were completely destroyed and didn’t offer much as far as supplies. Still he followed you inside.

Once in the building he caught sight of you disappearing through a stairwell. As he inched his way up the stairs quietly he was still confused about what you were doing in this abandoned building. You were meant to be scavenging but as he passed several floors he only confirmed to himself you’d have no use for a place like this. Unless maybe you were hoarding supply’s somewhere you thought no one would ever look. He nearly laughed out loud at the idea that you were capable of that kind of betrayal.

Just before the last few steps he hesitated. What if you were here to meet someone privately? He felt heartbroken already, it would devastate him to see you meeting with someone else. Especially considering he knew everyone you knew and they all knew how he felt about you. He scolded himself at the thought. He didn’t own you, you weren’t his. Just because he was in love with you didn’t mean you had to be in love with him. He guessed, if whoever you were with made you happy, he could be okay with it. Even if it hurt.

Being the bigger man about it or not, he still had to know or it would drive him crazy. He was just going to see who it was, that’s it, and then he’d leave. He took the last steps and looked around. This floor had been completely destroyed. It acted as more of a roof with just a few beams still standing and a handful of walls that hadn’t completely crumbled to dust. Even still he didn’t see you right away and he didn’t understand how he could have possibly lost you. There was nothing up there. He’d searched for a bit and about given up. Thinking about heading back downstairs was when he finally thought he heard you. Boots crunching over gravel, glass, and other debris. Moving quickly he rounded one of the walls and paused.

When he found you, you were climbing on top of a large cement platform that overlooked the city. You dropped your bag, put your tape player on top of it and pulled your jacket off. Your legs swung side to side as you looked out over the other buildings. After a few minutes he realized you probably weren’t there to meet anyone. He was just about to call out to you, say something so you would know he was there. Before he could think of something witty or clever to say you did something that froze him in his place.

Closing your eyes, you lifted your hand up your stomach and underneath your bra to massage your breast. It had taken you a few minutes to decide what you were going to fantasize about but when you came up with it you were pretty certain it would work. Arching your back slightly you pressed further into your palm and pictured your perfect fantasy scenario.

Shirtless Hyunwoo, a little sweaty, in all of his golden glory, like maybe you’d already fucked once or twice already. Rough hand feeding you pieces of chocolate. Gently sucking the melted chocolate from his fingertips. Soft warm skin covering his hard muscular body. Softer kisses from his smiling lips. The crinkled smile that made it look like there’s no possible way he could see anything. Moving your hand back down your stomach you quickly unbuttoned your jeans.

Back in your fantasy the chocolate was gone, it was just the two of you together in a soft clean bed. You were pretty certain the mattress you’d imagined would be enough to get you off, it had been so long since you’d slept in a nice bed. Hyunwoo’s hand was rubbing your inner thigh. Your hand, in real time, was already in your panties. Fantasy Hyunwoo was being stubborn. He would not move his hand beyond your thigh, despite your best imaginative efforts, you couldn’t get him where you needed him the most. It was just a glitchy loop of his hand massaging your thigh and kisses on your neck. This wasn’t working, Hyungwoo apparently wasn’t meant to be the man of your dreams today. Opening your eyes you tore your hand from your pants.

“Damn it!” you cried out of frustration. You hopped off the platform into some rubble and picked up a chunk of cement debri, throwing it hard against one of the few still standing walls.

On top of already being upset about this morning it had been months since the last time you were able to get yourself off. It was agonizing. You were so tense you could feel it constantly in your neck and back, it was driving you crazy. After a deep sigh of defeat you moved your hands to button up your jeans once again and then paused. Before grabbing your bag and giving up completely you thought there might be someone else that might work. The same person who had worked for you the last time. With a semi reluctant groan you leaned back against the platform.

When you closed your eyes you were back at the Cordially in the second floor women’s room. It was candlelit and there were flowers everywhere like they had been last week for your birthday. Your back pressed against the cold wall, a mosaic of diamond shaped mirrored tiles. Hand between your thighs, fingers tightly gripping a handful of thick hair. Slick, wet tongue brushing against your sex.

Still gripping his hair roughly, fantasy you pulled Baekhyun up until he was standing in front of you. Both of you were completely naked and wet. In his hand was the showerhead. His other hand was pushing his wet hair back off of his face, his tongue brushed over his swollen lips. Both you in real life and you in the fantasy gulped. This was going to work just fine.

His skin was slippery and warm as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips were mashed together in a kiss. He pulled away and you let out a noise like a complaint. As he kissed along your jaw he brought the showerhead between your thighs.

Lips against your earlobe you could hear his voice perfectly in your head, “Tell me how much you want me.”

Real you let out a whimper at the thought and your thighs were trembling around your wrist already. You had to sink down to your knees amongst the debri or risk collapsing with jello legs. Fantasy you and real you gasped out to fantasy Baekhyun, to the empty roof, to the whole city. “God. I want you so bad. Please, I need you.”

You leaned your head back and fantasy Baekhyun latched his mouth to your throat. A heady moan escaped your lips as he kept the showerhead pulsing against you.

“You taste so good, baby.” he muttered after removing his mouth from your neck with a pop. “I wanna know how you feel.”

Real life you knew that all you had to do was keep hard and fast against your wildly sensitive clit and this could all be over in a minute, but instead you needed it to last longer. You wanted more. Leaning back and spreading your knees you slipped two fingers knuckle deep

You let out a barely audible, “Baekhyun.”

In your fantasy one of his hands gripped your hip and the other one lifted your leg up to his waist. Your wet bodies slipped together so easy and soon he was pumping into you relentlessly. Just you and him in the soft glow of the candles. Water from his soaked hair dripping down his face as he absolutely devoured you with starving eyes. He was so beautiful.

“Y/n...you feel amazing.” He gasped against your mouth before dipping his tongue between your lips, the pink muscle swirling around yours.

“Oh, god!” You moaned louder than you expected to, “I’m gonna come.”

In real life you flew forward on your knees and held yourself up by one hand. The palm of your one hand was pressed hard into sharp pieces of cement debri as you fucked yourself with the other.

“Oh fuck! That’s it! God! Yes! Yes...” You cried out as your orgasm hit hard.

Face flush you collapsed down onto your elbows to catch your breath. After a couple minutes you sat up and sucked your fingers clean, wanting to rid yourself of the sticky residue your orgasm left. Getting back on your feet you pulled your pants back up to your hips. With a satisfied sigh you grabbed your backpack and jacket from where they were laying on the platform. You pulled out your water bottle and rinsed your hands. After a handful of deep breaths and a quick drink of water from your bottle you pulled the straps of your bag over your shoulders. There was a renewed pep in your step as you made your way across the rooftop and back down the stairs.

Baekhyun stood with his back flat against the one wall left standing near the stairs. With an obvious erection bulging in his pants he held his breath as you passed. After he watched you skip down the stairs with a light whistle he finally let himself breathe. He hadn’t meant to stay, he really didn’t. He knew it was wrong and about ninety-nine percent of him felt horribly guilty and disgusting for staying, but he’d never felt so completely paralyzed in his life. All he could do was stand there with his eyes wide open and his mouth catching flies.

When he realized what you were doing his brain screamed RUN! but his feet were planted firmly to the ground. He just stood there and stared, mesmerized by the way you brought yourself to orgasm. It was a vision he’d fantasized about countless times, but truthfully never actually expected to see for himself. He only wished he could have heard what you’d been saying but he hadn’t dared to move any closer than he already was. It wasn’t until you’d sucked your fingers clean that he’d been able to throw himself behind the wall, praying you hadn’t seen him. So weighed down he didn’t think he’d ever be able to move from that spot. It was as if in that moment you’d transferred every ounce of your stress and tension directly onto his shoulders.

-  

Before the invasion Taemin had worked at a second hand, designer clothes boutique downtown. The shop was down a street that locals lovingly referred to as Vintage Alley. It had been called that because every store on that street, for several blocks, offered only used goods and goods from a different time.

Used Only was a used bookstore that didn’t offer a single book that hadn’t been well loved already. Coco’s Closet, where Taemin worked, offered high quality pre-owned designer clothes and accessories. There wasn’t a coffee house or a frozen yogurt shop to be seen. There was, however, Greasers which was a diner that offered the best burger and fries combo you’d ever had. And there was a soda shop across the street where you could get ice cream after if you hadn’t already eaten a slice of pie. There was even Biff’s Bowling Alley and a movie theater that only played movies from decades ago.

It had been perfect for a completely themed date night. A quirky little part of the city that locals loved just as much as tourists. Your favorite shop on the whole street was Around Again. It was a record shop that had been around since the 1930’s. It still had booths in the back where customers could listen to the records before they bought them. The whole store was lined from wall to wall with old vinyls. There weren’t CDs and they didn’t sell iPods. Except for an old cardboard box you’d found in the back that had a bunch of cassette tapes and a single, silver Walkman, it was strictly vinyl.

Later in your day, after you’d checked a couple buildings for supplies, you rounded a corner about a block away from the record store. Tears for Fears had been playing through your headphones and you felt on top of the world. That corner you rounded brought you from Quad Nine, which was where your family resided, to Quad Eight. As soon as you turned the corner you were less than surprised to see Taemin, Jongin, and Hyunwoo since Eight was theirs. There was also a hodge podge collection of other Community members from Six and Seven hanging around, there typically was.

Taemin perked up when he saw you arrive, he’d been lounging on the top of an Army tank that had been left in the middle of the road. “Trespasser! You must pay the toll!”

You shook your head as you made your way to the tank, pulling your backpack around to the front to drop your tape player in and grab your payment. Reaching the tank Taemin dropped his hand down to you and you offered him a sucker.

“Ah yes,” he smiled, accepting the sweet, “Thank you, my beautiful candy dealer.”  

Jongin popped his head over the side of the tank as well with big, bright and hopeful brown eyes, “Do you have any of those Jolly Ranchers left?”

“I think so.” you hummed as you dug through the pocket of your pack. “Just a few, is that okay?”

You reached your hand up, offering  him the candy and his smile burned brighter “Perfect. Thank you, y/n.”

“How about you?” You asked, looking over at Hyunwoo who was sitting under the shade of a tree. “Craving anything sweet today?”

“The only sweet thing he’s craving is you.” Taemin laughed.

Hyunwoo shook his head trying to ignore the comment, “No thank you, y/n. Maybe next time.”

“Hey, speaking of next time. What are you going to do when the scavengers get pushed to look outside of the city?” Jongin asked as he popped a candy into his mouth. “You’ll never have time to visit the record store anymore.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do? How am I supposed to survive not seeing you nearly every day?” Taemin whined.

You hadn’t actually thought about it,  “I don’t know. It’s going to suck, but you know me, I’ll find a way.”

Jongin shrugged, “You could always join our family.”

“Oh my god!” Taemin nearly shrieked with excitement. “Yes! Join our family! You can be the mom!”

“Tae, you’re a grown ass man.” You scowled.

“Tae’s a baby.” Jongin laughed. Taemin only nodded cutely, looking especially childlike with the sucker hanging out of his mouth.

“You could, you know?” Hyunwoo said thoughtfully. “You could always come stay with us. We have plenty of space at the church. I promise you don’t have to be anyone’s mom.”

“And we’re not gross like most boys.” Taemin added as extra incentive.

Your face flushed, “Oh. I mean… I love you guys. I’d love to stay there with you. If I did that though one of you would have to fist fight Seulgi for me, and I don’t think any of you are prepared for that.”

Hyunwoo just smiled, “Someday.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You sighed nervously, “Well, if I don’t pass you guys on my way back, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Same place, same time.” Jongin grinned. “Try and find more Jolly Ranchers. “

“Bye mom!” Taemin called out to you as you continued your way down the street.

It wasn’t until almost six months after the invasion that you remembered the record shop existed. You’d snuck into the eighth quadrant during a scavenge to see if it was still standing and that’s when you’d found your beloved tape player. When Hyungwoo found out that you’d been moping around the record store trying to figure out how you were going to listen to music without electricity he set up a gas run generator he’d found and told you to use it until it ran out of juice. After that you could play records whenever you wanted. He’d claimed he thought it was a really good idea to have it available for the Community, that the music would be a good mood booster for anyone that needed it. While a lot of people would come around every once in a while to spend a little time in one of the booths, for the most part the record store was yours.

A faded maroon awning hung out over the windows in front of the building which had been blown out, probably during that first blast. The door had stayed intact. You found that even though the awning was shredded to bits in some parts it kept the shade well enough, but the sun would blast through the glass of the door and into the booths so you’d plastered newspaper scraps over it. There were never any Lurkers in the shadows at the back of the shop and you weren’t sure if it was because they just never went inside the building or if Hyunwoo or one of the others cleared them out everyday before you arrived. Either way you weren’t exactly going to complain.  

Stepping through the open window frame you already knew what you were looking for. You’d seen it the last time you were there and had been thinking about it ever since. It was an old album by The Supremes that usually put you in a pretty good mood, and since you were feeling chipper as it was you thought it would be a good pick. You were quick to grab the record before moving into your favorite booth right in front. Tossing your bag on the table you put the record on the player and took a seat in the cushy leather chair. As the record began to play, you opened your bag to pull out your collection of nail care products. Sometimes you’d look into your bag and laugh. Candy, nail polish, cassette tapes, a flashlight, a liter bottle of water, a couple of homemade granola bars, and a second set of knives. Only the most important essentials, of course.

As the record played you bent over the table and painted your nails. When the needle reached the end of the first record you flipped through the pile in the booth to see what the others had been listening to and tried out a couple of their most recent picks. Then suddenly you only had about an hour or so left before you’d have to swing by the old corner shop to pick up some food, you were pretty sure you’d seen some canned raviolis the last time you were there, before heading back home.

You put on the last record of the day, a collection of love songs from the fifties. As the needle hit the vinyl and started the pleasant piano tune for Tonight You Belong to Me you stood up for a stretch. You hummed along with the almost sickly sweet sound of Patience & Prudence while you shuffled through the tape box to pick which new ones you’d take with you for the week. You pulled several from their pocket in your backpack and replaced them with a couple of others.

From where you were standing you had a clear view out of the sound booths thick glass window. You could see all the way through the front of the store to the street. That’s how, as you were eyeing the contents of the tape box you noticed in your peripheral the movement outside. When you first looked up you saw Taemin sprint passed the window and a few seconds later Jongin did the same. They were followed quickly by Hongjoon and Jihyo who you had seen hanging out earlier.

Turning down the record player you could hear muffled yelling. You quickly made your way out of the booth to the front of the store. Looking out you could see the others in a serious sprint down the street, nearly an entire block away already. Something didn’t sit right with you in a way that it hadn’t the day of the invasion. On first instinct you looked up to the sky but it was clear.

Hesitantly you stepped through the window and out onto the sidewalk. The air was quiet and calm now but goosebumps rose on your arms and legs from the erriness of the silence. You stood for a moment trying to understand what you were feeling. Then you realized it was panic.

You knew it was stupid to go towards an area people were running from, it wasn’t like you’d never seen a movie in your entire life, but your feet took control. It was like your body was being drawn around the corner. You had to know what it was they were running from. Plus you hadn’t seen Hyunwoo or the rest of the group. Down the main street you could see the commotion in the center of the road. Two men were scrapping. One of them was definitely Hyunwoo. From as far as you were you couldn’t tell who the second was.

You moved forward cautiously, ducking behind stripped car frames and trash cans as you made your way down the road. Halfway down the block you noticed a movement across the street. Taeyong was in an alleyway across from you, arms waving frantically to get your attention. He was trying to mouth something to you but you couldn’t understand him. You watched confused until Yeri ran up the alleyway behind him. She looked like she was sobbing. She grabbed at his sleeve until he finally had to give up and left with her.

More confused and curious than ever you continued pushing forward until you’d almost reached the intersection. The fighting had somewhat settled even if the tension in the air was thick. Hyunwoo was on his hands and knees as the other man stood above him. You were about to stand up, to go to him and stop whatever this was when he lifted his face, and caught sight of you. You didn’t know why but something about the look in his eyes stopped you in your place. Blood was smeared over his forehead, and dripping from his lips. He looked terrified which was an emotion you’d thought he was incapable of. If he was scared you knew that couldn’t mean anything good for you. He looked like you were the absolute last person he wanted to see at this moment.

The man he was with noticed Hyunwoos attention elsewhere and turned his head to look over his shoulder in your direction. You were ducked pretty low behind an abandoned car, sure that Hyunwoo only saw you because he was down at your level. The man couldn’t see you but you saw him, and it took everything you had not to scream.

Chanyeol was a tech genius. You always knew he was a pretty smart guy, but you didn’t realize until after the invasion that he was an actual, bonafide genius. How could you have known, he worked an entry level position at a big box tech company. It would be like if Karl Lagerfield had worked retail at an H&M. He’d even been recruited by the government when he was in high school but shrugged off the opportunity after his first week of training because it “didn’t really feel like his thing” and he missed gaming after school with Baekhyun.

After Cordially had been deemed a suitable home Chanyeol gave you a list of things he needed to get to work on what he called his ‘communications project’. He set up solar powered electricity first. A few scavenged panels on the roof that juiced up a few car batteries which he hooked up to a generator. At first he tried to power the whole building but it became clear that it was unsafe to have the lights and buzzing noises running so heavily during the evening hours. Then after the first long dark winter he also realized you’d have to be more sparing with it just in case. Those two reasons were why the basement was the only place that had power. Within the first year he had every family set up with solar power.

Once he had electricity to work with he made quick work of connecting to the internet. It was low grade. Sloth slow and low quality but he’d connected with other tech nerds from around the globe who’d done the same and they were able to share what they knew. People shared security camera quality videos of where they were and exchanged tips and tricks on surviving. Mostly tips to use against Lurkers, which were also called Esqueleto, Akuma, and Étranger among other things. People also shared survival techniques in general. The benefit of the network he'd created was incalculable to the Community.

Originally, after the invasion, everyone thought the Lurkers were the ‘invaders’. You’d all thought it was just them. They were the creatures that came from somewhere unknown, brought their ships, and decided to attack. Through the network and the gathered information you realized it was not the case at all.

A hacker from Spain sent the first video. It looked like cellphone footage of what seemed to be an ordinary man. The video followed the man around for nearly twenty minutes. It was clear the person taking the video was taking extra precautions to keep hidden from view. Then the man had gotten to a clearing that seemed deserted. You’d never forget the video, the way his hand began to glow. An orb of light materializing out of nowhere. The man threw the orb like a bowling ball into a truck that had been tipped over. As the mass of metal exploded you watched as a group of people scattered out from behind it. Then you watched as he attacked them with what could only be described as bolts of lightning.

After that more and more videos of men with the same power started arriving from all over the world. They all shared an ability to harness light into a weapon. Worst of all, as other videos showed, they all had a perplexing control over the Lurkers. You’d watched as they directed entire hoards of them with a wave of their hands. They could keep them from moving at all or command them to attack. The Lurkers weren’t the invaders, they were simply minions. It was still unclear what the men wanted or why they’d come. Of the cities they’d been observed in, very few survivors were ever left over but they were never cleared out completely.

Chanyeol started charting out where the videos were coming from and when. He had been hoping to find a pattern, something that would tell him when they might be headed to your city. What he realized was in some ways even more disturbing. There weren’t multiple alien leaders. There was only one and he was moving from one city to the next. What made it so unsettling was that he never looked the same in any of the videos or photographs. It always looked like a different man, a few times it had even been a woman.

Once Chanyeol came to his conclusion he confirmed it by going back through old footage. To prove his theory he tracked several videos and found all of the people that this thing had become in the backgrounds of the videos from previous cities. It wasn’t clear if this leader figure was some sort of shapeshifter or a body snatcher. It was clear that before he left a city he would take the form of one of that city's residents. The only indicator all of the forms shared, other than it’s occupants powers, was a sheer veil that he wore across the bottom half of his face.

Nobody who had seen him up close was sure why he wore the veil, saying that there didn’t seem to be anything that needed hiding beneath it. They only knew that he was a ruthless killer that enjoyed playing with his prey and some sort of energy vampire that sucked the light from everything around him. At first Chanyeol called him the Final Boss, but everyone agreed that sounded too gloomy and gave him more power than he already had. Instead, in hopes of giving light to the situation, you all decided to call him Big Baddie.

Frozen to the spot you looked up at the veiled man before you. He didn’t look like he had in the last transmission but that didn’t surprise you. What surprised you most was that, just standing there in his presence, you could feel an almost charming energy. He didn’t seem angry. There wasn’t rage or disgust. He was simply amused. You could see the smile in his dark eyes before he turned back to Hyunwoo.

“Looks like all your friends are gone.”

“Good.” Hyunwoo gasped, looking Baddie directly in his eyes. The fear you’d seen before was gone.

“You think I won’t find them?” Baddie asked with a huff of amusement. “You think sacrificing yourself, dueling me as a distraction so they could escape, you think that really did something. You think you saved them, don’t you?”

“I didn’t need to save anyone. They’re going to save themselves.”

“Is that so?” He laughed genuinely. “Are you so deluded that you think they’re coming back in time to save you then?”

Hyunwoo shook his head. “No. I’ll die, but now you no longer have the element of surprise and they’ll win.”

“The best part is that you truly believe that.”

Your mouth fell open as you watched Baddie’s palm start to glow white, the orb of bright white light begin to manifest. Seeing it in person was actually stunning. It seemed so magical and you even thought it looked beautiful.

“Any last words?”

“Just one.” Hyunwoo got to his feet. His shoulders were back and his head was held high. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you knew it was for you when he said, “Run.”

Baddie chuckled, maybe assuming it was a threat to him and not a command to you. Then Baddie pulled his arm back and even though you had no idea what you had intended on doing you stood up as he slammed his palm forward into Hyunwoo. If you hadn’t known what had happened and what the sight meant you might have thought there was an explosion of star dust. However, you did know and it no longer held the beauty it had seconds before.

You were screaming but you didn’t even realize it until Baddie dropped his hand to his side and turned his head to look over his shoulder. It silenced you. His eyes were dark black and when he locked his gaze with yours you felt even more paralyzed than before. You could just barely see his mouth beneath the sheer veil that covered his face but you knew he was sneering as he eyed you. Something about the look in his eye made you feel sick.

“And what’s your name?” he called out to you.

You didn’t answer. You weren’t even sure what your chances of survival were but without a second thought you turned and ran as fast as you could. You didn’t dare look back as you booked it back down the block and around the corner. Almost out of breath and unsure of where to go you jumped back through the window of the record shop. You skidded to a stop before dropping to your knees in the shattered glass and dust that covered the floor. As fast as you could you crawled to the narrow bit of solid wall between the broken window and the newspaper plastered door.

You pushed your back against the wall and tried to steady your breathing. Tears were streaming down your face as you tucked your knees into your chest. It was hard to tell how quiet you were actually being with your brain going haywire, and heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, it didn’t seem like long. Only so long that you were able to calm yourself enough to realize your hands were bleeding from bits of broken glass. You couldn’t even feel the pain through the terror that shook you.

For just a brief second you allowed yourself to think that maybe he hadn’t followed you. That he’d made a wrong turn or just decided to go somewhere else. However, once you’d had the thought, the sound of whistling echoed softly down the empty street outside. With every second that passed it became clearer and then you heard the heavy crunch of boots over debris. You froze.

A dark shadow came into view on the floor in front of the paper covered door. Your fingers trembled at your thigh, hovering just over your blade. He moved past the door but his shadow didn’t move immediately into the window like it should have. If it weren’t for the eerie whistling, you’d have even thought he left. Then there was a hefty crunch of glass just outside of the window over your other shoulder. You held your breath in your throat as he continued to whistle his song. Fingers gripping your blade you turned your head up towards the window. You couldn’t see much, just the tip of his nose beneath its veil. All he had to do was look down and you were as good as dead. He stayed there for a while just whistling his song before finally turning and walking away. The whistling faded down the street.

You didn’t move for what felt like a whole hour, too afraid that he was still there just waiting for you to come out. The moment you’d witnessed kept replaying in your head over and over until it was burned into your memory forever. You tried to think of other things but it only made it worse because all you could think of was moments with Hyunwoo. His kind face during quiet conversations, the way he laughed, watching him eat at community dinners, the way he cared for Taemin and Jongin. When you were sure you couldn’t cry anymore you sat in silence and tried to remind your numbed body that the sun wouldn’t be in the sky forever and you had people to warn.

A sudden realization hit you then. You knew the song he was whistling. He’d been whistling the song you were listening to in the sound booth. Tonight You Belong to Me. He knew you were there. He knew you were there before you ever even knew he was in the city. He knew you were there when he killed Hyunwoo. He had just been tormenting you. He was probably going to torture every last one of you. You turned to the side as you threw up the contents of your stomach and continued to gag until you were just dry heaving. You couldn’t get yourself to breathe so you just choked on nothing until finally you were able to gasp in a lungful of air.

Still shaking you repeated your new mantra. There are people to warn. Pushing yourself up to your feet you snatched your backpack out of the sound booth and jumped out of the window. Your legs shook like jelly as you made your way cautiously back around the corner and down the block. You paused for just a moment and looked over to the intersection where it happened. You couldn’t start crying again, there wasn’t time. There are people to warn. So you started to run again.

You sprinted all the way back to Cordially, by the time you got there you were wheezing and it felt like you’d torn something at your side. The bar only had two shot glasses that were flipped over. Not even bothering to flip your own you kept moving. Running down the stairs you nearly snapped your ankle slipping off the bottom step.

Baekhyun stared at you wide eyed from the spot he’d taken up on the couch. He’d been paranoid all morning long after what happened. Worried that you’d seen him on the roof, that you’d tell the others and you’d get him exiled from the Community for being a pervert. He didn’t even finish his whole route before coming home. He couldn’t focus and almost got attacked by a Lurker he hadn’t been paying enough attention to.

Your brain was a slushy, panicked soup as you tried to figure out who was there and who was missing. You gasped out your breaths as you looked at Baekhyun and cried out, “Yeol?!”

“Wait!” Baekhyun jumped up off the couch, “Y/n, please! It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have been there. Let’s just talk about this.”

You’d doubled over, still bleeding hands on your knees as you gasped for air. Looking up at him your forehead creased in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“What? What are you talking about?” he asked back, realizing that maybe you weren’t here for what he thought you were here for.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Chanyeol asked, ducking out from behind his sheets.

“Where’s Seul? Irene...where?” you gasped. “Get them back! Get them back here now!”

“Woah, Y/n, calm down.” Chanyeol said growing concerned, “Just breathe, what’s going on? Are you bleeding?”

“Get them!” you screamed. “He’s here. Baddie. He’s here!”

“What?” Baekhyun’s eyes blew wide, “Are you serious?”

“Why would she fucking lie?” Chanyeol asked moving quickly to the desk to find the walkie talkie. There was a second of static and then he called out, “Hello, this is Chanyeol, is anyone there?”

After a moment of deafening silence there was a panicked, “Yeol, it’s Jongin! We need help! We need help! He’s here!”

“Shit. Okay, Jongin. Hold on.” Chanyeol let out a deep breath and looked over at Baekhyun, “Check out front for them, be careful.”

“No!” you gasped, grabbing Baekhyun by the front of his shirt. “Please, Baek, stay. Don’t go out there. He killed Hyunwoo. He’ll kill you too. Please! Please don’t leave!”

“What?” Baekhyun wrapped his arms around your trembling form and helped you gently to the ground. “What did you say?”

“He k-killed…” the reality of it crashed down on you finally and you let out a sob. “He- oh god...He’s dead!”

“Okay, okay.” he pulled you into his arms even tighter, trying to soothe your breakdown. “You’re safe, I’ll stay. We’re all gonna stay here.”

He looked up at Chanyeol who’d taken the walkie to the corner to try and hear better. He was listening to Jongin as Baekhyun caught his eye.

“Hyunwoo?” he mouthed. Chanyeol nodded solemnly. “Fuck.”

Baekhyun waited until you were just lightly crying instead of hysterically sobbing before pulling away from the embrace. He pushed the hair out of your eyes and wiped the mess from your cheeks.  

“I have to go see if I can find them.” he said as calmly as he could, still your eyes blew open like you were going to argue again. “Hey, no! Stay calm. I’ll be okay. You want Seul and Irene back safe, don’t you?”

You nodded and sniffled.

“Then stay here with Chanyeol, he’ll help you with your hands and by the time he’s done we’ll be back.”

Breathing heavily, trying hard not to break down again, you clutched the front of his shirt again, “Promise me.”

With his free hand he rubbed your cheek with his thumb and grinned, “We both know you don’t even like me that much.” Then taking your hand in his he gently freed himself from your death grip on him and stood up. “I promise, I will come back.”

“Baek,” you whispered, looking up at him lost for words, “I...I hate you so much.”

He couldn’t help but smile, “I know. I love you too.”

You felt helpless as you watched him grab his weapons and take the stairs two at a time. Then suddenly he was just gone from view. Chanyeol was hovering over a map of the city, still on the walkie talkie. He was trying to reassure Taemin and Jongin that everything was going to be okay while he started check-ins with the other families. He told them to stay low and locked in.

Once he’d calmed them down enough he started on you. He pulled you to your feet, however shakily, and helped you get the knives off your thigh. Then he brought you over to the desk and helped you clean your hands while he kept up with check ins. You felt numb as you watched him pour water over your hands, the dirt and blood washing off into the bowl beneath them. Then he carefully pulled the left over bits of glass from your palms with tweezers. You didn’t even move when he poured hydrogen peroxide over the cuts. You started to realize he’d been trying to talk to you.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” He said, “We’re gonna figure this out.”

He repeated it over and over. You thought maybe he was saying it more for himself than for you. When he’d finished wrapping your hands you tried to distract yourself by helping him with check-ins, taking note of those who had made it back to their bunkers. Listening in on the ones who had witnessed him, and marking on the map where they’d seen him and when. Hearing almost everyone's voices was calming. However when everything was done only twenty out of thirty-two were accounted for. Seulgi, Irene, and now Baekhyun were part of the missing.

An hour and a half passed by quickly and still nothing. It was almost sundown. You sat on the couch and picked a few leftover pieces of glass from where they’d gotten caught in your jeans. You wondered whether or not it was too late in life to start seriously praying. Chanyeol was sitting in the desk chair with his head in his hands as the two of you waited. The two of you shared twin legs, bouncing relentlessly with anxiety. It was so quiet between the two of you that you could hear the stomping upstairs before the door to the basement crashed open.

“Chanyeol?!” Seulgi shouted as she flew down the stairs.

He was there in a matter of steps to meet her at the bottom before she made it there herself. She jumped off the last step and wrapped her arms around him so tight you thought he might snap. Her face was covered in tears as she kissed his cheeks and he kissed hers. You were relieved to see her but there was a heavy weight on your chest as they told each other how much they loved one another. Finally her eyes moved over his shoulder and she saw you.

“Oh my god, Y/n!” she said moving out of his arms to the couch and wrapping her arms around you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She flipped your hands over to check your bandages. “I’m fine, it’s nothing. Are you okay?”

She nodded, “Scratches from the run back but yeah, I’m okay.”

“Did you see Ba- where’s Irene? Is she okay?”

“She’s hurt, that's what took so long. It’s her ankle, I’m sure she just twisted it. We had bunkered down, I wasn’t sure how we were gonna get back but Baek found us. He’s helping her back but he told me to run ahead to safety.”

“I should go. I should help him.” she grabbed your wrist tightly.

“No.” she said pointedly, “He said specifically not to let you leave. He said he’s fine. I promise, y/n, they were right behind me.”

“Okay.” you nodded, your leg still shaking anxiously.

“I’m going to go check with Yeol, see what we need to do to prepare.” She grabbed your face in her hands, making you look at her, “Stay. Here. I’m serious.”

You watched as she stood and moved over to the desk with Chanyeol. He was back on the walkie with the other leaders, leaning over the map and soon Seulgi was joining him. As quietly as you could you moved toward the stairs and grabbed your new knives. Keeping your eyes on Chanyeol and Seulgi you crept up the stairs.

Once you were out of the basement you rushed to holster your knives as you went to the door. You paused for a moment before reaching for the handle. Before you could the door burst open, slamming against the wall. You let out a scream and jumped back. Baekhyun was standing in the doorway holding Irene in his arms. His jaw clenched tight when he saw you standing there, ready to go. Guns, well blades, blazing.

He was tense as he pushed through the door, “And where were you going?”

“Nowhere.” You lied as you closed the door and slid the two by four into place. “I just wanted to get the door for you. I knew you’d have your arms full.”

“Bullshit.” He spat angrily.

By then Chanyeol and Seulgi had heard your scream and made their way upstairs to see what had happened. They exchanged a few words as Chanyeol grabbed Irene from Baekhyun and moved back downstairs. Baekhyun stayed, his shoulders tense as he watched Chanyeol retreat into the basement. You quickly turned back to the door to close the curtains. He was pissed. He didn’t usually get pissed, so you could always tell easily when he was. And he was going to let you know just how pissed.

“I said don’t leave. I said I was fine. And I know Seulgi told you everything I said.” He practically growled as he turned towards you. You kept your back to him, staring at the curtains wondering how you could disappear into them.

“I didn’t leave.” You said with a gulp. “Technically.”

“You were about to!” He shouted, and you spun around, “Why can’t you listen ever? Why do you always think you know better than everyone else? You’re so much more capable, right? None of us could ever survive without you!”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay! I could have helped.” You shivered at the sight of how livid he was. The back of his neck and ears were red and he was dripping sweat.

“No, you couldn’t have! I didn’t need your help. What I needed was for you to sit your ass in the basement and stay safe.” He spat, “Everyone knows you’re strong, y/n. We know you’re tough. We know you can handle everything on your own. Well guess what, y/n? So can I! I’m just as tough. I’m just as capable.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“That’s exactly what you were saying by trying to come out there! You think I need help, that I can’t do it. It says you don’t trust me enough to let me take care of it on my own.” He continued to yell, you pushed back into the locked door. “You always get so mad when anyone wants to help you. You think everyone thinks you’re weak. Then you go and do the same shit you hate to everyone else. And what fucking good would it have done? What if you went in the opposite direction? What if you didn’t know we’d made it back? Then I have to go back out there and try to find you too because you couldn’t curb your ego just this once. Then we’re both out there. Then we both die. Great fucking idea, genius.”

“Stop!” Seulgi hissed from the other side of the bar, “Stop yelling and come downstairs before Baddie hears you and comes in here to kill all of us.”

Baekhyun glared over at you, he practically snarled, “It’s not worth arguing over anyway. Not like she ever listens.”

You watched in shock, eyes glistening with tears, as he walked away. He’d never, in the entire time you’d known him, yelled at you like that. Not even close. You were shaken. There had been a barstool at the counter that he passed and then he paused. Taking a step back he grabbed the stool and hurled it across the empty hall. When it landed two of the legs were smashed off and skidded across the polished floor. He didn’t say anything else, just stomped down the stairs to the basement.

“You okay?” Seulgi asked, she came over to the door and threw an arm over your frozen shoulder.

“Fine.” you said and shook it off. “He’s right.”

“I told you not to leave.” she said with a shrug as the two of you walked back towards the basement.

“I didn’t even-“

“What?” she laughed, “you didn’t even get the chance to step out of the building?”

“Exactly!” you pouted.

She continued to laugh as you reached the steps. “Amazing, how you continue to miss the point.”

“Which is?”

“He loves you. He yelled at you because the idea of losing you is too much. I would have said the same shit to Yeol. A hundred percent.”

“Well I love you guys too. That’s why I wanted to help.” The two of you had paused at the top of the stairs as she closed the door.

“No, Y/n.” She shook her head gently and sighed. “He’s in love with you.”

You shook your head this time but more defiantly, “No. If he’s in love with anyone it’s with Chanyeol.”

“You love him too.” She said quietly.

You looked back at her, almost disgusted. “I don’t. I don’t love him any more than I do any of you. Actually, I probably love him less. He’s...clingy, and always in my business. And he thinks he’s so funny. It’s annoying.”

“You love him.” She repeated, and looked at you seriously, more serious than she usually did, “I hope you realize that before you lose him.”

“Byun Baekhyun is a cockroach. He can survive anything. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” She said, raising her eyebrows. You just groaned before making your way down the last of the stairs.

-

Tension in the basement was thick that night. Chanyeol was stressed to the point that it looked like he might tear his hair out. It seemed like Seulgi had given up on you for the evening. Even after another couple of hours passed Baekhyun still wouldn’t even look at you. And all of you, in general, were on high alert with the threat of Baddie somewhere out in the city. Seulgi setup Irene on the couch so that she could rest and elevate her ankle, which luckily had been twisted but wasn’t broken. The rest of you sat around the room, mostly patient, as Chanyeol connected with the other families over the walkies to devise a plan for the next day.

It seemed simple enough. Each family was to take an inventory of everything they had, so that you knew what you had on hand to use against Baddie. Then you were all to meet at the amphitheater at noon. The sun clearly didn’t have the same effect on Baddie as it did the Lurkers, and everyone had decided that meant that you needed to be extra cautious moving around the city during the day. From there, once you were all together, you would devise your plan and take votes as necessary.    

The night was finally winding down. Everyone was exhausted and hungry. You especially had been drained physically and emotionally for hours already after having to describe to your family, and everyone on the walkie talkies what you’d seen. All you could think about was crashing on your cot, turning on some music, and contemplating never moving again. As a family you’d all taken inventory of everything you had stored away and in your bags. Everything would have been fine, but then Chanyeol had to push that he knew you kept spare batteries.

“Chanyeol!” You whined, “come on, seriously? It’s two batteries.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He said sternly, “It sucks and I’m sorry. I know you’re almost always the one that gets them for us, but you know he’s an energy vampire. We don’t know where we’ll need those two batteries to go if we want to survive. What if we need extra flashlights?”

“Whatever.” You snapped, angrily dragging your bag to your lap. You pulled out your tape player and released the two batteries. You slammed them down on the table and looked up at Chanyeol, “Are we done now? Can I go?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “Thank you.”

Without another word you got up and grabbed your things before rushing off to your space. You weren’t about to stick around for dinner, it wasn’t as if you could stomach anything anyway.

Seulgi ran her hand over Chanyeol’s back as he buried his face in his palms and groaned, “I hate being the bad guy.”

“She doesn’t think you’re a bad guy.” She assured him. “She’s just having a bad day.”

“Bad day.” Irene scoffed lightly, “I can’t imagine seeing what she saw. Yeah I saw my boyfriend torn to pieces but Baddie in the flesh? That’s bad enough. Baddie killing your friend right in front of you...I’d be so messed up if I was her. It’s like watching the actual end of the world unfold in front of you.”

Baekhyun knew it was petty and it was insensitive but part of him just couldn’t help but mutter out, “Doesn’t get worse than Baddie killing your boyfriend then.”

Irene shook her head, “They weren’t together.”

“They liked each other.” He argued.

“He liked her,” Seulgi sighed, exhausted, “but she likes-“

“Now's not the time, Seul.” Chanyeol said, putting a gentle hand on her leg, “We should eat and get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be rough enough as it is. We have a lot of decisions to make.”

-

After getting ready for bed you laid on your cot quietly as you listened to the others. You picked at the loose threads on your blanket as you tried to imagine what everything they were doing looked like. The sounds of food being made on the hot plate, the smell of something bland. They talked for a little bit about Hyunwoo, memories of him. Then they discussed whether or not they thought the rest of the missing were dead too.  You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, it just wasn’t hard to hear everything everyone said and did.

You watched the lights fade on the ceiling as lanterns went out for the night and people headed to bed. As you laid there in the silence you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to get to sleep. Not with how loud your thoughts were in your head. You’d been laying there, contemplating grabbing a book when you heard Baekhyun's voice came from the other side of your privacy sheet.

“Knock, Knock.”

“What?” You said with a little more bite than you intended.

He dipped his head in between your sheets, “You’re supposed to say, ‘who's there’. You ruined the joke.”

“What do you want, Baek?” You sighed. “Come to yell at me some more? Tell me what a shitty person I am? Because I think you really made your point earlier.”

You watched from your bed as Baekhyun dipped all the way inside through the sheet and sat down on the cot next to your legs.

He waited a moment and said, “You're not shitty and I'm sorry I yelled at you. Tensions were very high. I was just worried, scared. I don’t know, whatever it was, you didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes, I did.” You sat up, pushing your back against the wall. “You were right. What I was going to do was stupid and reckless. I could have gotten all of you killed.”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Say that one more time. The thing about me being right.”

You shook your head. “I will not and you can’t prove I ever did.”

He grinned and looked down at his lap. “I really was just worried. If I’d come down here and you were missing-”

“I know.” You said quietly.

“Anyway, I’m still sorry I yelled. Even if I was, as you said in your very own words, right.” he put his hand down next to your thigh and removed it to reveal two batteries and a granola bar. “If he asks where you got them...”

“He’ll never find out.” Your straight face turned into a smile. Your smile grew and grew until finally turning into a laugh. What you’d really wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and cry about how much it meant to you, but you also weren’t in the mood to cry any more today.

“There it is.” he smiled, rubbing his thumb over your appled cheek, he looked at his watch and then turned its face towards you. It was only eleven. “I made it with time to spare. The smile a day streak continues, gotta be a word record by now.”

You sighed and sank down onto your mattress. “Go to bed, Baek.”

“Right here? With you!” his eyes went wide and his smile was blinding as he joked.

“No!” you groaned as he pushed himself next to you on the mattress anyway. You shoved his chest lamely, “Get off, go to your bed.”

He pouted, burying his face in your side before mumbling, “but you’re so soft and warm.”

“You’re so annoying, Byun Baekhyun!” you said though it was through a laugh. You pushed him with all your strength until the only part of him left on your bed was his stubborn head. His eyes were closed as if he were resting but the smile on his face was bold and pleased. “I hate you so much!”

Still shaking with laughter he stood up finally and gave you a pat on the head, “I love you too, y/n.”

“Hey, Baek…” you said quietly as he reached the sheet. He turned and looked over at you expectantly. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I promised I’d come back, right?” with a small smile you nodded, “Sleep tight.”