#I said it before I’ll say it again the show would’ve been cancelled real soon if they don’t bring Cas back

[thenameisgul]

Holy shit the conventions after season 6 and when the cast had only read the first few episodes and Castiel was dead dead are sooooo awkwarddddd

Misha is like I’ll be polite and hilarious but you killed me so idgaf

Fans keep asking about Castiel and how much we’re gonna see him and how’s his story gonna go

Sera keeps trying to justify killing him off without actually saying anything

And Jensen is just pissed that they’re killing off his and dean’s bestfriend 😂

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: underage drinking, angst, hoseok’s bare abs

Word Count: 10,705

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“Okay, even you have to admit this is too soon.” Finn stared, appalled at the chalkboard. “It’s not even Halloween!”

Laughing a little, you looped your arm around his to drag him towards the back. Plopping down in a chair, you placed your order number in the center of the table. Seating himself across the table from you, Finn began to undo his coat.

“Come on.” He grinned, brown hair flopping when he leaned forward. “Admit it – this is too early for holiday drinks.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little early,” you acquiesced. “But Halloween is tomorrow! They probably just put up the holiday drinks so they don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

“Laziness!” he cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

Shaking your head, you smiled when Namjoon, the barista, placed a pumpkin soy latte before you.

“Thanks!” you said, pulling this towards you.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his dimples before he turned to leave.

Taking a long, slow sip of your drink, you groaned. “Oh my god. This is it. This is heaven.”

Finn laughed. “Is that seriously your first pumpkin drink of the season?” Sadly, he shook his head. “I remember our senior year, you dragged me out of bed at 7:00 AM on a Saturday just to get the first pumpkin drink of the year.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I’ve needed the extra caffeine jolt each morning. Sweet drinks just don’t cut it anymore.”

“Ah, the first step in addiction.” Finn nodded sagely.

Smiling, you settled back in your seat as he took the first sip of his black coffee. It had been two weeks since your fight at the club and since then, Finn had been on his best behavior. For about a week, things between you had been awkward but slowly, your relationship was returning to normal.

Seated in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, you drank from your cup and glanced around the room. This was what you’d pictured when you imagined you and Finn living in the city together. Coffee dates, going on new adventures and continuing your relationship where it had left off.

Of course, this morning was only possible because Miss Britt’s ballet class had been cancelled. A contemporary master class had been scheduled for the afternoon, but your day before then was free – something you’d immediately taken advantage of by calling Finn. It was becoming easier to fit each other into your schedules, more like second nature, but things were still tense whenever things didn’t line up.

None of this was eased by the burgeoning whatever-it-was you’d shoved to the back of your mind regarding Jimin. Since the day of Mr. Vlad’s ballet class, you’d managed to keep your emotions in check, but were constantly on the lookout for dangerous situations. You and Jimin were professionals, obviously, but you were also only human. It was reasonable to have subconscious wants and desires, but these weren’t important unless you chose to act upon them.

You didn’t tell Finn about it because honestly, there was nothing to tell. Okay, so you’d felt an errant spark one day during a lift. Big deal. Finn had been your boyfriend for over two years – it would take more than that to threaten your relationship. A relationship which, frankly, had been getting stronger as of late. Telling him something as inconsequential as a spark you had with Jimin would only take you further down the wrong path.

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing separate things tomorrow?” Finn interrupted your thoughts. His brow furrowed. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” You nodded. “Halloween, the internationally known couple’s holiday.”

He laughed. “Okay, point made – but still.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. This was something you’d already been over. “It just makes sense like this! Your friends are going to that off-campus party and I promised Noelle I’d go to this club thing with her.”

“Right, of course.” Finn grinned. “I’m bummed I’ll miss seeing you as the Powerpuff girls, though. Who’s going to be the third one, again?”

“Well, I’m Blossom – obviously.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Miss Responsibility.”

A twinge of annoyance went through you, but you pushed it aside. You didn’t think you were always the responsible one but admittedly, you’d been more on edge than usual lately.

“Anyways,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “I’m Blossom, Noelle is Buttercup and Irene is going as Bubbles. It’ll be fun! Aside from the whole club part, of course.”

“It does sound fun,” Finn admitted, a tad mournful. “Meanwhile, I’ve been roped into the classic college bro costume of Ghostbusters.”

“Oh, come on! That is classic! You’ll be super cute in your… suit? Cargo pants? What do Ghostbusters wear again?”

“Knowing Ben, something tragic from Party City. Pray for me.”

“I’ll light candles.”

Finn grinned, sipping his coffee again and your conversation slipped naturally to other topics.

Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, which meant every college campus was gearing up for some epic parties. Noelle had managed to snag tickets to a club fancy enough to require an RSVP. Apparently, said brother she missed was a DJ and could get tickets to a lot of things if Noelle bothered to ask.

A bunch of people from Russet were going, which made you excited. There hadn’t been many parties with your classmates so far this semester. Despite technically being in college, your classmates were all under the same intense pressure, only made worse by constant early morning ballet.

This week though, even your teachers seemed to have decided you needed a break. Aside from the master class you had this afternoon, there were zero Russet classes until Monday morning. The break in schedule meant you could actually go out – and drink – if you so decided. You and Noelle were planning on attending a ballet class tomorrow, but your entire day after would be free.

You’d originally planned on seeing Finn during the day, but then he’d been invited to a Halloween darty (day party) starting at noon. Despite not seeing Finn on Halloween, you weren’t feeling stressed. It was only one holiday and not even a couple’s one, as you’d said.

After coffee, you kissed Finn goodbye and headed to class at Danley Hall. The atmosphere was different as soon as you entered the classroom – all of the students were buzzing, excited by the prospect of the weekend ahead. The excitement only grew when coupled with the fact that today’s class was contemporary.

For nearly two months, your training had been mostly ballet. This was the foundation of all western dance, and where most dance students were expected to start. Finally though, you were being given a chance to show off. Today’s teacher, Luna Jordan, was a well-known contemporary choreographer across the globe.

You’d done a master class with her once back in high school and honestly couldn’t wait to learn from her again. She wasn’t alone, though, you noticed as you walked in – an unfamiliar, dark-haired guy stood beside her, stretching lithely before the room’s mirror.

“Holy shit,” Noelle whispered as she came to a stop. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Startled, you looked twice and saw she was right. You hadn’t recognized him without his bevy of followers, but Jeon Jungkook was known in the dance world. A child prodigy, he’d been on America’s Got Talent at age eleven and finished in second place. Following this, his family had moved to LA and he’d been in high demand for movies, music videos and performances ever since.

You remembered hearing he worked with Luna Jordan, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before now that he might be here.

Noelle cocked her head to one side. “He’s hot.”

“Noelle,” you hissed, trying to shush her.

“What!” A devious grin spread across her face. “Am I supposed to be blind, as well as mute?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Luna clapped her hands together. “I know everyone is excited for the weekend, but we unfortunately have an hour and a half together before then. Everyone spread out for warm-ups!”

A few people laughed, spreading out on the floor as class began. Noelle wriggled her eyebrows, pulling you towards the front in order to get the best spot. Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and settled beside her into a stretch.

Noelle was nearly as excited as you were for the opportunity to dance contemporary. Most of your classmates knew this to be your forte – you caught glances from the corner of your eye while you warmed up, trying not to let their attention get to your head.

Jimin was also near the front, although on the opposite side. You suspected your class was equally excited to see him perform – as talented as Jimin was at ballet, there was a reason you hadn’t thought he’d be at Russet this fall. Jimin’s strength in jazz and contemporary was unparalleled. You would’ve thought he’d gone to LA to become a dancer like Jungkook.

Speaking of whom – Jungkook really was attractive; that much couldn’t be denied. He had dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When he glanced up from his stretch, his gaze somehow found yours and he smiled.

Eyes widening, you stared until you caught sight of Jimin behind him. Glancing between the two of you, Jimin’s expression soured before he looked away. Lips parting, you felt the sudden urge to say something, but there was too much distance between you.

“You ready?” Miss Luna called, an upbeat pop song blasting from the stereo. “Let’s go!”

She launched into isolations, leaving the rest of the class to follow. Warm-ups passed quickly and before you knew it, you were gathered at center to learn the combination. Miss Luna’s style was right up your alley. The steps came easily and, once you’d learned the whole chorus, she left you alone to practice.

You were helping Ari with a difficult move when you caught sight of Sabrina as you turned. She’d positioned herself near the back, which had to be a first. Usually, Sabrina was front and center to allow for maximum receipt of teacher praise.

The decision to stand near the back could’ve been strategy – sometimes, dancers did that at conventions. Conventions were giant weekends of competition with teachers from all over the globe who taught master classes to hundreds of dancers in hotel ballrooms and convention centers. Space at the front tended to be limited, so some stayed at the back, where there was more room to dance and be seen. You had a greater likelihood to capture the teacher’s attention when you had the room to do incredible leaps.

Sabrina’s decision didn’t seem strategic, though. While you watched, Sabrina stumbled transitioning from one move to the next. A brief twinge of pity went through you.

It was easy enough to spot ballerinas dancing anything but ballet. Although ballet was the root of modern westernized dance, it could be hard to translate into other styles. Ballet was more rigid than contemporary, jazz or hip-hop. In ballet, each position was defined, individual style was limited, and dancers were expected to all look the same. Standing out in the corps de ballet was equally frowned upon as missing an entrance.

Not that ballet wasn’t important to all dance styles, mind you. Even hip-hop dancers took ballet to improve their balance, core strength and general understanding of the body. There was an element of individuality in other dance styles, though, which lacked in ballet. Contemporary and hip-hop dancers were expected to have relentless technique all while creating their own, unique flair.

Just looking at Sabrina you could clearly see the holes. She was trying so hard to emulate the moves of Miss Luna, she was kind of missing the point. When Miss Luna did a certain flick of the wrist, it wasn’t a defined part of the choreography, but rather an individual choice.

Without thinking, you took a step forward – only to stop. Sabrina wouldn’t want your help; she’d already made that abundantly clear. Besides, you knew her friend Katie to be a contemporary dancer. She could help Sabrina and yet, when you looked, you saw Katie practicing near the front with Jungkook.

Jungkook obviously knew the steps, since this was probably the tenth time he’d learned the combination. Dance teachers often did that – selected a dancer to attend classes with them, traveling to different cities to demonstrate the combination and help when they weren’t free.

Before you could decide whether to help Sabrina, Miss Luna clapped her hands again.

“Let’s do groups!” she declared. “I’ll count you off into groups of four, and each group will showcase. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question so much as an announcement. The rest of the class nodded, waiting while Miss Luna counted you off. You ended up in the same group as Irene, Paulo and a few others. Jimin and Noelle were in the group two, while Sabrina was in the group after theirs.

Jogging off to the side, you waited while the first group took center. You were part of group four, which meant you’d be amongst the last to dance on the floor. When the music began, you closed your eyes and began to mark the combination. You tried not to focus on what anyone else was doing, but this became difficult once Noelle’s group stepped up.

Noelle had trained in jazz and contemporary, although she’d stopped in high school to focus mainly on ballet. Still, her artistry shone in her movement. She could definitely stand to loosen up a bit but was still one of the best in the bunch. You found yourself smiling when she landed a turn, silently cheering her on from the side.

While you were watching, Jimin cut across your vision.

Dropping to the ground, he rolled and arched as his forehead brushed wood. His quality of movement was breathtaking and for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.

Suddenly returned to those dimmed auditoriums, you watched Jimin take the stage like an otherworldly being. His body seemed to move before your mind could comprehend. Barely did he finish one move before he was starting another, the steps flowing endlessly together like unhindered water. Although you knew the combination and knew how you would dance it, watching Jimin perform was a different experience entirely.

Ballet required dancers to stay on the beat but in contemporary, they were expected to lag. Extensions were all the more breathtaking when they clung to the last second, seeming as though the dancer might not make it before they caught up. Jimin was an expert in this, knowing exactly when to hang precariously over the edge and when to pull back.

Watching him dance, that pesky, strange something bloomed in your chest again.

Squashing this quickly, you looked away and resumed marking the combo. The end of the song was improvisation though and, unable to stop yourself, you found your attention drifting to Jimin again. He was ridiculously beautiful – you nearly didn’t hear when Miss Luna called for them to stop. As she turned off the music, she applauded the group while they walked from the floor.

Breathing heavily, Noelle came to a stop alongside you and – somewhat guiltily, since you hadn’t been watching – you gave her a high-five.

“That was awesome!” you said with a grin. “You definitely stood out in the group.”

Noelle snort-laughed. “Not with Jimin up there, but that’s okay. This is his specialty – and yours,” she added with a wink. “I’m psyched for group four.”

“Ah,” you groaned, rubbing your neck. “Too much pressure.”

Noelle laughed, shaking her head as group three took the floor. Both of you fell silent to watch, your curious gaze finding Sabrina in the back. Sabrina looked almost nervous; an emotion which seemed out of place on her features. It made her look almost human.

As soon as the music began, you stifled a wince. Sabrina stood out from the group, and not in a good way. She had the combination down but moved with a woodenness you would’ve expected from someone half her age. It was enough for you to glance at Miss Luna, wondering if she had noticed.

“Wow,” Noelle whispered, looking almost gleeful. “Sabrina is terrible.”

“Noelle!” you whisper-laughed.

“What? After everything she’s done? After everything she’s said?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Sabrina deserves this.”

Despite privately agreeing, you couldn’t help but feel bad as Sabrina continued. Not wanting to watch any longer, you turned towards the front and resumed marking the combo. As soon as Miss Luna cut the music and polite clapping ensued, you turned back around.

It was time for group four. A shaky, sick feeling entered your stomach as you walked to center. So many eyes were on you, but it had been so long since you danced contemporary. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were as good as people seemed to imagine. Surrounded by so many dancers at Russet, surely your own talent would pale in comparison.

As soon as the music began though, everything faded. Insecurities slipping away, a lightness entered your chest as, eyes falling shut, you slowly inhaled.

Taking a step forward, you opened your eyes and began.

To you, dance had several phases. The first was learning, where you memorized each step and put them in order. The second was understanding, where your muscle memory began to take over and the combination felt smoother. The final phase, performance, was when you thought not of the steps, and were free to just dance.

This was your favorite phrase. In this phase, your mind separated from your body, leaving you only with sweat and emotion. Dance was the only art form composed solely of the body. An odd combination of physical strength and artistic beauty, it was both a testament to human capability and human emotion.

Losing yourself in the music, you ebbed and flowed through the combination until the choreography ended and improvisation began. Finally, you let go and held nothing back. Raw, unbridled passion poured out as you lost sight of yourself, so consumed by the movement.

When the song finally finished and you came to a stop, you were panting for breath. Glancing up, the first person you saw was Jimin.

He stood off to one side, leaning casually against the rungs of the barre, but his expression was anything but. Focused on you, his gaze had turned dark in a way which made you catch your breath.

Miss Luna clapped both hands once again, returning your attention to her. Blinking, Jimin shook his head and in your peripheral, you saw him straighten.

“Very good!” Miss Luna scanned the group. “I know our time is nearly at and end, but why don’t we have a few students come out and demonstrate?”

Again, this was fairly common in master classes. After learning the combination, teachers would often single out students to perform as examples. It wasn’t always the students with the best technique who got chosen. Oftentimes, it was as much for passion and performance quality.

Taking a step forward, Miss Luna began to call out names. You were one of the first – setting your water down, you jogged back to center. Jimin was the next person called, then Noelle, much to your excitement. Jungkook was also instructed to join on the floor.

Turning the lights halfway down, Miss Luna pressed play and let you improvise until the combination began. Jungkook started dancing and honestly, he was beautiful, but you couldn’t linger on him for long. 

Catching sight of Jimin again, you were once more transported to earlier times. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called out together. Oftentimes, this had happened at conventions but back then, your mind had been too clouded to see him for who he was.

You’d always wanted to beat him in high school, but now, you were consumed by the oddest desire to see him do well.

Glancing up, Jimin caught your gaze and he smiled – but then, the combination began.

By the time you were finished, you could hardly catch your breath but somehow, you felt the most alive you’d been in ages. Back in your own element, surrounded by some of the most amazing dancers in the world – this was what you’d imagined when you came to Russet.

People around the room clapped, some of them begrudgingly. You got the impression many of your classmates weren’t used to not being chosen. As you walked from the floor, you saw surprisingly, Sabrina wasn’t amongst them.

Instead, Sabrina simply looked tired – as though she’d tried her best and it hadn’t been enough. You knew that look. You sympathized with that look.

The look lingered in the back of your mind while you packed up your things and listened to Noelle discuss Halloween tomorrow. When she mentioned Ari had decided to visit her family this weekend, an idea began to form in your mind.

“Wait,” you interrupted, looking up. “Ari can’t come tomorrow?”

Noelle shook her head. “Her brother just turned eighteen, so her whole family is having a party or something.”

“So… her ticket is free, then?”

“Yes…” Noelle paused. “Why? Y/N, what are you planning?”

“Okay. Hear me out,” you said as you shrugged on your coat. It was cold enough now for the coat to be necessary.

Noelle sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Glancing away, you saw Sabrina packing her things on the other side of the room. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you returned to Noelle.

“What if we invited Sabrina?”

Noelle snorted. “Pass.”

“Noelle,” you laughed, reaching out for her arm. “Come on! Do you really think she’s doing anything for Halloween?”

“Probably not. And that’s her own fault.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at Sabrina once more. “But how could it hurt? We have an extra ticket, there’ll be tons of people tomorrow night. She’ll probably say no – at least this way, you can claim a write-off on your way into heaven!”

Noelle upper lip twitched. “Oh, is that how write-offs work?”

“Well, I can only assume.”

Finally, she laughed. “Ugh, fine. You can invite her – but only because it’s Halloween, and Halloween is a time for peace. And slutty costumes.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, squeezing her waist in a one-armed hug.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Noelle waved aside your thanks. Hiking your bag higher, you began to make your way across the room. As you closed in on Sabrina, you began to rethink your choice. It had been nearly a month since anything bad had happened between you but still, you found yourself feeling wary. As tough as you pretended to be, rejection hurt you just as much as the next person.

Still, dancing with Jimin had been a reminder of just how bitter your relationship used to be. If that relationship could change, you had to imagine things with Sabrina could, too.

Coming to a stop at her bag, you waited for her to look up. When she finally did, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Sabrina asked, sounding defensive. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You couldn’t really blame her for her suspicion. Had your situations been reversed, you would’ve been equally distrustful. It was likely Sabrina thought you were coming over to gloat, or say something to do with class today. Another twinge of pity went through you as Sabrina zipped her bag shut to stand.

“I just wanted to know what you were doing tomorrow,” you said, trying to smile. “Noelle has an extra ticket to a Halloween party, and we thought you might like to come.”

Sabrina stared. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” you said, a bit slower. “You know – when we were kids, it was all about costumes and candy. Now, it’s about costumes and booze?”

Sabrina failed to crack a smile. “And you want… me to come to this party?”

Something about the way she said this made you sad, as though she genuinely thought this might be a joke. As though at any moment, someone might jump out and yell SIKE.

“Yeah,” you said, softening a little. “Look – it’s not a big deal if you can’t make it. A bunch of our class is going though, so we thought of you.”

Sabrina hesitated, then glanced at the door. “Okay,” she said, looking back. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.”

Stifling your surprise, you nodded. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet us tomorrow before the club. Wear a costume,” you added before walking away. “Noelle said it’s required.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, so quiet you almost missed it.

Walking away, you were nearly at the door when Jungkook popped up before you. Flashing a smile, he fixed a loose strand of hair away from his face. Feet fumbling to a stop, you could only stare.

“Y/N, right?” he said, sounding shy.

Unable to find the words, you blinked in response. The way Jungkook danced had been so confident, you’d only assumed this to be his off-floor persona, as well. Hearing him sound shy was unexpected. 

Also – you hadn’t expected him to know your name.

“I… yeah, that’s me.” Shaking your head, you smiled. “Jungkook, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m such a big fan of your dancing. It was great to take class with you today.”

Without meaning to, a laugh escaped your lips. Jungkook stared at you, baffled until you quickly waved him off.

“Oh, no – no! Sorry,” you said. “I’m not laughing at you! I’m just laughing at the ridiculousness of you saying you’re a fan of me.”

Some of Jungkook’s wariness disappeared, and a small smile played across his lips.

“Well, I am.” His grin widened. “I used to assist on the convention circuit, too and I remember you being called out all the time. You and Jimin,” he added, glancing across the room.

You looked, too and saw Jimin still packing his things. His back was stiff, pointedly not looking in your direction. Lingering on him a moment, you returned to Jungkook.

“Still,” you said with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say we took class together when you’re the teacher’s assistant.”

“True.” Jungkook paused. “Well, next time you’re in LA, let’s fix that. Let me know if you’re ever in town and we can take a class together.”

Despite yourself, your brows raised. It was harmless, but Jungkook was definitely flirting with you. He was attractive, sure and seemed nice, but he lived in LA and you had a boyfriend. You should probably leave before things had the chance to go any further. The last thing you needed was another complication. Adjusting your bag, you gave Jungkook a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before turning away.

Jungkook chuckled from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

As you joined Noelle at the door, she stared over your shoulder.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop.

Noelle’s gaze moved to yours in disbelief. “How?” she demanded as you exited class. “How do you have all these men just… tripping over themselves for you?”

Heat rising to your face, you shook your head. “That’s – I,” you sputtered. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Noelle grinned. “First Jimin, now Jungkook… and all this while having a boyfriend.” 

“I… you... Jimin is not tripping over himself for me!”

Both her brows shot way, way up. “Is that the only part of the sentence you took objection to?”

“Shut up,” you groaned and shoved her in the side.

Noelle laughed but nodded. “Alright, fine! I’ll stop. Did Sabrina say she’ll come?”

“She did.”

“Great. I still don’t like her,” Noelle said, pushing open the door. “But I guess you’re right, I have an extra ticket. It’s nice to be nice.”

You laughed, pulling your coat tighter as you walked outside. “You’re a saint.”

While you walked, your phone dinged and pulling this from your pocket, you saw a notification on Instagram. Jeon_Jungkook97 has followed you.

Shaking your head, you returned this to your jacket as you continued. While it was nice of Jungkook to compliment your dancing, his approval didn’t mean as much as certain other peoples had. This realization stuck in your mind, making you wonder about Noelle’s teasing jibe.

She had said Jimin flirted with you, but that wasn’t true – was it? You would have known if Jimin were flirting. It was hard to pick out though, since Jimin was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was; as he’d said earlier, he liked to be liked. A note of uncertainty entered your thoughts though, recalling the ballet class with your chest pressed to his. Shoving this away, you forced yourself to focus on the upcoming weekend.

Halloween was a night for fun, for letting loose and enjoying yourself with your friends. You refused to let the night be spoiled by any lingering feelings – either from you, or towards you.

The next night was perfect Halloween weather.

Chilly, but not cold enough to risk snow falling. There were several Halloweens from childhood you could recall trick-or-treating with a winter coat flung over your costume because the temperature had dropped below freezing.

You, Noelle and Irene showed up to Paulo’s house around 8:00 PM, shivering a little while you stood on his doorstep. Paulo was one of the few freshmen who lived off-campus, having known several upperclassmen before he came to Russet. The brownstone he lived in was cute, with window boxes you imagined hosted flowers in the summer.

Tugging your pink and black minidress down, you adjusted your bow as Paulo opened the door.

Blinking, he took in your costumes. “The Powerpuff girls!” He cheered, raising an arm overhead. “Try not to take down any of the villains upstairs, yeah?”

“No promises,” said Irene, flicking hair over her shoulder.

Entering the house, you heard thumping bass from an apartment upstairs. Paulo lived on the third floor and as you climbed the steps, the music grew louder. It took Paulo two tries to shove open the door – “warped wood,” he explained – but once you were inside, you saw familiar faces.

“The Powerpuff girls!” Jasmine cried, jumping up from the couch. “Finally! Thank god – can you take down Eamon? He came here dressed as a potato, or something.”

“It’s an avocado!” Eamon shouted from the kitchen. He was dressed in a round, green costume with a halo overhead. “I’m ‘holy guacamole’ – get it?” he said, pointing at the halo.

Jasmine stared at him a moment. “That’s terrible. Worse than mine,” she said with a wave down her body. “I’ve been Princess Jasmine for the past five Halloweens. It’s easy to remember and I already have the outfit.”

Laughing, you shrugged off your coat and added this to a pile on the couch. “It’s a classic,” you agreed as you turned.

Noelle had managed to procure at least twenty tickets to the party tonight, so a lot of your freshman Russet class was in attendance. Including Sabrina, who stood in the corner, talking to Louis over cups of red punch. She looked up when you entered, pausing before she gave a small wave. Surprised by the gesture, you did the same.

“No.” Noelle groaned, coming to a stop alongside you. When you looked, you saw she’d already removed her coat. “Tell me Sabrina didn’t come to this party dressed as a ballerina.”

“We did invite her at the last minute,” you laughed. “Hard to find a good Halloween costume in a day.”

“Hey,” Noelle argued. “There’s no we here. You were the one who invited her, and you’ll be the one to accept the consequences should your social experiment fail.”

“Done,” you agreed. “Speaking of social experiments though, I’m ready to get drunk tonight. Where’s the alcohol?”

“Kitchen!” Irene called, brushing past. “Or – that’s where Brian disappeared to when we entered, so I can only assume.”

Telling Noelle you’d be back with drinks, you wound through the room towards where Irene had pointed. The kitchen was tiny, on par with most city apartments. There was only room enough for one or two people, so you were lucky it was deserted when you entered.

Surveying the counter, you found the usual party staples. A bowl of red punch, a bunch of beer and various liquor bottles with chasers. Skipping over the communal punch bowl, you reached for a bottle of diet coke and coconut rum.

“Oh,” a voice said as they entered the kitchen. “Sorry – I didn’t know you were in here.”

Glancing up, you saw Jimin and froze.

He’d dyed his hair black – that was the first thing you noticed. Jimin’s hair was no longer blonde, but completely dark. His outfit confused you at first – a frilly, white blouse with slicked-back hair and dark trousers – until you saw his bright red contacts and the dribble of blood at his mouth.

“A vampire,” you said, finally recovering your voice. Scanning his body, you frowned. “Where are the teeth, though?”

Jimin blinked, his gaze jerking up from your waist.

“Huh?” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

Cheeks heating a little – your dress was pretty short – you repeated yourself. “The teeth,” you said, pointing at your own lips. “Don’t vampires have fangs?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin dug around in his pocket – fuck, were his trousers tight – to produce twin fangs. “I took them off when I got here. They’re really hard to talk in.”

“Go on then, Park,” you said with a grin. “Put them in.”

“One second.” Twisting to face the wall, Jimin popped them in his mouth. Turning around, he bared his teeth. “Sexy?”

With the teeth in though, the word came out more like shex-shie and you burst into laughter. “So sexy,” you agreed, reaching past him for a cup.

Jimin stiffened when your arm brushed his front. Unbidden, you thought about what Noelle had said – Jimin had been flirting with you. Pulling away, you resumed making your drinks and tried not to look in his direction.

Even so, you remained aware of his presence. Jimin inched his way behind you, reaching for the whiskey on the other side. His arm brushed your elbow as he went, right knee nudging yours in an intimate gesture.

Glancing up from the counter, you accidentally caught his gaze. Despite your earlier joking, he did look sexy. Devastatingly so. Even the blood-red contacts weren’t enough to deter the shiver which ran down your spine.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, you grabbed both cups and pulled back. 

“So, what’re you drinking?” you asked. 

You decided it was best to steer the conversation away from how sexy Park Jimin was or was not.

Seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jimin poured whiskey into his cup. “Whiskey and coke. Can you pass me that bottle?”

“Sure,” you said, leaping at the chance to prevent him from walking past you again. “Here you go.”

Pushing this forward, you watched Jimin pour both drinks all the way to the brim. He paused near the end, staring into the depths before he looked up. He seemed to be warring with something, debating whether or not to speak whatever was on his mind.

“So…” He paused. “Do you know Jungkook, or something?”

You blinked. “Jungkook…?”

“You know, Miss Luna’s assistant. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh! Jungkook. No, I don’t really know him.”

“You were talking to him at the end of class, though?”

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, both your brows raised. “And?”

“And nothing,” Jimin said, sounding uncomfortable. “I just… I didn’t know you knew him, that’s all.”

“I mean, I don’t.” You paused. “But even if I did, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” His cheeks began to redden. “It’s just – ah, never mind. We don’t have that great a history, that’s all. He’s kind of the reason I’m at Russet this year.”

You stared at Jimin a moment. “Wow, what a tragedy,” you said, stifling a laugh. “To have been forced to attend one of the most prestigious dance institutions in the world.”

His upper lip twitched. “It’s not that. I was deciding between attending Russet and accepting a job offer out west. I was asked to join this pop star on tour… anyways, Jungkook’s never liked me much. It’s a long story.” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “My offer was rescinded at the last minute. The artist never said why, but I always got the feeling he had something to do with it.”

You stared at Jimin a moment, unsure how to respond. Jungkook hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, but you supposed you’d only talked to him for a few minutes. If that was true, what happened to Jimin sucked and yet, the next words from your mouth nearly had you face-palming.

“And here I thought I was your biggest rival, Park,” you said.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you… jealous, Y/N?”

He sounded almost pleased by the notion, which sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

“Not at all,” you said quickly, turning back to your drinks.

Jimin made a soft tsk-ing sound, as though he didn’t believe you.

“That sucks,” you continued, determined to change the subject. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. Maybe it was all for the best, though. Things happen for a reason, right?”

Looking up, you caught Jimin’s stare. He didn’t look immediately away and you got the oddest sensation he meant more than what he said. Hastily, you pushed this feeling aside, clutching your drinks as you entered the main room. Jimin followed close behind, two cups in his hands.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Been here long?”

Jimin shook his head. “Nah. Hoseok and I got here like, ten minutes ago. He should be around here somewhere, he –”

“Y/N!”

You looked up just in time to see Hoseok, Jimin’s roommate, barreling towards you.

“It’s been so long!” Crushing you to his chest, Hoseok wrapped you in a hug. “Hope Jimin isn’t boring you to death,” he stage-whispered before he pulled away.

“Just for that.” Jimin arched a brow. “Both these drinks are for me.”

“No – wait, wait. I’m sorry!” Hoseok pouted. “Hand over the drink, Park. It’s been the longest fucking week.”

Jimin grinned and relented, handing Hoseok his cup as you laughed. Hoseok was a newer friend, but he was close to Jimin, so he’d gradually bled into your latest gatherings. Despite not being on the ballet track, most of the dancers at Russet knew of him. Hoseok had that way about him.

Glancing down at your outfit, Hoseok held up a finger. “Let me guess – Blossom,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Which means… aha! Irene is Bubbles and Noelle is Buttercup. Makes sense.”

“And you are…” Pausing, you squinted at his outfit. “Someone at the spa?”

“Sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear a bathrobe.”

Said bathrobe was paired with only boxers, the front of the robe open to display his toned abs. The costume didn’t surprise you, based on past interactions with Hoseok.

Casually, he twirled the robe tie in a circle. “Impressive, no?” Hoseok glanced away. “Whoa, wait – they have beer pong? See you all later!”

Hurrying off, he left you alone with Jimin. Shaking your head, you glanced in his direction and saw Jimin down his whole drink. Arching a brow, you were about to ask why when Irene called your names from across the room.

“Y/N!” She waved her hands. “Jimin! Get over here, you two – we need more for flip cup!”

You found yourself pulled in this direction despite your insistence you didn’t do well under pressure. Jimin ended up at the other end of the table and you lost sight of him when you started to play, paired with Jasmine for a partner.

By the end of the first round, you discovered you weren’t as horrible a player as you’d imagined. Then someone suggested mixed drinks for the second round, and things became fuzzier. There were more people present than just current students of Russet. One of Paulo’s roommates knew Seokjin, so you saw him in the room, along with Sana.

You chatted with both over the course of the evening, in addition to a guy who’d recently debuted on Broadway, Kim Taehyung. Apparently, there was already buzz around him for a Tony. Taehyung was nice, but it was sometime during this conversation you realized how tipsy you were. Apparently, not drinking for several months and then going ham made for very low tolerance.

Collapsing onto the couch, you joined Irene and Brian’s conversation. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Noelle – a terrible flip cup player, she’d roped Hoseok into giving her private lessons, but these seemed to be going terribly. Or perhaps very well, given how much the two of them were laughing.

You completely forgot about Jimin until you spotted him across the room talking to Sabrina. Seeing them together, you straightened. Both seemed fairly comfortable, which struck you as odd. Since that morning in Jimin’s dorm, you hadn’t really seen them hang out together.

Despite this, Jimin was laughing at something Sabrina had said. Tearing your gaze away, you forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. It didn’t matter who Jimin spoke to, or even who he decided to go home with tonight. He was your dance partner and friend, nothing more and besides – you had a boyfriend.

Blinking, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone. To your disappointment, you’d gotten no texts from Finn since this morning. You assumed he was still at his party but didn’t know for sure. Shooting him a text, hey, you waited for a response and when you got none, returned your phone to your purse.

Across the room, you heard Noelle yell your name. “Y/N!” She cupped her mouth with both hands. “We need another person for flip cup!”

Laughing, you pushed yourself from the couch and were immediately roped into your fourth game of the night. The night blurred again after that, turning into a pleasant hum of conversation and booze. At some point, Ubers were called to bring you to the club. As you rushed downstairs, you realized you forgot your coat as soon as you stepped outside.

Shivering violently, you rubbed your arms and cursed yourself for poor foresight.

“Y/N?” Jimin came to a stop alongside you. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said through chattering teeth. “I-it’s fine, though. I’m fine!”

Jimin gave you a look. “Where’s Paulo?” he said, glancing around. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

“The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued, grabbing his sleeve to drag him towards the curb. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

Jimin sighed but gave in, following when you rushed to the grey SUV. Irene had claimed the front seat, so you and Jimin pulled open the middle door – Noelle and Hoseok were crowding behind you, so you and Jimin ended up together in the backseat.

Collapsed in a heap, you giggled as Jimin tried to squish himself in a corner. “Sorry,” he said, trying – and failing – to keep his knees separate.

“Jimin.” You snorted. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

Jimin’s lips parted, shocked, but you were already hoisting yourself over the middle seat. Draping your arms next to Noelle, you begged her to play your favorite song on the radio. Had you been more sober, you might’ve recognized your position to be precarious – perched on the edge of your seat, your ass hovered inches away from Jimin’s face.

Plopping back down, you glanced sideways at Jimin and found him frozen. Suddenly, you realized the visual he’d had.

“Um, so what happened to the teeth?” you blurted, determined to change the subject.

Jimin blinked and managed to meet your gaze. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

“That’s true.” Jimin arched a brow. “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you,” you retorted. “My blood is about half alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of a silly vampire made you laugh – even more so when you pictured said vampire as Jimin. He seemed much too coherent for your liking right now.

“A silly vampire, huh?” Jimin looked on, amused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

“We’re here!” squealed Noelle, throwing open the door.

A blast of cold air hit you and you shivered, wishing you’d worn your coat. Jimin’s gaze remained steady on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said lowly. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said dryly, lifting a brow as you brushed past. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Jimin chuckled before he followed suit, although you cursed as soon as you left the car. He was correct. It was freezing, even with your alcohol-induced blanket.

“Come on!” you yelped, following Noelle towards the entrance.

Bypassing the line, Noelle walked straight towards the bouncer and showed him her phone. He nodded and waved her past, counting your friend group who followed. Not everyone from Paulo’s place had gone to the club, but enough for you to make quite the entrance.

“Y/N!” Noelle doubled back to link arms with you. “Come on – this way! That guy’s going to show us to our table.”

“Table?” you asked her, wide-eyed.

Tables in a club on Halloween night were ridiculously expensive, but it seemed Noelle had downplayed her brother’s connections. Your group was led right to the front of the upper balcony, getting a coveted spot overlooking the dance floor below.

This was undeniably the coolest club you’d been in. Not that you’d been in many, mind you, but this one had to take the cake. A half-circle of tables took up the top floor, with twin staircases descending to the main room below. Most of the lower floor was for dancing, although you saw additional tables pushed to the sides. Fluorescent bars and dance platforms were dotted throughout and above all was the DJ booth, blasting the latest songs.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

Noelle grinned, squeezing your arm to pull you into the booth. As soon as you settled in, Jasmine leapt up and clapped her hands.

“I want to be in one of those!” she said, pointing to a glowing cage at the center of the dance floor.

“Oo, me too!” Irene leapt up to join her.

“Me, three!” said Paulo, clambering out of the booth.

“Awesome.” Irene beamed and glanced your way. “What about you, Y/N? You in?”

The idea was tempting for a moment, but then Finn flashed through your mind. You highly doubted he’d be on board with you gyrating for a room full of strangers without him. Somewhat dejectedly, you plopped back on the bench.

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned but nodded, following the rest when they left for the stairs. About half the group went, clearing out the table while you stared at the dance floor.

Jimin slid into the bench alongside you. “You don’t want to dance?”

Startled, you glanced in his direction. While you watched, Jimin began to undo his cuffs, casually rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His hair, which had been slicked back at the start of the night, was starting to fall. Several dark strands hung over his forehead, although this only seemed to make the look more appealing.

“No,” you said, crossing your legs. “I just… don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You laughed. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

“It is when you’re at the club with all dancers,” Jimin pointed out, nodding towards the floor.

Following his gaze, you saw Jasmine dancing full-out in a lit-up cage. She wasn’t so much gyrating as she was creating choreography on the fly. The mere mortals around her looked on in awe. Fighting a smile, you returned to Jimin.

“Okay, that does look like fun,” you admitted. “The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked. “Sorry – what?”

“In the cab,” you said, leaning closer in order to be heard. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um, the night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, as though contemplating something important. Abruptly, he stood and held out a hand. You blinked at this like he’d offered a football.

“What are you doing?” you said, glancing up.

“Taking you down to the dance floor.” Jimin retracted said hand. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

“Hey!” In disbelief, your mouth fell open. “You said you’d forget all about that!”

His smile turned impish. “Seriously, we can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

“The sprinkler?” Starting to laugh, you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah. My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

Snorting, you shoved him in the arm before following Jimin to the dance floor. It didn’t take you long to spot your other friends, clustered near the front and around the DJ booth.

“Y/N!” Noelle cheered, breaking off from the pack. “You made it!”

She nearly spilled her drink while she danced, catching herself just in time as she spun around. You grinned, entering the circle with Jimin by your side. He did, in fact, pull out the criss-cross – Hoseok joined in and soon, there was a Fortnite dance battle between them. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve seen a TikTok dance-off between two semi-professional dancers.

This ended with both declaring mutual defeat, and Hoseok disappearing to buy the next round. Noelle shimmied her way over to Jasmine, accepting the hand given to stand on the platform.

You laughed at their ridiculous dance moves, choosing instead to stay on the ground. The crowd around you had thinned since you’d joined. Eamon disappeared a few minutes later, saying something about needing a drink upstairs. Before long, Irene had joined Jasmine and Noelle on the platform, leaving you alone with Jimin on the floor.

Under other circumstances, you might have felt uncomfortable, but Jimin was so good at putting you at ease. Determined to keep you in the present, he came up with more and more complicated dance moves which had you snorting with laughter.

On a particularly flamboyant spin, Jimin accidentally smacked the drink from someone’s grasp. Blue vodka splattered everywhere, drenching its owner – a burly man in leather who snarled in frustration.

Looking up, he met your gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit. Run!” you blurted out.

Grabbing Jimin by the arm, you dragged him into the crowd.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin tried to twist around. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

Once there was suitable distance between you and the guy, you came to a stop. Laughing so hard you nearly fell over, you turned sideways to face him.

Bodies pressed against you from every side but rather than feel claustrophobic, all you could think about was Jimin before you. His hair had become thoroughly mussed during the night and you fought the sudden desire to smooth it down.

Although your breath came hard, the club around you seemed to slow. The music somehow had narrowed to pinpricks, a heady thump of bass while everything dulled.

What you should’ve done was taken a step back – but you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze drifted across his face. Jimin stared back, something intense to his gaze you couldn’t quite name. Breath caught in your throat, his eyes dropped to your lips.

Before you could react, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you careening forward. Jimin caught you easily, one arm around your waist and your chest pressed to his. You could feel every hard line of his body, his thigh wedged between your legs while you grasped at his arms. Heart thudding traitorously against your ribcage, you tried to ignore the emotions which followed.

It was impossible. 

The song playing was slower, sexier than the one which had inspired the dance-off. Without meaning to, your weight subtly shifted. This caused your hips to move against his as Jimin quietly sucked in a breath. The effect this had on him was instantaneous. His grip on you tightened, gaze heady with desire and something more. Before you could second-guess what you were doing, you moved your hips again – this time, on purpose.

Jimin’s eyes darkened. Without looking away, his grip on you tightened as he slowly dragged you up his thigh. Suddenly breathless, your hands gripped him tighter while your eyes fluttered shut. The heat of his body on yours, the faint smell of cologne and sweat, the tension in his limbs and the knowledge of what he could do to you – it all left your head spinning.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, low in your ear.

You weren’t used to him saying your name like that.

You were used to him saying your name in every other way, but not that. Sharp with dancer’s critique, brusque with instruction, light with teasing – but not like something heavy was lodged in his throat. Maybe his heart.

Panicked, your eyes flew open.

What were you doing? This wasn’t some random stranger and this sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend. This was Jimin. Stumbling backwards, you broke from his hold. Jimin seemed equally stunned, staring at you on the dance floor.

“I have to go,” you blurted and whirled around.

Shoving into the crowd, you heard Jimin emit a soft groan. Despite this, he didn’t immediately pursue, for which you were grateful. Stumbling through strangers, strobe lights flashed brightly overhead. You squeezed between someone dressed as a go-go and another person dressed as a werewolf. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the floor, you scanned the room and saw no one from Russet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Jimin now followed. Panicking again, you began to move. Beside one of the bars, you spotted a hallway labeled restrooms. Heading in this direction, you quickly disappeared inside the door marked women.

Once inside, you locked yourself in a stall, lowered the lid and sat down. Head in hands, you slowly exhaled. You were a coward; that much was clear. Jimin was probably out there looking for you right now, but you’d rather hide in a bathroom than face him.

The fluorescent lighting overhead was too bright – it made you feel overexposed. After a long moment, you fished around in your purse and pulled out your phone. Flipping to your thread with Finn, you saw he’d sent no response since your text. Complete and utter silence.

Heart cracking a little, you slid this in your bag and stared at the door. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When you imagined you and Finn at college, you’d always pictured you together, attending the same parties and sharing the same adventures. Tonight though, had proven to be anything but that. Finn hadn’t once glanced at his phone judging by the unread mark next to your text.

Dimly, you wondered why you weren’t more upset about this. It should bother you that Finn hadn’t called or even texted throughout the day. Sure, he was out with friends, but so were you and you’d reached out – as soon as you thought this, your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you could call Jimin a friend after what had just happened.

Sure, you’d only danced, and it had only been for a second but still, guilt bloomed behind your ribcage. The idea of Finn doing the same thing with anyone else made your heart twist. You wouldn’t feel that way if what you’d done wasn’t wrong.

Groaning out loud, you lowered your head to your hands. After several minutes, you felt calm enough to stand and pretend-flush the toilet. As you exited the stall, you walked to the sink and began washing your hands. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a million things ran through your mind.

Clearly, the situation with Jimin was worse than you’d thought. The spark you’d felt kept returning, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Maybe the only solution was to find a new partner. The very idea made your heart sink, but you couldn’t deny things had gotten out of hand.

Before you could seriously consider the option, the door to the bathroom flung open and banged against the wall. Sabrina stormed in, wiping both eyes with the heel of her hand. You froze, staring at her in the mirror but she didn’t seem to notice your presence.

When she finally lowered her hands and took a deep breath, she saw you and froze.

For a moment, you both only stared at each other and then – you coughed. Awkwardly, you began to dry your hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tentative.

Sabrina stiffened. “I’m fine,” she muttered, walking to the sink.

You watched her wash her hands, struggling and failing to control her expression. Sabrina’s hair was a mess and you stared, wondering where she’d been. You hadn’t seen her since you’d entered the club, but had assumed she’d stayed on the second floor.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, remembering your night at the other club. “You know, you can –”

“Will you… just stop.” Sabrina closed her eyes. “Will you … stop pretending like we’re friends, or something?”

Struck with disbelief, you could only stare. “I… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Just wow.”

Her lips tightened and finally, she whirled around. “What?” Sabrina demanded. “What is it?”

The look in her eyes was familiar. Her frustrated, angry look was mirrored in your expression, but you found you didn’t care. Sabrina was clearly going through something, but her rudeness to you was the final straw. Tired from Finn, Jimin and the constant pressure you were both under, something about Sabrina’s words made you break.

“Why are you always such a… such a bitch,” you blurted, hurling the word like a knife. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you always act like you hate me so much?”

Sabrina’s upper lip curled. “Why do you always think this is about you, Y/N? Maybe I just wanted one second of peace and instead, here you are. Like always.”

“Here I am, in the public restroom of a club we’re all at?”

“No. Here you are in my life,” she snapped, pushing herself from the sink. “People won’t talk to me? It’s because you’ve run your mouth about things you think I’ve done. I’m falling in the class ranks? It’s because you’re after my spot. Jimin doesn’t want to be my partner? It’s because of his feelings for you. I’m sick of turning around and always seeing you there!”

“Okay, but none of those things – I, Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me,” you sputtered.

Sabrina gave you a look. “Oh, please, Y/N.” Her laughter was harsh. “Why else would he turn me down?”

“Um, maybe because he’s a decent human being? Unlike yourself.”

“Great, yeah.” Sabrina glared. “Make me the bad guy again.”

“I’m not the one doing that,” you huffed. “You are. You want to blame me because no one wants to be your friend? Maybe try reaching out first. Maybe don’t talk shit about people behind their backs. And I’m improving because I’m taking extra lessons. No thanks to you, of course.”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad because I didn’t have time to give you lessons.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to explain why I’m improving and you’re not.”

Sabrina bristled. “Are you saying I don’t work hard, too?”

“No.” Mirthless, you laughed. “I know you work hard – maybe even as hard as I do. But you know what the big difference is between you and me?” you said, drawing yourself to your full height.

Sabrina’s eyes glimmered while she stared you down. Still, she retained her aloofness when she said, “What? What’s the big secret?”

“You think everyone’s out to get you,” you said, stepping closer. “You think not asking for help makes you stronger, but it’s the exact opposite. At least I’ve improved since the start of the year. What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, you pushed past Sabrina and walked out the door.

Shoving it wide, you entered the hallway. Dance music flooded your senses and you winced, remembering where you were and what you’d been doing. Luckily, Jimin was nowhere in sight. He must not have seen where you’d disappeared to.

Shoulders slumping, you pulled out your phone and dialed a number. Walking to the front, you concentrated on breathing while you waited for them to pick up. Coming to a stop beside coat check, you didn’t leave the club – a lesson you’d learned the hard way.

Noelle answered on the third ring. “Babe?” she yelled, barely audible over the din. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you…” Closing your eyes, you paused. “Can we leave?”

Noelle paused, then muffled her phone with one hand. “Irene!” you heard her yell. “You good to get a ride home for these people? Okay, cool. Bye!” Her phone became un-muffled. “Where are you, babe?”

After explaining your location, you hung up and hugged yourself with both arms. Noelle burst into view a few moments later, scanning the crowd like a mom on a mission. When she saw you, she rushed over – and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, no!” Pulling you into a hug, Noelle began to rub your back. “No, no, babe! Don’t cry! What’s going on? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Hearing Jimin’s words said by Noelle only made you cry harder. Wisely sensing this to be a problem not easily solved, Noelle continued rubbing your back while walking towards the exit.

The two of you went outside and, as luck would have it, saw a group of people arriving at the club. Noelle snagged their taxi, helping you in the backseat and giving the driver your address. As you settled against her, your head on her shoulder, Noelle kept rubbing your arm and waited for the tears to stop.

You weren’t really sure why you were crying.

Of course, Sabrina was terrible, as was the situation with Jimin, but it was more than that. Dancing with Jimin hadn’t caused problems in your relationship with Finn. There had been problems in your relationship Finn and so, feelings had crept in which led you to dance with Jimin.

More than that though, you couldn’t help but notice Noelle had come to your aid much faster than Finn ever had. Even Jimin had dropped everything when you asked, and he was someone you’d once called your enemy. Noelle had been having fun, but she’d cut her night short because you were upset. This knowledge crushed you and for the very first time, you realized your relationship with Finn might be unfixable.

Curled up on the backseat, you let yourself cry a bit more. You could be calm and rational in the morning, you decided but for now, you just felt defeated.

When you finally climbed into bed at your dorm at night, you looked at your phone and saw Finn still hadn’t texted.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[potteresque-ire]

Here’s my response to @pussyibo, who tagged me on a post about Gg’s Li-Ning brand endorsement. 

First of all, I’d like everyone to please read @accio-victuuri‘s wonderfully written, detailedly researched post on the Li-Ning brand, the Xinjiang cotton support rally on Weibo, and the narrative the state has spun on the issue. I would’ve provided similar information in my response as well—although no way I could’ve laid it out as clearly, as to-the-point as @accio-victuuri did—because this background is critical in explaining my thoughts on this issue.

I haven’t reblogged the Li-Ning ads, but I must confess that the decision had little to do with politics. I’ve always leaned towards re-blogging art than real people.

That said, however, Gg’s Li-Ning ads have, of course, crossed my dash. And I’d be honest and say this as well: I haven’t really found them—or by extension, the idea that Gg was endorsing the brand—offensive, precisely for the reasons @accio-victuuri laid out. Li-Ning is a legend in China; a highly decorated olympic gymnast, he was the national pride chosen to be the final torch-bearer and torch-lighter for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. His company, established in 1990, was among the first Chinese brands with name-recognition overseas and has won high-profile international sponsorships—rare achievements among Chinese-owned enterprises, even to this day. 

Based on Li Ning’s identity and his company being a National Brand, I’d be more surprise if the Li-Ning brand doesn’t use homegrown, “patriotic” cotton, before even considering the practical reasons—Xinjiang cotton being a domestic product that eliminates the costs of shipping, tariffs etc; that it’s of such superior quality that international brands touted its use—a reversal of the usual downplaying of their products’ Chinese origin, due to the common associations of “Made in China”=“Bootleg”,“awful quality”; that makes up ~20% of worldwide cotton production—ie. most Chinese families are probably already using products with cotton from the region (blankets, for example). 

From that perspective, therefore, I’ve viewed the endorsement as little more than a case of a high-profile Chinese celebrity endorsing a high-profile Chinese brand, named after a national hero and targeted towards the local market. I breathed a little sigh of relief for Gg, admittedly—imagine if his new endorsement over those same few days had been for a brand under the Better Cotton Initiative; he would’ve been flayed alive, if the antis’ words were knives.

(And who said they aren’t?)

As such, I also haven’t considered the Li-Ning brand as “morally inferior” to Gg or Dd, or, the other way around, that Gg or Dd are “morally superior” to the Li-Ning brand. I haven’t considered drawing a moral ruler along this axis. I either believe they’re all doing what their sociopolitical environment has taught them, guided them, demanded them to do, or I don’t. Li Ning (the person and the brand), Gg, and Dd all have a celebrity status attached to them. They’ve all flourished in that one sociopolitical environment—that one they also call home.  

Ultimately, Gg and Dd belong to China. They’re the product of the country, its all powerful, all controlling regime. No one can be isolated from their backgrounds—my background colours every word I say here; likewise, there’s no place I can draw a line and separate Gg and Dd from the Communist Red behind them. I wouldn’t have posted about China’s sociopolitical environment, researched on it as a GgDd fan otherwise. 

I either walk away from them all, or I don’t. I either stay a fan, or I don’t. The latter is my choice. Every minute.

Have there been instances in which news about Gg and Dd make me especially uncomfortable? Yes. Photos of Gg in PLA (People’s Liberation Army; Chinese army) uniform for AT, or Dd in police uniform for BAH, for TTXS still give me stomach churns every time I see them. A violent squeeze of the heart.

Visceral reactions that come from, I suppose, the amyglada. More organic, primitive than thought. 

I’ve seen those uniforms in RL action—uniforms worn by those who’re truly responsible for the labor camps and mass surveillance, the torture, the unreported deaths, the disappearances; uniforms Gg and Dd have expressed support outside their drama, their host roles:

Translation: #I support Hong Kong Police too# (On red banner) “I support HK police. You can beat me up now.” What a shame for Hong Kong.

(Dd reblogged the same post originated from People’s Daily, the State-Controlled Newspaper).

I’m going to go on a quick detour and provide the backstory of this red little box, this piece of propaganda that is much more blatant than a clothing ad. I’ll explain why in a bit.

Here’s an article that explained the incident from which the quote was drawn, that occurred on 8/13/2019 during the Hong Kong Protest and the airing of The Untamed. Essentially, a Chinese state media reporter was suspected to be a spy among the protestors after taking photos, refusing to show his press pass (he was found to have one but not his own), and possessing a “I love HK Police” shirt; he was tied to the luggage cart and beaten up. The reporter said the quote in the red little box; he suffered mild injuries and was soon discharged by the hospital.  What was the background of this story, however? Why did the protestors beat up someone who could be from the press—who, regardless of their affiliation, protestors know should be protected? The protests began in June, 2019. Hong Kong had had another large scale protest in between September to November, 2014 (aka the “Umbrella Revolution”). Spies had always been an issue. Why didn’t a spy beating happen earlier?

Here’s an English-subbed documentary (warning: violence) that offers insight of the background—the fear and fury of the protestors. The subject is what is now known as 721 Yuen Long incident, or the evening Hong Kongers—even those who had not been involved, who had been unsure about the protests—lost their trust of the Hong Kong Police, once known as “Asia’s finest”.

That evening went like this. On 7/21/2019, the local mafia violently attacked the passengers of a late night train in Yuen Long station—passengers who weren‘t protestors (who wore black)—while the police ignored the multiple emergency calls from locals who’d spotted something suspicious, and didn’t show up on the scene while the beatings occurred. Evidences, which the documentary detailed, pointed to the Hong Kong Police, and the government that backed it, endorsing the beatings, therefore working with the local mafia to deal with the protests. 

By 8/13/2019, therefore, protestors were convinced that their opposition wasn’t beyond using very low blows to get their way. One could argue that they overreacted to the spy-reporter; the Western media, who had long trusted HKers to know what they were doing, expressed its disappointment, and the protestors soon apologised. The Chinese propaganda machine, of course, jumped at the chance of casting the protestors as bad people, and the online rally on Weibo ensued (It lasted for at least three days; Gg and Dd reblogged post about HK between 8/14/2019-8/16/2019).

That was, briefly, the story behind Gg and Dd’s Weibo reblog.

Why did I make a detour and write up this story? Because I’ve actually posted blatant propaganda on my blog—the Weibo post, with its red little box. However, does it still feel like propaganda with the story?

Therefore, I haven’t, and don’t plan on pressuring anyone to stop posting and re-blogging specific pieces of GgDd information—be it an ad as in this scenario, or propaganda material from films, series, government/state-controlled media announcements etc. That I believe everyone should set their own boundaries, be their own judge of what they’d like to share on their own blog aside, I think—and this is where my opinion may deviate from many—“canceling” falsehoods often isn’t the best way to deal with them. 

This opinion is likely, again, coloured by my background.

My observations have been this: “cancelling” is effective only if the cancelling force is, overall, significantly stronger than the force being cancelled. In the scenario that prompted this post, making Gg’s Li-Ning ads disappear from the dash is only possible if there are more fans who ignore the ads than those who post and reblog them. “Canceling” is therefore a competition of headcount, with tactics for sidekick—the side with more people, and people who are good at disseminating information, decides the outcome: whether the intended-to-be-cancelled material go viral within the fandom, or whether they die out.

I’d like to highlight this word: headcount.

This isn’t the most favourable kind of competition to participate in, therefore, if the potential opposition belongs to the populous country in the world, its members, people who may have participated in fan circles, which are essentially fan armies who’ve been used to organising, battling on social media for their idols. I’ve previously set up a hypothetical scenario, in which Dd’s supertopic members were encouraged by their government to scale the Great Firewall to Twitter, spread their support of Xinjiang cotton—a scenario that is not totally unrealistic, given that the Chinese government has previously mobilised fans for propaganda purpose. 

We’ll use this thought experiment again ~ please bear in mind, once more, that this is SJD; a figment of our imagination.

Since we’re talking about Li-Ning brand, let’s add Gg’s supertopic members to the mix. The total supertopics member count is 6.11 + 8.34 = 14.45 million, as of today (2021/04/04). 

Let’s say, only a tiny, tiny percent—0.01% of them are mobilised; that’s 1,400 people.

Is it possible to cancel the voices, the retweets of 1,400 in Gg and Dd’s i-fandom? Cut down another 90%, reduce the opposition headcount to 140. Is it possible?

There are also overseas Chinese who do not intend to spread propaganda, but believe in the story and have no qualms disseminating the information. There are also fans who wish to remove politics from fandom and pass all information along.

Here lies the frustration of those who’ve tried to raise their voice of concerns re: the policies and practices of the Chinese government on social media; and this is why I mentioned that my background informed my opinion. On social media, where headcount and whoever shouts the loudest, retweet etc the most wins the exposure game, it’s nearly impossible to win against the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)’s propaganda machine, if the party chooses to have the machine running. 

Their side has so many people.

One more RL example: here’s a scholarly article detailing how Diba (帝吧), an old, popular online forum in China with 20 million members, mobilised, collectively scaled the Firewall and engaged in a cyberattack of the Facebook page of Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-Wen on January 20, 2016 — the day of President Tsai Ing-wen’s first inauguration; they left a total of 26,000 comments against Taiwan independence, using Simplified Chinese (which China uses) for their font instead of Traditional Chinese (which Taiwan and Hong Kong uses)—ie, the commenters didn’t even pretend to be not from China. They were proud and open about their "Expedition”.

(China’s state-controlled tabloid Global Times—yes, the same one involved in the Hong Kong airport incident above—”concluded the campaign was a “fun normal incident” that showcased young people’s passion for politics”)

Is it possible to try to cancel something of that scale? Is it realistic?

Personally, therefore, I’ve always advocated for “immunisation”: rather than protecting a fact by wiping out its associated lies—the idea behind “cancelling” a message, not having it show up on the dash—I prefer to do so by allowing it to be visibly challenged, until observers are no longer easily swayed by falsehoods. I used Gg and Dd’s Weibo reblog re: Hong Kong police as an example—is the red little box propaganda, a challenge to the protests? Yes. Is it information that I deeply disagree with, something I wish I’ll never see again? Also yes. But by providing context to it, I’m hoping to turn it into a vaccine—something mimicking the virus, the potentially viral piece of information, but doesn’t function the same way anymore. 

Hopefully, this vaccine will also encourage stop-and-think moments that boost future immunity; hopefully, with a few more boosters, questions will come automatically with such red little boxes reappear— questions about the context, the purpose, the message. 

Questions like these, for this incident: why did the State media make this incident the “Gotcha” moment in the Hong Kong Protests, important enough for People’s Daily to make a rally-starting meme? Why was the reporter, Fu Guohao hailed as a hero, when he’d just got ... beaten up? 

What did People’s Daily, and the government behind it, want people to find when the red little box popped up everywhere on Weibo, including the Weibo of the fastest rising stars from the hit summer TV series? What belief could be expected to be instilled into the audience with this photo, published by China’s state TV station (CGTN), of the reporter tied up to a luggage cart and surrounded by black-cladded protestors?

Who looked like the strong, evil side? The meek, good side? Why, finally, was the tag about the Hong Kong Police, when the conflict was between the protestors and an alleged Chinese state media reporter?

By then, Hong Kongers were already suspicious that the Hong Kong Police had been infiltrated by China’s law enforcement arm, from hints from the different dialects the police used, how they handled the protestors etc. It was the start the final break down of Hong Kong’s autonomy. Their suspicions were not wrong. Now, with the National Security Law having taken effect since July 2020, Hong Kong’s transformation into a police state is well under way.

What does the tag #I support Hong Kong Police too# mean now?

[Please excuse my using many examples from HK because 1) I’m familiar with the details; and 2) it’s the only instance in recent history in which the outside world can see, with relative clarity, a large-scale protest against the Chinese government and its outcome.]

Here’s my humble wish: next time, when a government-sponsored memes like this get translated and posted, be it originally reblogged by Gg, Dd, or other c-ent stars, be it on Twitter or Tumblr, the vaccinated, immunised will pause and wonder: What’s the story? What’s being told inside the Great Firewall, and outside? 

If this happens, red little boxes on my blog, unpleasant as they are, are 100% worth it.

The Li-Ning ads are therefore worth it too, IMO, if they spark a conversation, a dissemination of facts and perspectives. To me, the latter is especially precious in this fandom, where significant language and cultural barriers exist.  Fans who move Gg and Dd’s news and candies from Weibo are the pillars of this fandom. Sieving through that website is hard, translations harder; it’s unfair and unrealistic to ask them to also be the background knowledge deliverers. 

I’ve tried to do a small part, but I’m ... slow. Very, very slow. However, even if the background isn’t available, I’ve found being careful, skeptical about the information is already a very good thing. At heart, this is no different from the lessons from media literacy here, except there are even more falsehoods and half-truths to wade through given the country of origin of Gg and Dd’s material, and trustworthy sources are not always available. Li-Ning brand is an example that things do not need to be blatant propaganda to carry a pro-CCP message. 

What can i-fans do then about the Xinjiang cotton situation, if competing against the Chinese government propaganda machine on social media appears to be a losing game?

My thoughts are these, at the moment. First, please consider not dwelling on the competition, especially within fandom. Remember: getting several fewer fans to buy Li-Ning brand isn’t going to change the big picture.

Instead, if this is an area of activism you choose to participate in—please consider channeling your effort to watching the companies in your country. Put pressure on sustainability & good practice certification companies like Better Cotton Initiative, make sure they don’t, can’t have it both ways. Xinjiang cotton is either certified or it isn’t. There’re suspicions of forced labor on its production or there aren’t. The answer should be a simple yes or no, not whether the office is in Geneva or in Shanghai.

This is an answer that we, as consumers, have the right to know. Transparency in China isn’t for us to demand; we can, however, demand transparency in our own country. Remember too: it makes a far, far greater difference for one international company to re-consider its cotton source, than for one fandom to do the same. 

Meanwhile, and again, this is my humble opinion—please do whatever you’re comfortable with, that is within your ability, to fortify your stance. Should you choose to speak out online, you’ll likely meet opposition. Responses on current events from the Chinese Foreign Ministry (you can also find the spokespeople on Twitter) can offer a glimpse of the counterarguments you may meet. How will you answer them? Here’s a clip of one of the spokespeople arguing that the US used to use black slavery to pick cotton in the past. If you’re American and this is presented to you—what would you say? (Does mistakes by one country in the past mean mistakes by another country in the present is automatically acceptable?) The opposition may also use vicious words, the most extreme of which is probably “racist”. If someone call you racist—if many Twitter users scream racist!!!!!!!! at you at the same time for your critique—can you stand firm? 

[The pro-CCP camp has been taking advantage of the West’s effort to move forward from its racist past to stop any criticism of the Chinese government. It already knows the easiest way to silence the criticisms is to call whoever makes them racist.]

[If everyone fears the racist allegation, allows the conflation of Chinese government and Chinese people to take root, will there be more or less anti-Asian sentiments in the long run?]

[I’ve been called racist by writing these metas.] 

The last thing I’d like to say is this: please be kind to your fellow fans who’ve kept mum, or been hesitant about making their stance known. Some may be closely connected to China, others may not be in a psychological / health space to deal with the politics. Also, and here’s my default way of looking at this: I disagree with the idea that anyone owes anyone else a declaration of their political beliefs. I can’t imagine this issue to be an easy thing to think about for many Gg and Dd fans, myself most definitely included ~ as a (former) Hong Konger, a uniformed Gg or Dd gives me an unpleasant visceral response, but at the same time, it also means I’m used to accepting, even genuinely liking people on the other side of this political ... Grand Canyon. I can imagine the conflict, the pain this issue may have caused some fans who’re not accustomed to the latter, as being a fan, IMO, is never purely logical ~ and I mean that in the best of ways. 

Passion is the magic ingredient that separates a fan and a consumer. It’s also what makes choices difficult, when conclusions from logic, political stance included, conflict with it. Some make the hard choices quickly; some, slowly. Some make them in one go; some, piece by piece. Some never make them, let time be the decision maker.

As Dd said so famously and wisely, about the conflict between passion and logic: 愛就是這樣，沒有辦法 Love is like that. Nothing can be done.

The only common denominator is this: we’re all made to love.

❤️.💛.💚.

[masterthespianduchovny]

What’s so unrealistic about the desk situation is the idea that Mulder never ordered Scully one without prompt. Yall know that as soon as he realized Scully was staying for real he would’ve immediately ordered a desk or said, “you can take mine and I’ll wait for the new one to come in. Or you can use it as we wait for yours. ☺️”

She would’ve gotten a desk that first season and, at the very latest, when she returned after her abduction.

Mulder would’ve fussed over design and placement before Scully had to tell him whatever was decided was fine.

He would’ve been like a nervous schoolboy at the fact that Scully as staying and wanted to work with him bc she genuinely believed in and supported him.

Mulder would’ve made room for her bc he did so emotionally, why wouldn’t he physically?

He would’ve excitedly shown Scully her new desk, the drawers, and which drawers would be best for which files. Just being a huge dork. Shyly he’d show her the nameplate he had made and the one he made did the door.

He’d hand her the nameplate and say, “would you like the pleasure?”

After Scully hangs it, she looks at Mulder and say, “Nobody down here except the fbi’s most unwanted.”

They share a smile.

Or Scully requests a desk and when she gets in her (I meant their, but the typo is funny. Lol) office, she looks on in horror. “What are you doing, Mulder?”

“I saw your desk request order, I’m trying to figure out what would work best down here so we aren’t too cramped.”

The office is in disarray and the desk is near the section that’s Scully “office”/corner. Mulder’s scratching his head. He snaps his finger and tries to push the desk again.

“Mulder has anyone ever told you to push from your legs and not your back?”

“Yeah, but you know me, I have to learn stuff the hard way before it gets through my thick skull.”

“I’d rather you not,” Scully remarks, and then helps Mulder move the desk.

Or…

“Mulder, you put in a desk request order for me?”

“Yeah.” Mulder shrugs. “I figured since you’re going to be here a while, might as well have a desk of your own. It’ll get a bit cramped, but we’re cooped up in cars for hours at a time—this is somewhat better than that.”

He grins at her.

“I canceled the order.”

His face drops.

“No, Mulder, I’m not going anywhere.” She assures. “Like you said, it’ll get cramped in here. I don’t mind sharing the desk with you. Besides, too much space and you’ll slip out of my sight.”

Mulder laughs out loud.

[btsqualityy]

Heaven Sent; Part 6

Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: Emotional manipulation (at least, that’s what I think it would be catergorized as).

Month seven was a month of exploration. After you and Jin admitted to being attracted to each other and deciding to try things out to see what happens, you were seemingly thrown into the deep end with how open Jin became after that.

You learned that he loves to cook, and that he would’ve been a chef if he hadn’t taken over the business end of his father’s restaurants. He double majored in both business and culinary arts, and he was Hae-il’s roommate and the first person that he met during their first year. He loves trot music, and you’ve unfortunately been on the receiving end of him serenading you with a song numerous times. He also loves video games and you were willing to bet that if he didn’t have to work, then he’d been stuck behind a computer screen playing games all day. 

There was just so much more to Jin and his personality that you never knew about, and you couldn’t believe that you found yourself liking him more and more as the two of you spent more time together. 

“Uncle Jinnie, can I get the songpyeon?” Aera asked Jin from her place perched on his shoulders and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the way that she pronounced the word. The three of you had met for brunch at a little café down the block from his office, where he had been doing some work.

“Little Heart, we’ve talked about this,” Jin chuckled as he patted her feet where they swung lightly by his chin. “Just say rice cakes.”

“But I’m a big girl and that’s what the sign says!” She shot back and you smiled as you looked up at her.

“Don’t remind me,” you chuckled. “You’re growing up too fast Love.”

“Can I get them uncle Jinnie?” Aera asked again, and you and Jin could both hear the impatience that had creeped into her tone so he rapidly nodded before turning to the cashier.

“Can we have two pink lemonades, an iced Americano, a songypeon and two dasiks?” Jin ordered and the cashier nodded. Jin then reached down, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his slacks and taking out his card, handing it to the cashier. After he got his card back, the three of you moved further down the counter so that the next person behind you could place his order.

“I hope that we didn’t pull you away from anything too important,” you spoke up as you looked at Jin. 

“Nah, I was just filling out some paper work and signing off on some things, so it was mostly procedural stuff,” he told you. “And even if it were really important, I don’t mind taking a break for you guys.”

“It’s also Saturday, so you shouldn’t be overworking yourself anyways,” you smiled gently, trying to hide the way that your cheeks had warmed up from his words. 

“Order #353,” a voice called out and you and Jin stepped up to the counter, grabbing your drinks and snacks. After finding a small table in one corner of the café, the three of you sat down, Aera perched on Jin’s lap as she ate her rice cake. 

“Did you have a good week at school Little Heart?” Jin asked her and you watched as her little eyes widened.

“Yes,” she whispered and Jin looked down at her, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“She had an issue with a boy in her class on Wednesday,” you told him and he looked up at you. 

“What happened?” He wondered.

“The little boy made a comment about Hae and Aera stomped on his foot and hit him in the stomach,” you revealed. 

“Aera,” Jin called disapprovingly and Aera’s head whipped up at the utterance of her real name from Jin. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” She exclaimed. “He said Daddy died because he doesn’t love me and I know that’s not true so I hit him!”

“Of course it’s not true sweetheart,” Jin cooed, lifting his hand and wiping away at the hot tears that had started to gather in the corners of her eyes. “Your Daddy loves you so much and he wouldn’t have left if he had the choice so that boy shouldn’t have said that. That doesn’t mean that you can just go around hitting people either though.”

“Mommy said the same thing,” Aera pouted.

“That’s because Mommy’s pretty smart,” Jin smiled. “So no more fights, ok?”

“Ok,” Aera nodded before going back to eating. 

“Thanks,” you said and Jin raised an eyebrow as he brought his cup of coffee to his mouth. 

“For what?”

“For backing me up,” you replied. “She’s always better convinced if more than one person tells her the same thing.”

“Just like Hae,” Jin laughed as he shook his head. “Anyways though, what do you guys have planned for today?”

“Me and Mommy are going to see grandma and grandpa today!” Aera interjected suddenly. 

“Your parents?” Jin asked and you shook your head.

“Hae’s,” you told you. “I think it’ll be good for her to see them, especially after what happened this week. We’re gonna go catch up and then Aera is gonna stay the night.”

“Good idea,” he agreed. “So does this mean that our regular Saturday movie night is cancelled?”

“Only this one,” Aera told him and he smiled before reaching down and tweaking her nose. 

“Good,” he said, making her giggle as you watched them fondly.

After finishing your drinks and snacks, Jin walked with you and Aera back down the block to your car. He put her inside, helping her strap herself into her booster seat before shutting the door and looking down at you.

“So, are you and me still on for our movie night?” Jin smirked and you reached out, smacking his chest lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“You’re gross,” you giggled. “But yes, we’re still on. I’ll only stay with Aera for about an hour and then I’ll be home so you can just come over whenever.”

“Alright. I do have to finish up some stuff but I don’t think it’ll take me long at all,” he responded. “Still, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Ok,” you smiled and the two of you stood there in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other. 

“Is she looking?” Jin asked and peaking your head around his arm, you saw that Aera was looking down at one of the books that you kept in the car for her.

“Nope,” you told him and suddenly, his lips were pressed against yours. You kissed him back, sighing contentedly before pulling away.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered, and you nodded.

“Bye.”

......................................

“Oh, hi my baby!” Jin-joo exclaimed, leaning down so that she could catch Aera in her arms as Aera rushed up to her. You shut the car door, smiling as you walked up to the front steps of Hae-il’s parent’s house.

“Hi Y/N-ah,” Gun greeted you and you stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back. “Is that little one’s bag?”

“Oh yeah, it has all of the things that she’ll need,” you nodded, pulling Aera’s small backpack from over your shoulder and handing it over to him.

“We still have some of her stuff here though,” Gun mentioned.

“I figured but she’s hit a growth spurt in the last two months or so,” you told him with a smile. “It seems like she outgrew every single piece of clothing that she owned all at the same time.”

“That just means you’re eating well huh?” Jin-joo smiled at Aera, who nodded rapidly in her arms. “Well, both of you come on in.” You followed behind Jin-joo and Gun, watching with a smile as they both helped Aera take off her jacket and her shoes. As you worked on taking off your own shoes and jacket, Jin-joo handed Aera off to Gun.

“Why don’t you show Aera some of the new things that we bought for her?” Jin-joo suggested and Aera’s eyes instantly lit up. 

“New toys?” She wondered excitedly.

“Why don’t we go see?” Gun chuckled, turning off and carrying Aera off down the hallway. Once they were gone, Jin-joo turned to you with a wide smile.

“Tea?” She offered.

“Please,” you nodded, following behind her into the kitchen. You sat down at the small table that was there and you watched silently as she grabbed a kettle, moving over to the sink and filling it with water before moving over to the stove. 

“How have you been getting along dear?” She asked you and you sighed lightly, thinking over your answer. 

“Honestly, I’m doing a lot better than I thought I would be after only 7 months,” you admitted. “I haven’t burst out crying in a good three weeks or so, which I consider to be progress.”

“That’s definitely good progress,” she chuckled with a soft smile as she moved to sit across the table from you. “And Aera?”

“Oh, she’s been doing amazingly,” you smiled. “Well, of course besides the incident on Wednesday.”

“I felt so bad when you called and told us about that,” Jin-joo sighed. “I bet she misses him so much.”

“She does,” you confirmed. A few seconds of silence passed over the two of you before you heard her take a deep inhale. 

“I have to say Y/N-ah, and I really hope that you don’t take extreme offense to this, but I began to think after you called Thursday,” Jin-joo began. “And I couldn’t help but to wonder if Aera acting out that way has to do with Seokjin?” Your eyes immediately widened at her words, not expecting her to say that.

“What would he have to do with that?” You questioned.

“Well, I know that she’s been spending an increased amount of time with him, with the both of you, together,” she corrected herself. “And with her being so young, I can’t help but to be concerned about what that’s doing to the memory that she has of her father.”

“Jin-joo, you’re skirting around what you really want to say, and I’d prefer if you would just say it,” you told her.

“Alright, fine,” she nodded. “In my opinion, it is much too soon or you to be moving on and seeing other men and Aera is clearly suffering from it.” You couldn’t help the chuckle that you let out then, the disbelief almost overwhelming you.

“First off, the relationship that I have with Jin isn’t anything like you’re thinking,” you said. “Secondly, you know me Jin-joo. You know I’d never do anything that would carry even the slightest risk of harming Aera in any way, shape, or form.”

“But you’re grieving, and grief can make us do things that we normally wouldn’t,” she noted.

“I can see that,” you replied tersely. 

“Look Y/N-ah, I’m only concerned about your and Aera’s well being,” she insisted. “Hae-il’s death has greatly affected all of us but more than anyone, it’s affected Aera the most. Now, I know Seokjin and I know he more than likely has the best of intentions but I don’t think it’s a good idea to allow him to get too comfortable in Aera’s life.”

“But he’s already been around since she was born,” you shot back. 

“Which makes it even worse that he’s pursuing you not even a year after her father’s death,” Jin-joo explained before exhaling harshly. “I’m going to ask you a question and I would like an honest answer.”

“Ok.”

“Did you love my son?” She asked and your jaw dropped slightly.

“Of course I did, and you know that better than anyone,” you spat harshly.

“Then for the sake of that and the sake of the wellbeing of my granddaughter, who is the only tie that any of us have to Hae-il, you should wait to involve yourself in any other relationships,” she advised you and you hated to admit it, but you really began to think about what she was saying. Things with Jin had happened very quickly and even though you had been concerned with how your relationship with him would look to others, it hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind.  

Even though you didn’t like how she approached the topic with you, you had to admit that just maybe....she had a point.

......................................

Your thoughts only began to run away with you even more after you left Hae-il’s parents house and made it back to your own. 

You never wanted your love for Hae-il to be doubted but you could understand why Jin-joo would ask you a question like that. You had been spending a lot of time with Jin but you had always justified it by saying that if he makes you and Aera happy, then there was no harm in having him around.

But did he really make Aera happy though? It seemed like he did and she definitely loved him, which no one with eyes could deny, but she was also an easily distracted 6 year old who would be happy if you gave her a sucker. You had to think about if having Jin around so much was causing her to act out or not, because maybe she felt like she was loosing touch with Hae-il and that was absolutely the last thing that you wanted. 

Once you got home, you decided that you wanted to be close to Hae-il so after taking a shower, you changed into a pair of his old jogging pants and one of his button up flannel shirts. After making yourself some ramen, you settled down with it on the couch, making sure to grab your photo album on the way. Grabbing a blanket, you pulled it over your lap and opened the photo album, choosing to look through some of the photos while you waited for your ramen to cool down. 

The very first photo you saw was from your and Hae-il’s engagement photo shoot, where he was sitting in a chair and you were standing behind him, your arms wrapped around his neck. Your engagement ring was on display, a dainty ruby rock that fit around your left ring finger perfectly. You’d always loved that ring, even sometimes favoring it over the gold wedding band that you exchanged with Hae-il a year after that engagement photo shoot. You hadn’t worn it since Hae-il died though, not being able to stomach looking at it for more than a few seconds at a time.

The next photo was of you and Hae-il on your wedding day, your eyes shining with tears as Hae-il read his vows to you at the altar. That day was amazing, the love that you were feeling for him almost overwhelming you at times throughout the ceremony. You laughed to yourself as you remembered how Hae-il almost spilled wine on your wedding dress at the reception later that night, getting slightly too tipsy on soju as he tried to whisk you around the dance floor.

As you continued to look through the photo album, you hadn’t even realized that tears had been welling up in your eyes until it rolled down your cheek and onto the photo album, splashing right onto a photo of you, Hae-il, and Aera that had been taken on her first birthday. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I can’t believe that I even thought that I’d be able to do this.” As you continued to look through the album, your phone buzzed on the table and when you leaned forward to pick it up, you saw that you had a text from Jin.

“On my way out soon,” it read. “We still on for tonight?”

Biting your lip as more tears rushed down your face, you huffed harshly as you realized what it was that you needed to do. 

“No,” it stated simply. After making sure that it sent, you then turned your phone off, setting it back on the table before looking back down on the photo album. 

“I love you,” you whispered as you ran your finger over a photo of Hae-il holding a baby Aera and smiling brightly at the camera. “And I’m so sorry if I made you think that I didn’t.”

[excitedlysuffering]

When You Can Sing/Dance

Just a random I thought of, hope you enjoy!

(s/n)= Song name (b/n)= Brother name

Masterlist

Naruto (Singing)~

Your hips swayed back and forth as you sang quietly to yourself. You were washing the dishes from the dinner you and Naruto had shared, while he set up the pillow fort and board games. As you really got into your song, (s/n), your volume began to increase.

Soon you had finished, but you twirled around the kitchen as the melody carried all through your house. Just as you reached up to put the last dish onto the shelf, you felt arms wrap around your torso.

“You never told me you could sing, baby.” A voice breathed into your ear. You shrieked, embarrassed at having been caught. “Naruto! Um… how’s the fort?” He laughed, spinning you around. “Don’t change the subject, (Y/N), you have a beautiful voice.” You couldn’t help your blush, so you hid your face in his shoulder.

“Thanks, Naru. Did you finish the fort?” He nodded eagerly, dragging you to the living room. “Yeah! It takes up the whole living room, and I added a mini snack bar, the games, and some blankets and pillows to lay on!”

You kissed his cheek before excitedly climbing in. “It’s perfect! What do you want to do first?” The blonde smirked, tackling you onto a pillow, causing you to laugh. “You should sing to me! Pleaseee...” He pleaded.

As much as you wanted to refuse, he was the king of puppy dog eyes. The second his cerulean orbs met yours, you knew you’d be singing to him for a while. “Alright, alright, what do you want to hear?” He shrugged, laying his head in your lap.

“I don’t care, as long as you’re the one singing.” Your blush came back in full force as you ran your hands through his blonde locks.

“Okay, I’ll sing (s/n)...” You started the song Naruto had caught you singing in the kitchen. Your voice carried all through your fort, but your attention was only on your boyfriend, who’s eyes were closed as he listened to you.

You lost track of how songs you went through before realizing he was snoring quietly. You couldn’t help but smile, studying him in order to remember this moment forever.

Sasuke (Dancing/Hip Hop)~

Really he hadn’t meant to barge in on you. He heard a series of loud thuds and all he could think of was you being hurt. What he didn’t expect to see, however, was you in the middle of your living room, all your furniture moved. You were dressed in spandex and a tank top, hair swaying, hips sashaying, and your body completing all types of complicated moves in rapid succession.

He could only watch, shocked into absolute silence. What had happened to his usually calm, softspoken girlfriend? Sasuke, as surprised as he was, couldn’t complain. You looked like some sort of divine goddess and he was mesmerized.

He had no idea how long he stood there captivated as you danced in your room, oblivious to his presence. When your song and routine finished, you looked towards the door, your face instantly going red. Leaning against the threshold was your boyfriend, not at all looking suave and unbothered as usual. Sasuke looked quite the opposite actually. His jaw was slack and his eyes wide.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” He took three long strides towards you, a smirk forming on his lips. “Long enough to know that you should be doing that more often.” You covered your face, trying to hide your cheeks. You groaned as the Uchiha wrapped his arms around you, laughing quietly.

“Don’t be like that, kitten, that was amazing. You have a real talent.” You looked up, practically glowing at the praise. “Really?” He nodded, smiling softly. “Really. If I’d known you were such a great dancer, I would’ve been flaunting you around already.”

You giggled, knowing he wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. You could just imagine Sasuke yelling at a random person who was dancing and just shoving you forward and saying, “My girl is a better dancer than you!”. It was a funny thought, and you giggled a little.

“Well, maybe when I perfect this routine I can show you.” He grinned, ruffling your hair a bit. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve already perfected this, so there’s no reason to wait.” You laughed at his eagerness and pushed him out the door. “See you later, babe!” He protested as you closed the door, laughing.

Shikamaru (Singing)~

Your mom had asked you last second to watch your little brother, (b/n), last-second when his typical babysitter had to cancel. Rather than cut your date short, Shikamaru had agreed to help you out.

“SHIKAMARU!” The hyperactive five-year old ran towards you both as soon as the door opened. His small arms wrapped around Shikamaru’s legs in a hug. You sweatdropped as he totally ignored your existence. “Hey, buddy! You excited to hang out?” Shikamaru asked picking him up.

“Yes! I haven’t seen you in forever!” You giggled at the sight. Your two favorite boys got along so well, and it made your heart swell.

“Hey, (b/n)!” He waved half-heartedly as Shika walked down the hall. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” Your jaw dropped at the mediocre greeting. You shrugged it off as you took your shoes off and followed them into the living room.

“So what do you want to do first?” Shika asked the excited child who had his legs wrapped around your boyfriend’s neck and was hanging upside down. “Let’s play Candyland! I just got it and it’s so fun!”

That is how you found yourself locked in a very competitive game with (b/n) and Shikamaru. The boys complained, your brother even sounding like Shika when he said this was a ‘drag’ when you won. You just laughed while your boyfriend looked like a proud parent.

You looked at the time sighing in relief when you saw the time. It was almost three o’clock, the time for your brother’s daily nap. As much as you loved (b/n), he was a ball of boundless energy and he was exhausting. Especially when you had just finished your sixteenth straight game of Candyland.

“Hey, look at the time. Looks like it’s time for someone’s nap…” (B/n) groaned but, stood up obediently and yawned. “Shika will you tuck me in?” He looked uncharacteristically excited to comply with his request. You didn’t mind not being asked, you would prefer the tucking in tradition to remain a secret.

“(Y/N/N), aren’t you coming?” You internally panicked at the sight of your brother pouting. “O-of course I’m coming!” You jumped up, hurriedly guiding him to his room, trying to ignore Shika’s amused expression.

Per (b/n)’s request, you had no choice but to sing his favorite lullaby, the same one you sang him every day. As you quietly sang the words, lulling him to sleep, Shika’s eyes widened beside you. In minutes he was asleep, and you sighed in relief, ready to have this moment over with. The second you were out of the room you were in Shikamaru’s arms, his face one of awe.

“That was beautiful, (Y/N)... why haven’t you told me you could sing?” You shrugged, laughing quietly as to not wake the sleeping child. “You never asked, Shika.” He rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Troublesome woman. Well, now I know and I want to hear more.”

Neji (Dancing/Ballet)~

Neji had always been prone to just walking into your house unannounced and uninvited. It wasn’t that you necessarily minded, it was just that you had no idea how he did it. Your door was never unlocked, but he just waltzed like it was.

Today was one of those days, but this time you weren’t there to screech at the sudden sight of your boyfriend. He frowned and looked around your home. As he wandered around, his ears picked up the sound of piano music. He traced to the one room in your house he had never seen.

He silently opened the door, not knowing what to expect. Even though he was usually pretty even-tempered, he couldn’t help but be flabbergasted at the sight of the room. It was clearly a ballet studio, and you were in the middle, in a black leotard and ballet slippers.

He had seen you fight and knew how agile, graceful, and light on your feet you were, but now it all made sense. The way you effortlessly spun and twirled and leaped…

He was utterly and completely entranced by you. He could tell you’d been doing ballet for years by your skill level. Something about seeing you doing something so… beautiful and precise made him fall a little more in love with you the longer he watched.

“(Y/N)... you’re amazing.” You froze, midturn at the voice. “Neji? What are- what are you doing here?” He couldn’t stifle his large smile, as he grasped your hands in his own. “Well, I came to see you, but I wasn’t expecting this. You have so much talent, Angel!”

You grinned pecking his lips. “Thank you, Neji… I took it up as a hobby when I was little, but it’s actually increased my skills as a shinobi so I kept it up.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I’ll say. I’m glad I chose to come over when I did.” You laughed as you realized he probably broke in again. “Me too. Although, I really want to know how you get in!” He shrugged smirking as he let you go.

“If you show me your routine, I’ll tell you exactly how I do it.” You grinned, nodding ecstatically. “You’re on!”

You mentally cheered as you started the song over, excited to show Neji this part of you, and find out his secret.

Kiba (Singing)~

The second you had learned that Kiba was sick with a terrible fever, you had rushed over bags of supplies in tow. You found your boyfriend in his bed, shivering with blankets and Akamaru wrapped around him.

“Kiba? How are you feeling?” He moaned, his face nearly matching his red fangs. Even though he was shivering, he was sweating profusely. “I’m really cold…” He was cut off by a coughing fit, causing your heart to break a little more at the sight.

“I brought some medicine and soup, do you think you can keep it down?” Akamaru, as if knowing his owner was in good hands, jumped off the bed, letting you take his spot. “Yeah,” he whispered tiredly. You frowned as you placed a hand on his forehead. “Kiba, you’re burning up!”

You rushed to the bathroom, running a rag under cold water. You were relieved at the contented sigh Kiba let out when the rag touched his head.

“Alright, I have the medicine, can you open for me?” It made you nervous about how different he was. His mouth barely opened and he didn’t bother to complain about the unpleasant taste. “Do you want to eat? Or save it for later?” His tired eyes lifted up to yours as he sniffled.

“Just wanna sleep… will you stay with me?” You nodded, propping up a pillow and leaning back as his head came to rest on your lap. “Thank you, (Y/N/N).” He mumbled. A small smile pulled at your lips as you combed a hand through his hair.

“You’re welcome, babe. Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.” You felt him nod once as he laid an arm over your torso. You watched him as he fell asleep, but you could tell it wasn’t restful. In all honesty, he looked quite miserable.

Without a second thought, you began to sing a quiet song (A/N: Think sad/slow song like Sam Smith or John Legend) that always calmed you down. Kiba’s face, which was scrunched, slowly smoothed out. His features finally looked relaxed, but you kept singing, not wanting to break the effect.

“You sound like an angel…” You paused in surprise, Kiba’s scratchy voice surprising you. You laid a small kiss on his forehead. “Rest, baby, you need it.” He silently placed your hand back in his brown locks, already half asleep. You complied with a chuckled. You resumed your singing, happy that he was finally getting some much-needed shut eye.

Gaara (Dancing/Salsa)~

We all know Gaara can be a little insecure at times, he trusted your word, of course, but somethings he just couldn’t ignore. Like when he was on the way to your house and saw you get into a man’s car and leave. He knew it was petty, but he couldn’t help it. You were dressed in a tight red, cocktail dress and he had on dress clothes, for goodness sake! In his mind, he had no choice but to follow you. What if you were going on a date with someone else? What if he was just a side piece?!

However, he was very confused when your car had pulled into a dance studio. What would you being doing there? Could you even dance? He’d never seen you do it.

Still, he waited a minute to follow you in, he didn’t want to be caught spying on you. He saw you enter a room and quickly tailed you around the corner, and into a room filled with two other couples. What kind of date was this…?

He stayed behind the door, just peeking his head out. Upbeat music that he didn’t recognize played throughout the room and everyone took their places. He was absolutely horrified as you began seductively dancing with the man. His hands were all on your waist and your thighs… he couldn’t watch anymore of it. He stomped over and gently but firmly ripped you out of his grasp.

Your (e/c) orbs met his seafoam ones, in shock. “What are you doing?!” Your lips parted in surprise and your cheeks reddened in humiliation as everyone’s eyes landed on you. “Gaara?! What are you doing here?!” His eyes narrowed at the man behind you.

“I was going to go to see you, but then I saw you leave with him! What is going on?” Even though he was scowling, you couldn’t help burst out laughing. “You think this funny? You think I like seeing my girlfriend out with other guys?”

The hurt in his voice stopped you short. “Gaara, this isn’t a date. I haven’t told you, because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I salsa dance and I’m performing at a recital. This is practice…” His face matched his ruby red hair. “P-practice?” I smiled, snaking my arms around his torso.

“Don’t sweat it, man, if I were in your position I probably would’ve been worse.” (R/n), your partner assured him. “Heh, yeah… sorry for interrupting, I’ll, um, be off now.” You grabbed his hand before he could dash off.

“Why don’t you stay? We can go out after.” He sighed in relief before nodding. “Okay.” You watched as he took a seat close to the wall.

You walked out of the studio hand in hand, to his car. “You were fantastic, (Y/N/N)! But… you should teach me to salsa because I’m the only one who should be able to touch you like that.” You giggled as you reached the car. “Deal.”

Kakashi (Singing)~

You and Kakashi were often paired together for missions, thanks to both of your skills and great chemistry. Tonight the two of you had a simple mission; infiltrate a Daimyo’s party, get him alone, then kill him. It was a dire mission, seeing as he had sent spies to collect info on the Hokage.

Just like all the evil old men that were your targets on your missions, he had a soft spot for pretty girls. Kakashi grumbled the whole way to the party, but with the promise of being careful (and a couple of kisses) he agreed to follow your lead.

There was a mini stage for impromptu singers and entertainers, and it was right in front of where the Daimyo’s table was. He was surrounded by girls young enough to be his daughter, which made you scrunch your nose up in disgust. “I have an idea, stay here, okay?”

The silver-haired jonin nodded sharply, his gaze not leaving you as you made yours to the stage. The guest of honor’s eyes seemed to drawn to you as well. You felt him look you up and down, your short, tight dress leaving little to the imagination.

You schooled your expression as you addressed the crowd. “This song is dedicated to the Daimyo, who has surely caught my eye.” You winked at him, trying to suppress your gag.

The song you sang was sultry and seductive, complete with your swinging hips. Everyone, not just the Daimyo, seemed to be enraptured as your steamy melody drifted through the venue.

As soon as you finished, he was already heading towards you. “Follow me, darling.” You permitted yourself to be dragged down a hallway behind the stage. You sent your nervous boyfriend a reassuring smile as you disappeared.

As soon as the door closed behind you, a senbon was in your hand. “Sorry, Daimyo, but your treason will not be tolerated.” His eyes widened. “Wha-” He dropped to the ground, two senbons silencing him.

Kakashi had entered the room five minutes after you had done the deed, clearly stunned. “Wow. That was an impressive display, love. I would love for you to reenact that when we get home…” He stated, suggestively. His hands rested on your waist and brought you closer to them.

You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the dead man. “I wasn’t aware you had a death wish, Kashi.” He rolled his eye, laughing. “If that means I get to hear you sing to me…” You laughed, kissing his cheek.

“How about I’ll just sing?” His joking smile turned sincere. “I would love that.”

~Akatsuki~

Pein (Dancing/Ballroom)~

You were bored out of your mind, there was nothing to do. Pein and Konan had left on a mission, and a lot of the others were out too. You spent most of your time in the orange-haired leader’s room since the majority of your things were already in there.

Pein hadn’t really given you a time frame, but so far it had been three and a half days, so they should be here soon right? You sure hoped so. You had already spun around in his chair like a child, read every slightly entertaining book in his room (not many) and you completed some overdue mission reports

You were quickly running out of time-consuming activities when your gaze landed on his cloak. Pein had never seemed like a dancing type, so you never had a partner to dance with. But now that no one was around it gave you a perfect opportunity to do what you love.

Before you’d gone rogue, you were part of a wealthy family and they had a passion for throwing parties where’d there be dancing all night. That was the only thing you liked about it, being able to forget everything and just twirl the night away.

You grabbed Pein’s spare cloak and held it the way one would their partner. You hummed a tune, it helps you keep your beat as you made your way around the room. You were actually having quite a bit of fun, and your humming got louder as you waltzed.

“What are you doing?” You shrieked, coming face to face with White Zetsu. (A/N: Hah, you thought it was Pein) Although you wondered where Black Zetsu was, you weren’t upset. He was always talking about eating you and the like.

“Um, dancing? What are you doing here?” Zetsu gave you a small smile. “Looking for Pein, I assume he’s not in?” I shook my head. “Unfortunately not.”

He gave you a strange look. “Why do you dance with a cloak?” You laughed. “Cause there’s no one else!” Zetsu took the cloak from you and set on the bed. “I’ll dance with you then. I’ve always enjoyed it, but Black Zetsu doesn’t dance.” Instead of questioning it, you shrugged and got into position with a simple ‘okay’.

He was actually really good, but you didn’t comment on it because it was nice finally having someone to dance with.

“Um, did I miss something?” You both spun around, your eyes meeting a confused Pein in the doorway. You smiled walking over to him. “Nope, Zetsu and I just like to dance.” His quizzical expression didn’t leave his face as you and Zetsu continued to dance as if nothing had happened.

“I had no idea you could dance like this. Where’d you learn?” You smiled at my lover as he approached you. “Society parties were a must, so I learned early. What about you Zetsu?” He smiled. “That’s a secret. Unfortunately, I must take my leave. Black Zetsu is waiting for me.”

With a small smile, he disappeared through the floor, leaving you and Pein alone. You flashed him a grin and held out a hand.

“Wanna learn to dance?” He placed his hand in yours. “I’d be honored.”

Deidara (Singing)~

You hummed quietly to yourself as you cooked dinner. It was your week to cook for the Akatsuki, and even though it was a lot of work catering to everyone’s individual preferences and needs, it was a fun job for you.

You had always used singing as a way to pass the time and this time was no different. You loved to sing older, classical songs, ones you would hear at the fanciest events. They would completely captivate you every time you heard them.

Your voice carried through the room as you lost yourself in the lyrics. You were so enraptured with your singing and cooking that you didn’t even notice your audience of one. A low, smooth voice joined in, harmonizing with yours.

You whipped around, the sight of Deidara causing you to freeze. He kept singing, but the smile on his face encouraged you to continue your little duet. The lyrics you two were singing seemed to mingle together, complimenting and enhancing each other.

As you both grew more confident, you began to draw closer together, and it looked as if you were serenading each other. The blonde-haired artist couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and neither could you. This moment was so perfect you didn’t think anything could ruin it.

You knew it would be easy to get used to his voice, it was so playful and soothing… it fit him like a glove the more you thought about it.

As the song came to a close you could tell Deidara wasn’t satisfied. “One more time? Since I missed the beginning and all.” He smirked mischievously. You grinned, holding his hands in yours.

“I guess since you asked so nicely, I can do it one more time.” You teased with a laugh. He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your palm. With a wink, he dived right into the first few words. Without hesitation you joined in, once again creating a beautiful harmony that could be heard all around the base.

You both were in utter bliss at this new experience. Never would you have imagined you and Deidara singing together, but now that it was happening you couldn’t imagine this any other way. Your arms made their way around his neck and his around your waist, but it did nothing to interrupt your flawless performance.

The sound of hushed whispers did, however. “Did you know they could do that?” “No! I’ve never heard either of them sing…” “He’s so whipped!” SMACK. “Shut up! This is so sweet!”

You and Deidara let go of each other, startled by the sudden appearance of Konan, Hidan, and Itachi.

“Oh, um heyyy… dinner is almost ready?” You stuttered trying to draw attention from you and Deidara’s little spectacle. Itachi’s eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips. “You mean that?” He pointed to the burning, unrecognizable mess in a pan. “Um, takeout?” You suggested sheepishly.

Deidara laughed, his lips landing on your cheek. “Sounds good to me, Princess.” “SEE!?” Hidan exclaimed, “He’s whipped- OW! STOP, KONAN!”

[haroldtea]

i wrote something!!

soooo I’m a pathological “i have a fic idea and i’m never going to write it or I write a few pages and then fall off” writer buuuut I had this very cute idea and wrote 4k words of it! I wanted to post it here before ao3 because 1) not sure if I’m a fan of starting a multichapter WIP because I still may abandon it like my other stuff 2) i want feedback before i continue!!

here’s the gist: it’s princess prom except it’s a high school au and princess prom is actually homecoming. Adora is very happy and supportive of Glimmer and Bow running for king/queen. Glimmer is very, very passionate about winning. The problem is they’ve naturally got competition, in the form of Perfuma (who is equally as passionate about winning, for her own reasons) and her new girlfriend Scorpia. In a sitcom-style mishap, Adora sort of accidentally signs up to run as well...with Catra, Scorpia’s best friend who Adora doesn’t not have a crush on. The two decide to go through with it with the intention of getting eliminated from the race as soon as possible. Then, their friends come up with a different plan for them.

so, take a read below at 4k of stupidity and let me know what you think, and if you would be interested to read more :) (fyi there is a lot of swearing lol)

“I’M GONNA BE THE QUEEN!”

Adora shrieks, flailing her arms and almost knocking her lamp over in the process. She whirls around in her desk chair to face the intruder, arms raised in karate chop form (she does not know any martial arts), and finds Glimmer, who has flung her bedroom door open and has that crazed Glimmer look in her eyes that only means trouble.

“Fuck! Glimmer, you can’t just sneak up--wait, how did you get in my house?!”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! Also, the door was unlocked,” Glimmer replies, kicking off her shoes and launching herself onto Adora’s bed, which she had just painstakingly made.

Adora presses her hand into her face, sighing. “I was kind of busy trying not to piss myself. Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was, you know...” she says, gesturing vaguely.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Please, Adora. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Anyway--the student council decided to bring back the homecoming pep rally!” she squeals, gleefully kicking her feet in the air.

Adora leans back in her chair, brows furrowed. “Bring back? Didn’t we have one last year?”

“Yes, but after the water balloon thing they weren’t gonna let us have it anymore, but it turns out that one senior who wasn’t gonna graduate did graduate so I guess they figured it would probably be fine, ‘cause like, who’s ever gonna try and top that?”

“Right,” Adora hums, thinking back to last year’s pep rally. Just before homecoming court was announced, a group of rogue seniors had risen from the bleachers, unleashing dozens of water balloons they had stashed in their backpacks. What ensued was a pandemonium Adora could only remember in flashes, resulting in almost the entire student body and the school’s hallways being completely soaked.

The catch was that the seniors had filled the balloons with blue paint. It had taken the janitorial staff weeks to get the gym bleachers, the lockers in the science wing, and the cafeteria ceiling (don’t ask) to look normal again. Classes were cancelled for almost an entire week because the paint had messed up something with the internal plumbing. It was single-handedly the coolest thing Adora had experienced in her living years.

It was all led by the legendary Mara Hart, notorious for sticking it to the man during her K-12 years. The prank had all but gotten her and her friends expelled, but given that she was otherwise an A+ student and no one could technically prove who was behind it (her friends were loyal to each other to the bitter end), she walked at Bright Moon High’s graduation to uproarious applause from her classmates.

Adora knew some of the more grisly details because Mara had been captain of the girls’ lacrosse team last year--effortlessly cool Mara, endlessly caring Mara, definitely part of Adora’s gay awakening Mara--but it had become something of an urban legend at BMHS over the past year.

“Wait, how do you know any of this?” Adora asks, because while she was personally connected to Mara in a small way, she hadn’t been aware that they were going to cancel the pep rally indefinitely.

Glimmer arches an eyebrow. “Um, hello? My mom’s the principal?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And Mermista totally let it slip when I asked her about it after the student council meeting,” Glimmer adds, then pauses. “Okay, it was more like I didn’t even wanna be there and I wish no one had ever voted for me and I’ll tell you whatever, but still. I’m...” she props her face in her hands and bats her eyelashes, “in the know.”

Adora smirks and rolls her eyes fondly, turning back to her desk to shut her textbook and put her notes away. She can never get anything done when Glimmer’s around. “Okay, so, pep rally’s back--that’s cool,” she says.

“It’s not just cool, Adora,” Glimmer scoffs. “Being homecoming queen is literally all I’ve wanted since I was a kid. I thought my dream had died with Mara’s academic career, but now there’s hope again--it’s meant to be, Adora. It’s destiny.”

Adora had literally never heard Glimmer talk about this, but, “Um, okay.”

Glimmer huffs and dramatically rolls onto her back, flinging her arms out and further messing up Adora’s sheets. Lesson learned, it isn’t worth the effort for Adora to make the bed anymore. “My mom was the homecoming queen like a hundred years ago, and my aunt was the homecoming queen before that. It’s, like, my birthright!”

Adora lifts a shoulder, twisting around in her chair to look at Glimmer. “Okay, then we’ll just get you to be the homecoming queen too. Can’t your mom just...make it happen?”

“Ugh, no,” Glimmer sighs. “I already asked. It’s a student vote.”

“Oh!” Adora brightens. “That’s easy, then. Everyone loves you.”

Glimmer pouts. “I know, but it’s not just a popularity contest--it’s, like, a whole thing. Me and Bow are gonna have to do a talent show, and there’s a relay race, and other stuff that if we don’t do well in we won’t even get to be in the final vote.”

“Wait, what?” Adora doesn’t remember any of that from last year. “What do you mean, Bow? Is...he's running for homecoming queen too?”

“Ha! No,” Glimmer laughs, then her expression darkens, eyes narrowing. “I would crush him.”

“Right...” Adora says. Actually, Bow would make a pretty good homecoming queen. But Adora values her life, so she decidedly does tell Glimmer this.

“No, every queen nominee has to also have someone to run with them as their ‘king,’” Glimmer explains, making air quotes with her fingers. “There’s no boy/girl bullshit, but you do have to be in a pair.”

“I don’t remember any...talent shows, or whatever,” Adora points out. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of one of those happening in real life.”

“Well, obviously you never went. It would’ve all been during your lacrosse thingies and you would've been too busy making googly eyes at Mara Hart,” Glimmer replies, wiggling her fingers at Adora.

Adora crosses her arms and blushes a deep red. “I would not. I would’ve been playing lacrosse. And stuff.” Okay, maybe she did make googly eyes at Mara, but only sometimes, as a treat, and Glimmer doesn’t need to know that.

Glimmer flips back over on her stomach and levels Adora with a pout. “Adora, this means a lot to me. We’re gonna need your help to win this.”

Adora has no idea how she could possibly be of any help with this, but hey-- “Of course, Glimmer. Whatever you need. I’m there.”

Glimmer grins, eyes sparkling. “Yaaaaay. Also, my mom’s making meatloaf tonight, you in?”

Adora pumps her fist in the air. “Sweet. Hell, yes.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is a joke, right? Like, you’re joking?” Catra says into the receiver as she shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I am usually a pretty funny gal, it’s true--but, ah, no. This time I’m serious,” Scorpia replies on the other end.

Catra hoists her phone higher up on her shoulder while she adjusts her grip on her Xbox controller. “Okay, please explain,” she says between chews.

Scorpa sighs, and Catra visualizes her sitting cross-legged on her bedspread, hugging one of her many stuffed animals to her chest. “I know it’s kind of silly, but Perfuma sounded really excited about it, ‘cause I guess if you win, you get to pick what charity the proceeds from the dance ticket sales go to, and...I just couldn’t say no?”

Catra smirks, mashing a series of buttons on her controller as her TV screen lights up in front of her. She’s been trying to get past this level for weeks, but she’ll probably die right before the end again whether she’d answered Scorpia’s call or not. “You are so whipped,” she says.

Scorpia sighs again, but this time Catra can hear a smile in it. “I guess so, kitty cat. Still, it sounds kinda...fun? I mean, it’s more time spent with her, if anything else. She’s talking about writing an original song together for the talent show and incorporating her Tibetan singing bowls into it.”

Catra takes that in and barely suppresses a laugh. Her New Year’s resolution was to make fun of her friends less. Some days are harder than others. “Um, wow,” she says instead. “That’s, uh...that’ll be interesting. Do I have to call you Queen Scorpia if you win?”

“Oh, Perfuma doesn’t believe in gendered royalty,” Scorpia replies. “She wants us to be known as Homecoming Monarchs.”

“Of course she does,” Catra mutters. Perfuma is endlessly kind and patient and makes Scorpia smile, so by default Catra likes her, but otherwise they...don’t exactly share identical values, let’s say. Catra brings her own point home by pressing a button on her controller and chainsawing an alien in half on screen.

“Do you...think it’s a stupid idea? The whole...running for homecoming thing, I mean.”

Catra hears the telltale signs of Scorpia-doubting-herself in her reply, so she pauses the game. “Nah. If it’s something you guys wanna do, you should go for it. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”

“Okay, thanks,” Scorpia says, sounding lighter. “I think it means a lot to Perfuma. It would be cool to win it for her.”

“Well, hey,” Catra continues, un-pausing her game. “If you need any help, let me kn--oh, fuck!”

“Catra?” Panic sets in Scorpia’s tone. “Kitty cat, speak to me--do I need to call 911?!”

“No, no, Scorpia, please don’t do that,” Catra groans, tossing her controller aside. “I just got blown up in my stupid game again, that’s all. I’m never gonna beat this final boss.”

Scorpia sighed in relief. “Aw, don’t give up, kitty cat. One of these days, you’re gonna really give it to--what’s the dude’s name again?”

“Prime something-or-whatever,” Catra grumbled, reaching for her popcorn.

“Yeah, that guy. He’ll never know what hit him.”

Catra snickers into the receiver. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Scorpia.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lunch period at BMHS is, naturally, chaotic. Being a regional high school, every inch of the place is usually crawling with students, and the cafeteria is no different. The student population is small enough and the cafeteria big enough to condense into one lunch period, although Adora has oftentimes heard Perfuma lament about the ethics and health concerns of overcrowding.

Adora likes chaos. She likes that the overlapping sounds of chairs scraping and garbled chattering combine to form a comforting din that allows her to drown out whatever weird TikTok plans Bow’s making (ok, to be real, she will be asking about them later) and quietly observe the antics happening at tables around them.

She takes another bite of her pudding and her eyes land on the table to their right where Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio from her math class always sit together. Lonnie is mechanically chewing her gum as she stares into a compact mirror, examining her eyebrows with fierce concentration. Across from her, Kyle is holding up something on his phone to Rogelio with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he holds a corn dog. Rogelio is nodding along but is staring down fondly at Kyle rather than at the screen Kyle’s pointing to, one arm hanging loose around Kyle’s shoulders. Lonnie slaps her compact shut and shouts something at them, pointing emphatically to her eyebrows. They all pause for a moment before bursting into laughter. Then Kyle drops his corn dog.

Adora pointedly does not observe the table across from theirs. She’ll gladly watch the Star siblings silently and intensely do their homework for the next period, or listen to Mermista fight off Seahawk’s PDA attempts, but nothing could compel her to look at the table straight ahead.

That table was where Catra Weaver and her friends sat.

Including: Perfuma’s new girlfriend, Scorpia Garnet; Entrapta Dryl, who was dating one of the Hordak twins (Adora was ever completely sure which one); the Hordak twins in question, one of which who usually broods silently and one of which who usually stares around smiling at nothing and everything; the stylish and blonde ruler of the theatre kids who has been nicknamed Double Trouble for as long as Adora can remember; and finally: Catra Weaver. Effortlessly cool, effortlessly gorgeous, effortlessly effortless Catra Weaver, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, coolly regarding the rest of the cafeteria as she holds court at her table of wonderful misfit toys.

Today’s effortless ensemble: cool jean jacket, a cool crop top, cool black jeans, cool combat boots, she got a haircut recently so--

“Um, Earth to Adora?”

“Huh?” Adora says, jerking her head up.

This is why she avoids looking at Catra Weaver’s table. Or Catra Weaver in general.

“We were talking about homecoming,” Glimmer says from her seat across from Adora, raising an eyebrow. “You were totally spaced out.”

Adora clears her throat, willing herself not to blush. “Sorry,” she replies, digging back into her pudding.

“Glimmer’s trying to convince me not to run for court,” Perfuma continues, crossing her arms.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s totally lame and stupid and a waste of time,” Mermista answers from beside Perfuma, inspecting her nail polish. She glances up when she senses everyone at the table staring at her. “What?”

“Mermista, you’re on the homecoming committee,” Bow says.

Mermista shrugs. “So? I said what I said.”

“Look, Perfuma,” Glimmer starts, sliding her hand across the table toward Perfuma. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if you lose. Homecoming’s a really big deal to me, and I really want to win.” She smiles saccharinely, tilting her head at Perfuma, eyes gone wide. Bow and Adora exchange a look.

Perfuma smiles back. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Glimmer! I’m sure our classmates will select the most deserving and talented couple to win,” she says, then goes back to stabbing a fork into her salad.

Glimmer’s eye starts twitching. Bow slowly and gently takes Glimmer’s hand and slides it back to her side of the table. “Glimmer, we’ll do great. The most important thing is to have fun,” he says, patting her hand.

“The most important thing is the charity,” Perfuma mutters.

“That too.”

“Is anybody else we know running?” Adora asks. Glimmer and Perfuma both shake their heads in response, until Mermista sighs dejectedly.

“Unfortunately,” she groans, raising her hand.

“Wait, what?! You just said it was stupid and lame!” Bow squawks.

“It is,” Mermista rolls her eyes. “But the rest of the student council said it would look really bad if I was on the planning committee and didn’t run. I was forced against my will.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Glimmer asks, gripping her lunch tray so tight Adora wondered if she was going to launch it at Mermista’s head.

“I don’t know? I guess not? I’m planning on getting cut as soon as humanly possible though, so whatever,” Mermista replies, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

“We won’t win with that attitude, my love!” Seahawk roars, throwing his arm around Mermista’s shoulder and raising a fist triumphantly. “You and I are going to be the greatest King and Queen this school has ever seen!”

“Oh my god, please stop,” Mermista groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“Picture it: you, me, newly crowned, gliding down the science wing--the students stop and stare! Could it really be our King and Queen in the flesh? The teachers stare too! I am going to give them both straight A’s!”

“Please just sit and eat your sandwich,” Mermista begs.

“Never,” Seahawk says, then kisses her on the cheek and acquiesces, taking a big bite of his sandwich. Adora tries to hide her smirk when she sees Mermista blush a deep red. She elbows Glimmer and nods in their direction so she can see.

“Aw, how cute. I’m going to destroy them,” Glimmer whispers in Adora’s ear.

“I know,” Adora whispers back. “But try to at least be nice about it.”

“No promises.”

“Ok, I have to pee,” Adora announces to the table, grabbing her lunch tray as she stands, grinning at Bow’s groan of TMI, Adora!

She makes her way over to the trash cans by the cafeteria exit, waving to her friends on the lacrosse team as she dumps her leftovers in the trash and sets the tray in the dish bin beside it. She should probably go over and check in with them about practice tonight, but she really has to pee, which reminds her that she forgot her water bottle all the way back to the table and needs to refill it before her next class.

“Damn it,” she mutters to herself, still smiling at her lacrosse friends as she whips around to head back--

And crashes right into someone, their heads knocking smack together.

“Ow!” Adora yelps, losing her footing for a moment. She rubs at her stinging forehead, glancing up as she apologizes, “Shit, sorry, sorry, that was totally my fault, I--”

And stares right up at Catra Weaver.

“I...I...I...”

She blinks a few times, but yes, that is Catra Weaver, rubbing at her own forehead and fixing a few strands of hair that had come loose from behind her ears. Catra Weaver, up close and personal, who she hasn’t talked to since...

“Your forehead is fucking hard. And big,” Catra says, holding her tray in one hand as she narrows her eyes up at Adora.

“Oh, um, you too...I mean! Thanks? I grew it myself,” Adora replies spectacularly, and then promptly wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Catra raises one eyebrow at her. “How hard did I hit you?”

Adora scrambles to answer. “Oh, not at all! I mean, not hard. It was my fault. Are you, um, are you okay?” This is going amazingly.

“I’m fine, Greyskull,” Catra replies, sending a tingle up Adora’s spine. She goes to deposit her tray. “Just watch where you’re going.”

Adora grins dopily. “Yes. I mean--I will. Sorry. Again.”

Catra glances Adora up and down, eyebrow still raised, and goes to say something else, when they’re interrupted by a foreboding, familiar voice.

“Ah, Adora! I’m so pleased to see you taking an interest in student affairs.”

Adora turns to see Glimmer’s mom looming over them, hands neatly clasped together. Maybe looming isn’t the right word as she’s smiling brightly down on her and Catra, but she’s tall, ok? “Oh, hi Ang--,” Adora starts before remembering they’re at school, “um, Mrs. Moon. What’s up?”

Angella gestures between her and Catra. “I was just observing how wonderful it will be that Glimmer will have a friend to share the homecoming experience with.”

Adora tenses again, remembering that Catra is still standing very close to her. “Oh, haha, yeah, super great. Wait, what?” Sharing?

Then she notices that her and Catra are standing in front of the wall where the Homecoming Court Signup Sheet is hanging. A sparkly pen tied to the clipboard is dangling within Adora’s reach.

“Oh, um, actually, Perfuma’s already--”

“I think this activity will make a fine addition to your college applications, Adora. And you know how Glimmer gets,” Angella leans in conspiratorially, not bothering to lower her voice. “I think it will calm her nerves to have a friend by her side. A bit of friendly competition, even!” she claps her hands together, delighted. “I remember having so much fun with my friends back in my day.”

“But, I’m already on the lacrosse team...” Adora mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. She glances down at the pen.

“Oh, but you know schools these days, always looking for that something that makes a student stand out,” Angella says, waving her hand dismissively. “And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Coach Huntara about any scheduling conflicts. You’ll get to have the best of both worlds!”

Wait, but lacrosse was Adora’s whole thing--does she not stand out enough? Will she seem boring to UEternia? “I...”

“Oh, Ms. Weaver!” Angella says, as if she’s just now noticing Catra. “I didn’t take you for the...school spirit type.”

“I’m not,” Catra replies, crossing her arms. She smiles saccharinely and adds, “ma’am,” for good measure. God, she’s cool.

“Ah,” Angella says, creating an awkward pause before brightening again. “Well, still, here you are. Are you Adora’s running mate?”

So, sometimes Adora panics.

Look, she’s in a high-stress situation. The girl she doesn’t not have an embarrassing crush on bumped into her, talked to her, and then her best friend’s mom swooped in basically saying that lacrosse is boring and dumb and running for homecoming court will get her into UEternia. At least, that’s what Adora got from all that. And then she insinuates that she’ll be doing that with Catra Weaver.

So, she panics. She panics, and she grabs the glittery pen, and she continues to panic.

“Yep! We’re running together!” she says, grinning.

“Say what?” Catra hisses.

“Oh, wonderful!” Angella squeals, clapping her hands together again. “I must say, I think this will turn out to be a very interesting competition. You’ll have to come dress shopping with us, Adora.”

“Haha, yeah...” Adora says, quickly scribbling Adora Greyskull & Catra Weaver on the signup sheet. Oh fuck, oh god.

“Hang on a fu--” Catra starts, then clamps her mouth shut, because the goddamn principal is still talking to them.

“Oh, I wonder what you’ll do for the talent show! I can’t wait...well, I’m off. It was great catching up, girls!” Angella says, and winks, and does weird-mom-finger-guns, and then she’s gliding away as quickly as she came.

Adora continues to grin and wave awkwardly until Angella is out of sight, then she deflates. That was so weird.

Then she turns and sees Catra reach for the pen that’s still in her hand. Adora has half a mind to snatch it away. Or half a brain cell, at least. “Hey!”

“Cross our names out. Right. Now,” Catra growls through gritted teeth, still trying to grab the pen. Adora tries to hold it up out of reach, but it’s still attached to the clipboard, so the best she can do is weave her hand in and out of Catra’s way.

“Um, no? I just told her we were running!”

“Well, we’re not. Give it to me!”

“No!” Adora grunts, yanking the pen away. “You heard her--she’s gonna talk to Coach Huntara. I can’t back out now.”

“Well, I can!” Catra says, grabbing at Adora’s arm, where she has the pen tucked under her armpit. “Find someone else to run with you!”

“I can’t! They’ll want to win!” Adora says, twisting her body away from Catra. She’s having a slight meltdown over Catra touching her so much, but she’s focusing on the pen for now. “No one’s gonna want to run with me anyway.”

Catra mutters something under her breath that Adora doesn’t catch, then she snakes her hand under Adora’s and takes hold of her wrist. Adora stifles a gasp. “Wait, you don’t want to win?” Catra asks, eyebrow quirked.

“Noooo,” Adora furiously shakes her head. “No, no, no. Glimmer would kill me. She wants to win. I just, um, panicked. I guess?” The heat from Catra’s hand is searing into her wrist.

Catra glances down at their hands and back up at Adora. “So, your friend will kill you if you run for homecoming. And you just signed up in front of her mom?”

“Um...” Adora thinks for a second. “Yes?”

Catra huffs out a laugh. “Wow, you’re even more of an idiot than I remember.”

Adora feels her face redden, shocked at Catra’s casual mention of the past, and glances away. “Look, let’s just get eliminated as quickly as possible and then we can forget it ever happened. Deal?”

“Ugh,” Catra lets out a groan, leaning her head back. She tugs at Adora’s wrist a few times, finding that she isn’t budging. “Fine! As quickly as possible.”

“As quickly as possible,” Adora nods, finding herself grinning as Catra loosens her grip and pulls away. “I’m gonna take this pen home, by the way,” she calls out as Catra begins to head back to her table.

“Fuck!”

After Adora finally pees and refills her water bottle, she gingerly sits back down beside Glimmer. Poor, sweet, deadly Glimmer, who’s chattering away excitedly with Seahawk about some new music video or something.

She says, in a very tiny voice, “So, um...I think I’m running for homecoming queen?”

Glimmer whips her head around, nose flaring. She stands up, slamming both hands down on the table with a smack.

“You WHAT?!”

And then the bell rings.

[starryknight09]

That’s not how Ironman goes out

Febuwhump Day 7: poisoning

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter pulled his grey hoodie on, practically bouncing on his feet as he finished dressing.  Today was going to be the best day.  He was headed over to Ned’s this morning to work on the new Star Wars Lego set his friend had gotten for his birthday last week, and then he had plans to take MJ out to a new Mexican-Korean fusion restaurant she’d been talking about ever since it opened last month.  They’d been together for almost three months now and he still loved seeing the look on her face whenever he surprised her.

“Peter can you come here for a minute?” Aunt May called from the living room.

“Yeah!” He answered, not thinking anything of it.  He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and toed on his shoes, checking his phone for any messages before pocketing it as well.

He made a detour to the kitchen to grab an apple out of the bowl on the counter, enjoying the crunch of it as he took a huge bite before turning to find May sitting on the couch across the room.

“What’s up?” He asked, barely understandable, around a mouthful of apple.

“Come here.” May patted the couch cushion next to her.  The oddness of the invitation made him stop and focus.  He noticed a characteristic crinkling in the corner of May’s eyes, something she only did when she was worried and trying to hide it.  It was an expression he’d seen more than a few times ever since she’d discovered his vigilante identity.

“What’s wrong?” He moved to stand in front of her.

“Sit down honey.”

“No, I’m good.  I have to get going to Ned’s soon or I’m going to be late.  I promised I’d be there by noon.” He said, checking his watch for show.  The way May was acting made him want to escape.  Made him afraid.

“I need you to sit down.” May patted the space next to her again.

He had the irrational urge to whine, ‘I don’t want to.’  To stamp his feet and refuse.  Because no good news ever came from scenarios like this.  But instead of refusing, he forced his knees to bend and hesitantly sat down next to his aunt.

May reached out to hold his hands.  “Honey, I have to tell you something.”

His heart started racing.  “May, you’re scaring me.”

“You know how Tony had that fundraiser last night?”

He nodded.  Tony had invited him, but it was a stuffy black-tie event, which wasn’t really his thing, and Peter had already had a readymade excuse not to go.  He’d made plans with MJ and hadn’t wanted to disappoint her by cancelling.  Tony hadn’t minded because Peter was heading up to the cabin tomorrow to spend the weekend with him where there wouldn’t be a bunch of uptight old people milling around.

“Well,” May continued, “we’re not sure how it happened yet, but somehow someone managed to slip something into Tony’s drink.”

His stomach dropped out of his body.  No.

“Is he dead?” His voice trembled, afraid to hear the answer.  Afraid that the reason May had positioned him here was to deliver the news that his last remaining father figure was gone.

“No honey.” May reassured him and his eyes closed as he let out a sharp breath of relief.  She squeezed his hands.  “But he’s very sick, and they’re doing everything they can, but we just don’t know yet what’s going to happen.”

He bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering as tears welled up in his eyes.  This couldn’t be happening.

“Why would someone do this?” He managed to choke out the question.

“Oh honey.” May tugged him forward into a hug.  “I know.  It doesn’t make any sense.  They think it was someone from that ridiculous group.”

Peter clenched his jaw.  He knew exactly what group she was talking about.  After Tony had saved everyone, and almost died in the process, a group of zealots had become vocal about how reversing the snap had set back all the environmental progress Earth had made after losing half its population.  They hated Tony for what he’d done.  They believed life had been better before the reversal because the human race was no longer multiplying at a rate that the Earth couldn’t sustain.  Apparently, there’d been less hunger.  Less pollution.  Less war.  But infinitely more heart ache.  Peter didn’t think any of the other stuff even came close to canceling that out.

“I think we should go see him.” May suggested, rubbing his back as she held him and the tears slid down his cheeks.  “Just in case.”

In case he died.  The words went unvoiced.  The very thought that it was even a possibility made him want to scream.  Because of some hate group.  He should’ve gone to that party.  Maybe he would’ve sensed something.  Maybe his ‘Peter tingle’ would’ve caught on.  But no, he’d chosen to hang out with MJ instead.  

“Yeah.” He said, trying to get a handle on his emotions.  “Let’s go.”

“Ok.” May gave him another tight squeeze before releasing him.  “He’s at the compound.  I’ll drive.”

It’d taken months, but they’d rebuilt the compound, like some sort of symbol, bigger and better, in the same place where it’d been desecrated.  Peter usually felt some amount of awe whenever he drove up to it, but not today.  A numbness had descended upon him ever since he’d gotten in the car.  It was as if he couldn’t process any more emotion, good or bad, until he knew if Tony would be ok.  Like a kind of limbo.

The clop of his sneakers on the immaculately polished floors echoed ominously throughout the silent halls. May had tried to throw her arm over his shoulders in support on the walk in but he’d shrugged it off.  Even though he desired the comfort, he hadn’t wanted to be seen as weak by any other Avengers they might encounter.  They already looked at him like a child.

He and May rounded the corner and Peter stopped up short.  Tony’s door was at the end of the hall, and he was almost afraid to cross the remaining distance.  He didn’t want to see him hooked up to machines with wires attached and tubes coming out of him.  Seeing him like that was always hard.  The man was supposed to be larger than life, so anytime something happened where he actually appeared mortal, it was like the cosmic forces were out of sync.

“Come on baby.” May nudged him forward with a hand against his back.

Peter took a deep breath and managed to put one foot in front of the other again.  He could do this.  He had to.  He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t see Tony and something happened.  When they got to his door, Peter paused again, but he forced his hand to grip the door handle and twist it open.

“Hey kid!” Tony greeted him cheerily, sitting up in bed and not looking at all close to death.

Peter froze, not quite believing his eyes.  His gaze shot over to May, wondering if this had all been some sort of cruel trick, but she looked equally shocked.  His eyes darted back to Tony, afraid to believe it.  But the man seemed fine.  Maybe a little drawn and tired but not on death’s door like he’d been led to believe.

He took a halting step forward, not quite ready to trust it, and worried that too much hope might shatter the mirage in front of him.  

“What’s wrong Pete?” Tony frowned.

“You…you’re ok?” He asked, taking another step forward.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Tony held an arm out towards him, encouraging him to come closer.

Peter hurried over to him, grabbing Tony’s arm once he got close enough.  He was real, solid and warm

“You’re ok.” He repeated as if in affirmation.

“That’s what I said.  Try to keep up kid.” Tony smirked at him, and Peter felt his resolve crumble.  Relieved sobs bubbled up and out of him, shaking his frame.

“Shit.  Come here.” Tony pulled him into a comforting hug.  “I’m fine.  I promise I’m fine.”

A minute later Peter heard the familiar click of heels enter the room behind him, but he didn’t lift his head, still working on regaining his composure.

“Oh.” He heard Pepper say in surprise.  “Oh May.  I’m sorry.  I forgot to call you back.  As soon as I got off the phone with you Bruce figured out the antidote and an hour later Tony was fine.  I can’t believe I forgot to let you know.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.  I’m sure you had a lot on your mind.” May reassured her.

“Still, that’s no excuse.  Oh sweetie I’m sorry I scared you.  It was touch and go there for awhile but Tony’s going to be fine.” Pepper placed her hand on his back.  He really didn’t want her to feel bad.  He tried to pull himself together.  Tony was perfectly fine.  He wasn’t going to die.  

Peter took a deep breath and pulled away, wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall apart.” He gave them a tight smile.  “I just—  Well, we thought you were dying.”

“Dying?  You told them I was dying?” Tony threw an accusatory look at Pepper.

She crossed her arms and raised her voice, “We thought you were dying.”

“Pfft.  It’d take more than some crazy zealot to take me out.  Don’t you know me at all honey?”

Pepper rolled her eyes.

“I mean seriously, poison?  That’s not how Ironman goes out.” Tony shook his head and then looked at him with a smirk.  “Right?”

“Right.” He agreed with a nod.

“If anything, it’ll be in a blaze of glory.”

It took every ounce of Peter’s being to not think about Thanos and Tony snapping the gauntlet, coming as close as anyone could to death.

“Yes, at the rate you’re going, you will probably blow yourself up someday.” Pepper deadpanned.

“Hey!” Tony said indignantly.  Peter couldn’t help it.  He snorted out a small laugh, the numbness and fear inside him finally melting away.

“No,” May smiled, joining in the fun, “it’s going to be—”

“Old age.” Peter interrupted, not wanting to think of any other possibility at the moment, not even in jest.

They all quieted down, and Tony looked at him, a soft smile on his face and eyes alive and twinkling.  “Yeah. Old age.  That could work.”

[lovelivingmydreams]

Okay so here is part two of this promt of mine to thank my now almost 250 followers. First part here. Enjoy!

Remus had a lot of fun stating the facts to the others. When they finally put everything together their faces will be even more hilarious! For now the others remained clueless though. For a little while Remus thought they'd all be old and grey by the time anyone figured it out.

Luckily they did get a clue about a week after Remus learned the exciting truth.

It was the evening before the premier of a project they'd been working on for ages. Roman was going over everything in the common area with everyone else as practice audience. Remus was playing heckler. No one asked him. He just did. He probably should have noticed Virgil tensing up with each comment. But he didn't. After Remus shouted something about a possible wardrobe malfunction Virgil shot up. "We have to cancel. We're not ready!"

Everyone looked up at Virgil in surprise. It'd been a long time since last he demanded skipping or postponing any type of commitment. It was always an option to him, but this wasn't a suggestion. It was a demand so strong that Thomas actually was thinking of what to tell Joan already.

No one knew what brought this on or how to resolve it. But Roman was still going to try.

"What do you mean? I'm sure we can see to any doubts you have and blow everyone away tomorrow."

Virgil balled his fists and shook his head. "Too much can go wrong..." he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Certainly. But we mustn't let down our audience for mere chance of failure.," Roman countered gently. "You think I'm being paranoid?" Virgil snapped accusingly.

Roman looked taken aback. "Virgil you are overreacting. I am merely trying too help!"

Virgil huffed, threw his hood over his head and stormed off to his room.

"Virgil!?" Roman called after him, but he didn't follow him up the stairs. He remained behind until they all cringed at the sound of a door slamming shut.

The prince's shoulders slumped and his head lowered dejected. "I'm... I'm going to reread the lines again..." he muttered before heading to his own room.

Patton reached out to Roman's retreating frame but came up short on things to say. The silence remained until a gentle click signaled that Roman had entered his room.

"That was fun," Janus muttered sarcastically as he got up, intending to talk to Virgil.

"Snakey, he just had his first fight with his boyfriend. He isn't up for 2 lies and maybe a truth," Remus pointed out. "Just like how my bro isn't going to appreciate playing tag with me."

Everyone stared at Remus, surprised he was capable of such insightful comments.

"Well that leaves us Lo," Patton observed looking up towards the private rooms tensely. Roman and Virgil argued a lot. Even now that they were all friends. Such was their nature. But those arguments were usually loud and full of Virgil's quips and Roman's dramatics. This one was unnervingly quiet in comparison.

"It would appear so. You should check on Virgil, I shall attempt to reason with Roman," Logan suggested. Patton nodded and together they headed to the opposing rooms. "Good luck," Patton smiled at Logan before knocking on Virgil's door.

"Virge? Mind if we chat for a bit?" A moment of silence before the door was opened. Patton hadn't heard him walk over... had he been by the door?

The question was forgotten when Patton saw Virgil's make up was running.

"Come in Pat..." he whispered softly, though he wasn't looking at him. Or rather past him at Logan.

Once more that puzzle was put asside in favor of cheering up his kiddo.

They sat on Virgil's bed, V curled in on himself Patton Indian style.

"I know I shouldn't have ran off... and that Roman wasn't calling me paranoid. So if that's all you wanted to say..."

"Actually," Patton started, interrupting Virgil before he could even start whatever self depreciating train of thought he was starting.

"I wanted to ask why you are so worried about this performance. It's not a big event and we are well prepared. Remus was only trying to get Roman of balance you know?"

Virgil dug his fingers in his hair in frustration. "I know! But what if it happens for real!? Roman'll get hurt!"

Patton blinked in surprise. He expected Virgil to be worried about Thomas first and the rest of them second. Prioritizing Roman like that... was Remus onto something? Patton always thought Virgil and Roman would make an absolutely adorable couple.

Virgil sighed and wrapped his arms around his legs to pull them tightly against his chest.

"Ever since you guys accepted me... I've been patching Roman up when he got 'bruised'. And even before I tried to check up on him... it's my fault when he gets hurt Patton. Because I didn't push Thomas hard enough, or too hard... anything I do wrong ends up hurting him. He was right to hate me. And when he realizes that I'll lose him and then you guys will stop talking to me and..."

"Kiddo hey... you're spiraling buddy." Logan said it's important they tell Virgil when he's trapped by his own head and how. "Breathe."

Virgil nodded and took a few deep breaths while wiping at his eyes.

"Virgil, none of us would ever blame you for trying your best."

Not even Roman. He knows you always act with our best interest at heart. And if you tell him you were worried for his safety, the whole thing will be forgotten," Patton assured the anxious side gently, secretly hoping that getting Virgil to open up towards Roman this way might help them get closer. Prinxiety just might set sail after all.

"You think so?" Virgil asked, not convinced.

"I know so. Take it from your old man kiddo. Roman cares about you. He has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but he does."

Virgil's face relaxed his eyes softening and his lips pulling into the tiniest smile.

"Yeah... I'll talk to him," Virgil nodded getting up and walking to the door with Patton. 

Logan frowned, confused by the strange look Virgil had cast at Roman's door. Fearful yet almost longingly...

He must be mistaken. Emotions were not his area of expertise after all.

Instead of pondering the question any further, he turned and knocked on Roman's door.

"Roman? I wish to discuss something with you,"

A moment passed. "It's open."

When Logan entered he found Roman sat at his desk, his notes in front of him and his hands in his hair.

"I... can't figure it out Logan... I turn the conversation over and over in my head... what should I have said?"

When Roman looked up it was evident to even Logan that he'd been crying though he was doing his best to hide it.

Logan sat down on the bed his body angled towards the desk.

"Virgil was not mad at you Roman. It would seem something triggered a negative thought process in his mind which he tried to hide as not to disturb us. In doing so though the thoughts were not addressed and instead were left to build up tension which got released all at once. Even if you said exactly what he needed to hear, he was not in a mindscape to accept any of it. I am sure Virgil regretted what he said as soon as he said it. I theorize that he took distance in order to calm down before talking to you again," he explained.

Roman nodded allong to that. "So... I haven't ruined everything?" he asked almost timidly.

Logan shook his head. "You know I am not good with feelings. But i have observed that you and Virgil have grown close since he got accepted. Especially in recent weeks he is calmer and less prone to negative thinking when he interacts with you. Likewise he has clearly helped you be more focused and keep a level head, some of the time at least. You two have built something strong. And one fight like this won't end that."

Roman was tearing up again, but this time he was smiling.

"Truly? You believe I am good for him?"

Logan nodded his head, eyeing Roman curiously. He might be wrong but it almost seemed like...

"By Neptunes swimtrunks!" Roman exclaimed wide eyed. "I thank you for your aid Logan but I must make myself presentable and talk to my Emo post haste!"

His emo? Logan almost wished he was wrong. If Remus was right in any capacity he'd never let any of them live it down. But Roman and Virgil finding happiness with each other might just be worth it.

Logan let Roman push him to the door and let himself out as Roman was already hurrying to his bathroom. In the hallway he found Patton being led out of the opposing room by a nervously shifting Virgil.

"Is Roman mad at me?" he asked nervously.

"Of course not. He is worried about you," Logan assures his friend warmly.

Virgil relaxed at that. "Thanks guys. I think we'll be fine," he told them as he headed to the door. Logan got the hint and led Patton down the hall. He heard Virgil knock at the door an call out Roman's name. If he or Patton had turned back they would've seen how Virgil kissed Roman as soon as he opened the door.

Roman kissed his boyfriend back as he walked them both inside and closed the door.

"Not that I'm complaining but... what if someone saw?" Roman wondered quite happy actually with the bold gesture of affection. Virgil's role usually made him extremely cautious, which made his bouts of impulsivity even more surprising and delightful.

"Well if they did then I get to take you out to make it up to you," Virgil shrugged.

Roman chuckled. "You have nothing to apologize for mi corazon. But the thought is greatly appreciated. Want to talk about this over pizza and Disney?"

Virgil smiled and nodded. "You pick the first movie." 

Logan and Patton voiced their suspicions to one another as well as Janus. All three agreed to wait with intervening and giving the two a chance to figure things out for themselves.

The tipping point came when they had a scheduled meeting with Thomas to discuss an upcoming colab he was nervous about.

First Roman and Virgil weren’t to be found anywhere. And then when Thomas pulled called them up by force they looked… disheveled.

“Good timing Thomas. One second later and… I honestly don’t want to think about that,” Virgil muttered as he straightened his hoodie and hair out.

Roman looked rather sheepish as he tugged at his sash and combed trough his hair.

“Where did you two come from?” Patton asked astonished.

“Imagination,” Virgil huffed as he turned to Roman, avoiding everyone else’s eyes subtle enough to be considered a coincidence.

“I told you we should have waited until after the meeting,” he told him, though he didn’t seem to be as mad as he was trying to be.

“I didn’t think we’d take that long,” Roman tried feebly.

“I did! You have no self control! Always have to go the extra mile don’t you?” Virgil pointed out. Roman looked back at Virgil now, a lot more confident.

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” he pointed out with a smirk.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down. “I was kind of distracted,” he admitted.

“It’s no matter, we are here in one piece and there are more urgent matters at hand. Shall we, my stormy knight?”

Virgil sighed dramatically. “You are lucky you are so cute.”

Everyone in the room looked on incredulously. How were these two so clueless?

When the meeting ended, Roman and Virgil picked up their hike where they left off. On a blanket on top of the hill, ignoring the sunset in favor of making out.

“They need help Logan. Desperately! I am all for letting my kiddo’s take their time but this is too much! They are obviously in love!” Patton pleaded.

“Even I can’t stand watching them make eyes at each other any longer. Virgil is… taken with Roman. And Roman appears to be returning those feelings,” Janus admitted reluctantly. Virgil’s eyeshadow had been lilac more often than not when around the creative side. Only a complete idiot would keep denying it at this point.

“Told ya!” Remus grinned.

“Okay, fine… So how do we go about ‘setting them up’?” Logan relented.

Remus giggled manically. This was going to be so good.

“We make them spend time together! They have to realize they are meant for one another if they spend time one on one!” Patton exclaimed.

“But they are already together most of the time?” Logan objected.

“They are always working though. We have to pull them out of their comfort zone!”

Janus and Logan exchanged looks. “I’ll give an example,” Patton decided.

“Kiddo’s will you come down please!”

Roman and Virgil appeared almost at once, side by side, smiling brightly at Patton, Virgil’s eyeshadow bright and shiny as any of them had ever seen it.

“s'up pops? Virgil asked casually.

“Family picnic. You two take care of deserts!” Patton grinned brightly. “me and the others are going to put a basket together. Kitchen is all yours.”

And before either of the happy couple could respond Patton had pushed Janus and Logan out, followed closely by Remus. “have fun you two,” the green twin winked before rounding the corner.

“Are they seriously setting us up?” Roman whispered in astonishment.

“That’s hilarious,” Virgil grinned before turning to the kitchen counter where a cookbook laid open on a cake recipe. “Think you can handle this clever scheme o unconquerable prince?” he teased.

“Oh ye of little faith. It is I who shall thaw thine frozen heart with true loves kiss,” Roman grinned back.

“Do you think they've confessed yet?” Patton wondered as he placed nervously in Logan's room ten minutes later. The room calmed him down mostly but not near enough to be considered calm.

“Let's find out!” Remus exclaimed. Before anyone could stop him he was gone.

“That'll end well.” Janus groaned as he followed behind with Patton and Logan. To everyone he’s surprise they found Remus watching the kitchen rather discreetly. They joined him and were left speechless.

Roman and Virgil were both wearing aprons and chefs hats that matched their styles perfectly, both disregarding their usual top attire for simple t-shirts. Which was a good thing because there was an abundance of flower, chocolate and egg all over them.

Virgil was currently scolding Roman who was  trying to take the mixing bowl from him. Neither was cross with the other though. In fact, both were nearly dying of laughter.

“Truce! Truce!” Roman called out as he managed to get a hold of himself. “Let’s compromise. Lest we get poorly mixed batter added to  our canvases. How about I show you what I mean?”

Virgil relaxed his protective hold on the bowl and let Roman step behind him. Roman adjusted Virgil’s grip and laid his hands over his aligning their arms. He gently guided Virgil in mixing the batter.

“See?” Roman asked softly after a bit.

“um… wait almost. Show me that last bit again.” Janus quirked a brow. That was a lie. And if that was a lie, then Virgil just wanted… Oh boy his ray of stormshine had it bad.

Patton was nearly vibrating. Surely they'll realize…

“and there. Now it can be baked and we can get clean!” Roman declared satisfied as he stepped away. Virgil nodded and sighed in relief. “Finally, I’m more beat than the batter,” he joked. Roman snorted but he wasn't the only one.

“Oh hey Padre!” Roman greeted innocently. “ The cake will be done soon!” 

Logan was up next. He reasoned that the key was physical proximity. He had observed that as light as the two acted about it afterwards it had clearly gotten to them. Remus suggested locking them in a closet until they ‘made out’ but Logan was sure he could be more subtle than that.

“What? But organizing the thoughts is your job!” Roman complained.

“It is and I apologize. I've been falling behind on my duties. Please, I am sure that if the two of you worked together it will be done quickly.”

Both Roman and Virgil sighed. They knew this was a set up, so they'd get away with more flirty behavior. But it was also work. And the room where the thoughts were being kept was so full of cabinets and boxes that it was near impossible to move around on your own let alone… oh.

If Logan thought he was being more dignified than Remus would be by disguising it as an accident he was wrong.

Roman wasn't even surprised to hear the door click shut as soon as Logan was “out of ear shot".

He was surprised to find that Logan had arranged the cabinets and boxes in a manner that would make them topple over and trap him and Virgil on the ground. Virgil on his chest as he'd pushed Roman to the ground and his arms wrapped protectively around his body to cushion his fall as much as possible.

They were stuck in that exact position for as long as Logan seemed necessary.

“Do you think either of those schemes would've worked if we weren't already dating?” Virgil wondered. Roman thoughtfully played with the hairs at the base of Virgil's skull for a bit.

“Not sure. We can both be stubborn. I’m kind of glad that I’ll never know,” he confessed.

Virgil sunk deeper into his embrace. “Me too.”

It wasn’t as fun as the baking scheme, but it was nice to cuddle with nothing else to do. Virgil usually got fidgety after a few minutes, even if he wanted to stay forever.

Roman wasn’t much better at staying still. But this… This might just convince the both of them to do this more often.

“I don’t hate this,” Virgil sighed after laying in silence for a while.

“I do make for a handsome pillow,” Roman joked as he pulled Virgil in closer.

“You do. But I mean… Usually silences are terrifying to me. But this? I don’t mind. I don’t worry about what you’re thinking. Or that I’m supposed to say something. It’s just… us and that’s enough. You know what I mean?”

Roman thought it over for a moment. “Yeah… I do. This is… As close to perfect as life is going to get,” he sighed contently.

It was something close to 30 minutes before they heard the door open and a moment later the room rearranged itself. “Tell me this isn’t something we could’ve done this entire time!” Virgil groaned as he got up, not showing his reluctance to do so.

“This is Logan’s domain. He maintains order in here. I have no power,” Roman huffed pretend offended, he was less successful in hiding how perfectly content he‘d been with their predicament.

“Indeed I do,” Logan agreed, flanked by Janus and Patton who both saw the look on Roman’s face. Again almost but not quite. What would it take?

Logan apologized for their predicament and assured them that he would complete the task. If they’d bought into the ruse for even a second this would have definitely tipped them off. But they let Logan think he was successful at least in hiding his intentions.

Janus initial idea was to simply impersonate either of the boys and using that form to get the other to confess. He never tried. And if he did he wasn’t found out almost right away.

So his second attempt he didn’t disguise himself or his intentions. Not to Roman at least.

And so the theater was left to fade away. It’s purpose fulfilled in an unexpected way.

“What exactly are your intentions with Virgil?”

Roman looked up from his vanity comb still in hand.

“After what you tried to pull yesterday, I’d say you know what my feelings are. As for my intentions… I won’t do anything that’ll make him uncomfortable. Don’t you worry,” he said as he returned his attention to the mirror and hummed ‘Once upon a dream’.

“So you are in love with him,”  Janus drawled studying his nails. Though he glanced up to see Roman’s face flush. “Well…” the prince hesitated for a moment but then a blissful smile broke free and he leaned back with a sigh. “Yes,” he confessed dreamily.

“So tell him.” It was not that hard! He was the romantic side wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be all for grand gestures like this?

Roman pursed his lips and shook his head, sitting up again and returning to his beauty routine.

“I’m waiting for the perfect moment.” Their first official date actually. If the other’s hurried and put the pieces together, they might be able to go on one for their 2 month anniversary.

He might already have something planned out. He had little doubt he’d be the one to crack first.

“I thought you’d say that. Come on, he’s waiting.”

Roman shot up. What was Janus planning?

The serpentine side led him to the imagination where a theater was set up. They entered stage right where Roman saw Virgil was waiting on stage.

“What is this about Jan?” the emo growled, eyes darting towards Roman and to the audience. Patton and Logan who looked about as confused as Roman felt. Remus was behind them just munching on popcorn.

“Remember the valentine’s episode?” Janus asked, everyone nodded, still confused.

“Well Virgil never got around to showing you all how he’d go about wooing someone. So I figured he could show us with Roman as an example crush. Thomas is getting ready to ask Nico to be his boyfriend. Might as well have all the possibilities out there. Direct, from the heart, grand gesture… You two have already shown that my methods of evasion and deception won’t work on Nico. He seems to find Thomas charming when he’s honest about his flaws, so we aren’t even going there.

Virgil, you have the floor,” Janus smirked smugly before getting of stage and joining the others in the audience.

Virgil took in a deep breath and glanced up at Roman as he let it all out.

Clearly he was nervous.

“Okay… So first…” He took hold of Roman’s hand. And it wasn’t the first time, this shouldn’t be a big deal. But doing it in the open, with this unexplained tension in the air, and his own confession in his head, it made Roman beyond flustered.

“Is this okay?” Roman pulled his eyes away from their joined hands as Virgil gave his a squeeze, looking at his boyfriend’s face instead. He looked so nervous.

“Of course,” he sighed breathlessly smiling warmly at the boy who completely owned his heart.

“Good… Roman… You know I blow at putting my thoughts in words. But this is something I need to say. Because just showing you feels like it isn’t enough.” Virgil took a deep breath and tugged at Roman’s arm, turning them to face each other.

“I like you,” he murmured, looking down “I like everything about you even the parts that drive me nuts. I like the way I feel around you. I like arguing about stupid things and laughing about it later. I like making messes with you and not worrying about cleaning it up. I like how you make me forget how scared I am sometimes. I like being myself with you, and feeling like that’s enough. I…”

Virgil might have a lot more to say than that but Roman wasn’t giving him the chance.

He pulled Virgil in and kissed him soundly. Virgil didn’t even pause before returning the kiss.

There was a loud wolf whistle, Remus clearly, but other than that complete silence.

After an infinite moment they pulled apart and smiled at each other.

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to just not kiss you mi amor.” Roman could hear the loud gasps from their audience.

“Wait! Are you saying…?” Patton started.

“We’re official,” Roman confirmed excitedly before returning his attention to Virgil.

“And that means, I shall be planning our first date. Be ready at six this evening, wear something semi-formal. No ties no monkey suits. But something nice. Understand?” Roman checked, not wanting Virgil to worry too much about what to wear, but needing him to not wear the hoodie just this one time.

Virgil nodded. “I think I can do that.”

Roman turned back to their audience. “I’d almost forget. Padre, may I take Virgil out?”

Patton was still  in shock but nodded. “Of course, um have fun.”

“Told you all!” Remus shouted satisfied.

“How long?” Janus demanded, not a fan of secrets he isn’t privy to.

“Almost two months,” Virgil smiled making everyone go back in their head and see their interactions in a new light. They could see the moment they thought ‘How did we not figure this out,’ crossed their minds. Oh they’d been right. This was hilarious.

Roman chuckled fondly at their friends’ faces, before gently gazing down at Virgil and stroking his bangs out of his eyes/

“As much as it pains me to part my darling. I must prepare our evening.”

“Wait! Wait! You two… You two are boyfriends!” Patton exclaimed vibrating with excitement as that discovery finally registered. He jumped out of his seat and rushed over to the stage to hug them.

“Oh my goodness I’m so happy and proud!” he gushed. Both of them chuckled.

“Well, while I wish we had not wasted time on attempting to help you, I too am glad you have found happiness with each other,” Logan allowed.

Janus remained stubbornly silent, realizing Remus had known and had not told him at the very least.

“Thanks guys, that means a lot. And we were just messing with you guys, we weren’t keeping it a secret cause we didn’t trust you,” Virgil assured them as Patton finally let go and Roman put an arm around his waist, both excited that they could now do this in public.

“Oh you rascal! You really had us good. You have to tell me how you got together now though!” Patton insisted.

“Perhaps, once we return from our date Padre. Which I’ll have to start preparing for,” Roman reminded them reluctantly. He let go of Virgil’s waist and took his hand to place a kiss on it.

“I will count the minutes,” he muttered to his knuckles and exited stage left.

It took everything Virgil had not to start squeeling.

“Oh M G! We are going to pick out an outfit!” Patton giggled dragging Virgil along.

“I’ll lend you a hand. Obviously I have the most style,” Janus insisted as they too left the theater.

Logan sighed as though resigning himself to his fate. “Roman is bound to skip over practical details. I better ensure the date is a success or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Just admit you want to be part of it Nerd. That’s what I’m doing,” Remus grinned as he pulled Logan along.

[ladylynse]

A belated happy birthday to @bibliophilea. 

Forewarning: All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he’d gotten here. Inspired by this artwork by @hashtag-art

Part 3 [FF | AO3] (previous)

-|-

“Okay,” Danny said to himself once he was back in the forest and sitting on a springy bed of moss. He ran a hand through his hair. “They know. Or at least they practically know, because there’s no way they bought that.” That was a problem. Not them finding out the truth, exactly, unless it meant they played that card and trapped him again. (He’d really have to figure out how to prevent that from happening again. His parents didn’t believe in non-ghostly magic, but Vlad would have a field day if he realized that had actually worked.)

Thing was, though, if what he’d done had really been enough, if he’d somehow managed to do whatever Clockwork had wanted, Danny would be on his way home right now.

But he wasn’t, which meant he hadn’t.

And he couldn’t exactly time travel without help, so it’s not like he had an alternate route home.

That probably meant that they hadn’t believed his warning, either. He’d have to figure out how to convince them, assuming he could talk to them without them trying to exorcise him or something. Unless exorcism would send him to the Ghost Zone? He’d be a lot more willing to let that happen if he knew that for sure; it beat waiting around for a natural portal or risk getting caught by Vlad if he tried to sneak into one of the ones he’d built over the years.

Unfortunately, given some of the things Danny had seen in the past, he wasn’t going to bet that exorcism wouldn’t equate to destruction.

Especially in a place that gave off such skin-crawling vibes—seriously, what was wrong with that place?

Well.

Real magic, apparently. Somewhere. Buried within all the scams.

Buried.

Like his thermos had been buried.

What else was buried, then?

Danny slumped back against a tree, absently flicked an ant off his knee, and stared upward at the branches. “I have to go back, don’t I?”

No one answered, which was probably a good thing. It was too much to hope that Clockwork would come back so soon. Especially when he was set on ‘not interfering’ while interfering as much as possible through Danny.

Mabel and Dipper’s magic, whatever sort it was, worked better on him when he was Phantom. His best defense was staying as Fenton. Even if he couldn’t resist whatever they tried next forever, it would buy him time, and that might be all he needed.

It would be nice to think that they wouldn’t be plotting something at this exact moment, but he knew better than to engage in such wishful thinking—at least out loud—when magic was involved.

“I’ll just stay invisible until I can figure this out,” he muttered.

The forest seemed to swallow his words.

This whole place was weird.

The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

XXXXXX

“Are you sure about this?”

Dipper didn’t bother to look up from his reading. “The journal hasn’t been wrong before. I’ve just been wrong when interpreting it. If he’s a ghost, those runes should keep him from harming us.” He made a vague gesture at the walls of their room, which he and Mabel had carefully covered in chalk runes. Not as permanent as he’d like, but a lot easier to get rid of in a pinch if someone came poking around.

Or, more to the point, if something turned out to be the wrong rune or drawn incorrectly and having a meaning that was extremely counterproductive.

“Should.” Mabel’s voice was flat. “Can’t you be more confident than that?”

“I’m starting to wonder if he’s really a phantom, whatever he says,” Dipper explained as he sat up. “He doesn’t have their distinctive piercings, and he didn’t try to hurt me, even though I summoned him. Which means he’s either a category ten ghost or he’s not really a ghost at all.”

“But you summoned him,” she said, “and he was trapped in the circle.”

“That might just be what he wants us to think.”

“So what, then? Oracle? Because of the prophecy?”

Dipper grimaced. “Only if we’re lucky.” He turned the journal around to show her what he was looking at.

“Some kind of demon? You think Danny’s possessed by him?”

“He did say something about interdimensional travel,” Dipper said defensively. “You don’t need to say that like it’s impossible. And that would merit the author’s warning.”

“So would a category ten ghost, and a ghost could possess someone as easily as a demon.”

“I guess.”

He’d tried not to grumble it, but Mabel slid down beside him and leaned against his bed as well. “It’s okay not to know something, bro-bro.”

“I know,” he said, flipping through the journal again to see if he could find something else that might be relevant, “but if I mess this up, things could get bad fast.”

“Maybe we should tell the others, then. At least Grunkle Stan.”

“But then we’d have to tell him everything, and….” And he didn’t want to tell them about the journal yet, not even Grunkle Stan. He just…didn’t. It would feel too much like admitting defeat. What if he wasn’t even allowed to keep the journal?

Mabel hummed in agreement, stayed silent for about three seconds, and then asked, “What if he’s right?”

“Grunkle Stan? About what?”

“No, Phantom. The warning. What if he’s right? What if he is an oracle, or a messenger for an oracle, or something like that?”

Dipper scowled. “Anyone with actual foresight would know that saying something the way he did is just going to make people more determined, not less.”

“Maybe that’s the whole point.”

Dipper glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe the point isn’t to warn us off.”

“Really? That’s what it sounded like to me. He kept telling us to stop.”

“But that’s not the actual message he gave us. If you stay on this road, you’ll find yourself on a path you can’t turn away from. That just means if we keep going, we won’t be able to stop later. It doesn’t necessarily mean we have to stop now. Stopping now was just what he thought we should do.”

She had a point. If he really was just a messenger, he wouldn’t necessarily know the true meaning of the message. And if he was wrong? About them needing to stop? Then that had to mean— “It’s forewarning. So we’ll be better prepared for whatever’s coming. Whatever has to come.”

Assuming Mabel wasn’t wrong about that, that changed things.

Phantom might not be an enemy. Danny might not be a conduit or something like that. And the journal’s warning….

But maybe it hadn’t been a warning. It had been in a different hand than the rest of the journal. A special thermos to contain the messenger until it was time for the message to be heard….

“I hope you’re right,” Dipper said.

“But in case I’m not, we still have to do all of this.” She nodded at the chalked runes. “These will stop ghosts and demons?”

“It’s every protection rune I’ve found in here,” Dipper said, lifting the journal a few inches for emphasis. “I’m hoping none of them cancel each other out.”

Mabel snorted. “I’m surprised you didn’t do that weeks ago.”

“I’ve been practicing drawing them,” Dipper admitted. “In the dirt. With a stick. I didn’t want to risk getting something wrong when it mattered. I’m not as good at freehanding as you are without practice.”

“That’s just because you spend more time reading than drawing and crafting.” Mabel climbed to her feet. “You can keep looking through the journal. I’m going downstairs to wait for Danny.”

“You think that’s how he’ll come back? After that story he fed you about his family before running out?”

Mabel smirked. “I’m pretty sure he’s figured out we don’t trust Phantom. Trying to convince us to trust Danny is his best bet.”

“But we’re not going to trust him.” Not liking the look on Mabel’s face, Dipper added a pointed, “Right?”

“I like to hear people out.”

“Mabel!”

“What? He was kinda cute.”

Dipper groaned. “For all we know, he’s as real a person as Norman was.”

She just shrugged. “Summer romances are all about risk-taking and mysteries. It’s part of the thrill.”

“But this is serious!”

“And I’ll help you with all the serious stuff once you figure out what preparations we need to actually make. Just like I helped you draw all this. Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun in the meantime.”

She wasn’t going to listen to him, was she? “Just be careful, okay?”

“I’ll be as careful as I ever am,” she promised before slipping out of the room, and he bit back the urge to yell at her that that wasn’t careful at all. Her definition of careful had nearly ended with her as queen of the gnomes.

But she had helped him with this, and she’d help him in the future, and she really did hate all the research, and that was his favourite part.

He just wished she’d give up the idea of having a wonderful summer romance with any boy who came near the Mystery Shack. It would make his life a lot easier. But that’s what siblings did. They made things harder.

And, usually, they made things worth the effort.

With any luck, that would hold true this time.

XXXXXXX

Danny had absolutely no idea what the siblings—twins?—had up their sleeves, nor how fast they could pull something together, but judging by the magic circle, it would be faster than he’d like.

He knew blood blossoms weren’t the only things that fell under traditional methods of ghost hunting. His parents relied on technology, using their inventions before anything else, and Vlad (and therefore Valerie) was little different. Even Technus and Skulker used it. Danny was getting pretty good at dodging anything Tucker couldn’t just hack, but magic? He barely dealt with that outside of Desiree. He knew next to nothing.

That didn’t make him feel any better about going back to the Mystery Shack.

It didn’t keep him from going, either.

The place wasn’t closed, but it was empty—or, at least, it was as empty as it had been earlier. He would’ve been better off if there had been a crowd. No crowd meant no hope of distraction. He could try being his own distraction, of course—knock a few things around with well-placed ectoblasts, since attempts to duplicate himself would probably end badly with how he felt right now—but the truth was, he didn’t know if that would help.

If the adults bought into the whole magic thing as much as the kids, doing something like that would draw more attention to himself, not less. It was more likely to be recognized for what it was: something unnatural. And for all that this place was clearly set up like some sort of scam, it…. It wasn’t all a scam. He’d felt that much before. He was sure it hadn’t just been the beginnings of that magic circle.

He could still feel it now, hovering where he was underneath a window. Something that made his skin crawl. Something that had his arms covered in goosebumps. Something…something that felt achingly familiar but made him want to run away at the same time.

Or maybe that was just whatever the others had already done.

Or what he was supposed to be warning them away from.

It would’ve been nice if Clockwork could’ve given him some straight answers for once.

Danny put one hand on the sun-warmed side of the shack. Nothing happened, so he tried to phase through the wall. Tried being the operative word, as it didn’t work. He scowled and pushed harder, to no avail. He even tried the windowpane in case glass reacted differently than wood. It didn’t.

It figured.

These guys would find a way to make the entire place phase-proof without coating it in anti-ecto goo.

“Why can’t just one thing be easy for me, huh?” Danny muttered. Clockwork didn’t answer, of course; he was probably back in his tower watching through a portal, sure that everything was going the way he thought it should.

Fine. Whatever. He’d do what he could, even if that meant taking more risks than he’d like in a place like this. Anything to get back home.

Still, what he was doing wasn’t the smartest. Even by Tucker’s terms, it would be a fairly bad idea. Danny knew that even as he circled the shack, looking for an open window that didn’t exist. Everything was closed. Most likely, if anything had been open, the others had closed it. Since phasing wasn’t an option, he’d have to go through a door. Maybe the back door was still open? If Mabel hadn’t locked it behind him….

Danny peeked through the screen on the back door. He couldn’t see anyone, but there wasn’t a full view. He turned the handle slowly, easing the (thankfully unlocked) door open and slipping inside, closing it just as silently. He half-expected to come face-to-face with someone, but the kitchen was empty.

Small mercies.

Danny hesitated, trying to figure out where he should start his search when he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Did these people hide stuff in plain sight, or was he better off digging through closets and the basement and the attic? Except the room he’d been in with the other kids had pretty much been the attic, or at least some kind of attic room or loft—is that what a loft was?—and he wasn’t sure if this place had a basement, but…

Danny slowly stepped onto the floor, holding his breath as he let it take his full weight. Flying in human form got exhausting after a while. He tried to go intangible and keep going, hoping to slip right through the floor, just in case he wasn’t prevented from that now that he was inside, but his shoes stayed firmly on the wood beneath them.

Fine.

Old fashioned way it was, then.

It’s not like he really expected anything else.

Besides, this place was the Mystery Shack. It had to have secrets. And, well, clearly these people were prepared for the supernatural. Announcing his presence wouldn’t necessarily win him any favours, but maybe he could be his own distraction if he did it in a more old-fashioned way instead of trying to fool them like he had earlier.

Knocking on walls should still help him find hollow spots—hiding spots, for whatever information had to be hidden around here to merit Clockwork’s interference—and they shouldn’t expect anything less from a ghost. Judging from the junk for sale in the gift shop, the head guy would probably use the excuse of calling this place haunted to up his prices anyway. Danny might be doing them a favour.

It wasn’t very subtle, and it meant completely abandoning any hope of coming out of this unnoticed, but it was also very unlikely that he wasn’t expected. He knew that. It was too much to hope for that they weren’t expecting him, especially considering he couldn’t phase through any of the walls. That wasn’t a coincidence.

He just hoped he was right about them not being able to do as much to him as long as he didn’t go ghost, even though he was using his ghost powers.

XXXXXX

Wendy didn’t pay attention to the floor creaking at first.

She didn’t pay attention to the odd knocking sound, either.

At least, not until she realized it was moving and coming far too regularly, too rhythmically, to be something Soos was tinkering with while they didn’t have any customers.

But that’s what made the floorboards creaking wrong, too. No customers. She knew the squeaky floorboards in this place. They all did. They all also avoided them now, more from habit formed by annoyance than anything else. But the last customer to come in had been that kid, and according to Mabel, he was long gone.

Wendy popped the bubble she’d been blowing but didn’t look up from her magazine. Instead, she listened while pretending to read, scanning the page to keep up appearances but not taking in any of the words.

The floorboards shouldn’t be creaking, and there shouldn’t be any weird knocking. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. It definitely wasn’t a woodpecker, even if that might be a seemingly logical conclusion from some city slicker who knew nothing about Gravity Falls. Someone—something—was inside the Mystery Shack. And if it was supposed to be tapping out Morse code, well, it wasn’t being rapped out by someone who had a concept of long and short; the pauses were too inconsistent, even if the reoccurrence was not.

Wendy flicked her eyes to Mabel, who’d come downstairs to borrow one of Wendy’s old magazines and was sitting up on a stool in the corner. She was still humming to herself. Either she hadn’t noticed or she was doing exactly what Wendy was and pretending.

Wendy sighed. Sometimes, she was really not paid enough. Still, this was a good job on the whole. Plenty of time to read and just enough of the inexplicable to keep things interesting. About par for the Mystery Shack, really.

“Hey, Mabel, what’s your brother up to?”

“Reading,” she answered without looking up. “Boring stuff.” She folded open the magazine and turned it around, showing off a bright advertisement for perfumes. “Do you mind if I cut this up for my scrapbook? I like the flowers.”

“Go wild,” Wendy said. Mabel chirped her thanks, but Wendy was still listening to the tapping and the occasional floorboard creak. Whatever it was was coming closer.

She checked her watch; almost closing, but Stan was probably still in town, looking after…something. Wendy didn’t ask anymore. Stan had had that look in his eye recently, been in a sort of mood where he answered questions with a joke, and she hadn’t bothered trying to get anything out of him. He’d fill her in if she needed to know. She knew Soos had gone into the hardware store earlier, too—something about wiring disappearing again—but she was pretty sure she’d seen him in the yard not that long ago. He had to be back, anyway. Stan wouldn’t have left without having him fill in as Mr. Mystery should any tourists swing by.

Not that she needed either of them to deal with this for her, but it’s not like this was an infestation of raccoons. She wouldn’t mind a bit of backup if she found herself dealing with something from the side of Gravity Falls that most people ignored. Or tried to ignore, anyway. Sometimes, it really wanted to be known.

This…might be one of those times. Which might mean she wouldn’t have a choice about giving Dipper and Mabel a crash course in whatever they wound up facing. The truth of it, not whatever stories she knew Dipper tried chasing; however much he seemed to be trying to keep that from her, it’s not like she never heard him whispering to Soos or Mabel. Trouble was, Soos and Mabel being who they were, she wasn’t sure how much of those whispers were truth….

She could remember being as ignorant of all of this as they had been at the start of the summer, as they might still be aside from an encounter or two, but that was before she started working at the Mystery Shack and realized her dad’s ulterior motive for all those survival lessons.

She was pretty sure her dad didn’t believe in any of the stories people told. As far as she could tell, most people didn’t. Urban legends were just urban legends, and a good campfire story was just a good campfire story. If anyone had a particularly good one, well, then it might be deemed something on par with what Old Man McGucket might tell. It was weird, though. People would tell those stories, and then they’d never mention them again, even when offered the perfect circumstances for call-backs. It was like they’d just put it out of their mind completely.

Still, no longer mentioning something and not admitting to even entertaining the idea that there was a modicum of truth in any of those stories didn’t mean people didn’t prepare, even if it was mostly unconsciously.

And even though Stan laughed it off, even though she usually laughed it off, it hadn’t taken the haunting at the convenience store to open her eyes to the fact that there was more going on in Gravity Falls than anyone admitted.

Whatever. Mabel and Dipper were going to find out sooner or later that Gravity Falls wasn’t the sleepy little town it appeared to be—assuming their run-in with the ghosts at the old convenience store hadn’t already done that. Honestly, even she’d thought ghosts were just stories before that one; she’d figured all the real stuff was the sort that was much less popular. Who would’ve thought it was all real?

The door separating the gift shop from the main Mystery Shack showroom creaked open.

Mabel, having torn the page from the magazine, was back to humming to herself and didn’t look up from her reading.

Wendy reached below the counter, trying to figure out what in their eclectic emergency supply would actually be useful in this situation, and settled on the baking soda box that was supposed to be placed in various nooks and crannies to keep the place from smelling too musty when it rained.

There was no tapping, but she heard a floorboard creak. The one by the vending machine, if she had to guess.

“Screw it,” she muttered. She tore the cardboard on the top of the baking soda box and flung the contents in the general direction of the vending machine. For the briefest moment, she saw a humanoid outline in the dust, and then it was gone.

“Wendy?”

Mabel’s voice wasn’t scared, exactly. Nor did it sound like she thought Wendy was crazy. But it was still too cautious for Wendy’s liking.

“What are you doing?”

“Summer dusting,” Wendy deadpanned. “It’s like spring cleaning. This helps you spot all the places you need to dust.” Mabel’s face told her she clearly didn’t buy that, but Wendy didn’t care. She just smirked and added, “Go grab your brother and run outside and help Soos gather some wood. We should roast marshmallows tonight.”

Mabel stared at her for a beat longer before she squealed, “I love roasting marshmallows! It’s fun to catch them on fire and watch Dipper’s face. He hates that. He wants his to be this perfect golden brown, but it’s not done till it’s crispy.” Grinning, she slipped off the stool and out of the room.

Wendy turned her gaze back in the direction of the vending machine. “What the hell are you?” she hissed. “And what are you doing here?”

Something shifted, and she could see the faint impression of footprints in the thin dusting of baking soda.

And then she blinked and saw the kid from earlier standing there.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he said. “I swear.”

Right. Like she was going to buy that.

“I mean it,” he insisted, probably reading her expression. “I… There’s something wrong with this place, okay? I need to figure out what it is. I…. It’s the only way I’m going to get home.”

There was a thump from upstairs. She had to deal with this fast. “What are you?” she repeated.

“Stuck,” the kid said. “And not a threat to you. Honest. Unless you’re, like, secretly planning to eat the kids who live here or something.”

Well, it’s not like she expected straight answers from something that no doubt loved to trick humans.

“Get out.”

“But—”

“Out!” she jabbed her hand towards the front door. “Now. I’ll know if you try to come back.”

“Not necessarily,” the kid muttered, not quite quietly enough that she couldn’t hear him, whatever he might think.

He vanished again.

No more footprints appeared in the white dusting the floor, but she heard that tapping again.

And then she heard the sound change.

It wasn’t the rap of knuckles against solid wood. There was something hollow, something hidden, something—

Footsteps coming down the stairs.

Mabel and Dipper.

She lunged for a rag beneath the counter and wiped it across the countertop, pretending to be cleaning. When they waved as they ran out the door, she offered a weak smile.

No more knocking.

No more footprints.

Man, sometimes she really wasn’t paid enough for this.

XXXX

Okay, that had not gone as well as Danny had hoped.

Fine, he’d been stupid. Revealing himself had been stupid. He shouldn’t have expected help. Clearly, these people were not here to help him. That would have been too easy.

But at least whatever they’d done to the shack itself to make it phase-proof didn’t extend to its contents. He hadn’t been too hopeful when he’d tried to stick his arm into the vending machine, but once it had worked, well, of course he’d gone right in and tried to keep going. The fact that there really was a hidden passageway behind it was an unexpected bonus. He’d been half expecting a hidden door that would have been just as effective at barring his way as every other wall in this place.

Danny dropped his invisibility and intangibility once on the other side, but he kept floating as he held up a hand and let a ghost ray illuminate the passage. There was a faint light coming from below him, but it wasn’t enough to light his way by itself. Rickety stairs led downwards, the angle steeper than any stairs he’d come across before. This place really did have secrets. Maybe the Mystery Shack wasn’t a total scam after all.

The stairs didn’t seem terribly dusty. Despite creaking under his weight, they held when he stood on them, so he crept downwards.

When he reached the floor, it was just the landing for an elevator. A lone light bulb shone overhead. He pressed the elevator button and waited for it to come up, shifting from foot to foot. Just how deep were the secrets of this place buried that they needed an elevator?

Three floors down, apparently, which might explain why it was so dark when the elevator doors opened.

Danny could hear the low hum of machinery even before he stepped out of the elevator, which made it immediately evident why Clockwork had put him up to this.

This place didn’t only have a creepy hidden room, it had a creepy basement lab. Because, naturally, basements were where creepy secret labs were kept.

He kept walking, calling up a ghost ray again to light up what the various computer screens and blinking lights couldn’t.

Despite having more construction tools and computer screens than beakers or Erlenmeyer flasks, this lab came complete with what looked suspiciously like a nearly finished ghost portal. This one was at least ten feet above the floor, set in some kind of reverse triangle mounting, but it was definitely a portal. Which meant these guys had magic and technology on their side. Perfect. This couldn’t get any worse. This couldn’t—

Danny frowned and walked forward, letting the ghost ray burn a little brighter to give him some more light. That book by the control panel looked like what the kid had had. Danny still didn’t recognize the handwriting—not another novel by Freakshow, thankfully—but those were definitely blueprints to a portal. Incomplete blueprints, but still blueprints. And the portal in front of him was a heck of a lot more complete than the drawings on the page, which was not a good sign in his book.

“Maybe this is what’s going to go wrong,” Danny whispered. “Maybe Clockwork wants me to prevent another accident.” Though, considering no one had stopped what had happened with him or Vlad, that struck him as unlikely. But an unstable portal could lead to a giant explosion, and—

The room flooded with light from overhead, and Danny jumped even as the buzzing of electricity filled his ears.

“I’m not going to let you destroy everything I’ve spent the last thirty years building,” a voice behind him growled, and he turned just in time to see the net flying towards him.

(next)

[withoutmonsters]

Summerboy

Read on AO3

It started as a summer fling. Steve and Billy attended the same college and, honestly, if Steve had seen Billy around campus, he would’ve spat in his face. Not to be rude or anything, but Steve thought that Billy looked like a grade-A jackass and wasn’t really afraid of saying it, either. But Steve hadn’t seen Billy around campus—he'd seen him at the beach, all miles of sun kissed skin and a grin that showed off too-sharp incisors that made Steve’s mouth water.

He had seen him, specifically, at a beach party, and his usual faculties had been mostly obscured by alcohol at that point, so he’d approached Billy. Stumbling and a little drunk, he’d slurred how pretty Billy was, how much he’d love to feel those teeth sliding down his skin and, well. That had led to a handjob under a blanket, staring up at the stars like they were a miracle, Billy’s voice low in Steve’s ear, and Steve’s world flipped upside down.

And after that? Getting margaritas at 2 in the afternoon because they were college students on summer break and didn’t really have anything better to do than get drunk in the middle of the afternoon, sloppy kisses at sunset while sprawled in hot sand, watching Billy surf in the morning and shopping for new clothes in the afternoon with the allowance Steve’s parents gave him. After that had been getting into nightclubs too late at night and grinding on each other just to creep out the guy who had been staring at them the whole night. It had been laughter over the phone at 2 in the morning because Steve was high out of his mind on Robin’s weed and didn’t want to be alone; it was lounging at the bar with drinks in hand, betting each other to see which other guy was gay or not.

It had been fun. Very fun. But—

But it wouldn’t end like that, Steve thought, watching Billy stretch on the balcony overlooking the beach. They were in Steve’s apartment, rented with his father’s money, and despite it being 11 o’clock in the morning, they had just gotten up. Billy was still lazy with sleep, languid and squinting from the faint hangover he must have.

Steve pulled on a shirt and stepped out on to the balcony, next to Billy. Billy turned his head, eyes still faintly bloodshot and hair an utter mess. He smiled.

“Morning, pretty boy.”

Steve smirked. “Barely, lazy bones.”

Billy scoffed. “Oh, like you’re any better.”

“Uh, yeah, I am. I’m wearing a shirt.” Steve gestured to his polo-clad torso.

Billy eyed the shirt, lips turning down. “Going somewhere, princess?”

Steve nodded. “Yup. Got a thing with my dad at one.”

Billy nodded. “I’ll be out of here by then, I guess.”

Steve frowned. “No, I’m leaving now. I have to see Isaac before I head over to the country club.”

“Isaac?” Billy sneered. “Seriously? Why are you still talking to that guy?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Because I want to, asshole.”

“He’s a bratty twink who has more interest in your wallet than your dick, Steve.”

Steve stiffened. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend?” Billy scoffed. “Oh, so that’s what we’re calling it now? So what, am I your ‘friend’ now, too?”

Steve scowled, turning so he faced Billy head on. “Well, you’re not anything more, Billy. We agreed, at the start of this, that this was purely friends-with-benefits. You know what word that name has? That’s right—friends. So I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” Billy sneered. “Like this is still friends-with-benefits, Steve. You know as well as I do that it’s more than that and the only reason you don’t want to acknowledge it is because your daddy would never accept you dating a scholarship student.”

Steve reared back. “What does that mean?”

“It means that your dad is a full-on douchebag who is preventing you from being anything other than an airhead trust-fund kid and you know it.” Billy spat, face twisted and body tense.

Something oily and gross twisted in Steve’s stomach. “That’s not true. I’m not an airhead.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I’m starting to think you’re nothing but an airhead, Stevie-boy.”

Steve flinched, hurt spearing through him at the nickname. Tommy had called him that, and then ripped out Steve’s heart when he’d ditched him for Carol. Billy knew Steve hated that nickname, and yet he used it anyway.

Billy stormed back inside, seizing his bag while shrugging on the crop-top he’d worn the night before, and then he was out the door. Steve was left staring at the empty living room of his apartment, feeling like he was going to cry.

He left soon after for Isaac’s, pulling up to the cramped apartment in downtown LA at 11:45 sharp. They were planning on getting lunch, but Steve wondered if Isaac was down to cancel and instead stay in. Maybe Steve could even talk Isaac into a blowjob. He needed to relax.

Steve pulled up at the country club at 1:30, several new hickies on his neck and his hair mussed. He slipped into the private meeting room filled with his father’s business advisors and sat down, grinning at his father’s face, which looked like he’d eaten a whole lemon.

At an opportune break during the lunch, Steve’s father pulled him aside.

“What are you doing, Steven?” He snarled, stiff and harsh.

Steve flinched. “I’m having lunch, Dad.”

“Lunch? You call waltzing in 30 minutes late to a very important meeting ‘having lunch’? No. What you’re doing is disgracing me and your mother. You come in here with those—bruises—on your neck and act like you’re being professional. You’re not. You’re a spoiled little child who needs to learn responsibility.”

Steve opened his mouth, “I - I’m sorry, Dad. I do know what responsibility is, I promise. It won’t happen again, I - ”

“No, it won’t.” Steve’s father cut him off. “Go home, Steven. We’ll talk later.”

Steve drew back, feeling tears pricking his eyes. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t cry because of his father. No—he’d promised Billy, had sworn on his own right hand one night when he’d gotten too drunk and broken down about what an asshole his father was. Billy had made sympathetic noises, humming quietly while Steve curled up in his lap, tears trailing down his cheeks and hands clutched in Billy’s shirt. Billy had made him swear that Steve wouldn’t let his father’s condescending speeches get to him ever again. That he’d call Billy and they’d shoot the shit until Steve felt a little less like a child and more like himself—a successful business major who was at the top of his class.

But Billy was mad at him. And when Billy was mad, he could be cruel, and Steve didn’t think he could take anymore cruelty. He climbed back into his car, phone in hand, and called Robin.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the dingus himself.”

Steve sniffed. “Hey, Rob. Could I come over?”

He could hear Robin’s frown down the line. “Of course. What’s wrong, Steve? You sound sad.”

Steve nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “I had a lunch with my dad. It didn’t go well.”

Robin made a sympathetic noise. “I’ll have the margaritas ready.”

Steve smiled. “Love you, Rob.”

She hummed a “Love you,” back, and hung up. Steve drove over to her place and parked down the street. Robin and her girlfriend, Heather, had a small apartment in Burbank, and Steve while he didn’t live anywhere near Burbank, he was over there a lot.

He walked into Robin’s apartment and flopped on her couch, closing his eyes and feeling his body sink into the couch. Robin came into the room, a margarita in each hand, and offered him one.

He cracked an eye and took it from her.

“So, what happened?” She asked, sitting beside him.

Steve lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I went over to Isaac’s beforehand and was late. He didn’t like that all that much.”

Robin frowned. “You’re still talking to Isaac?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Robin raised her eyebrows. “Because you’re involved with Billy, and I got the sense that it was getting pretty serious.”

Steve opened his mouth, remembering Billy’s face when Steve had told him he was going over to Isaac’s. It had been stricken, like he’d been slapped. “We’re just friends-with-benefits, Rob.”

Robin snorted.

“What does that mean?” Steve asked, feeling attacked.

“It means, dingus, that your whole friends-with-benefits arrangement went out the window a long time ago. I mean, Billy asked you out to a real restaurant, Steve. That counts as a date.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Steve protested. “We were going to go to a beach party after. Billy just wanted to get some food in me beforehand because he knows I get way too drunk way too fast if I don’t eat.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. Since when does Billy keep track of people’s eating habits if he doesn’t care about them, Steve?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m just not any fun if I’m blackout drunk, Robin. You know this just as well as he does.”

Robin was unimpressed. “Or maybe he’s just concerned for your well-being, Steve.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not—Billy.”

And it wasn’t. Robin didn’t know Billy, not like Steve did. She didn’t know just how much effort Billy put into being emotionally distanced from just about everything. Steve would know if that changed, right?

“Uh huh, sure,” Robin said, sinking further down into the couch.

Steve stewed in her words for the rest of his visit. He returned to his apartment at around five, feeling worn out and tired. It was always like this when he fought with his father, but today had the additional strain of the fight with Billy, and now Steve felt like sleeping for a hundred years. It didn’t help that he was slightly drunk off the margaritas he’d had with Robin and Heather.

He thought back to their conversation. How Robin had acted like it was obvious that Steve and Billy were together, like together together, and everyone knew it but Steve. Was that true? Did Billy want to date, and Steve had just been an oblivious prick the whole time?

Steve remembered Billy’s words from that morning. His question, said in a voice that sounded so obvious.

Why are you still talking to that guy? Like Steve should be able to see from a mile away why Billy was asking that question.

Why was Steve still talking Isaac? Billy had been right—Isaac was more interested in the money than the sex, and frankly, he was boring to be around. He didn’t have much of a personality—not like Billy, who burned with one, like a whole forest fire contained to one body. The more Steve thought about it, the less talking to Isaac seemed like a good idea.

After all, Steve had started talking to him because he’d been a good substitute for attention when Billy was angry. He’d kept Isaac on the side because there were sometimes when Steve felt a pit of loneliness yawning open inside of him and he’d needed someone to take the edge off. That had originally been Billy’s purpose, but then they’d become something different, something more, and—

Shit. Robin was right.

Steve scrambled up from his couch and runs out the door, barely grabbing his keys and phone on the way out. He drove over to Billy’s place like a madman, parking out front and sprinting up the stairs to the second level. He pounded on Billy’s door.

Billy answered after the third bout of knocking, furious and disheveled. When he saw Steve, he leaned against the door frame, eyes sparked. “Well, well.”

Steve didn’t wait for him to say anything else. He just pushed forward and kissed Billy, hands frantic and lips searching. Billy froze for a moment, before melting into the kiss, body pressing forward and hands going to Steve’s waist. He opened his mouth, lazily pushing in and licking luxuriously. Steve nipped lightly at his lip and let his tongue trace Billy’s incisor before gently pulling away. Billy blinked like a cat under the sun, eyes going hazy and soft.

“What was that for, pretty boy?”

Steve let his eyes trace over Billy’s face before murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for what?”

“For being so oblivious? And for leading you on while still hooking up with someone else. It was cruel and rude and I shouldn’t have done it.”

Billy sucked in a breath, eyes wide and searching.

Steve bit his lip, mouth open but no other words coming out. Billy’s broad hands tightened at his waist and hauled him into the apartment, pressing him against the wall as the door clicked shut. He kissed Steve again, hot and hard, and drew back. “Do you really mean that, pretty boy?”

Steve nodded frantically. “Yes, Billy, yes. I do.”

Billy grinned and kissed him again.

[starside-selfships]

Homecoming

Tonight was certainly not in my favor for the most part. To bring you up to speed, it was homecoming night for my younger brother, along with his friends, and I was an unpaid chauffeur for them. Whether I said yes or no to my mom, which the latter would result in a scolding, I would still be driving, whether I liked it or not. I had plans to meet up with someone tonight and now, unfortunately, I had to cancel those plans. Wonderful. So much for treating myself. Saying yes to avoid any conflict between my mother and I, I was driving my brother and his group of boys and girls, one of them most likely his significant other, to the nearby high school, the same one where I graduated from, but I don’t think any of that really mattered. Sure, there were going to be people there that recognized me, but it’s not like I planned on going inside to dance or mingle. Don’t get me wrong, I was gussied up for the occasion, but with how tonight was already progressing, going inside to try and get into the groove was not on my agenda. Little did I know that I was going to be completely wrong. 

We were nearing the school as I was in the driver’s seat and I focused on the road as best I could, overhearing the conversation in the back amongst the group of seniors about how my brother was probably going to get laid or something, followed by a roar of laughter. While he was of age, as am I, I didn’t think I would be hit with a strong dose of discomfort hearing those words coming out of their mouths. Yeah, they were in high school so it made sense for them to say stuff like that. Already I began to question this night before my thoughts started to shift towards a particular someone that made my smile return after it had been gone for hours. A demon, or imp rather, down in hell that no one knew, except for a few of my closest friends who I knew could definitely keep a secret, had my heart and more. My smile remained small, but it was genuine, a chuckle eliciting from me as I continued to drive and within seconds of starting to think about him, I noticed my phone vibrating in the front passenger seat out of the corner of my eye. Look, I am, and I quote from one of my favorite content creators, a “good fucking citizen” and I would never risk my life or others because of a single text message. However, this wasn’t a single text. Whoever was trying to reach me was literally trying to nuke my phone for I counted the vibrations from listening closely to them. I didn’t bother picking up my phone so I just counted. 1...2...3...4...5...not even five minutes and I’ve somehow counted 23 and rising text messages being sent to my phone. Was it that urgent or was someone just spamming me with nonsense because I can’t remember the last time I was spammed like that and my memory is on point, not to brag or anything.

Upon pulling into one of the many parking lots of the high school, my brother and his friends began unbuckling themselves from their seats and after setting the SUV into “park”, they all got out one by one, on both sides, putting on their masks. I forgot to mention that this homecoming had a theme, which was “Monster Mash”, so zombies, mummies, your usual batch of monsters from all types of media of course, along with the special monsters that only one or two people only knew and were ready to discuss and talk about at a moment’s notice. As much as I wanted to sit in the car, I knew I was going to have to go in at some point, so earlier today, I decided I was going as a werewolf, picking up a fitting mask from the city’s costume store, but instead of just having a mask and calling it a day, it evolved into something more homemade. I spent several extra hours turning my tux into a more fitting and lycanthrope-themed outfit, dark fur lining the edges and front of my suit, outfitting myself with wolf ears and covering my face in blood to represent claw marks. Thankfully, I remembered that I had an old wolf tail, cleaning it up and hoping that the appearance was pleasing to the eye in some way and to my surprise, it certainly was. Not like anyone was going to care honestly, but you know, what’s wrong with a little bit of effort, even if no one’s going to notice?

“You’re not coming?” My brother questioned as he reached for his mask and was about to head inside with the others, earning a shake of my head as a response.

“We’ll see, you go have fun, okay?” I said, seeing him run off back to this squad and closing the car door as I rested my head on the back of my seat and sigh heavily. Finally, no one could hear or see me cry, the lights on the inside roof of the car beginning to slowly dim, shutting off completely and leaving me in darkness. “Fuck.” I whispered, trying not to choke on my tears thanks to the numerous thoughts clouding my head, many of them were memories of my high school days and how they all just generally sucked. I’m going to spare you of the details, but in short, I was a teacher’s pet who did good, had good grades, and tried so hard not to get caught up in a relationship since, well, at the time I wasn’t into anyone and nor was anyone into me. Looking back at it, I’ve never been hit with an intense pain in my life. But then, my thoughts were interrupted by another vibration. “Alright, who’s trying to nuke my phone?” I told myself as I reached over and grabbed my phone in frustration, turning the screen on and discovering that the imp himself had been sending me a flood of messages, alongside his employees, including the hellhound. “Wait, what?” I was stunned, why was I getting all these messages from I.M.P? Unlocking my phone and going through the wave of texts and images, most of them being from Blitzo, I checked the ones belonging to Millie, Loona, and Moxxie first, working my way up from there.

Millie “Hey Eli!” “Just wanted to say that I hope tonight is great for you and Blitzo!” “He has a really big surprise for you!” “Have fun you two!”

Loona “Elijah” “Heard ya weren’t feeling great” “Shit sucks but Blitz has a surprise for you later tonight” “Ain’t saying shit, but I hope you have fun” “You deserve it, alright?”

Moxxie “Dear Elijah, I certainly hope your night is swell. I overheard from my boss that it wasn’t going as planned and not to spoil anything, but he has a surprise for you later tonight. Have fun!” “p. s it’ll be a nice break from him interfering with my relationship with Millie.”

And now, all that there was left to check was Blitzo, I didn’t bother holding back my tears. Who was going to watch? Most of his texts were pictures of him looking for an outfit, getting help from a smiling Millie, annoyed Moxxie, and a Loona who looked like she didn’t really care. That’s what the realization hit me soon after. I didn’t want to believe it, but I looked through every single text again and yeah, sure enough, it was real. The imp was my date. Blitzo was my homecoming date. Another text, the last one from Blitzo for the night it seemed, sounding ominous of course.

“See ya soon, Eli. XOXO”

My smile returned once again as I regained my thoughts, clearing my head and doing my best to ignore all the negative and previous ones that arrived earlier tonight, replacing all of them with one: the fact that the imp that nearly killed me by accident was my homecoming date. The two of us have talked and spent a lot of time together, but who would’ve thought that he would be the one I would fall for and make my better in a way like this? Yeah, I was into him the most out of everyone at I.M.P. Of course, Millie and Moxxie were married and Loona, I’ll be honest, she was someone who appeared that she wasn’t too keen on dating. Blitzo, on the other hand, ever since the two of us met with him pounced over my body with a double barrel shotgun aimed directly at my face, we’re never been closer. That story about how we met is a real doozy, but it’s certainly for another time.

After waiting a little longer, I finally left the vehicle and locked the doors, stuffing the keys in my pocket and trading it for my phone, holding the mask in my other hand, my body on fire at the constant, recurring thought that wasn’t leaving anytime soon, one that pushed all the others away, a splendid thought that was the only thing I could think of. Before I knew it, I was at the front doors of the school and I followed the couples and groups, most likely students, towards the gym, looking at my phone and expecting a text, but instead, just silence. I guess all I needed to do was wait for him, and that’s what I did as I was greeted with the sound of deep bass rumbling through my body thanks to the booming speakers, along with the bright spotlights that moved around at a rapid pace, mixed with multiple multicolored strobe lights. It was a party alright. With the song that was playing as well, it was a fitting one with the theme. And lost in this party, I assumed, was a neatly dressed imp waiting for me. I walked along the edge of the gym, avoiding the growing crowd of dancers and hoping to possibly run into Blitzo at some point, only to be stopped by, unsurprisingly, one of my high school teachers. 

“Elijah, is that you? Hey kid, what brings you here?!” She asked, leaning against the wall with a drink, a red cup, yes a red cup, and wrapped in a mummy outfit, bandages covering her body, along with one eye while the other was perfectly visible.

“Just chaperoning for my brother and his friends.” I answered, which was half the truth, but how could I explain that I was waiting for my demonic plus one?

“For a chaperone, you fit in right with the crowd, nice outfit! Did you make it yourself?”

 “Yeah, I did actually.”

 “I always knew you were one of the more creative ones in the class and it shows, awesome job!” I found myself getting blushy rather quickly at her compliment, rubbing the back of my head as I continued the conversation and it soon turned into one where my heart began to race rapidly. “So, tell me, do you have a date?” I wanted to lie, but then again, I was unsure of Blitzo was my date, or even if I wanted to say he was to others, so I took a deep breath and tried to make up my mind quickly.

“Yeah, I do, he’s a bit late though, it might be a while before he gets here.”

“Who said I was late?” The imp said, grabbing ahold of my shoulder gently and wanting me to turn around so I did, my eyes meeting his and I could see that his were that wickedly bright yellow, with a hint of red in the middle. Sinister, but always a joy to look at. “Hey, cutie.” I was about to open my mouth to compliment his outfit, resembling Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas, from top to bottom, only for my teacher to butt in. This was going to be a joy.

“Oooooh, and who might this be, Elijah?! He must learn from the best because his costume’s amazing!” This was going to be a real interesting night. I was already contemplating on going back to the car.

 “The name’s Blitzo, pronounced Blitz and the O is silent, also known as this handsome guy’s boyfriend.” He said, greeting himself to-

...HOLD UP, WAIT A MINUTE. Did he just say boyfriend? Was I hearing that correctly? I wasn’t crazy, right?

“The name’s Blitzo, the O is silent, also known as this handsome guy’s boyfriend.” He said, greeting himself to-wait a minute, did he just say boyfriend? Did I hear that correctly? I wasn’t crazy, right?

“Well, Blitzo, it was really nice to meet you. Elijah was, and still is, one of my best students, creative too, you’re a lucky one.”

“Oh, trust me,” He looked over at me, a look that read ‘I love you’, his eyes appearing as if he was going to cry, but his smile was wide. “I know.” He was being completely truthful with her and myself. Not a single word he said was a lie, at least that’s what I believed. Something told me that it was true, every single word was honest and straight from the heart. “Let’s go dance, yeah?” He said softly towards me, earning a soft nod in reply and so, the two of us made our way to the dance floor. I was so nervous to ask him a single question with a plentiful rushing through my head. “Shocked, huh? Don’t be, Elijah. I know the two of us have been together for some time and I may have heard from a little birdie that you were going to be helping out your brother for some dance.” I reminisced on when I remember talking about the homecoming dance and then it hit me.

“Damn it, Angel.”

“C’mon, you missed me. You’re glad she told me too.”

“Yeah, I did. But, like, didn’t you have some more important stuff, like work? And your horse to take care of?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Work’s slow and boring and Moxxie’s watching over her so, I’m free for the night! What better way to spend my night with my new boyfriend too?” He said, pressing his lips against my cheek and sending my heart sky high, my hand on his beginning to clench. “Easy cowboy, it was just a kiss. We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff, you know.” Okay, now he was just trying to get me flustered really early. We made jokes about that stuff, but was he being serious? About all of this?

“I was actually going to ask about that. Do you, like, you’re actually interested in me, right?” He stopped in his tracks and the two of us were halted together, surrounded by multiple dancing groups and couples, I could sense the music that was once pounding in my ears beginning to die out, soon Blitzo’s voice was the only thing I could hear. “All those times we’ve been together, from the day you were in my bed ready to kill me and only to discover you were in the wrong house to all those times we’ve spent in Hell and on the surface, to that one time you were actually full-on naked in my bed and I was nearly caught, you’re being honest with me, right?”

“Elijah,” Blitzo began, reaching for my other hand to hold it tight, gazing into my eyes and I soon lost myself in them, my focus and attention being grabbed and held by him and him alone. “I’m being one hundred percent honest with you. If I killed you, I would’ve missed a chance like this and, god fucking dammit, I’m trying not to cry here.”

“Trust me, I’ve already done that tonight, you’re good.” I joked, the two of us laughing as his claw-like hands gripped mine.

“But yeah, I’m serious. From the bottom of my heart, Elijah. No bullshit. I love you. Yeah, you’re a human and I nearly killed you, but that night I met you and nearly blew your brains out, was probably the fucking day of my whole eternal suffering, as they usually say. That’s, that’s what they say, right?” Hearing that filled my heart with an intense amount of joy and soon, I felt my worries wash away. Who would’ve thought that I would not only fall in love with a demon below the surface of this Earth, but an imp who was not only charming, but skilled at his profession? A professional that was basically assassination. Then again, he just straight up kills anyone he’s paid to kill alongside the other three. “You can cry all you want, okay?” I didn’t want to, especially in front of Blitzo.

“Oh, shut up. I love you too.” I said, earning a nice laugh from him. Moments later, the music shifted from the usual extremely bumping and loud beat into something more mellow, but you could still dance to. A song that people weren’t really a fan of, but for me, and surprisingly Blitzo, it was perfect. To my surprise, the imp knew the damn lyrics.

Oh, don’t you dare look back Just keep your eyes on me. I said, you’re holding back. He said, shut up and dance with me! This demon is my destiny. He said, ooh-ooh-hoo! Shut up and dance with me!

The two of us followed suit and already had the floor so who was gonna stop us? No one was certainly going to stop Blitzo and for me, I was already lost in the moment, I could only see Blitzo and I losing ourselves in the music together, singing and dancing along. No distractions or disturbances as we let loose. Unbeknownst to me, the crowd around us had cleared and it was just me and Blitzo dancing to the beat with a silent audience cheering on a human and his boyfriend, unaware that he was truly a demon. I didn’t care about any of that mess now, I was overjoyed to be dancing with my imp boyfriend under the moving spotlight, the two of us grabbing the attention of all the other costumed people standing by and watching us. It didn’t even feel like they were there.

Deep in his eyes I think I see the future I realize this is my last chance! He took my arm I don’t know how it happened We took the floor and he said…

Oh, don’t you dare look back Just keep your eyes on me I said, you’re holding back He said, shut up and dance with me This demon is my destiny He said, ooh-ooh-hoo! Shut up and dance!

The final chorus continued to play and the two of us were going at it, I could sense and hear quiet cheers and wolf whistles, yet Blitzo’s voice filled my ears and drowned it all out.

Ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me!

And just like that, the music halted and the two of us were in a bit of a position, me dipping and holding his body down, our eyes locked onto each other, the crowd coming back to life with a roar of an applause. They witnessed everything and as much as I wanted to look around and see everyone, Blitzo kept my face looking directly at his. “Hey, don’t focus on them. It’s okay.” I smiled down at him and nodded, the music shifting back into something more exciting and full of life and sending the crowd’s back onto the floor.

 “I didn’t know you were so good at dancing, Blitzo.” I said, complimenting him on his dancing and wondering where he picked that up, then again, it hit me that he’s been bugging a married couple for Satan knows how long, and he’s been on the surface a few times.

 “You go around, you know some folks, you pick up some new things, learn a few tricks.” There was a small moment of silence. “Alright, I picked it up from Moxx and Mills.” I had a feeling. Right as I was about to say something while bringing back up onto his feet, I was the one to be dipped this time and caught off guard. “Now pucker up, cutie~” And with that, Blitzo kissed me sweetly and passionately, my vision getting blurry as my eyes fluttered and my heart was more soothed and relaxed. I will admit that Blitzo has kissed me on numerous occasions, but this was something he never pulled or did and it was immensely surprisingly and completely satisfying. I didn’t want to ruin the moment at all. In fact, I wanted to make it even better. So I decided to surprise Blitzo with something up my sleeve, slipping my tongue into his mouth and catching him off guard, only for our tongues to collide and intertwine with each other, his claws yanking and gripping me closer to his body, our lips still locked together for a good couple of seconds and right as we finally pulled away, there was an embarrassing amount of saliva attached to my lips and his, a dark blush hitting both our faces. “Well, that was, I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“Yeah, wasn’t expecting that kiss either, heh.” The silence between us was high but was soon broken with Blitzo speaking up again.

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it. I know you’re probably thinking it too, are you going to make love to me already or what?” My eyes widened in surprise, my body heating up in response and while I was expecting a lewd comment or question, he was just completely straightforward with it, no hints, or riddles, just straight from the head.

“C-Can we go to the car now, like, right now?” I asked, hoping he could sense the desperateness in my voice, along with the look of lust in my eyes. Yeah, he definitely saw it, without a doubt. That smile of his, how he licked his lips in front of me, shooting a sexy glare at me, tonight was going to be a ride, in more ways than one as Blitzo swiftly picked me up in his arms and carried me towards the car bridal-style, grabbing a few eyeballs as he did.

“Of course~” We soon made our way outside and Blitzo finally set me down, not even bothering to look around if there were any watchers who were late to the party, as if he were planning something.

“Something wrong?” He didn’t reply with a vocal answer, but instead, what came next was what made this entire night probably the best homecoming ever. I’m going to spare the details, but what came next was pretty saucy.

Sometime Later…

I found myself rising out of bed to the sight of several dimmed lights and within seconds, the awareness hit me hard. I wasn’t at home. I was in Blitzo’s home. “Morning, sleepyhead.” The imp to my side greeted, not wearing anything like me as I hid myself under the sheets. I half-expected him to be dressed in some cute horse-themed pjs, but no, he was full-on naked under the sheets, his legs touching mine.

“Hey, Blitzo. I, umm, should I ask how I got here?” I questioned, preparing myself for the story that Blitzo had to tell, this should be good.

“Before you ask, because I have a feeling that’s the first thing you’re thinking about, your brother and his friends are fine. They got home safely and then I brought you down here to rest!” Blitzo explained, my eyes widening in fear at the idea of what he could’ve possibly done.

“For the love of God, Blitzo, please tell me the car’s in one piece. Please tell me no one got hurt.” I begged, shaking in anticipation, and not even hearing the room door open as I turned to see Moxxie come in.

“Actually, I helped drive,” The other imp claimed. “Not to be rude towards your new boyfriend, Elijah, but I had a very strong feeling that if my boss were to drive, it wouldn’t be pleasant. That and he introduced himself and the rest of us to your brother and friends.” Blitzo, you did not. You did fucking not.

“What, they were nice!”

“Sir, excuse my language, but you fucking scared them!” When Moxxie said those words, I didn’t even want to imagine how he scared and possibly scared them for life.

“Oh my God, Blitzo, why…”

“Don’t worry about it, Eli, you’re lucky I didn’t tell them about our little love-making session.”

“Sir, that’s WAY too much information.”

I didn’t know how to feel exactly with my brother knowing about Blitzo and the others, but as the conversation between him and Moxxie continued, I couldn’t help but think about that night, what I experienced with Blitzo and the things we did together, how he confessed his love and then made love to me. It felt unreal to think about knowing that the imp I spent the most time with actually liked me that way. That’s when I smiled and felt really glad that night ended up being in my favor.

[viasatellite]

title: Lost in a dream summary: "You were young, you had dreams, and I wasn't part of any of it." Maybe love isn't all there is, after all. SasuSaku and LDR. Oneshot.  notes:   this is my late Valentine's fic (another LDR fic) and i was listening to Lady Antebellum's Big Love in a Small Town the whole time! That really set the mood for this one.

-------

She doesn't count a lot of things.

She doesn't count how many hours of sleep she loses trying to save lives and forgetting to feed herself, not the number of times she's received emergency calls from the hospital, the times she's had to cancel on her dinner dates with Ino and the girls, and definitely not the attempts her memories have made at cleaving their way through her.

But it's been seven years, and the scent of roses intrudes into her rather perfunctory sense of smell of washed up, sanitized corridors. It's the hospital; it's all a routine until someone falls and hangs in a critical balance between life and death.

But even death becomes familiar after a while.

It's been five years, she counts, since her fantastic romance blew up into shreds and tatters. But they were young – there was, expectedly, a lot of passion and thrill, but no direction.

"We're young and we have our dreams. My dream is not here. Yours is. I have no need of such complication."

Sakura finds herself choking up as she recalls how easy it was for him to take her heart and for her to ransom herself with his promises that eventually amounted to nothing.

"But Sasuke, three years is too long. You can't just throw that away. We can make this work if we do it together. We'll find a way," she coaxed, reaching for his hand.

Her hand never reached his as he turned his back, not mincing his words. Sakura closes his eyes, blocking him from resounding in her head.

The sound of her phone snaps her out of her gloomy daze, and she can't be more thankful.

"Ino . . . Oh, alright. Yes, I understand. I'm fine! No worries, darling. Have fun okay? And tell me about it later? Great then talk to you later."

They were supposed to finally have their long-awaited date especially now that the season calls for it, but Ino actually got herself a "real" Valentine's date, and Sakura isn't about to take that chance away from her.

If she were to be honest, she didn't feel like going out on this day anyway. It's heavily laden with societal expectations and laced with her personal memories from the past, and she doesn't want to relive any of it.

"Haruno-sensei!"

It's one of the nurses, and she's carrying two paper bags as she rushes to meet Sakura.

"I made chocolates for everyone. Here's one for you. Hope you'll like it. Happy Valentine's!"

She's gone before Sakura can even say thank you. She looks at what she's just been given, and the sudden familiarity of it all floods her.

"I know you don't like chocolates, especially MY chocolates, but I made this for you anyway."

He took her offering and looked at her for a while. She blushed under the severity of his gaze.

"You can throw it if you want to but don't do it now, not in front of me, okay!"

He smirked and opened the box before finally taking a piece into his mouth. Sakura had her mouth opened the whole time.

"I never said I didn't like your chocolates. You're five years too late though. I've been expecting this since high school."

Sakura pouted. "What do you mean? If I had so much showed you a tinge of interest, you would've turned me away like you did with all those fans! And . . . and we have been friends since we were babies, I didn't know how to not make it feel . . . incestuous."

Sasuke made a step toward her and she visibly took a step back.

"Sakura, I never saw you as a fan. You're a friend – "

"Exactly my point!"

"And special. You are special."

"Oh."

She smiled at him, her heart all of a pitter and a patter.

"Then I guess I'm lucky?" she chuckled.

He closed the distance and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"Maybe you are. Make me some more chocolates?" he teased, waiting for her reaction.

"You meanie. That's not fair. You gotta make me chocolates too!"

She was supposed to throw him a mildly annoyed look but it all melted away when he leaned in and captured her lips. She felt him tightening his hold against her and she couldn't help but wound her hand in his hair, desperately kissing him back.

She was breathless when he finally stopped. "Do you still need me to make you chocolates?"

She laughed and shook her head before reaching for another kiss.

Sakura finally makes it inside her car, wondering who to call, or if she should just head straight home especially since this is a rare opportunity for rest. But her feelings do not go unquiet and she needs some mighty dose of comfort. Maybe she could drop by her favorite bar? Drink herself to oblivion? But what if duty calls, she can't be that irresponsible. She just needs to drown out the offending memories. She should be fine with some company, have some space from herself. She doesn't know where to go, but she starts the car, hoping she'll figure it out sooner than the memories, more of them, catching up to her.

Sakura thought they could just continue forever. She never considered the distinct possibility that things come to an end, even what they had. They would have minor fights about the silliest of things like how Sasuke would sometimes take forever to respond to her texts, how Sakura would sometimes show up late for their study sessions, or how sometimes they were just both too busy to even see or spend time with each other even though they lived in the same city.

Sasuke wasn't usually bothered by it. It was mostly Sakura who couldn't take it sometimes, demanding more time to be together yet at the same time wholeheartedly understanding that on top of attending different universities, both of them had other things they needed to be focusing on aside from their relationship. Sakura was studying to be a doctor, and Sasuke training to be the future CEO of their company, although with his brother being around, that wasn't really a possibility unless his brother stepped down from the position.

But Sasuke had a dream of starting his own company and he had always told Sakura that he couldn't do that in their city as it would require having a large network of connections and a move elsewhere. He was also looking at going to grad school in another country.

Sakura knew all this, but she had been deeply caught up in this swift moving dream of being together with Sasuke that she didn't realize they were rapidly headed for a steep descent.

A few days before what was supposed to be their third anniversary and a celebratory date for their graduation, Sasuke broke the news that he got accepted into a university in Europe and would be away for at least two years.

"I'm so so happy for you, Sasuke-kun! Congratulations!"

Sakura jumped up to hug him. She stayed like that for a while but with no sign of Sasuke returning the gesture.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sakura, I don't think we can continue doing this."

"What do you mean, can't continue?"

"You have a life here and will soon become a doctor. But I can't stay here."

Sakura bit her lip, trying to keep her tears at bay, as she realized where this conversation was going. She saw it necessary to reason with Sasuke with logic and she didn't want to show how emotional she was getting.

"Look. I know you can't stay, Sasuke-kun. You've been telling me. So you go study wherever you want to and no matter how long you want to. And I'll just be here waiting."

She tried convincing him with a smile but even she herself was finding it hard to stay optimistic.

"I don't want you to wait. I don't want either of us to wait."

Hinata is calling, and Sakura delightfully welcomes a much-needed distraction from her aggravating memories. Tears are threatening to fall again, but it has been seven long years, and she still feels the pain as if it was just carved yesterday.

She calms herself down before answering the call.

"Hinata?"

"Sakura! So glad you answered the call. Where are you? Do you have a date?"

"Oh, I . . . it was cancelled."

She's been playing this little game of pretend with herself and everyone else. She feels guilty but she's not about to show her friends that after seven years, she's still stuck in the same spot where he left her.

"Great! Are you free right now? Naruto and I didn't want to go out and just decided to cook together. We'd like you to judge who did better. . ."

Sakura can hear Naruto screaming "Me of course!" in the background. She chuckles lightly.

"Oh god, you two are as adorable as ever. Count me in. I'm on my way!"

"See you, Sakura-chan!"

Filled with newfound cheerfulness and excitement, she then wipes her tears away before speeding up and making a sharp turn at the end of the street. Suddenly, it isn't a cheerless road anymore, and the sadness that seemed impenetrable has now been cast away. It might be only temporary, but she needs to breathe and her best friends are just what she needs to accomplish that.

She's holding a box of chocolates as she opens the door stoked to see the two lovebirds and the mess they have made in the kitchen.

But instead she sees him seated at the table, eyes in her direction, as if already expecting her to show up behind the door.

She almost drops the chocolates and accusingly glares at Naruto who has just come out from the kitchen. She doesn't say anything but demands an answer silently.

Naruto tries to say something when Hinata comes and runs to her."

"Oh Sakura, you're finally here! Come, come, and we have a lot of food for you to taste!"

Hinata picks up the box from her hands and practically drags her to the table. Sakura has no choice but to be seated in front of Sasuke who she hasn't seen for ages and she wishes she didn't have to see him again. Having painful memories of him has been more than enough.

"Hello, Sakura."

His voice has become fuller but still icy. She sends a wry smile his way without directly looking his way. Oh, how she wants to continue faking it, pretending she's been okay, but not like this. She isn't prepared for any of this. Pain does find you in unlikely places, and she just wants the dinner to be over soon.

She can tell how hard the couple is trying to make the atmosphere less tense, throwing questions around for anyone to answer. But she doesn't want to engage in any of it. She's just been focused on tasting different dishes, dryly commenting her evaluations every now and then.

"Teme, I didn't expect you'd even be back here. Thought you would stay in Europe forever!" Naruto begins as he starts chomping down on his plates of food.

"I planned to but we're expanding and thought it best to have our first branch here."

"Awesome! Does that mean you'll be staying here for a while?"

"Maybe. But I'll have to go back there as soon as I can."

"Oh, you haven't been actively responding to our chat. So . . . are we missing something here? Do you have a fiancée now that you can't leave?" he teases.

Naruto stops as soon as he says it, and Sakura sees Hinata slapping at his arm. But Naruto coughs and continues.

"Sakura has been dating around, too, right, Saku-chan? Tell us about your recent conquest!"

"Naruto-kun!" Hinata warns, slapping a hand over her partner's mouth.

Sakura lets out a weak laugh.

"No, I have no conquests. I don't have the time and energy needed to be in a relationship. And . . ." she scoffs, "it's pointless anyway."

.

.

"But Sasuke, three years is too long.

You can't just throw that away.

We can make this work if we do it together.

We'll find a way."

"No need to. It won't work. It's all pointless anyway."

.

.

Sakura abruptly rises from her seat.

"I . . . I need to go. I have to go back to the hospital."

She hastily gives Hinata a hug. "As always, you did better than him," she smiles at Hinata as she glares at Naruto.

She then rushes out of the door, quickly fumbling for her key inside her bag as she takes deep breaths, keeping her emotions in check.

"Sakura."

She feels herself whirled around, and she breaks down at the sight of him.

"Why the hell are you here? Why did you even come back. . ." she looks at him straight, furious tears marring her vision.

"I . . . I don't know. Maybe I wanted to see you and apologize for what I did," he says softly, looking down.

"But what for, Sasuke! You. . . you just threw it all away! Didn't even give it a chance, left without saying goodbye and suddenly after 7 fucking years, you want to say sorry? For what exactly? For hurting me? For not loving me at all?"

Sasuke looks at her firmly. "You know that's not true. It's not true that I didn't love you."

"Everything that you did that day told me what you truly felt, Sasuke, and I don't need your sorry. I don't need any explanation from you. Just let me . . . let me be, I can't – "

"Sakura, I was scared. The distance would've hurt you more, the waiting would've killed you."

Sakura smiles sadly and shakes her head. "You killed me the moment you walked away. I would've done anything to keep us. But I guess you just weren't ready. You were young, you had dreams, and I wasn't part of any of it."

"I'm sorry, Sakura. I'm sorry for hurting you. I wish I could take it all back. In the end, those dreams meant nothing."

She remembers touching his face before smoothing out the creases and stroking away the sadness and exhaustion. She remembers how it was all so simple back then and wishes she could just take everything back, too.

Before she even notices what she's doing, her hand is already a mere inch from his cheek, ready to touch him again, to do all of that for him again. But when she realizes, she smiles tearfully and drops her hand.

"I wish you happiness, Sasuke-kun."

She loved him so much that walking away from him was something she would have never trusted herself to do. But they were young, they had dreams, and somehow, they lost each other.

There's no looking back.

...

Fin.

(might actually continue here)

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x01-- The Gang Deals with Alternate Reality

I had a lot to say about this one, guys. 

Welcome back! I see this season TGF has decided to be It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Is this some sort of joke about how last season it was always raining? Is every title going to be like this? And where are the numbers!? There is no counting of any kind in this episode title! 

When you think about it, the central argument of this episode-- that 45’s election brought new life to resistance movements that would’ve otherwise laid dormant-- is also my central argument about why TGF is a good show instead of a passable one. Remember how in season one the point of the show was supposed to be a fake scandal about Maia? 

So it’s fitting that we begin season four by going back to the show’s pilot: Inauguration Day. Only this time, Diane is happily watching Hillary Clinton’s inauguration. Did I say happily? I meant ecstatically. 

As Diane pops champagne, the TV goes to static-- something’s off-- and the credits begin. Same credits as season 3 but with one key difference: things are coming together rather than exploding. I see what you did there. (The TVs still explode, though, and they still have the real 45 on them.)

Yeah I didn’t need to see the credits to know the Kings wrote this one. 

I think the notes the Kings left in the script for this episode for Brooke Kennedy just said, “Make Diane look like a glamorous badass.” I’m like one minute in and she’s already popped champagne and worn trendy sunglasses.

Brooke’s directing in this episode is so stylish and it might be my favorite ep she’s ever done? The showiness (and sometimes campy performances) REALLY work for the tone of this episode. 

Diane takes the elevator to work and looks quizzical. One may be tempted to ask how Diane knows to go to RBL if it’s the day after inauguration and she’s still at Lockhart Deckler whatever (one may then snark that RBL is in the LG space so she’d go there no matter what). The answer is: dream logic! 

(But really, little disorienting moments like that-- and yes, I know this was probably only disorienting for me and one other person-- help the episode work long before we know this isn’t a true alternate universe.)

Marissa is waiting at reception to inform Diane that HRC’s press secretary is in her office. Diane then asks Marissa who the president is, and Marissa asks Diane if she’s microdosing again. Ha! Also, that’s another clear clue that something’s up-- Diane wouldn’t have already microdosed right after inauguration. And why would Diane have microdosed in this AltVerse? Again-- dream logic. And I love it. In episodes like this, when things don’t add up, it’s wonderfully disorienting instead of frustrating. (Plus, this line is a knowing wink at fans about the absurdity of the microdosing storyline.)

Marissa confirms that it’s 2020 in show time. Diane has a flash of a selection of horrific images that have come out of these last few years, then says, ”God, have you ever had a dream that is so real that it takes you a long time to wake up?” I wish.

Diane wants to know how Hillary won, and Marissa says she won in a landslide-- 3 million votes. “Same as in my dream,” Diane says. Marissa thinks she means the other candidate had 3 million more votes, and wonders how he won if he had fewer votes. On one hand, Marissa totally knows about the electoral college. On the other hand, would “3 million votes” and hating the electoral college be cliched and top of mind enough to work as the joke in this scene if those votes had actually mattered? Probably not. I doubt many people would be talking about abolishing the electoral college, or that Marissa or even Diane would be SO quick to understand how one could win the popular vote and not the election, if we hadn’t all lived through the past three years. Also dream logic. It’s a great way of explaining things that are out of character.

“Whatever, it’s a dream, it doesn’t have to make sense,” says Marissa, making my point for me.

Oh hello there Lucca, your jacket is very bright. Lucca asks to sit in on Diane’s meeting with the press secretary. Lucca was up for a partnership in 3x10 but in this episode she’s very obviously an underling (and honestly seems a bit lower ranking and hesitant than usual-- I’ll need another episode or two to understand if this is how the writers are writing Lucca, how Diane views Lucca, or just what was easiest for the plot). 

The White House is now asking Diane to take on cases. Way to dream big, Diane!

And Diane will be arguing in front of the Supreme Court! 

In the alternate universe, Liz’s wonderful bathroom belongs to Diane.

Diane gets to do so many things she wouldn’t usually do in this ep, like furiously shake her head to prove to herself she’s not dreaming! 

Diane still has that Girl With Flower As Head painting and I do not believe she would have that painting if HRC were president because it’s too friggin weird. Also has it always had a US flag in the background?

In the alternate universe, Garland and Warren (as in Elizabeth) are both on the court. It’s a good laughline precisely because it’s so plausible. (Well, idk about the Warren part, but she’s a recognizable name.)

Diane looks so happy she could cry when she learns Warren is on the Supreme Court. 

There is a shot of Lucca that is so very clearly from Diane’s POV and I like it. I read a review of this episode that said it didn’t have enough character development. To that I say, one, this isn’t TGW-- this show has always been more about tone and theme, and two, there’s PLENTY here that’s about Diane’s POV and how she views others and thinks of herself. Because it’s dream logic I can’t make nearly as much out of it as I can make out of an episode like A Few Words, but there are little touches here and there. Even this shot of Lucca, where Lucca’s in the center of the frame shot from a high angle, grounds me in Diane’s POV. You could even make an argument about hierarchy based on the angle. 

“Who’s that?” Lucca whispers when Diane asks about Kavanaugh. Diane is elated at that response. 

Somehow we leave Diane’s POV (whatever, it’s a dream so I won’t be as brutal to this choice as I was to a similar but more subtle one in Don’t Fail) and follow Lucca into Adrian’s office. She immediately tells Liz and Adrian she’s concerned about Diane. That sounds like Lucca alright. 

Diane is DANCING in her office as she watches news coverage that isn’t a garbage fire.

I’m curious y’all-- are people in your area cheering at a certain time? Hearing cheers every night during this pandemic is one of the few things I like about this awful moment in time. (My recap writing was just interrupted by cheering, if you couldn’t guess the reason for this abrupt digression.) 

News stories in alternate reality: Cancer has been cured, there is polar bear overpopulation, the rainforest has been saved, 45 is REDUCING the amount of content he’s putting out into the world, and $35,000 is missing from some government agency. Ha. All that and people are hung up on $35,000? Sounds about right, actually.

Diane hugs Liz and Adrian because she feels like a weight has been lifted off of her. I appreciate that Diane acts without restraint or concern for what other people think in this episode. This is central to why I think this episode is actually a pretty good character study: this is who Diane imagines herself to be, more or less. Real Diane, no matter how bizarre things are, probably would handle herself more professionally in a work meeting and probably wouldn’t let feelings like this show. Dream Diane has no reason to double check herself. This is just how she thinks she’d react if there were absolutely no constraints. Not that she’s actively thinking- she’s just doing. 

Diane is very excited to be watching the news, and Adrian thinks she’s nuts-- there are scandals! Like the missing $35k and THE EMAILS. The GODDAMN EMAILS. Even a fictional joke about how they’d still be a scandal makes me mad. Twenty years from now it will still be too soon to remind me of the emails. (And to play Fight Song, that song is cancelled.)

A haircut is also a scandal because sexism.

I admire this show for calling attention to problems on both sides without ever screaming BOTH SIDES ARE EQUALLY BAD. This episode may call out some of the good things that have happened as a result of the 2016 election, but the whole premise of this joke rests on the fact that only one of the two potential administrations could run through a year’s worth of scandals in a day. 

Might circle back to this later on-- btw I write these after watching the whole episode, so I do know what’s going to happen next-- but I don’t think the show is trying to make the case that it’s good 45 was elected. I think they’re trying to ask questions about how the world has changed and cause and effect so we can understand the moment we’re in. Above, I said I liked hearing my neighbors cheer every night. And I could write a lot of words on how that collective activity inspires me, makes me feel connected even when I’ve been stuck inside for a month, etc, how I’ve gotten better about keeping in touch with old friends, whatever, and NONE of that would mean that a global pandemic is a good thing. It just means that like any huge societal phenomenon, its implications are complex. 

TGF and TGW have always, always, always been shows about understanding where we are in time. That’s what this episode does. And it makes sense to do a thought experiment like this now, at the start of season 4, in a season opener. We’ve had enough time living in this world that we can reflect on it.

Diane laughs, because what Diane dream sequence would be complete without a glorious laugh?

Adrian’s kinda suspicious of Hillary. Sure, cancer’s been cured, but it’s not public how or when! 

God it’s weird to hear some of the most absurd happenings of the last three years as punchlines. 

The line about the Obama’s overall deal at Netflix is fire. 

Diane laughs AGAIN. 

Oh right, Harriet Tubman was going to be on the $20 bill. (Is it obvious yet that I am the exact right target for this episode?)

Julius is VERY mad about Hillary’s $500 haircut. Heh. He’s also publicly supporting Trump which is interesting (and probably a dream logic thing; Diane knows he supported Trump therefore in her dream he isn’t ever hesitant to share that he voted for Trump.)

“Only Hillary could cure cancer and turn it into a scandal,” someone else adds. I’m loving all these jokes. He is mad cancer wasn’t cured earlier and that it’s been cured in an election year. This joke is funny because it’s exactly what would happen in this scenario.

I wonder if Julius would be more likely to speak up about his political affiliation if the stakes were lower. If 45 lost, then is supporting him as much of a thing to hide in a place like RBL? People would be mad but they probably would get over their moral opposition to his views a lot faster when it isn’t a real threat.

Diane’s brought in a huge client, which is news to her. And that client is none other than Harvey Weinstein, which… my God this is an interesting thought experiment. 

“I’m amazed you got him away from Lisa Bloom,” Adrian says. YIKES!!!! (If y’all haven’t read Catch and Kill yet, pick up a copy ASAP.)

No one’s heard of Weinstein’s sexual assault issues. I believe it. I mean, I think some women in power might have known before 2017-- I still vividly recall how many journalists reacted to the release of the story not with “Oh my God, how has this been going on for so long?” but with “Holy shit, someone managed to publish a story about this?!”-- but I’ll believe that the general consensus in elite liberal circles was to set the rumors aside and not share them widely.

I can’t watch this episode without thinking about VIP Treatment (2x05 of TGW). That episode, which raises the question of what happens when someone accuses a liberal legend of sexual assault, feels so ahead of its time. It aired in 2010. And I just, right this moment, learned that it was ripped from the headlines about accusations a masseuse made against Al Gore. Guys. I didn’t know there were allegations in 2010 about Al Gore. Is that because I was 16 in 2010 and just never heard of (or forgot about) the story? Is it because he had less power? Is it because of something specific about the reporting or the allegations? Or is it because we as a culture swept it under the rug since it was (allow me to be the millionth person to make this awful joke) an inconvenient truth? 

I don’t know the answers to the above. What I do know is that this episode is making me ask those questions.

In Marissa’s world (“you mean reality?”), 45 bragged about grabbing women by the pussy and then lost the election. And the story ended there. There was no women’s march, no #MeToo.

Sarah Steele gets to react to a lot of things in this episode and it is very delightful to see her say things like, “what are pussy hats?”

Diane looks so angry and stunned when she realizes that Weinstein is still “a thing” in the world. 

He won the Presidential Medal of Freedom because of course he did. 

His wikipedia page says his only controversies are about his managerial style. Yikes.

Marissa’s reaction to the phrase “masturbating into plants” is one of the best things about this episode. I love that she gets so hung up on it. 

Charlie Rose is the first name other than Weinstein that comes to mind for Diane when Marissa asks what other men were serial harassers. I’ve got to think that Rose gets the most attention here in no small part because he was part of the CBS family-- he was even on TGW. 

I’ve seen Annaleigh Ashford in so many things recently. 

Diane handles the meeting with Team Weinstein VERY poorly (she also does not care to handle it well), while Adrian covers with the “all options are open to us” gibberish that Diane absolutely would be able to convincingly deploy in a meeting she couldn’t follow. I point this out because it shows that 1) Diane isn’t behaving the way she would in reality and 2) Diane does not give a fuck. 

If this were reality, would Diane push so hard in this meeting? I don’t know. This situation is so far removed from reality it’s hard to tell. But my sense is that Diane would like to think of herself as someone who would never waver in her commitment to Doing The Right Thing, but she’d probably be a lot more diplomatic-- even in real 2020-- in initial meetings. It’s a bit dated at this point, but in VIP Treatment Diane was hesitant to believe the victim because the man accused of assault was a high profile liberal. To her credit, she does eventually choose the victim over her own politics. But I could totally see Diane-- with no knowledge of the real timeline-- behaving like her friend/HRC’s press secretary Zoe does in this episode.

All that to say: personally, I don’t think #MeToo would’ve caught on to the extent it did if women weren’t already angry. I believe there could have been a hashtag and some stories (maybe even the Weinstein story). But I also believe women felt an urgent need to speak out and organize. And I believe that more women were inclined to believe victims and get angry. And I believe that it was only because of the world in general that #MeToo spread outside of a few online circles. To put it another way, you know how there are sometimes cases of the week on this show where you might know the reference in detail, but if you ask a co-worker or friend about it they’ll know either nothing or only the very basics? I think all of #MeToo could’ve ended up like one of those cases if it hadn’t played out with 2017 in the background.

Dreams aren’t subtle: Weinstein’s publicity tour includes appearances with Charlie Rose and Matt Lauer. (This joke also serves as a reminder that sexual harassment is a systemic problem.)

Diane is SO confrontational in this meeting. Also, the woman they’re meeting with is SO FRIGGIN COMPLICIT. 

Weinstein’s team frames sexual assault allegations-- which are still floating around even in alt2020-- as a Republican conspiracy. I have no doubt they would have used this approach if given the chance. 

I’m on page six and fifteen minutes in, damn.

Adrian, or Diane’s version of Adrian, does not believe women and seems to hate Hillary Clinton a little bit too. An accurate portrayal of Adrian? Lines that betray Diane’s suspicion of where Adrian stands on women’s issues? Or just that Adrian is there to be the person pushing back and it could’ve been anyone? (I think it’s somewhere between the first two, personally. If this could’ve been anyone, why not Liz?) 

In this alternate universe NBC’s refusal to broadcast Ronan Farrow’s investigation is proof of Weinstein’s innocence, because in the alt universe we still apparently have faith in the corporate culture at NBC. (Perhaps the most surprising thing to me about Catch and Kill is that a LOT of it is dedicated to exposing the shit that went down within NBC. It’s fascinating and also makes it crystal clear how assault is a systemic problem and not just a few bad apples you should avoid being alone with.)

Adrian’s reaction when Diane mentions Reddick (Adrian knows nothing of the accusations in this universe) changes the tone of this scene in an instant and it’s breathtaking. This is the one moment in the episode where she knows she has to shut up. 

The one thing about this ep I am not sure I buy is that the firm is struggling because of the rise in corporate taxes. But I know so little about this issue I don’t care if it’s right or wrong. 

After Diane leaves Adrian’s office, Liz asks, “What about my dad?” meaning she somehow heard the conversation through the wall. (The door was definitely closed so either their office design is worse than I thought or it’s just dream logic.) Diane doesn’t share the rumor with Liz.

Lucca is for some reason on this case, and they are for some reason in court on the same day they learned about the case. And the best part is that I don’t have to worry about whether or not this is plausible BECAUSE IT’S ALL A DREAM

Another thing I’ll say about this ep-- it’s pace remarkably well. The opening previews what’s to come, there’s just enough happy liberal utopia with funny jokes at the start, the Weinstein twist comes at the right moment, and the shift to the more dark, character focused scenes that wrap up the episode come exactly when the writers have gotten as much mileage as they can out of this premise. I knew this episode would be fantastic the moment I saw it was only 41 minutes long.

The judge keeps saying the opposing counsel’s full name, Ann Howard. Is this supposed to be a familiar name to me? I am not getting the reference. 

The judge’s ruling is basically that no one would take the risk involved in assaulting someone at work these days so the case must be bogus. And then we see, immediately (because, dream) that the judge is totally corrupt and just wants to get his daughter an internship with Weinstein. 

“Justice is an equation. Justice equals the law times the zeitgeist. The law on its own doesn’t stand up. You need the mood of the times on your side,” Diane eloquently explains. That’s basically what this episode is saying. To put it more simply: Context matters and nothing happens in a vacuum. (TGF and TGW were always about the context-- you simply couldn’t do a show about a woman standing by her cheating politician husband and being REVERED for it in 2020. That’s not about the law, but the same principle applies.)

Lucca says they won, so the zeitgeist worked for them-- and how could it be against women when the president is a woman? Remember how the Kings used to say that TGF was going to be about Diane retiring because she thought the glass ceiling had been shattered? I always thought that sounded wrong, but this episode is helping me understand what they were thinking a little bit. 

Lucca calls out Diane, a bit abruptly, on how only the woman partners probably would get to say “no more” if there were to be a women’s movement because the associates can’t risk it. Lucca’s right and she’s wrong-- her words underestimate how mainstream and trendy it’s become to publicly talk about sexual harassment, but she’s 100% right that there are still underlying power dynamics.

Diane’s Lucca is V V V V V V V concerned with power dynamics and VERY much wants to be higher ranking. On the one hand, actual Lucca wants to rank higher too. On the other, is there a piece of Diane that sees Lucca as power hungry? 

Lucca’s asked to take documents to Weinstein, and she’s flattered. Diane, like every viewer, sees this as a car crash in slow motion. She knows exactly what will happen when Lucca gets to his hotel with the documents. But Lucca, who’s in the dark, only knows it’s a good opportunity to impress a huge client.

Diane tells Weinstein’s… whatever she is? That she is “Harvey’s pimp” and she is not wrong. Also since I don’t actually know this woman’s job title I’ll just refer to her that way moving forward.

(See what I mean about Diane just saying things that are totally unprofessional bc this is a dream Diane who does what she wants and not actual Diane making tough decisions?)

Lucca is REALLY bitter about how Diane is always taking opportunities away from her. They’re definitely trying to do something with Lucca in this episode but as I said earlier, I think I need to see what they have planned for the rest of the season before I can fully understand what they’re going for. 

Diane tells Lucca exactly what is going to happen when she goes to drop off the papers. Lucca won’t hear it, so Diane asks Marissa to keep an eye on her.

Another possibility for what they’re trying to do with Lucca (and Adrian): Maybe it’s supposed to be about how different Types would react-- the powerful man who benefits from not questioning things and has some latent sexism issues; the ambitious young woman who gets caught in a bad situation because she’s trying to move her career forward. The more I think about it, the more I think this is what they’re going for-- and the question I should be asking is what does it mean about Adrian and Lucca (in terms of how the writers see them, in terms of how Diane sees them) that they can take on these roles so easily?

(It may say nothing about Diane because… idk, do YOU do thoughtful character analysis in your sleep? Because I don’t!)

Marissa is still stuck on the plants and I love it.

Lucca catches Marissa right away, but all that accomplishes is that both of them clearly see that Diane is right. These scenes feel a little unnecessary (they’re also not in Diane’s POV, though surely dreams can have tangents) and I think they’re only here to illustrate how the system works. I can’t imagine this scene is teaching many people new information.

Also there’s… just not another scene with Lucca in this episode? And I don’t know if I feel like that’s a bad thing or like it’s part of dream logic? I think it’s probably just bad plotting that the unnecessary sequence ends abruptly and doesn’t return.

“With the presidency, women can do whatever they want,” says one of Diane’s liberal friends at a women’s event. I’m… not 100% sure anyone would say this. If this were true why would they even be having a gala for a women’s charity? But point taken. People love this type of statement.

So Diane’s extremely low cut dress like has a mesh thing covering her exposed chest??I can’t figure it out. 

Weinstein is also a hero to everyone at the feminist charity. When Diane hears this, she gives an interview to a reporter about having a long way to go, which I 100% believe would be the message no matter reality we’re in what because literally no one is going to say please donate to my cause we have no battles left to fight BUT I DIGRESS. Diane tries to ignite #MeToo (and even name checks Tarana Burke, so that’s awesome) and is quickly cut off.

Then, after giving the interview, she has Jay (hello!) set her up on Twitter. Dream Diane is revealing just how little she understands how social media works. She also wants to link to a “Me Too Site” which is… not how any of this works, Diane.

Diane sees herself on the news-- she’s mostly cut from the piece and her words are taken out of context. 

Adrian and Liz stare Diane down for calling Weinstein’s pimp a pimp and Diane defends herself. Liz doesn’t believe this either. Diane is asked to sign a VERY RIDICULOUS (like it sounds like 45 more than anything else) apology letter and laughs. 

Liz reminds her that they’re close to bankruptcy and that they’ve defended killers before (oh, and, most relevant-- the assholes to avoid case, I can’t believe I went to 205 to think about how Diane would react in a more nuanced present day situation when I had that example!), why would Diane draw the line here? “Everyone deserves a defense. Just not everyone deserves MY defense,” Diane says. You know it’s a dream when a character on this show actually says that. Do you know how many times (if you’re still reading this you probably do know) I have written something to the effect of “SAYING EVERYONE DESERVES REPRESENTATION IS NOT THE SAME AS REPRESENTING THEM YOURSELF, LIZ/DIANE/ADRIAN/WILL/ALICIA/CARY/LUCCA/WHOEVER”? It’s been a lot. 

(Here is something I wrote in a case in which Diane, at the height of #MeToo, defended some assholes for money: “‘I wouldn’t say hate. We’re obligated,’ Diane says. Ohhh yes this is a new pet peeve. Y’all are not obligated. You were not assigned this case. You chose to take it for the money.”)

Idk what my point is here, maybe that this feels like a dream because the characters are never this principled in reality.

Zoe, the press secretary, wants Diane to shut down #MeToo. Lucca’s there too, but she says nothing (despite the experience she may have just had, because dream). Zoe doesn’t want women to get angry about abuse because “that’s not the message that helps us in 2020.” Ooof. But I buy it. I am not sure if it’s ACCURATE that anger wouldn’t help but I can completely see campaign staffers being afraid it would hurt, especially given that Bill Clinton has… more than a few issues. 

This scene veers into Diane’s POV. The camera gets closer and closer to her as she feels boxed in, and Liz, Adrian, and the pimp stare accusingly at her. Suddenly she realizes she doesn’t know where Kurt is because she’s spent the last few days at work. I think the most dream-like thing about this is the way Kurt just suddenly pops into the dream and shifts the tone of the whole thing. 

She runs off. Liz and Adrian ask Diane to step back from the firm for Weinstein and she’s like, okay, I’m going home, “I don’t know how I changed my clothes, I went to that event last night and I have different clothes on now and I don’t know where Kurt is.” I LOVE watching this whole episode twist into something this weird.

When Diane gets home, there’s a man fixing her door. He’s watching Trump TV, which is currently airing Felix Staples singing “This Wall is Your Wall” and honestly this is the best use of Felix Staples in the show so far.

The man fixing Diane’s door also remembers reality. He doesn’t know why he’s fixing Diane’s door. It’s disorienting. 

Diane gets a beer with the man fixing her door and wonders about if she even likes this world where HRC is president (or if the problem is just that she doesn’t believe it). (I think she’d like it just fine if she experienced it linearly, tbh.)

Sexy gun lady from a previous episode is back, and Kurt’s guns are missing because he didn’t want them to be confiscated (I do not believe this would ever be a policy but this is a full on illogical dream right now) and now Diane is talking to the TV.

“I’m in the car, right?” Diane says while standing in her bedroom and pretending to grab a steering wheel. Heh. 

Diane drives to a cabin in the woods (the way this is shot is SO atmospheric) and finds Kurt, in shadow, in the woods. So THIS is what Robert King was going for in Mind’s Eye in the clumsily directed scene with fake Will in shadow. Gotta say, the whole “person you love and can’t quite picture” thing works a ton better when it is obvious it’s an intentional style choice.

This scene is so weird because suddenly politics doesn’t matter and Diane only cares about Kurt and also Kurt might be dead? I am not sure I understand what this is saying. And I’m pretty sure I spent the entirety of this scene the first time through alternating between thinking “ooh pretty”, “this is what 614 wanted to be,” and “please don’t kill Kurt!!”

Kurt pulls Diane to reality and gets her to recap where we left off. She wakes up on the floor of her bedroom. She and Kurt have both, thankfully, survived Book Club’s SWATting. 

HA the first thing Diane says when she wakes up is “What happened?” which… that HAS to be intentional right???? 

To check that Diane is of sound mind, one of the agents asks her how many fingers he’s holding up and who’s president. She laughs. 

This episode is UNDER 40 minutes if you exclude the credits and promo.

Guess we’re not doing recap songs.

Had a lot to say about this one. I’ve liked TGW’s mind-y episodes more, but that’s not really a fair comparison since the point of this wasn’t character study… it was tone setting.

What this episode does NOT give me is a sense of what season 4 will be about, other than the usual absurdity. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Some Jumin/Reader for a lovely anonymous commissioner. I was asked to give a Yandere who’d been pushed to the edge and dangerously close to getting caught, and I hope this satisfies.

Word Count: 2k

Jumin knew it was wrong.

For years, he’d been sure that whatever he was, it wasn’t right. He was never as empathetic, never as social, never as… aware as he should’ve been. On its own, that wasn’t worrying. Plenty of people couldn’t understand the feelings of others, and most of them were in business, so there shouldn’t have been a problem. But, the absence of what wasn’t there seemed pale, borderline unimportant, compared to what was.

With a deep breath, he leaned down to the sink, splashing his face and fighting to keep his eyes away from the mirror. He doubted he could stand looking at himself, right now. Whatever he was feeling, whatever this was, he didn’t like it. A hot, burning, passionate sensation, one that boiled in his chest, choking Jumin as it forced its way through his system. And it was all your fault. Whenever he thought about you, it came back. Whenever he tried to talk to you, it felt like something solid and sharp was trying to crawl up his throat. And when he took a moment to acknowledge the fact that you were pacing right outside the bathroom door, poking around his living room and searching for the phone he now had clutched in his hands… it was starting to feel like something was trying to bust its way out of his diaphragm.

He wondered if it was guilt, briefly. Over stealing the only device that kept you connected to the RFA you’d grown so fond of while you were ‘in hiding’, with him. Fear, maybe, if only due to the chance you’d figure out how selfish his intentions really were, that you’d probably be better off with someone actually off the radar, like Seayoung, or so non-threatening no one would ever suspect it, like Yoosung. But, those would’ve been hopeful delusions.

After all, whenever he looked at you, there was only one thing he could ever think.

Mine.

It’s why he insisted that you come to his penthouse, where he’d be able to keep an eye on you, if not in-person, then through the dozens of security cameras he had unbridled, unmonitored access to. It’s why he took your phone, so he knew you wouldn’t be talking to anyone but him, so he could keep you to himself properly rather than letting you talk to those idiots at all. Even before the hacker became a problem, it’s why he always called you, whenever you seemed to be enjoying your time with another member a little too much. Why he made you seem suspicious to anyone who’d believe him, why he’d threatened to fire Assistant Kang the first time he found out you were contacting her for comfort.

Because you were his. Anyone else wasn’t worth your time, not when you should already know who you belong to.

But, you didn’t. Innocently, obliviously, you’d seen the best in him, defending even the most questionable of his actions until you were in his home and forbidden from leaving. That was something he liked about you, how trusting you were of him, how you seemed to want to be possessed as much as he wanted to possess you.

It just served as another sign that you two were meant to be.

Glancing down at the phone still clutched in his hand, he thought briefly about returning it. You hadn’t noticed him take it, so he might be able to just apologize, make up some excuse for grabbing it, and pretend that this never happened. But, then the damn thing had to buzz, the soft vibration like a knife cutting into his palm. He didn’t have to check your notifications to know who it was, you’d been chatting with fucking Zen all morning. He said he’d felt the need to check on you. It was a heartfelt gesture, a protective gesture.

And more importantly, it was a gesture that made Jumin let go of the offending device, letting it drop to the floor before he drove his heel into the screen, the glass shatter under his foot. If felt good, better than it should’ve.

Now, all he had to worry about was what to do with the pieces.

~

Two weeks, that was how long he’d managed to keep you.

It was a blissful, stressful fourteen days, the kind that felt like floating on a cloud with the added anxiety of never knowing when he’s going to fall through and plummet to the ground, dying upon impact. Of course, you were nothing if not trustful, believing him when he said one of you must’ve accidentally stepped on your phone, not asking why he wouldn’t let you call any of your friends, just figuring it had something to do with the hacker or ‘trustfund kid problems’. And Jumin tried to be so sweet, too, making sure you were able to sleep at night, preparing all your clothes ahead of time, insisting at you got at least three meals a day… he might’ve been a little infantilizing, now that he thought about it.

But, he was taking care of you! Who could blame him for that?

Four very loud, very annoying people, apparently.

The others (save for Jihyun, always passive in his silence) were gathered outside the hotel currently, probably discussing how to break in if Jumin didn’t show himself in the next few minutes. It was gut-wrenching, nerve-racking, to have to choose between protecting someone he loves or risking the very real possibility of facing the police. And you certainly weren’t making it easy on him, leaning over the back of the couch he was currently breaking-down on, eyes darting from his face to the phone on the armrest. He’d given up looking at it, they were already pretending he wasn’t reading their messages. But, here you were, a concerned frown tugging at your lips, hands resting delicately on his shoulders so affectionately… how could he not want to keep you?

“Honey, Jumin,” You mumbled, your worry bordering on audible. “Why don’t we just… meet them? I know you’re worried, but it’ll only be for a few minutes, I’ll be fine. And I won’t leave your side the entire time, I swear.”

Oh, that was adorable, you still thought he was just being coddling. With a sigh, Jumin took your hand from his shoulder, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling you further down, so that your head was level with his. He took a moment to kiss you, savoring the smooth of your skin. It might be the last time he feels it, after all. “I know, kitten, I know. You’re not the one I don’t trust.” He paused, taking a moment to figure out what to say, how to say it. “It’s the rest of the world. There are people out there, people who’ll try to touch you, hurt you. And I… I don’t want you to have to go through that. Even the other members have their moments. What if Zen tries to flirt with you again? And you know we can barely trust Saeyonug. And it’s not like our relationship is the most…” Gesturing subtly with his free hand, he tried to demonstrate his point without signaling out the obvious. “Conventional.”

You laughed, a light, soft giggle that had him relaxing almost instantly. “If I wanted to date Zen, then I’d be dating Zen. It’s not like he never gave me a chance,” You explained, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “No more pretending you aren’t my first choice. And unless you’ve been showing off your collection behind my back, no one has to know about how many pairs of handcuffs there are in the back of your closet. Right now, we’re just a normal couple.”

Sure, a normal couple. Which is why his phone was now going off constantly, private calls now coming one-after-another without a single break between. Security would probably get involved soon, too, if he didn’t arrive to explain the ‘guests’ currently swarming the lobby. If you noticed, you were polite enough not to say anything. But, that never stopped Jumin’s anxiety from sky-rocketing whenever he saw Jahee’s number, or a new notification pushing the others away from his screen. “It’s just-”

“Jumin.” You cut with off abruptly, lips suddenly pursed into a thin line. “No more excuses, either. I want to go outside with you, but I’m not above doing it alone.”

You couldn’t, really, but you didn’t know that. He’d changed the security codes a few days ago, and there’d been no reason to let you know… so he hadn’t. You couldn’t leave without him letting you out, or his permission, at least, but there was a determination in your eyes now, a little something that told him you weren’t letting this go. Not without a fight, and enough noise to alert anyone downstairs that you weren’t as safe as he’d led them to believe. With another heavy sigh, he pretended to relent, smiling sadly. “I don’t have a choice then, do I?”

This time, you were the one to kiss him, your lips barely touching his before you pulled away, grinning. He would’ve been lying if he claimed that your excitement to see the other members didn’t upset him at all, but he kept himself from complaining as you grabbed his phone answering the call without a hint of hesitation, tugging him to his feet with your unoccupied hand.

Like a normal couple, in a normal relationship.

Jumin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so hollow.

~

Usually, Jumin wasn’t one to make his own coffee. He preferred tea, in all honesty, but there was something about watching you stumble out of your shared bedroom, all bleary eyes and bed-head, only to fall back into his arms while begging for one of the mugs he was holding captive a foot above your head. It was beautifully domestic, a routine he could happily fall into.

And today was no exception, Jumin watching smugly as you cuddled into his chest, barely supporting yourself with one arm while he let you reach up, tugging on the sleeve of his suit when you proved to tired to be bothered fighting him. Still, it took a sleepy kiss and another bout of nuzzling into his neck to get you the bitter, dark mixture you seemed to crave.

“Didn’t you have a meeting today?” You huffed, your eyes drifting to the clock on the over he was currently leaning against. You perked up a little, seeing how late it actually was, but Jumin just laughed.

“Canceled, love. Or, postponed for an hour or two. I’m just waiting for a call back,” He replied, taking a sip from his own cup. In truth, he’d been more than happy to comply with his client’s plea for a few more hours of planning-time, but you didn’t need to know that. This was a happy coincidence, a lucky opportunity for the two of you to do something together. “Why don’t we go out for breakfast? Or visit that cat boutique with Elizabeth, the one you always point out.”

“You know I’d love to, but…” As you trailed off, your phone (or the replacement he’d begrudgingly gotten for you, rather) rung from somewhere in the penthouse, and you let out a short groan. With another quick hug and a kiss to Jumin’s cheek, you turned, combing out your hair as you headed back towards the bedroom. “I’m sorry, I should get that. I made plans with this old friend of mine, and I really want to cancel, but it’s probably too late…”

He stopped listening to your excuses, after that. With a scowl, Jumin reached for his phone, unlocking it and starting to dial in the oh-so familiar number, the one he wasn’t stupid enough to save. Whoever this friend of yours was, they were taking your attention away from him. Anyone who took your attention away from him was a rival.

And rivals needed to be taken care of.

With a sharp inhale, Jumin pressed the device against his ear, his frown only deepening as that gruff, rocky voice picked up, as casual as ever despite what he knew Jumin was calling for.

“It’s a ‘friend’, this time. I’ll get you a name later, but I want this done quickly.” He didn’t wait for a greeting, taking the initiative. The sooner this job was done, the better. Jumin watched as you poked your head out of the bedroom door, sending him a questioning look. He just smiled, mouthing a brief ‘buisness’ as you nodded, leaving him alone once again. But, Jumin thought for a moment, before going back to his call.

This was the second time you’d turned him down this week. Probably for the same friend.

And even if it wasn’t, you needed to learn a lesson. A lesson that clean, mysterious disappearances clearly weren’t teaching you. It was a sentiment he repeated, turning it over mentally, liking the idea more and more as he continued.

“Leave the body where someone’ll find it. Make the scene... bloody.”